#it's just a game! it's just a game until it isn't

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part four of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, you could only lie to your brother for so long...

↬ sfw; fluff & angst; wc: 5.4k; cw: suggestive, partial nudity; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

The castle was alive with anticipation, the crisp morning air buzzing with excitement of match day. The first quidditch match of the season, Griffindor versus Slytherin, was to take part today. After breakfast, you would join your team on the pitch and -hopefully- win the game. The first game of the season had always been the most nerve wracking to you, but with the new layer of excitement of playing against your secret boyfriend, you were vibrating with anticipation.

As you made your way towards the Great Hall, the sound of distant cheers and chants already echoed from the grounds outside, early fans eager to secure the best seats. Griffindor red and Slytherin green clashed in waves of color as students of either house swarmed towards breakfast. Though you didn't stick out in your quidditch attire that was as scarlet red as the hats, capes and scarfs of the Griffindor fans, the people who noticed you wished you good luck for the match.

Rounding the corner near the staircase, you nearly collided with Theo, who was casually leaning against the stone wall, his broom slung over his shoulder and his emerald scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. You knew he had been waiting for you when your eyes met. After last night, you had been worried your argument would result in a permanent rift between you, but his eyes lit up when they locked with yours.

“Well well,” he drawled, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If it isn't Gryffindor’s star chaser. Shouldn't you be off practicing some last-minute heroics?”

You pretended to be annoyed rather than filled to the brim with adoration and rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. “Funny. I was just about to ask if Slytherin had finally resorted to bribing Madam Hooch. Seems like the only way you’d stand a chance today.”

Glancing around the deserted booth under the staircase, Theo pushed himself off the wall and strode slowly towards you. You uncrossed your arms to take his hand, and there you stood, brooms in one hand, holding onto each other with the second. Finally, the subtle smile reached Theo’s eyes as he played with your fingers. “You’ll be great today.”

“You too,” you smiled with exhilaration and took a step closer. Your eyes darted around the small space nervously, but there was no one to see you. So you stood on your tip toes and pecked Theo’s lips softly. What you hadn't anticipated was Theo jolting and surging at you, chasing your retreating lips until he had them locked in a soft caress of his own. A surprised moan escaped you and Theo chuckled softly into your mouth. One hand held your jaw still as he kissed you senseless, the other trailed down to toy with the hem of your jersey.

Kisses with Theo were always a careful mix of fervent passion on your part and disciplined control on his. It was no different now, as Theo lead the kiss, caressing all the right places, balancing that perfect combination of tender and dominating. You fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. Suddenly, a cool hand closed around both your wrists, yanking them away and over your hand, making you stumble as your back hit the wall. One of Theo’s hand held your wrists in place over your hand, the other lifted your chin to gain access to your neck.

“Tesoro,” he sighed against your skin, “let me give you a good luck token for the match.” You knew what he meant, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw the hungry look in his eyes. You twitched under his heavy gaze and his eyes grew impossibly darker. “Theo… no one can see.”

When he used his index finger to draw a line down your throat towards your collar bone, he left a row of goosebumps in its wake that he took in with great satisfaction. The soft material of your quidditch uniform gave in to his pull as he exposed part of your cleavage. “They won't,” he promised in an impossibly soft voice. “I’ll do it where nobody can see.”

You could barely hear your whispered “okay” over the thundering of your heart beat. The fear of being caught paired with the thrill of anticipation and his dark, hungry eyes culminated in the uncontrollable beating of your heart against your ribcage, as if it wanted to escape from your body, to seek shelter in the meticulous hands of your lover.

Theo dipped his head down to the exposed skin of your cleavage and left a trail of pecks before he found a suitable spot. Biting down on it, he relished in the little gasp it elicited from you. As Theo worked diligently on perfecting the mark, you slipped your hands from his grip and buried them in his dark locks. In response, Theo let out a small groan and lifted his head, tugging up your jersey with a satisfied little smirk. “Now you’re ready.”

During breakfast at the Griffindor table, you kept tugging at your jersey to a point when Hermoine asked wether you were okay. You stocked it up to performance anxiety. When Harry, Ron, Ginny and you left for the quidditch pitch, several people all over the table patted you on the shoulders. Their shouted wishes of luck followed you all the way out of the Great Hall and down the grounds toward the stadium, where you were joined by the rest of the team.

Harry didn't bother with much of a speech, but after yesterday’s brawl, he seemed determined to wipe the smirk off of Malfoy’s face. A notion you couldn't object to. After revising your strategy, the team stepped out onto the pitch, where the Slytherins and Madam Hooch were already waiting. The hollers and booing of a green and red mass of people drowned out any other noise, like the splatter of rain.

The snowfall of the day before had been replaced by a thick rain that made it almost impossible to see farther than a few feet. Not very favorable conditions. You could barely make out Theo within the midst of the Slytherin players. Harry and Malfoy shook hands with particulars nasty scowls on their faces, before you all mounted your brooms and shot up into the rainy mist above. Madam Hooch released the quaffel, Ginny got a hold of it and the game was on.

It was almost impossible to differentiate between friend and foe when your vision was clouded by rain and mist. Your only reconciliation was that the Slytherins weren't any better off than you. It took at least ten minutes for the first goal by Slytherin that had only succeeded because an exasperated Theo had given up on the attempt to pass the Quaffel around as it would be inevitably lost to the mist or a Griffindor player, and did a lucky solo run, completely catching Ron off guard.

After some more failed attempts from both sides, Ginny finally managed to goal for Griffindor. You as well, a few minutes later, because one of Slytherin’s beaters flew into you full force, vision obstructed by the downpour, and Madam Hooch granted a free kick to you. But soon after that, Slytherin had the lead once more. As the game went on, it became increasingly hard to keep track of the score. Though you were pretty sure your team had earned sixty points, you had no idea how many goals Slytherin had. By now you were shaking and clattering your teeth and your hands felt frozen to your broom. If Harry didn't catch the snitch soon, you’d get frostbite.

Nobody flew in formation or followed strategy anymore. When Theo flew past you with the Quaffel, quickly approaching the rings, you took up the chase. You had lost sight of your third chaser for a while now, but you managed to attract Ginny’s attention, who followed you hot on your heels. Seeking cover, you let yourself drop to a few feet under Theo but did not lessen your speed. Waiting until he was only a short distance away from the rings and raised his hand with the Quaffel to dunk it into one of them, you made a sharp turn upwards.

It was risky, but you played on his protective instincts. Theo sensed an approaching figure and lowered his arm. You, on the other hand, shot towards him perpendicularly and caught him off guard. To avoid a collision which he -other than you- would have been able to pull through, Theo turned his broom in a rapid motion. Ginny used the opportunity to knock the Quaffel out of his hands. You caught it, locking eyes with a startled Theo for a split second, and the two of you set off in the direction of the Slytherin rings.

Steering your broom through green and red flashes, you accelerated your speed. Wherever your beaters were, they were doing a fantastic job, as you and Ginny passed through the Slytherins without any bludgers knocking you off your brooms, passing the Quaffel back and forth. When the rings came into sight, you took the lead, shielded your face against the rain to aim and threw the ball. It hit. But another thing hit, too.

WHAM

A sudden pain shot through your body and your hands slipped off your broom. It was so horrible you must have screamed, but your head and senses were numb and unresponsive. You were vaguely aware that the pain originated from your stomach region. That was all, before your body failed you and you could feel yourself falling into darkness.

“Open your eyes, idiota!”

You snapped your eyes open and the first thing you saw was Theo, hovering over you. Just then, you realized he was holding you in his arms and kneeling on the ground of the quidditch pitch. It could have only been a few seconds you blacked out, but judging by the stings and aching all over your body, as well as the fact you were lying beside the stands, you had knocked into the wooden wall of the stands in your fall, where he must’ve caught you. Oh crap. Theo had caught you.

“Get off!” you hushed, scrambling back to your feet even as pain shot through your body at the slightest movement. A particularly nasty ache made you stumble and Theo caught you once more, frowning at you. “Where does it hurt? Where did it hit you?” Oh, right. It must've been a bludger at last. “Can you hear me?” Theo asked and you registered the worry laced into every syllable. Raw, unconcealed fear.

“Y-yeah,” you gritted through clenched teeth and clawed at your side where the bludger had made its impact. It must've been shot from short distance, because rarely had a bludger hit hurt this bad. “Midriff, left side.”

When his hand brushed over the hurting spot, you let out a whimper of agony and Theo quickly retracted it. If it hadn't been for the pain clouding your mind, you’d have teased him for his visible distress. “Where's my broom?” you choked out and Theo looked at you incredulously. “You’re going to Madam Pomphrey, Tesoro. Now.”

“What?” you exclaimed, vaguely aware of voices approaching. You didn't have much time. “No, Theo, I need to play! One of my chasers has taken off, you’ll win! Wait, is that why you’re-”

“Cazzo , Tesoro,” Theo cursed, sending wary glances to the side. “I don't care about winning, I’ll throw the match with you if that's what it takes.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted your name and Theo’s face hardened as Hermoine reached you, looking concerned and rather disheveled. “Are you okay? Madam Pomphrey is on the way.” Obviously under the impression that Theo was harassing you, she gave him a sinister scowl. “What are you doing here, Nott?”

Theo, who’d settled for a mask of indifference once more, let out a mere “tch”, set you down on the grass with a suspicious precariousness, and reached for his broom when-

“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” the commentator roared and you breathed out a sigh of relief. About time. “GRIFFINDOR WINS!” announced the speakers and even through the slashing and splashing of the rainfall, your ears were thrumming at the hollers and shouts from the Griffindors.

Though you couldn't see them approaching, soft thuds announced the arrival of your teammates around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Theo walk over to his team where he ran into a furious Malfoy, gesticulating heatedly. “Are you okay?” Ginny asked as she and Harry kneeled down to your level. “That damn bludger,” Harry cursed, still holding the snitch. “That Slytherin beater hit you from a few feet distance, Madam Hooch should’ve given him a reprimand!”

“I’m okay,” you assured them and stood up shakily. Hermoine helped you support your weight. “Great job,” you told your brother, ruffling his unruly hair. “I was beginning to think we’d send an imposter in your place.” Even Harry laughed, though he still looked very disconcerted. “What was that guy Nott doing? Did he hex you?”

Oh, most certainly, yes.

“He caught me,” you said in a neutral voice, as if the mere mention of his name didn't have your stomach do cartwheels. Sceptical expressions surrounded you, but they all shrugged it off- all except Ginny. “I’d have gone after you,” she explained apologetically, “But Nott was shooting down like damn lightning and I didn't want to get in the way of that.”

“Weird guy,” you said in an effort to diffuse Hermoine's suspicious look. Harry stepped forward to support your weight, but you let go of Hermoine to demonstrate your walking ability. “I’m fine, I’m okay, just a little bruised up.”

Indeed, none of the others seemed very eager to concentrate on your injuries. Everyone was in the mood for celebration as they changed out of their quidditch robes, already planning the winners party. As they walked out one after the other, you volunteered for cleaning duties, an unpopular job, especially after a won match. “I’ll be there in ten,” you shouted after your brother and Ron leaving for the castle and shut the door.

With a pained groan, you sat down on one of the benches. You hadn't even changed yet, in fear of what you would find on your stomach. Earlier, Madam Pomphrey had cleared you while muttering about the dangers of Quidditch. She had recommended murtlap essence, and you checked the medical closet for it. You found a bottle of the potion and set it down on the bench. The sound of the pouring rain still pelting the roof of the changing room filled the quiet hair as you reached for the hem of your jersey, wincing as your shoulder protested the movement. You thought you were alone- until a quiet knock on the doorframe behind you made you freeze.

“Do you always take this long after a match, or are you just stalling?”

Theo's voice was low, but it carried a certain edge that hindered the casual tone. As you tugged your jersey down in a haste, you spun around to see him leaning against the doorframe. His hair was still damp from the rain, the dark locks were clinging to his forehead. The faintests of smiles tugged at his lips, but it was a little grim, matching the somber look in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you repeated the words you’d been echoing for the last half hour. You hoped a convincing smile would ease his nerves, but his gaze only sharpened when your casual shrug made you wince. “Don't lie to me, tesoro,” Theo said softly, drawing closer to you. He came to a halt and you frowned at the pained look in his eyes. “Bell is a maledetto coglione, Voleva ucciderti? Non hai idea di quanto desiderassi farlo cadere dalla scopa!”

Theo seemed to talk himself into a rage, rambling on in Italian as his careful hands brushed over your chin down your arms, inspecting your bruises and cuts. You wouldn't deny that you loved to hear him talk Italian, especially when his quiet voice was brimming with controlled fury. Fiddling with the hem of your jersey, you searched for his eyes but he didn't meet yours. “Theo?” you asked, locking your fingers so he would stop with his inspection. “Don't put Bell in the hospital wing again, yeah?”

Theo glared at you and freed his hand to guide you down onto the bench. “Take off your shirt.” Even though it was a purely practical request, you felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. You froze for a second, then held onto the hem of your jersey and attempted to pull it over your head, but flinched at the pain. Theo helped you, carefully prying it off of you.

Theo’s hands froze the moment the jersey slipped over your head, leaving your skin bare save for the bruises blooming across your ribs and shoulders. His usual sharp retorts or smirking comments were conspicuously absent as his eyes lingered, first on the angry purple marks and then, almost hesitantly, on the soft curve of your body.

He swallowed hard, his fingers brushing your arm lightly as if unsure where to look or how to act. “You’re… very hurt,” he murmured finally, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, but there was a flicker of something else -something unspoken- flickering in his gaze before he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand. He reached for the murtlap serum, grabbing the air at first attempt before pulling himself together and seizing the bottle and a cloth.

No words were exchanged as he started tending to your bruises, first the large one on your midriff that was the color of an angry red. When his soft fingers, dapped in murtlap essence, touched your skin, you took a sharp inhale and breathed rapidly. Theo could have smothered himself for the lingering of his eyes on your chest. He attempted to keep his focus on you and started treating the bruise.

You felt the relief of pain in an instant and sighed. “Thanks, Theo.” A light grunt was all you got in response, but the tender care of his fingers was answer enough. Though the murtlap was cool, his his touch left you uncomfortably warm and you tried not to squirm under his deft fingers.

The topic of intimacy was still a shy topic in your relationship. You knew his prior liaisons had been primarily sexual. Thus, you avoided the topic, seeing as your experience was almost none next to his. In any of your relationships, you had never gone beyond kissing and making out, and didn't know wether Theo even knew you were a virgin, let alone wether he’d want to have sex with you after hearing it. Theo had never initiated anything either, seeming perfectly content with your relationship as it was. But you couldn't deny the occasional hunger, the daydreams, the not so innocent thoughts.

Theo’s voice caught your attention. His brows were furrowed as he worked on your scratches from the fall. “Should’ve kept looking out for bludgers, cara. Stupid gryffindor recklessness.” When you recognized the worry in his voice, you smiled and ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’ll make sure to do that.” He seemed content and locked your fingers. “Shirt goes on again, tesoro.”

The itching when you pulled your shirt over your head was nothing compared to the pain from before. As your eyes appeared over your collar once more, you saw Theo had stood up and was putting the murtlap essence back to its place of origin with a lot more fuzz than the task required. Maybe it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but he seemed to avert his eyes and avoided to look at you.

Before you could contemplate this, Theo had turned around once more and handed you your cloak. “We should get back to our teams before our absence is noticed.” You would have liked to say something to diffuse the light hint of bitterness in his voice, but Theo gave you a calming smile and was out of the door in an instant. Still, the rain brewed up a symphony on the roof of the changing rooms, but your own thoughts sounded too loud for you to notice.

The Gryffindor common room was a cacophony of sound and color, the flickering firelight mingling with enchanted banners that decked the walls in red and gold. Laughter and cheers echoed from every corner, the victorious chants of your teammates nearly drowning out the music. The smell of butterbeer wafted through the room, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of post-match rain that still clung to everyone’s robes.

You smiled faintly as Seamus led an exaggerated reenactment of the game on a table, nearly knocking over a platter of snacks, but the sheer noise of it all pressed against your temples, leaving you torn between wanting to join the celebration and retreating to somewhere quiet. When Seamus started pulling out fireworks, you slipped out of the room through the portrait hole for a quick withdrawal.

Knowing that some of the others, including your friends, had sneaked down to the kitchens to supply the party with more butterbeer and snacks, you took the path down to the dungeons. Though you tread lightly to avoid detection by Filch or Mrs Norris, the sound of your footsteps echoed of the walls as you hurried down the stairs. It was wonderfully quiet, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Griffindor common room, and you relished in the fresh, cool air that turned more moist the deeper you went.

Just as you were about to turn around a corner, you collided with a hard chest. Your prior speed made you stumble and you fell, closing your eyes and shielding yourself for the impact. It didn't come. Opening your eyes, your were met with the infamous raised eyebrow of Theodore Nott, hovering only inches above you. You could be slapped yourself for the breathless “Hi” that escaped you, but it made his lips curl with cold amusement. “Hello, tesoro, where are you off to in such a haste?”

“Kitchens,” you said sheepishly as he pulled you back up and steadied you on your feet. Theo threw a quick glance around the corridor before he slipped his hands into his pockets and switched to a more relaxed stand. Under his heavy gaze, you played with your fingers, trying not to think about the way he had been looking at you in the changing rooms “I forgot to tell you before, you played good,” Theo complimented you softly.

“Thanks,” you smiled. It was a weird situation. Usually, the two of you only talked like this in secret corridors, abandoned classrooms, locked broom cupboards or the astronomy tower, not out in the open. But it was night, and you supposed it was fine. And even if… You had been contemplating it ever since your argument yesterday. Would it be the end of the world if you just talked to Harry and the others about it? Even if they disapproved, you didn't want Theo to feel like an accessory, and sneaking around was not as fun as you thought.

Theo seemed to sense your thoughts had wandered off elsewhere and stepped towards you until your chests almost touched. When he flicked your forehead, you flinched and swatted his hand away. “Hey!”

“What are you thinking about?” Theo asked in a soft but demanding tone. You sighed. “Nothing.” But Theo was not thrown off the scent so easily. Deliberate hands wandered to your hips as he prepared for the attack, but you were faster. You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down by it and kissed him.

The reaction was immediate. You were pulled flush against his body, his hands roamed under your shirt to your bare back making you shudder. “Jeez, Nott, your hands are ice cold,” you mumbled between kisses, but Theo pushed you back against the wall and seized your lips, swallowing every sound, every whimper that fell from them eagerly. You noticed that he avoided your bruised spots as his hands trailed over your bare skin and couldn't help the rush of affection that surged through you at his care.

“Someone could see us,” Theo muttered into the kiss, but you merely whimpered needily and buried your hands in his soft curls. “Then they see us.” The answer seemed to spur him on. It was as if it had awakened some primal part of him, tucked away behind his usual composure. The kiss turned messy as your lips clashed into each other without the usual rhyme and reason. When your eyes met his for a split second, you saw the dark hunger swirling inside them and breathed in shakily. It only seemed to spur him on even more as his head dipped back down and you felt his thigh coming up between your legs, eliciting a pathetic little whimper from you.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Theo and you surged apart, or rather, you scrambled away and he made sure you didn't trip and fall in your haste to put some space between the two of you. Harry, Ron and Hermoine, as well as some other embarrassed looking griffindors, stood a few feet away from you, having just rounded the corner. Their arms were full of pastries, snacks and bottles of butterbeer and lemonade, safe for Harry's, who seemed to have dropped his load at the sight of you and Theo.

“What's it look like I'm doing?” you asked, chest heaving and hair probably a mess. Glancing at Theo, you saw he had leaned against the wall, watching Harry with sharp eyes. The message was clear. He left it up to you to resolve this, but the second Harry stepped over the line, he was a goner.

Your brother shook his head wildly, as if he couldn't believe what was happening and planned to shake the image out of his memory. He called your name incensedly. “Tell me I didn't just see you snogging Theodore Nott in the dungeons.”

With a quick glance at Theo, you decided it was all in. “Would you rather have me snog him in the astronomy tower?” you asked, a hint of sass creeping into your tone. “Because that's what I've been doing for the last months.” Ron and Hermoine looked at each other incredulously, but Harry looked straight up furious as he kicked the pastries aside to step closer to you. When you saw the look in his eyes and caught Theo's slight movement in the corner of your eye, you suddenly began to worry about an altercation between the two. An altercation that, with all your love for him, Harry had no chances of winning.

Harry had caught Theo’s movement as well and turned to him abruptly. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you’ve got another thing coming.” You could've kissed Theo for remaining where he stood without blinking, leaving it up to you to resolve this. “Look, Harry,” you tried the diplomatical route. “Would you just listen to m-”

“Do you even know who he is? What he stands for?” Harry cut you off. You were hit with the sudden realization that the footsteps of multiple people were drawing closer, and indeed, a group of Slytherins that had been awoken by the sudden noise appeared in the hallway next to you, watching the conflict with great interest. “I know perfectly well-” you tried to answer but again, Harry didn't let you finish. “His father is a death eater! What, does that excite you?”

“Excuse me?” you hissed and saw Theo shift slightly. “Are you even listening to yourself right now, Harry?” But he probably wasn't. Your brother looked just about ready to tear down walls and you began to doubt wether you could even reason with him about this. “That's a horrible thing to say,” you shot back, folding your arms over your chest. “And Theo’s not his father.”

“Theo? Oh yes?” Harry said angrily, ignoring Hermoine tugging at his robes in an effort to calm him down. “He's just as bad as the rest of them, I don't know how you could be this naive!”

“Is it impossible for you to even entertain the possibility that I can look out for myself?” You hadn't realized you were shouting now as well. “Would you, just for one second, consider that I have a mind and a life of my own? That I can be trusted to make decisions in my life without you chiming in and questioning them?” Your breathing was labored and you tried to calm down, lowering your voice. “Why can't you accept that this was my choice, and it's a valid one? Why would you think you know Theo better than me? Do you think I can't trust my judgement, that I'm just a love-sick, hysterical, stupid schoolgirl who can't descipher reality and delusion?”

“Maybe you are!” Harry bellowed and you flinched, a sudden wave of hurt crashing down on you.

“You say that again,” a voice, soft and eerily composed, said, “and you’ll regret it.” The words hung gravely in the air as everyone, including the groups of Griffindors and Slytherins, stared at Theo, stunned by the both deliberate and utterly terrifying tone of his voice. But the speechlessness didn't last long.

“After everything we’ve been through,” Harry hissed at you, hurt brimming in his eyes, “this is how you repay me? By sneaking around with him?” His fists were clenched at his sides and he paid no attention to Hermoine's pleas to just leave.

“This isnt about you,” you breathed, aghast at his nerve, “This is about me. For once, this is just about me! God, Harry, why are you being so self-centered? This has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me!” Harry shouted, stepping even closer. “I just don't get how you could be so stupid! You think he cares about you? He’s a Slytherin- he’s probably using you!” His words were hurtful and they stung worse than the bruises from earlier, but Harry wasn't done yet. “What happens when he gets bored of you? Have you thought about that? If you think Theodore Nott is interested in you, you’re even more naive than I thought.”

You knew he didn't mean it that way. But it still hurt you. This assumption that Theo could never like you for you, could never be interested in you apart from the fact that you were Harry Potter’s sister. That there was nothing about you that made you special, or lovable. That you had no idea what you were doing and no agency of your own. Just a stupid little girl fooling around with something she didn't understand. He was wrong. You told it to yourself over and over in your head as you stared at him silently, watching his anger shift into something else. He was wrong, Theo liked you. Right? But what did he like about you? What was there about you?

You hadn't realized you were crying, you only registered it when Theo himself stepped forward. Apart from the most threatening death glare you had ever seen from him, he didn't attack Harry. His attention was fixed on you, as if he was waiting for your command. But you could only stand there, under the eyes of your classmates, as tears ran down your face.

Harry seemed to realize now what he had said and took a step forward, but you took one back and let out a dry laugh. No words came out. Even if you had some to shoot back, defend Theo or stand up for yourself, they wouldn't have made it past the lump in your throat. Swallowing hard, you took another step back, then another, and before you knew it, you were fleeing up the stairs, ignoring the shouts behind you. You didn't know wether they were directed at you, or Harry, or Theo. You only wanted to get away.

taglist: @annaisabookworm @empath-bunny @k0z3me @slutfordpr @aespaslut @kiarst @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @fakem0net @sammyreid @tulipsc @yasmin-oviedo @lazycrazyme @vratune @mariadvorak

[crtter]

I added a shortened version of this on tags but I think it’s better as a full comment: People who are fighting in the notes. Please. The point of OP’s post isn't that Polish people aren't allowed to be mad to be mistaken for German or Russian because they’ve been both under German and Russian occupation. The point is that a LOT of people who take offense with their country being mistaken for countries they’ve historically been at odds with don’t find it an issue when the same thing is done to people from Asian and African countries.

Like, as any European knows very well, just because countries are geographically close to each other, might have some overlapping cultural aspects and sometimes even speak the same language, it doesn’t mean they haven’t clashed against each other in the past and insisting that people are “just the same” as people who have historically oppressed them just due to proximity and (sometimes just perceived) cultural similarities is equally as tone-deaf, no matter which country or continent we’re talking about.

For example, westerners often confuse or lump China, Korea and Japan together under having similar cuisines, culture, etc. to the point where “Asian restaurants” are a thing. But both China and Korea were colonized by the Japanese during its colonial empire era, and it’s a sensitive topic in all three of those countries to this day. People of Korean descent born in Japan couldn’t both be registered under Korean names and have Japanese citizenship until 1987. That’s the same year Dirty Dancing was in theaters. The same year Whitney Houston released I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me).

Similarly, Africa is very, very often thought and spoken of as a “country” instead of a continent with a single culture and identity, when it’s actually comprised of 54 different countries and around 3000 different ethnic groups. If you tell, for example, a Somali person that they’re indistinguishable from Ethiopians to you, they’re very likely not going to be very pleased as Somalia and Ethiopia have clashed over Ethiopian expansion over Somali territory since the 12th century! The last time there has been armed conflict over it? 2006. In 2006, you could already have Twitter and Facebook accounts and play games on the Nintendo Wii.

I’m not saying you have to know the historical relationships between every single country and cultural/religious/ethnic group in the world. Just be, like, sensible. If the thought of your country or an identity of yours being dismissed as being “the same thing” as a people who have oppressed, waged wars against or interacted in any violent manner towards your ancestors or you upsets you, just know that people feel the same all over the world. If you want to talk about some cultural element that you know comes from a place in a certain continent but not the exact country, look it up. Do a bit of research. Does it take more effort than to generalize? Of course. But if being considerate was completely effortless, there wouldn’t be nearly as many assholes in the world.

Good double feature here

[rusmii]

𝜗𝜚 (HIS) ONLY

ft. dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa x fem!reader ; how they spend their december with you. cws; tooth rotting fluff, not edited, may be ooc.

love, runi. dear gosh its been so long since ive written 😭... i have a nsfw draft in the works, but i was feeling fluff atm 🙂‍↕️💗. i hope i did the boys justice 😭😭 and it doesnt seem too ooc :(. additionally, i don't think i'm going to disclose the actual reason for being offline for so long. am i sorry for deactivating? nah...

the 24th — his hands ran cold, puffs of icy air battling the hot cry of warmth. he could feel the ache in his bones, yearning for the fire a room away. "isn't it cold?" you ask dazai, who was sitting upright on the edge of your shared futon. "it is," he answers, a whisper so loud, even the wind howls with it. you shift away, holding the large coze of your blanket up high, a cave forming in mere seconds. "then get in." you say with a tired face, "i'm cold too, 'samu." warm me up, he almost missed. without protest, he curls up into your arms—embrace heating the ac he calls his blood. "can't sleep?" you ask the obvious, knowing he appreciated the sentiment anyways. "no." you can feel the small shake his head makes, as slow as a toddler may stand to understand physics, dazai is the same with himself.

it was confusing, all energy he focuses on you, is forced back on him with a stern lecture from you. every bicker and mumbles of defeat helps see the purpose of your intentions. "how are you going to take care of me, when you can't take care of yourself?" a question he could argue with, but deep down—he'd ponder the same question in his head. if he took care of himself, it'd make you happy, and him feeling unsure. if he took care of you, it'd make him happy, at the cost of your disappointment with him. take care of yourself, osamu. you'd always cry sheep as you comforted him. the same building resentment of having his freedom forced onto a schedule quietly turned into appreciation for your efforts.

you didn't leave him. didn't need to help him. you did anyways, the warm flutter he always feels whenever his hand grazes yours or the accidental eye contact throughout the day, was already telling enough. dazai wasn't obligated to show any gratefulness, and neither were you—yet you still did it. and every year since the day of your anniversary, there was always something special waiting for him. clothes, games, your love; everything, was there, in a box wrapped with his blues and your yellows. he envisions each gift to the tune of a shake from the box. each of them perfect, and what he preferred to have on this special occasion.

the 24th, his special gift waiting for you under the tree. to be opened, to be named, that's up to you to guess. but the small gift glistening underneath, cannot wait 'til morning. "i wonder what you got me." he feels your chest rumble softly. in almost an instant, the wear and tear of his job finally catches up to him. "you'll find out soon." dazai smiles against your chest, the soothing lullaby of your breathing nearly puts him to sleep. "happy anniversary, osamu. i hope you'll like my gift tomorrow." a few small circles rub dazai's head. he doesn't fall asleep until you do first. "i know i will," his voice quieter, gentler, matching the tempo of the dying breeze. and you'll love mine too, goes unheard. baby steps, baby steps were still baby steps.

the 25th — you looked just like a dream, the prettiest girl he's ever seen. in chuuya's mind, nothing quite comes and goes as slowly as your beauty. in fact, everyone assumes it's permanent by how he's so enamored—consumed with adoration. it should come as a surprise to no one, when he gifts you a personalized advent calendar to count down the days of his super secret selection of affection that chosen day. first it was hugs all day, then came kisses on the 3rd, and—oh he was so overwhelming with his love! and yet, you could never be bore of it. an excited squeal always left your mouth as soon the clock hit midnight, chuuya already making preparations for his swooning affection for the month of deer. "how's today?" he asks, seeking your approval from the early box picking. "perfect," you say, "i think you'll have me falling from the balcony with the way i'm falling for everything you do for me." he chuckles, "don't die yet, you still have a day, counting six extra, left."

the following day, you're awoken to the soft scent of cinnamon and marshmallows filling the tiniest gaps of air. you struggle to waken fully, still groggy from your late night endeavors with chuuya. matter of fact, where was he? it wasn't unusual for him to leave in the yawn of morning hours, but on his month off.. assuming the solution by the smell, you make way to the kitchen where chuuya stood behind a counter. he notices you in his vision before releasing a blinging smile. "good mornin' beautiful." a wink catches your eye, "couldn't sleep without me?" he says while patting fluffy pancakes down, each stacked imperfectly delicious with a drizzle of syrup and fruits decorating it. "and if i did?" you match his tease, creating an easy tension that could dissolve in any minute.

"well then, i won't keep ya' waiting." his lips form a familiar slant. using his ability to carry the plates and breakfast stand, chuuya's arms are already lifting you bridal. "why're you out of bed? i thought i gave myself enough time to surprise you." he nearly pouts to your face, not embarrassed to do so in front of you. you laugh it off, " 'tis okay, chu." booping him, he drops you onto the bed as some sort of petty revenge. "only if you say so." his lips met your cheek, propping the breakfast tray as you perched on your bottom. your stomach growled in anticipation, kneading the inner lining of your stomach. "well?" he asks, awaiting your approval once again. you picked up a fork and stabbed it into the fluffy pancake. bringing it up to his face, you tell him to open his mouth.

"first bite!" you nudge it closer, "okay," and without another word, chuuya took the entire thing into his mouth, "mmm - wow delicious. why don't you say; thank you chef nakahara." the mischievous in his tone was hard to miss—a smirk you wanted to wipe off his face. "you're welcome my princess." a giggle escaped with it. acting annoyed with the nickname, chuuya sneakily placed a dot of syrup on your cheek. "chuuya!" you gasp, scrambling to wipe away the sticky substance. "my bad, dear prince."

a small smack hit his shoulder, "go away!" nodding his head, he moves to get up, but is stopped by a small tug on his arm. "and bring me my gifts please." he thinks for a moment, arms relaxing and his body sinking back onto the bed. "oh? you mean the ones i threw in the fire to keep you warm last night? those presents? from under the tree?—ow! kidding!" he threw his arms up in surrender after getting smacked again, this time harder.

the 16th — when it came to december, atsushi was no stranger to the cold weather. being nearly stripped of everything but rags for clothes, he often got sick without compromise from the orphanage. when it came to his life in the agency—his life with you—he was taken care of, given affection he was denied, able to show the vulnerability the director shut down. in his own little mind, you were the stage centerpiece; a transition from the filthy pinecone to the golden star he finally got to place on his tree. "quiet," he almost flinches, until he heard a melody instead of the desolate, angry, mob. he opened his eyes, eyes blinding him with your beauty. "an angel?" he questions, still hazed from his pain. "no," you laugh, replacing the towel on his head, "[name]."

"[name]..." he repeats, affirming his belief of being fine and alive. in your shared home—kyouka standing beside you. "is he going to be okay?" her weary voice echoes concern, to which you pat her head and tell her to fetch some more water. "of course he is, he's atsushi. i need a refill, can you do it for me?" with kyouka hurriedly jogging away, you're left alone with atsushi. he moans, his joints aching with every twist. "are you doing okay?" you ask, rubbing soft circles on his palm. "feel so nauseous." he mumbles, throat hoarse like the attack on trojans. you cooed, a sweet lullaby that comforts him through thick and thin, "feel better soon, m'kay?" he bobs his head like copier, obedient. atsushis' peace answers with silence.

admist your little moment, kyouka arrives back with the water in hand. she hands you the small bowl and takes her seat next to you again. "he seems at ease," she notes. "does he?" you question, busying yourself with replacing the towel every now and then. "mhm," she nods, "i'm glad." a small smile comes foward on her dollified expression. kyouka also takes notice of the faint blush resting on his face, daint and obvious. she doesn't speak up about it, opting to pop the question in when atsushi was better. for now, she'll wonder what you two had talked about while she was out of the room.

the 31st — if akutagawa had any say about attending any gift-related events, he'd stay home. if akutagawa had any shred of empathy left, he'd conserve it just for you. a mistake, honestly. he curses to the devils' and above for forcing his heart to ponder sweetly for you. "no," he says, unwavering in his decision. "but, ryu!!" you whine so casually, wanting him to give in and get out of his comfort zone. you knew it wasn't an easy task, seeing as your beloved friend preferred to stay within the four white walls the port mafia created. "annoying," he grumbles, eyes tilting blinding anger, "leave me be." he shoves past you, destined to cast away your binding spell. you stand there, resolve strong as ever while defending against hollow words. "be that way," you sigh, "but before you leave, let me give you this." you pull out a small present, throwing it to akutagawa who caught it with rashomon.

"what's this?" he inquired, an annoyed grunt passing his lips when you don't answer and turn on your heels to leave. annoying, he thinks again. he decides to unravel his gift later, when he was in the comforts of his own home. "what's inside?" gin poked at it, wanting her brother to hurry it up already. "don't know, [name] gave it to me]." he sighs—a gentle remonstrance. gin nods in understanding, waiting eagerly for her brother to tear the paper apart. inside laid a small box, "is it jewelry?" akutagawa shrugged his shoulds, "might be."

he uncovers the tiny trinket inside. it appeared to be a plain, silver lining necklace with nothing attached. at the bottom of the box, a note read; a pitiful necklace for your grey home, truly, a noteworthy gift you thought of. "seems like [name] really likes you," gin jokes about. akutagawa was quick to shut it down though, not in the mood to entertain any lovey dovey tease. "alright, alright," she giggles, "are you going to the party tonight?" she switches the topic. the mafia didn't often hold parties—this year being an exception—to keep their reputation in check. "no, i don't think i will." gin pouts at her brothers' rejection. "i won't force you, but maybe you'd enjoy it." you'll see [name], is what she's implying. as much as he can deny the pointed accusations, it was obvious to others around, that akutagawa held a soft spot for you. he grounded himself, "no." his mental fortude will not be broken down by measly gifts. "mhm–okay," gin hides her grin exceptionally well.

on the day of the party, you're feeling gorgeous in your outfit, hair done and kept to match it. you greet others with polite grace, "good evening to you too executive ozaki." you return her greeting. she does a curt bow before leaving the short talk. hunger gnawed a tight grip on your stomach, a loud growl emitting nothing against the loud chatter of the room. you scan the area for the nearest buffet table to ease your hunger. spotting none, you traverse the mounts of cleanliness ordor into another area of the building, where you laid eyes on an exquisite high-top table filled to the edge of some of your favorites. your inner-self squealed in excitement, still needing to maintain your professional composure while walking down to it.

the closer you got, a familiar voice rang nearby. "i'd rather not talk about it," he adjusts the chain sitting on his neck, your eyes catching wind of his movements unbeknownst to him. "aww, c'mon akutagawa! just tell us!!" tachihara whined drunkenly, using gin as support as he leaned on her. "no," he says. "my brother is a little shy on the outside. don't worry tachihara–i promise he's feeling fluttery on the inside." gin reassures her friend with light taps on his hand. "am not." he glares, hardly ever removing that mean scowl of his. tachihara was about to make a scene until he flinched from your voice, "it's all in the tone, tachi," your half assed smirk eased in—delighted to see akutagawa wearing your gift, "the chain suits you, doesn't it?" you smile, that teasing glint shining in your teeth nearly makes the man in question falter.

"it does," he mutters, walking away with a clenched heart—the blush on the tip of his ears giving away his true feelings.

@ rusmii—everything is owned by mayira, she doesn't appreciate copyright breaches.

anyways lil rant at the bottom but, if ur not a writer, then u have no right to complain abt the amount of smut to fluff ratio 😭 (even then, as a writer, u should understand that complaining is not going to change anything).

im also tired of yall bitching abt everything in the x reader tag 😐 gtfo the place where ppl come to READ fics, not read ur bitching 🙏!

[complaining abt xyz] "oh im going to put this in the x reader tags to gain attention and sympathy for my cause!" OH MY FUCKING GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

anyways, hello guys ik i wasn't gone for that long, but it feels like forever (cause i haven't written anything good yes ik). buuut.. my hyperfixiation on bsd isnt leaving anytime soon so why not make the most of it rn and write again. next fic is def smut 😴🤞.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MISTLETOE TRAP

Prompt 3: mistletoe

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader Summary: after spending so long watching you and Eddie hopelessy flirt with eachother, the club comes up with a plan fit for the festive season to bring you guys together. Warnings: mention of kissing, brief mention of Eddie being in the hospital. one mention of Y/n, I APOLOGISE

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

Christmas music played softly in the background as the club played a festive board game, yelling and screaming over each other filled the room as everyone pointed fingers to who's cheating.

the smell of pizza filled your noses as the fire crackled of Gareth's livingroom.

the lights of the tree twinkling in your eyes as you sat on the couch next to Eddie, everyone else choosing to sit on the dirty carpet. pillows under all their buts to soften the hard wooden floor.

it was perfect, everyone having fun, laughing- more or less when everybody isn't fighting, but despite that, it was perfect.

the club did this every year, but it's the first time Mike, Lucas and Dustin have attended.

and while this was their first time hanging out for Christmas games, this was not their first rodeo when seeing a certain pair of flirty best friends that are way to close to be just friends.

"my hands are a bit cold, mind warming them up for me?" Eddie had smiled, earning many silent groans from the room, from everyone except you, who had blushed and shook your head sheepishly

"I have a feeling you just want an excuse to hold my hand, Eds" you teased

"you caught me. so what do you say?" you nudged you, holding out his hand.

you've always been the flirty type of duo, you and Eddie. you don't know when it happened, it started with little remarks in certain situations that he deemed fit, then you slowly began retaliating, giving small comments back that left poor Eddie flushed in surprise. but the certain situations turned into a weekly thing, then soon every time you'd see each other.

"I say my hands are quite cold too" you rolled your eyes, slapping your hand in his and interlocking fingers

you barely noticed the glared and groans from anyone in the room until they all got up and left, saying they are going to the kitchen for seconds

where they all huddled up, sick of their dungeon master and his best friend acting like a bunch of idiots while flirting with each other.

"I'm sick of this, it's been going on too long" Jeff sighed

"I think it's cute" Dustin shrugged "Eddie deserves love too"

"Really? you think our dungeon master complaining his hands are too cold and that she needs to hold them is cute?" Lucas shook his head, questioning his friend's sanity,

because what you and Eddie have going on, is not cute.

"it's a bit cheesy-" Dustin started before Mike cut him off

"-it's gross!"

"Well, what do we do?" Gareth bit the inside of his cheek

then Dustin had an idea.

a brilliant idea

it was just involve talking to Steve.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

You walked into the Harrington home with Robin.

a little party with Steve's friends that you had been invited to, given that his parents went out of town.

you walked in, surprised to see the whole club sitting on the couch, including Eddie- which was less surprising

you knew Steve and Eddie were mutual friends, or friends, you're still not sure, you've never seen them directly talk after Eddie got permitted out of the hospital.

but the whole club here was definitely not something you would expect. but god you were happy

"we were waiting for you" The Munson boy cheered on your arrival

"don't cream your pants, we were just stuck in traffic" you rolled your eyes, pointing the robin behind you who threw her coat on the coat hanger, literally, letting it fall to the ground

"You do know how to put a coat on a hanger, right?" Steve huffed, picking her jacket up and hanging it on a hook while you settled on the couch, right next to open seat next to the one and only Eddie

the whole club had greeted you with unsettling smiles, Dustin rocking his legs as he sat cross legged on the floor.

their faces made you suspicious, they were always up to no good with those looks on their faces

"what's up with them?" you whispered to Eddie, who shrugged

he picked up a Garfield mug, steam floating up and reaching his nose as he brought it up to his lips. humming at the taste before pulling it away and back onto the coffee table

you giggled, looking away when he turned to you

"what? do I have something on my face?" he smirked, knowing the fluffy whipped cream adorned his top lip

you shook your head as he leaned in

"wanna help me out and get it off?" he raised his eyebrows, nudging your shoulder

it was a sight to barf at to everyone else I the room, but fighting against the sickening interaction, they knew this had to happen, this was all apart of the plan, well not this but this party.

that's actually a lie, Steve had invited everyone over for a little gathering, and by everyone he means his friends, but due to much begging to his favourite child, Steve had let Dustin bring the club too, why? the Harrington boy doesn't know, nor understand but whatever.

you huffed, reaching up and swiping the foam off of his lip, silently gasping when he connected his lips with your thumb, licking it off your finger.

the party's eyes were wide with disgust and shock before Dustin spoke up quickly

"Eddie why don't you get Y/n a cup of hot coco while we explain the rules of the game to her"

Eddie looked over to the freshmen and nodded, getting up

"marshmallows?" he asked before leaving, earning a happy nod from you

"only th-" you started before he cut you off, disappearing down the hall to the kitchen

"-the white ones!"

you blushed and smiled, watching as Steve placed The Christmas game down on the table, Mike eagerly opening it up

"so the rules of the game is-" Dustin began

"I know the rules of the game, Dusty, I've been playing this since before you knew how to walk" you chuckled, shifting on the couch

you leaned over and helped set up for the game, Nancy walking in from upstairs, had being in the bathroom when you had arrived. when you were busy putting the cards down on the board, Gareth had taken the bundle of mistletoe from his bag and tiptoed to the doorway of the hallway, connecting the Livingroom and kitchen, where he peeked over the corner to see Eddie lift up the mug and put marshmallows in.

he came and sat down without you realising he left before he spoke up

"hey...Eddie's been gone for a while, why don't you check on him?" he asked you, nodding his head in the direction to the kitchen

"oh.. uh sure" you frowned, getting up, it's not like Eddie couldn't handle making a cup of hot cocoa, but you walked to the kitchen anyway.

you walked through the open wall and yelped when you bumped into his hard frame, the cup of hot chocolate swished and spilled on his chest, earning a groan from him and a gasp from you

"oh shit, I'm so sorry" you blinked rapidly.

"it's fine, love, not your fault" he smiled tightly, sighing

you went to say something but you heard a few hushed laughs and Lucas coughing

you both looked back to notice their gazes focused above you

you look up and back down, confused before you did a double take and your eyes widened, Eddie looking up right after you, a sigh leaving his lips.

a bundle of green and red hanging above you, tied with a ribbon, a bow, mistletoe.

"oh" you said in unison

Eddie looked back down at you, watching as you stared up

he whispered "we don't have to- it's just a silly tradition"

that made you frown, did he not want to kiss you?

you know you were best friends but you had always hoped for more, not that you weren't happy, but he was just so...him, so perfect in your eyes.

"you have to kiss!" Robin smiled

-she wasn't in in the plan, no one but the party was, Steve knew but he wasn't listening when Dustin was rambling, all Steve remembered was him asking if the club could come, and Steve figured half of them were coming, may as well just give the kid what he wants to shut up.

you look down at Eddie to see his concerned face

or was it sad?

you couldn't make it out, but they held something of that sort

"may as well" you shrugged "you know we'll never hear the end of it from them if we don't"

he licked his lips

Eddie was sweating, everywhere. and not just from the fireplace they were right next to. but because he had thought over your first kiss so many times before.

it was be so perfect, so romantic, gentle but desperate. maybe looking over the town or during a drive in movie he'd take you to.

definitely not in Steve Harrington's Livingroom, and certainly not in front of all of yours and his friends.

he'd want it to be right. not a forced act, but an act of love.

because it's you

his best friend.

his lifelong crush

so to say Eddie Munson was sweating balls in this moment would be an understatement.

in the corner of his eyes he saw everyone looking at you both, expectedly

but his eyes were focused on yours. looking so deep into yours that he felt he was melting away

why was it so hot? apart from the scorching hot cocoa that drenched his band tee.

the way you looked at him, so soft, you were so beautiful, the coloured lights from the massive Harrington Christmas tree illuminating your face perfectly, you always looked beautiful in red.

"I don't want our first kiss to be in front of everyone" he mumbled to you finally. moth slightly agape, eyes wide in despair

you furrowed your brows when you looked over silently, watching as they all looked away

the room was dead quiet, the only noise was the crackle of the fire, so they must have heard Eddie.

so as they all looked out the window, watching the snow fall outside, tiny snowflakes dancing in the wind of the night, you looked back up at Eddie.

you silently parted your lips.

he looked back down at you.

he silently parted his lips.

he brought a hand up, slowly.

you brought a hand up, slowly.

his hand meeting the plush of your cheek.

your hand meeting the skin of his exposed hip.

then you leaned in, slowly.

so slow.

Eddie watched as your eyes fluttered shut as his nosed brushed against yours.

and his own soon shut as his lips met yours, grazing ever so gently before he took a sharp intake of breath before fully connecting them, pressing his lips firmly on yours.

Jesus, how they fit so perfectly, he thought to himself.

God, how they fit so perfectly, you thought to yourself.

your lips moved perfectly in sync, creating the kiss that Eddie had envisioned so many times before. it may have even been better.

his warm hand cupping your cheek, his fingertips rough but oh so gentle.

everyone in the room stayed looking outside awkwardly as they heard nothing, but Dustin, deciding to take a peek, was only able to catch a glimpse of the kiss ending, you both pulling away from each other, smiling softly as your eyes fluttered open

your eyes met again. your smile growing as you saw his blown out gaze, the colour of his eyes barely recognisable through his irises as he looked down at you

"I'll make you another hot chocolate" he said, blinking, in a haze of some sort

"I'll come with you" you replied, matching his tone as you grabbed his hand

everyone watched as you both disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen

"they're going to make out in my kitchen aren't they?" Steve spoke up after a minute, frowning

"leave the kids be, Steve, they've finally found out what horniness feels like" Robin joked, leaning against the back of the couch.

Steve's head whipped around in horror. so many thoughts in the poor head of his. are they gonna have sex in my kitchen?

"don't worry guys, this is just what the mistletoe trap does, it brings people together" Dustin said cluelessly

"that's what this was!?" Steve hissed at him, finally remembering something along the lines of 'bringing a young couple together' and 'mistletoe' that Dustin had said over the phone to him when he was just trying to focus on how to shut him up.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

bonus-

Steve storms into his kitchen, it's been too long since you both went in there and he wasn't ready for a baby to be made in that room.

all he sees is you, pressed against the counter with Eddie holding you, soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as your hands roamed each others body, your mouths locked together as you made out aggressively.

"DISGUSTING!" Steve yelled.

🦌𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆꙳❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°°‧❆⋆.ೃ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ

[ultramaga]

Remember when Bayonetta was condemned as appealing to male fantasies?

Then it was found out that the designer was a woman who thought bayonetta was "hot". Suddenly Bayonetta was perfectly cromulent and only a Nazi would say that she was ever rejected by the 'queer' community. They judged her on her sex and her sexuality to decide whether the character was good or not. When Resident Evil 4 was released, the designs of some of the women were condemned on the basis they appealed to the male gaze - until it was revealed that there were plenty of women thirsty for them too.

I can't remember if it was Mari who posted on twitter that she wanted the Lady to sit on her face, but I am pretty sure it was her. You had this insane situation where Leftists were looking at every smutty posting on twitter, then deciding whether or not it was strong and empowering, or demeaning to women, solely on sex and sexuality of poster. Some women could say the most extreme things imaginable and that was to be applauded - a straight man could express mild admiration, and be denounced as an incel. "why isn't there any good LGBT rep in games??" It's all around us - it's just that Leftists keep shoving purity tests at customers and developers alike. Take Fallout 4. EVERY SINGLE ROMANTIC INTEREST IS BISEXUAL. And that's the norm for most games now. They know if they don't code it that way, they will get objections. Even though the number of gay males playing is tiny. And I know it's tiny, because I can see the stats of how many downloads things get, and mods that make women look hot are downloaded at thousands to millions of times more. So games companies are pressured to the 'queer' market, even though they can see from statistics that this makes no economic sense.

Hell, they later made Lady D a lesbian, even though she never displayed any interest in either women or men except as something to eat - and no, not in the fun way!

Same with Tracer, from memory?

Yes, I know, she was around before most here were born. But the whole thing was that she had no sexuality, then they discovered she was popular with straight men, which is terrible, so they had to formally cut that stuff out, rather than leaving it up to the customers to fantasise however they wanted.

It's all so tiring.

"why isn't there any good LGBT rep in games??" because you don't use itch io and don't believe art made by smaller teams is worth anything or you think nsfw art is an inherent moral failing. Go play a 20 minute porn game made by a depressed transfem lesbian and then maybe you'll calm down

[peachhcs]

sweet, sweet memories

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

the holidays bring the hughes’s and smiths back together in cape cod where nostalgia and the holiday spirit washes over everyone

wc: 5.7k

requested by anon to write about samy + will celebrating christmas and hanukkah. this turned into less samy and will and more all of the hughes siblings and smith siblings instead. also less hanukkah, i’m sorry about that but it is mentioned a lot! i forget sometimes that the hughes are half jewish, so this was a nice touch to add. i wanted to try a new writing style so i sprinkled in some old memories between the plot and wrote more grace x quinn x jack dynamic bc i feel like i never write about their relationship growing up, but anyways, this is long so enjoy!

au masterlist

for the first time in probably four years, all the hughes kids were coming home for the holidays. the hockey gods aligned for the devils and canucks allowing the three boys to have three days off before their next game which meant three days to fly home and spend the holidays with family after doing it through facetime for the last few years. the sharks followed the same schedule which meant will was flying home too, so with the knowledge that all the kids were coming home, ellen and colleen decided to plan a joint holiday at the smith's family home in cape cod.

so all their kids booked their flights for monday night and tuesday morning to fly out to cape cod. jack and luke were the first ones in after their game finished late that afternoon. ellen excitedly greeted her boys when they came through the door. "hi, hi. it's so good to see both of you," the older woman kissed her son's cheeks as they returned her tight hugs.

"hey mom, good to see you too. hi colleen, hi bill," jack greeted his "second parents" next, quickly exchanging similar hugs.

"it's so good to see you both. how was the flight?" colleen wondered, kissing the boys' cheeks too.

"really good. quick. thanks for hosting here," luke smiled brightly.

"of course. we're so excited all of you will be here for a few days. you two are the first ones here," colleen laughed.

"figures. when's everyone else coming?" jack wondered as he shedded himself of his jacket.

"samy and grace should be here in another hour. quinny and will aren't coming in until tomorrow afternoon," ellen explained everyone else's whereabouts.

"tomorrow afternoon?" luke sounded surprised that his older brother wasn't getting there sooner. ellen nodded though, "their game isn't starting until 9pm our time, so they're catching the earliest flight out tomorrow morning."

"damn. that's crazy. at least quinny has one more day of vacation than we do," jack chuckled. the boys ventured downstairs to the basement with their things. the usual rule was that luke stayed in will's room, samy stayed in grace's room, jack and quinn stayed in the spare room down in the basement, and ellen and jim were in the guest room upstairs.

when they were younger, the boys made the entire basement their "man cave" during the summer where they just took over the entire downstairs and will and luke bunked down on the couches. the same applied to the michigan lake house too before more friends started coming by. things were probably going to change now that will and samy were together, but that was a later problem the parents could work out tomorrow when everyone got in. for now, jack unloaded his bag in his and quinn's room while luke just threw his backpack and suitcase in the corner of the room.

the older boys caught themselves up with the parents while they awaited the girls' arrivals. jack and luke gladly told colleen and bill about their season so far, explaining how luke's second full year has been and jack overcoming his shoulder injury. finally, an uber pulled into the drive that was definitely either samy or grace. everyone crowded the front windows to see and much to their surprise, both girls jumped out of the vehicle and raced up the porch steps.

"surprise! we ran into one another at the airport," samy giggled when she pushed the door open.

"what a coincidence! i'm glad you did," ellen chuckled and pulled her daughter in for a hug. more hellos and hugs were exchanged between everyone as the girls got themselves inside.

"heya squirt," jack nuzzled his sister's head in typical older brother fashion. the brunette quickly squirmed out of his grasp.

"what's up rowdy," samy cheesed, flicking jack's hat off in response.

"good to know you haven't changed in a week," the older boy mumbled and let her go so she could say hi to luke.

"how were the flights?" jim asked.

"it was quick and painless. i made it through tsa in 10 minutes which i think is a new record for me," samy explained, bending down to greet the smith's dog they brought everywhere.

"good. glad to hear that. quinny and will are coming in tomorrow afternoon. we have the pregame talkshow up now," colleen nodded towards the big tv.

"ooh, good. i'm excited to watch this one," samy grinned and followed grace upstairs to put her things away for now.

the two girls came back downstairs a minute later and both families got themselves comfortable around the tv to watch their last two members battle it out on the ice in an hour. ellen and colleen busied themselves in the kitchen knowing they had a lot to start prepping for the christmas and hanukkah dishes since hanukkah started on the same day as christmas this year. the kids got the big couch where they spread themselves out between it and the floor. samy slumped down between luke and grace, sending messages to will that they were all watching the game from cape cod.

"so what've you been up to gg?" jack directed his attention to the oldest smith, the nickname being one he's called her since they were kids.

"not a lot really. trying to find my footing and thinking about moving," the older girl explained.

"moving? where to?" luke chirped up.

"i don't know yet, honestly. i really liked the west coast when i was there moving will in, but i don't know if i can be that far away from home," she explained.

"you'd have quinny kind of..close by-ish..you two would be on the west coast together!" luke exclaimed making grace giggle.

"i've been thinking about it and trying to look up apartments. i guess we'll have to see," she smiled softly. "what about you jj and moosey? how's the garden state?"

"it's a dream, g. you have to come visit us sometime. come to a game," jack said like he was so enamored by new jersey still after being there for five years.

"i know, i've been meaning to make plans to come see you guys, but i got caught up with college graduation this past may and then traveling," grace explained and the boys nodded in understanding.

"sorry we missed that. things got crazy busy in may," jack chuckled a bit as his head leaned back against the edge of the couch.

"don't sweat it, i get it. the card from all of you was super nice," the blonde smiled. it wasn't often that the older siblings got to really catch up with one another, so they were really taking advantage of it these next few days.

when they were younger, it was always quinn, jack, and grace against luke, samy, and will. the older three took charge of the younger three—a perfect split—but as life happened and things got busier, all six of them were never around at the same time anymore. being in cape cod reminded all of them of the memories they made in the house and out on the beach fifteen steps away if they widened their strides.

summer of 2012

"why would i listen to you?" luke protested to his 13 year old brother. quinn rolled his eyes, already not excited about going out to the beach, "because i'm older than you and in charge."

"who put you in charge? you're not even that much older than me," the younger boy continued and poor quinn was losing his patience with luke.

"mom put jack, grace, and i in charge because she's gonna take her chance and trust all of us out on the beach today without her watching which means you have to do what we say," quinn emphasized the last part.

"i'm 9. i don't need a babysitter," luke complained. "i'm a year younger than grace!"

"i don't make the rules, moose. i'm not arguing with you anymore," quinn walked away for his own sake. he heard luke huff and then probably hurry off to find their mom. the older boy wandered back into the kitchen where will and samy were at the counter finishing their snacks and grace was doing samy's hair for her.

"moose is being an idiot," quinn mumbled in annoyance.

"don't call him an idiot, q. he just wants to feel included," grace defended luke.

"included? i am including him. i was just telling him the rules for today. i'm not taking the fall if he chooses not to listen to us," the brunette shrugged.

"dude, what'd you do to moose? he's all mad now," jack came into the kitchen a moment later.

"i didn't do anything! he's being a brat," quinn argued while jack just shook his head.

"you shouldn't poke the bear. you know how he gets," the younger brunette dug himself out another juice even though ellen said only one before they left.

"whatever. you guys are dealing with him if he starts again. i'm already done," quinn shook his head.

all 6 of them finally made it out of the house after another fifteen minutes. luke and will took off to the water where quinn was yelling at them to only go out to their waist since their parents weren't there. he was probably the one who took this "in charge" thing the most seriously. samy wanted to build a sandcastle so grace opted to help her do so.

things were going fine for a good seven minutes until luke came running back up the beach holding his palm with teary eyes. quinn, jack, and grace immediately rushed to the boy's side. "moosey, what happened?" quinn urged and then they all saw the piece of glass sticking out of his skin.

"oh no," jack muttered.

"i-i was just trying to find seashells and then i felt something poke my hand.." luke got out in sobs.

"hey, it's okay. it's not your fault," grace was quick to shush his cries, always the one who knew how to manage everyone's emotions.

"mom's gonna freak when she finds out," jack mumbled.

"she's never gonna put us in charge again," quinn frowned when he realized he already messed up his role of protector. he wanted to fix this, so he had to act fast. "j, you run inside and find a bandaid, wet cloth, and antiseptic," the older boy instructed.

"roger that," jack took off back towards the house.

"it's gonna be okay, moosey. we're gonna get you fixed up. it doesn't even look that bad," quinn assured and grace nodded in agreement.

"i-i'm sorry, quinny. i didn't mean to," the younger boy was still crying.

"it's not your fault, i promise. you were just playing around. it's whoever left glass on the beach," the older brother mustered his best smile in hopes of making luke feel better.

"when i was 8, i cut my foot on glass too. not a fun at all, but with the right medicine, it will be okay," grace added, trying to lift the boy's spirits.

"will i be able to swim still?" luke wondered, his tears finally settling.

"maybe not today, but once the cut heals, yes. it should only take a few days," quinn nodded with another smile.

jack came back running with all of what quinn asked for. the three got to work with fixing up luke's hand. quinn took the lead and pulled the little piece of glass from his brother's hand. grace used the antiseptic to clean the cut up real good before jack laid the bandaid down.

"see? good as new," grace grinned.

"thanks, guys. sorry again," luke frowned.

"not your fault, moose," quinn said and urged his brother to go have fun again. will begun helping samy with her castle in the meantime so luke quickly joined in. the oldest hughes held his hand up for a high five.

"good work everyone. mom will be proud of us," the older three grinned.

now two of the oldest tuned themselves in to the game beginning to unfold as quinn and will took the ice, a scene their 13, 11, 10, 9, and 7 year old selves never would've even dreamed of.

—

the next day, christmas eve and the night before the first night of hanukkah, everyone awaited will and quinn's arrivals. colleen and ellen pulled samy and grace to help them in the kitchen while somehow jack and luke evaded the help and went outside to the beach. it was cold for a december day, but warm enough that the breeze felt refreshing instead of freezing.

"god, i love being back here," jack hummed, his toes sinking into the soft sand.

"it reminds me so much of being little considering we don't come out here a lot anymore," luke shared the sentiments. the last time either of them could remember being in cape cod was probably years ago when luke was just starting the dev program. it seemed like being in cape cod was filled with old memories while the lake house in michigan was the bridge to the new memories and friends that filled the house each year.

cape cod would always be the hughes's and smiths to keep close to them and a place to fill whenever the families wanted time together.

as the day ticked by, there was probably dishes worth of food to eat in the next couple of days which wasn't surprising at all. ellen and colleen always went overboard with the food anytime they started cooking, so they were trusting all the kids and bill and jim would eat it all.

the last uber holding the final two kids pulled into the driveway around 4:40pm. samy was rushing down the steps to greet her boyfriend and brother first. she embraced quinn who eagerly scooped her into his arms much like jack and luke did. "wow, long time no see, little hughes," quinn grinned.

"glad you're finally here quinny," samy beamed and jumped towards will next. the blonde lifted her into his arms in a similar manner even though they did just see one another a little over a week ago.

"hi pretty girl, i missed you," will kissed her cheek.

"i missed you. great game last night. you guys were so good," samy praised both boys as they got their things from the back.

"eh, it was nothing," quinn played off the canucks win with a small shrug.

everyone else was waiting on the porch step for the boys. they went through all of the hugs with everyone and smiley hello's. ellen was finally glad to have all of her kids under one roof plus grace and will. the younger smith squeezed both of his parents and sister in tight hugs. "so good to see you again, will," colleen gushed after not seeing her son since visiting a few months ago.

the large group made their way back inside, tasteful aromas filling their senses from all the cooking happening. "good flights i assume?" ellen asked.

"long eight hours, but yeah. it was fine," quinn nodded.

"he snored the whole time," will exposed the older boy, snickering with luke and samy.

"alright, i get it. i snore. you do, too," quinn poked the rookie's shoulder.

"you guys get settled and then i'm sure everyone's hungry so we can eat dinner fairly soon. everything is almost all ready," ellen grinned.

"i'm assuming you're kicking me to the basement, right?" luke motioned between will and his sister who's faces flushed at his words. "i don't have to sleep in—"

"nah, it's fine. my stuff is already all down there anyway. gg, you get a room to yourself for once," luke teased while grace laughed. even though the couple had been together for more than a year now, the older three were still adjusting to seeing the new dynamic within their family. what used to be a divide between girls and boys most of time was now mixed in as they got older. they also just weren't around anymore to fully get used to the idea of samy and will dating after avoiding one another because "boys and girls had cooties."

"just don't be too loud when you start—"

"and that looks like the cue for will and quinn to put their stuff down," samy cut luke off before he finished his sentence. the curly-haired brunette just winked while the others snickered. the young couple's blush got worse as samy rushed will upstairs before anyone said something else uncalled for in front of their parents.

"it never gets old," luke mumbled to himself, collapsing back onto the couch.

"and i'll never get used to it until they get married probably," jack shook his head slightly.

quinn, jack, and grace could picture the first summer they started noticing changes in samy and will's relationship.

summer of 2018

samy and will were 13. luke mumbled something to jack in passing one day when he claimed that will kept inviting samy to hang out with them when he's never done it before. jack didn't really think much of it, also not really caring for luke's 15 year old moodiness as a 17 year old. no one really thought anything of it until quinn caught sight of the two younger ones on the porch together playing cards by themselves. he raised his eyebrow.

"what are you creeping at?" grace noticed quinn by the window.

"samy and will are out there playing cards by themselves," the older boy pointed out. grace went over to look for herself and sure enough, her brother and samy were smiling and laughing as they played two person uno.

"do you ever feel like this summer feels different?" the 18 year old wondered.

"different how?" grace grew curious.

"i don't know like everyone feels a million years older," quinn shrugged.

"i mean..we are older. you're starting sophomore year of college. luke's starting usntdp this fall. jack's almost done with usntdp..." grace listed off all the differences.

"yeah, yeah, but besides the obvious. something just feels different. like maybe everyone's all grown up now that we aren't needed anymore? quinn admitted and grace's expression fell.

"not needed? i don't think we can ever escape that being the oldest siblings," the girl laughed a little.

"i mean with the smaller stuff, you know? it feels like everyone's found their footing. i mean samy and will don't avoid one another anymore. cooties must've rubbed off," the brunette laughed too.

"we'll always be needed, q, just for different reasons, but i understand where you're coming from. it is weird seeing them get along so well now," grace peered out of the window again to catch another glimpse.

samy followed will to his room. it was roughly decorated with famous hockey players he picked out when they were like eight and stayed exactly this way since colleen and bill never found the need to redecorate the beach house rooms. "wow, i feel like i'm eight again," will admired the old medals and posters on the wall.

"this whole house feels like a time capsule to me. we like never come here anymore," the girl settled onto the bed.

"i know. it's cool being back though. feels like those really old times when we were little," will grinned when samy giggled at the memories. the blonde began unpacking some of his things before joining his girlfriend on the bed.

"how've you been?" he wondered.

"i'm good. you?"

"better now that we get to spend a few days together," the blonde cheesed earning a blush on samy's cheeks.

"i love you. how are you feeling about the game from last night?" because of how late everything was and will's early flight, the couple hadn't gotten a chance to talk about it like they usually would.

"fine. it was fine. i knew we would lose against quinn again," will shrugged, playing it off even though samy saw right through the disappointment settling into his body. she tugged his glance towards her, "i know it's hard losing so much, but it's nothing on you."

"i know, i just..it's still weird adjusting to the whole pro life and going from being one of the best to..semi average," the blonde shrugged.

"semi average? babe, give yourself some credit. you're way better than semi average. it may not seem like that right now, but you're gonna prove yourself. the fans love you," samy quickly reassured.

"i just wish our program was stronger or..we had something different. i don't know. i know having mack and i on is definitely turning it around slowly, but..still," will released a sigh, deflating even more with samy hated seeing.

"i get it. it's discouraging, but it's all the more reason to keep pushing for that change. plus, you have at least 3ish..maybe 2 by this point days off, try to take advance of them and just let your mind rest for now," will knew his girlfriend had a point so he smiled and tried forgetting about the team and hockey for now.

"i will, thanks. i love you too," he leaned in to peck her cheek. samy flushed, threading her fingers through his messy curls before heading back down stairs knowing someone would come up looking for them if they didn't.

the dining room finally got put to good use again as everyone found their unassigned, assigned seats while the boys helped bring the dishes out. colleen bill took each head of the table while everyone else filled in around them. likewise, the older siblings sat on one side while the younger ones sat across from them—the old and young divide still showing.

"i wanna say how grateful i am to have everyone here to celebrate the holidays this year. i couldn't be more grateful for having all my sons here and colleen and bill for opening this cherished home to us this year," ellen spoke up before anyone dug in. her expression glowed with joy and happiness seeing all four of her babies look back at her with similar expressions.

the entire dinner was spent with loud laughter and stories of the past few months since summer. hockey was the main topic, but samy continued getting praised for her recent win along with the excitement of being almost halfway done with college already. quinn shared updates about vancouver. jack and luke talked about jersey like they've been living there their whole lives and will expressed how happy he was in san jose. it seemed like every kid was finding their footing which warmed the parents' hearts.

once dinner concluded, the yearly tradition of receiving matching pajamas the night of christmas eve continued. it was even more special this time around because hanukkah was tomorrow too. all six kids opened the familiar shaped gift at the same time, wondering what the theme would be this year.

"oh my god, it's all of our teams," jack saw it first, always being the first one to rip through the wrapping paper. he held the pants up to examine it closer.

"we got them custom made so the pants have your team logos and your shirts are tailored to your specific team," ellen explained.

"wow these are awesome. thanks so much, mom," luke beamed, going to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"we want pictures, so go put them on!" colleen said and urged all the kids to change. they ran to the bathrooms or the bedrooms making the parents laugh. five minutes later, all 6 of them were in the new clothes sporting their teams.

"wow, i love them. you guys look so good," ellen gushed.

"i could totally fuck with these. i'd wear them out honestly," jack proudly declared and posed him his set.

"okay, everyone on the couch like usual," ellen instructed. the kids got themselves in order where the younger ones sat up on the actual couch while quinn, jack, and grace crowded them at their feet. wide smiles painted everyone's lips as the parents squeezed together to capture the memory.

"sooo adorable, oh my god. thanks for being good sports about this guys," colleen smiled when the last photo was taken.

"you guys better get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow. santa is coming and we're lighting the first candle on the menorah," mrs. hughes clapped her hands together in excitement. obviously, everyone was too old to believe in santa, but she liked saying it nonetheless because they were all still kids in her eyes.

"if you hear commotion on the roof, it just may be the reindeer," jim teased making everyone giggle with childlike excitement.

it was nice because none of them had really felt this excited about christmas like this in awhile. maybe it was something about being all together again that brought the magical feelings back.

"see you all in the morning," jack cheered and made his way downstairs. everyone else said goodnight to the parents and retired to their rooms.

samy and will cuddled together in his bed. "so what'd you ask santa for christmas?" the blonde cheesed in a whisper.

"well, i want one of those dyson air wraps for my hair. i asked for some new socks. some shirts and pants. all the usual. you?" samy giggled as she tried remembering the list she sent her mom a few weeks ago.

"honestly, i didn't really know what i wanted. new sweatshirts? more dress shirts," will shrugged a bit.

"i didn't really know what i wanted either honestly. i kind of told my mom to surprise me. i'm excited for you to see the gift i got you though," the girl grinned.

"oh really? am i gonna love it?"

"i mean, i hope so," samy snuggled in closer to her boyfriend's chest. he squeezed her arm and kissed her temple.

"i'm sure i will. i love anything from you," will laughed and they actually fell asleep pretty fast. after the long day of traveling, will was knocked out and samy fell asleep from his familiar scent alone.

the morning of christmas, a very special tradition was always carried out and luke and samy were already awake to continue it on. the two met in the quiet kitchen, "ready?" the older boy wondered.

"so ready," samy grinned.

every year since they could learn how to be quiet, samy and luke had a tradition of waking up everyone in the house super early using a different method each year. in past years they've splashed water on people's faces, blew air horns in their ears, threw fake rubber bugs on people—it was endless and the most fun the siblings had.

this year they were going with silly string. hoping that 5 cans was enough, they crept downstairs to where jack and quinn were.

winter of 2016

"shh, we have to be quiet," luke whispered to his little sister as they crept upstairs to jack's room. they were giggling like crazy with one another in hopes that no one would hear them coming.

their mom bought them the air horns weeks ago, hoping that by asking for them weeks in advance, she wouldn't find out what they'd be using them for. the tactic worked because no one in the house knew what was coming as they inched closer to their brother's room.

jack was a pretty heavy sleeper in general, so they hoped the loud air horns would do the trick. once they blew them, everyone in the house was bound to hear, so they had to move fast throughout everyone's rooms so they could all get a taste of the loud handheld machines.

"we go on my count," luke instructed and samy nodded. he carefully pushed jack's door open where the middle hughes was spread out across his bed snoring loudly.

it was seven in the morning, the latest they left anyone sleep before they set their yearly tradition and prank into motion. luke and samy hovered right over jack's head.

"3"

"2"

"1"

the loud sound blew through the air straight into poor jack's ears. he jolted straight out of bed, eyes wide with fear.

"wake up it's christmas!" luke and samy yelled before hurrying out of the boy's room. they pushed quinn's door open right next door, not hesitating to blow the air horns.

"get up! get up! it's christmas!" the oldest hughes jumped straight up too.

grace was their next victim in samy's room. "wake up!!" she yelled in the girl's ear who flinched.

they ran into their parents' room, jumping on ellen and jim's king sized bed and blowing the horns. "merry christmas!!!"

they were such menaces because mr. and mrs. hughes woke up startled and scared someone was breaking into their house until they realized it was just samy and luke.

they kept blaring the horns as they ran downstairs to the basement where will was asleep. the poor blonde grumbled something and tried covering his ears with the pillows. samy and luke ran back up the the main floor where they spun themselves around to announce the day ahead.

"it's finally christmas! everyone wake up!" the two yelled.

it was the cruelest way to wake people up, but it worked every year because everyone was usually awake within the thirty minutes samy and luke made their grand entrances.

this christmas was going to be no different. luke pushed his brothers' door opened where jack was spread out on the bed and quinn was sleeping the opposite direction. the siblings shared a glance, feeling bad for just a second, but knowing everyone should just expect it by now.

"you get quinn, i'll get jack," luke whispered and samy nodded.

she pointed her fire at her older brother who looked so peaceful sleeping. when luke gave her the signal, she shook her can and started spraying directly in the boy's face.

quinn, who wasn't a heavy sleeper, woke up immediately, "hey, what the fuck!" he yelled which woke jack up.

"woah, what the fuck is that?" they covered their faces.

"merry christmas!" samy and luke yelled before racing out of the room and back upstairs.

they went to ellen and jim's room, not even waiting to start spraying in their direction. "wake up! wake up! it's christmas!" the older couple winced when the substance touched their faces.

"luke. samy," ellen said sharply making her kids run out of the room before they were caught. samy bursted into will's room and she felt so bad getting up and leaving him alone in the bed, but it was also still so fun to wake him up like this.

"merry christmas smitty!" luke started spraying first. it rambled into the blonde's hair where he flinched away, hiding under the covers.

"hey! what the hell!" he grumbled.

"sorry, baby. get up! it's christmas!" samy giggled and ran out of the room to grace's.

no one was thrilled with the silly string wake up call and what samy and luke forgot was that they left their extra cans down in the kitchen where quinn and jack found them after they ran up the stairs.

the older brothers raced up to the second floor and sprang into action, spraying down samy and luke in return for the cruel wake up alarm.

"take that!" jack exclaimed and now all four siblings were having a silly string battle in the middle of the hallway. it was going everywhere on the walls, in their hair, on their clothes.

will and grace came out a second later when they heard the yelling. "take one!" jack threw a can to grace.

instead, she decided to spray the older boys back. they freaked and tried running away back down the stairs, but everyone just followed them instead.

the war continued in the kitchen. will grabbed his own can and now it turned into every man for themselves. counters were used as shields. corners weren't safe anymore. entryways became hiding places. silly string was everywhere.

when ellen, jim, colleen, and bill finally made it out of their rooms, they were greeted with a large amount of silly string everywhere.

"i can't say i'm mad because samy and luke always think of something clever to wake us up with," bill laughed.

"let's just be glad it wasn't water this year," ellen mumbled and decided to brave going downstairs where the war was still happening between the kids.

they had all made it outside at this point. the entire yard became free range. samy tried hunting down will, but he cornered her first and sprayed her hard with yellow.

"can it be a truce if we're dating?" samy said, blocking her face from the string.

"truce. nah, i come to play," will shook his head. the girl took off towards the beach knowing they couldn't spray on the beach because it was public property.

will still followed her but stopped when he saw that she had stopped too. he raised his eyebrow until he got closer and saw nothing but white covering the sand.

"oh my god, it snowed!" the girl squealed and ran onto the snow covered beach.

the blonde grinned, watching his girlfriend fall back into the snow even though she was still in nothing but her pjs. he quickly followed after her.

"will, it snowed! i haven't seen snow on the beach in so long," she was so happy and the silly string war was forgotten.

quinn, jack, luke, and grace came looking for the two. when they got closer to the beach, they caught sight of the snow and all of their faces lit up.

"no fucking way, it snowed!" jack hurried ahead.

"i haven't seen snow on this beach in so long," grace mumbled in disbelief.

jack copied samy and will. he stared making his own snow angel. being from michigan must've made them have thick skin because none of them were complaining about the cold in just pajamas.

"this is so cool," luke mumbled, pulling his phone out for a picture.

the silly string war quickly turned to a snowball fight. when the parents finally made it outside, they couldn't even be mad anymore because the joy on their kids' faces was like no other.

it really was some christmas miracle.

[your-hockey-mom]

could you plspls do an imagine about cooking breakfast for/with quinn? <3

The blankets were warm, weighted, and the room dark. 

Quinn's breath tickled your neck as he laid right up against you, arm anchoring you to his side as if you would try to leave. You had been awake for only a little bit but it didn't matter. Mornings like this meant the world: ones where he got to stay home for just a little longer. Any morning you got to share with him were not to be taken for granted. You would let him sleep until he decided to get up. It was still early enough. 

Several minutes passed before Quinn started to stir. The feeling of his facial hair against your bare shoulder made you giggle. 

"Mmmm, good morning, sweetheart." His morning voice was dangerous. Would make you sin in an instant if asked. You would restrain yourself this time. He was just saying good morning; a genuine good morning. 

"Morning, baby." You linked your fingers with his, still being the little spoon. He was so warm; he was always your little heated blanket. Thankfully, Quinn didn't mind that you got clingy when you were cold. It always seemed like you were cold. 

"Been up long?" His voice was low and his words ended in a whisper. It made your heart race. 

Your eyes had fluttered closed again. You could have easily drifted back to sleep. "I don't think so."

"You should have woke me up," Quinn nuzzled into you, somehow pulling you closer into his body. 

"I wanted you to get some sleep. Especially after last night." The game had been a rough one; another OT loss, and he had come home under a raincloud. What he needed most was some cuddle time and a good night's rest. You preferred to have those moments with a happy Quinn, but a defeated Quinn needed just as much love if not a little more.

"I'm fine, baby, but thanks for thinking about me." 

"Of course." You both lay there quietly; your breathing still synced. The feeling of his flushed skin against yours had your whole body on fire. You were going to need a cold shower if you laid here any longer. "Want me to make you something to eat?"

"I'll help you. Not fair that you always do everything." 

"But I don't mind!" You whine, feeling like he was somehow not happy with how you had been doing things. 

"I know you don't mind, but it makes me feel bad. Let me hop in the shower and I'll be your cooking partner." He kisses your shoulders several times, so thankful his lip isn't still in stitches. 

- - - 

"So, what were you thinking?" Quinn asks, locking his arms around your waist as you both stand before the open fridge. He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking at the selection with eager anticipation. You always kept the kitchen stocked during the season, so he really had no idea what there was to work with. 

"Omelets?"

"Ohhh, let's do that. I was thinking French toast, but that sounds better."

You lay your head against his, "Are you sure? I can do either."

"We can do either." Quickly, Quinn lays a kiss to your cheek before he reaches for the carton of eggs off the shelf. 

"You're such a brat," you say through laughter, but Quinn disagrees with you.

"Are you sure you aren't talking about yourself?"

"Quinny!" You playfully pout, popping him lightly with a dish towel you grabbed from the sink. However he's quicker and grabs it from your grasp before it makes contact with his back.

"Wanna play?" He teases, eyebrows raised. "I think you'll lose!" 

In one quick movement, he puts his hands on your hips and shortens the distance between the two of you. You fall into him; palms against his chest. 

"I just wanna make breakfast," you mumble, trying to keep up the act of being pouty, but it doesn't last long. The moment he leans in to kiss you, you melt. 

"Then we'll make breakfast. What do you want me to do?"

"Can you do the eggs? I'll chop all the other stuff."

"Fair." His hands fall from your waist to give your bum the softest squeeze before he turns back towards the island. 

"Brat!" 

- - - 

"I've got mushrooms, onions, red bell peppers, cheese, and ham. Am I forgetting anything?"

Quinn's digging around in the cabinet for the right pan when he looks over at you. He's just admiring the view when you finally catch him, having not gotten an answer from him. 

"What?"

"You're beautiful," he says lovingly with a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "But no, I don't think you've forgotten anything.

You just shake your head, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. He knew just how to make you flustered, but secretly, you loved it, and he knew it. He'd never take it too far where it hurt your feelings, just until he'd make you lose your ability to use your words. Normally, all it took was a well place compliment. 

"Will this one work?" He asks, producing a (hopefully) large enough skillet from the cabinet. To be honest, he had no idea what he was doing, but he was trying. 

"Mhm! Should work just fine."

Once the pan was heated through, you took charge pouring Quinn's eggy mixture into the pan while he stood at the ready to put in the filler.

"What do you want?" He asked, putting a section of hair behind your ear, standing beside you, 

"This one is yours! What do (you) want?" 

"Yours first, sweetheart." He touches your face, turning it towards him for a kiss. 

You just shake your head after. "This is too much for me!"

"Baby, I can wait."

"And so can I!"

Quinn's turn to shake his head, smirking as he does. "Compromise? Can we put it all in at once and just...share it?"

"Do you know how cute you are when you don't try?" You say, almost sidestepping his offer. "Yes, we can do that."

- - -

"Is that enough cheese?" He asks, worried he's going to somehow ruin breakfast. 

"Little more!"

"Wait, you're not supposed to have cheese! Baby~" Quinn's voice drops off towards the end, remembering your lactose intolerance. 

"Oh, I'll live!" Your voice is the complete opposite of his. It's playful, almost excited. 

"If you just want an excuse to lay with me on the couch all day, you don't have to put yourself through a painful stomach ache to do so." He sounds sad, or at least worried for you. 

"Baby, it's just cheese! I'll feel bad for a little bit and then I'll be fine! Happens all the time."

He just sighs, stepping back behind you. He's always wished that you cared as much for yourself as you did for him. No matter how much you reassured him that you were always fine, he still worried. 

"I never want you to be in pain." He whispers, close to you again; soft kisses from your ear to the curve of your shoulder. 

"Quinny, baby. I promise I'll be okay!" You touch his cheek as he leans into your hand. "I promise."

He breathes deeply, burying his nose in your hair. "Okay, if you're sure."

"I am,"

- - -

"Are you sure you got enough?" Quinn asks seeing how full his plate is in comparison to yours. 

"Yeah, I think so, why?"

"Are you sure? I don't need all of this." His brows are knitted together as you come to the table. You kiss the top of his head to soothe his current wave of worry. 

"You fuss too much over me."

"I do not. I love you." He sticks his lower lip out slightly. He hadn't had a good pouting episode in a hot minute. You forgot how much you both loved it and how much it could annoy you. The annoyance was only when he was being unreasonable. 

"I love you too, babe, but you're being a booger."

This breaks him: he smirks then laughs. "Yeah, yeah, okay."

"That's what I thought!" You give him a wink before taking a seat next to him at the island. Once you're seated, he spins you away from your plate and towards him. "Quinny!'

His thumb presses against your lips, fingers resting just under your chin, stopping any further whining for the moment. You let your fingers wrap around his wrist lightly causing him to smirk. There was the slightest flicker of mischief in his eyes but it faded as quickly as it appeared. 

"This was fun."

You nod, his thumb now gliding across your bottom lip. His eyes were flipping between your eyes and your mouth like he was struggling to decide what to focus on. With much anticipation, he'd kiss you deeply, letting his hand rise up through your hair. His ability to take your breath away wasn't fair, but the way it made you feel made you yearn for such moments. 

"Can we do this tomorrow morning?" He whispers, his forehead touching yours. 

"Anytime you want to."

[aledethanlast]

Thinking about Robin Cross' mom cause like. Your little birdie goes missing and she comes back and it's a miracle but...that's not your little girl anymore. Your Robin was never this afraid of the world outside her bedroom door. Wasn't this suspicious of everyone outside her window. Didn't cry herself to sleep from guilt you couldn't (didn't even want to) imagine. Didn't shrink away from every pitying stare, didn't believe the whispers that called her a broken, guilty thing.

It takes years for a therapist to convince your Robin that she can fly again. It takes just as long for you to accept that the miracle you wanted is not the miracle you wanted.

It takes years of trying until another miracle happens, and you notice the way your daughter's eyes track the ball on the tv in the lounge when she's still in the kitchen and you go, Hey, worth a shot, right? so you ask her if she wants to play exy.

And the weirdest goddamn thing happens. Which is to say, Robin flies out of her seat, back hitting the wall like its trying to marry the plaster, like it always does when she's scared, the way her therapist says is her trying to assert to herself that from at least one angle, danger cannot come for her.

But then your husband and brother in law scream from the lounge as a goal is scored, and it's such a surprise that you don't turn to them fast enough to miss the way Robin's eyes do the same, and suddenly that wall slam doesn't actually seem like a no.

Six months later, you watch your daughter on her first game in a real field. She's absolutely terrible, far too shy to be proactive in her role, and you are so close to strangling the dad two rows over who says that aloud because you lost your daughter six years ago, and today you just got her back. (Also, god knows the rest of her team isn't much better, so maybe judge your own son first, jackass.)

Robin grows up and it's not perfect, its not the miracle you wanted, but damn if it ain't a good miracle anyway. She says she's happy and you choose to believe her. The therapist says if you give it time it'll all work out and you choose to believe that too. You just hope time means before graduation because, as it stands, you're not sure what'll happen when high school ends.

And then a stranger stranger to you walks into your home, and Robin invites him in, and he says I will give you as much time as you dare ask me for. And you ask, why. Why would you do this for her. And the man smiles, in a way that seems to surprise him as much as it does you, and he explains that actually, for once, it's not him. It's another kid everyone else declared broken who decided she's worth the effort.

This is when you realize miracles are bullshit. It's just people putting in the work. And if there is some unblemished, untraumatized Robin Cross out there soaring like she'd always imagined, well, happy travels. But tomorrow, she and her little birdie are getting in the car and driving seven hours down to Palmetto.

[adhdemizel]

"Mumbo's out?! Before me?!" The look on Jimmy's face is shock. His mouth twitches into a smile and then he's grinning, laughing and throwing himself into a giddy spin. "I'm not the first one out of the game! This is unbelievable!"

Grian's hold on his communicator tightens until the plastic creaks. "You don't think cheering so much is a little...I don't know. In poor taste?"

Jimmy snorts, waving a hand dismissively. "No way, man! I think I deserve to be excited about my curse being lifted."

"Tim-"

"Can you not?" Jimmy's face is blank. Well, his eyes are blank. Dark with something unhappy. His mouth is still grinning, teeth bared. "Can you just be happy for me? That I'm still alive?"

"Our friend died, Timmy, I'm just saying you should have a little tact!" Grian steps closer. Not for the first time, he considers what he'd do if he were red in this moment.

Jimmy's smile finally falls as he sneers at Grian, taking a dangerous step forward. Grian doesn't back down, even as Jimmy leans into his space. "It's different when it's someone you actually care about, isn't it."

Don't take the bait. Don't. Grian turns up his nose. "I'm just saying, this was all kind of your fault, that's all."

Jimmy laughs. "That's not how it works. I asked for help, and I got it. I'm not the one who picked Mumbo."

It feels like the ground has fallen out from under Grian's feet. It feels like falling, it feels like emptiness. It tastes like tnt and blood.

"Sorry? You wanna explain what you mean by that, Tim?"

"I was right." Jimmy stands a little taller, in a way he hasn't since having Tango at his side. Since having Scott's hand in his. "I was right, Grian. It worked."

His heart is loud in his ears as he takes a slow breath in. "Timmy..."

"It worked. And now you can all Watch me win."

if I don't read an angst wild life fic where grian blames Mumbo's death on Jimmy that culminates in a screaming match and Jimmy saying something like "it's different when it's someone you actually care about isn't it?" and him becoming more invested with the watchers and grian realizing that he wasn't kidding when he said he was going to pray I may implode. I may write one also but school is taking a lot of time

[tubbytarchia]

on the topic of joel's rivalry with scott; wasn't LL!scott's kill justified on Joel, though? I feel like since Joel created so much chaos, Scott wanting to kill him and actually doing so makes sense. and in Limited life, wasn't Scott killing Joel fair again, since Joel kept trying/killing Scott? genuinely curious! I'm also a Joel fan and I agree w/your point on scott, but I feel like, while it was frustrating for joel to die to scott like that, it made sense (?)

(I'm sorry anon because I trust that you are genuinely curious and I'm trying desperately to put aside my bewilderment because I strongly disagree haha, if I sound mean please just take it as me being a very passionate Joel enjoyer please...)

Joel didn't get a single kill on Scott in LimL. Did he lead the charge? Barely. Everyone was going after Scott by the time that Joel was as well. He was no more responsible for going after Scott than half the rest of the server. The only notable kill Joel has gotten on Scott was in DL and Scott never references back to it so it's not like he's holding a grudge from that, whatever his reasons are for labelling Joel as deserving of being killed pretty much 6 times in a row, 5 of which were him, resulting in Joel's permadeath, are faulty at best. Joel legitimately has not done anything to Scott that others aren't also guilty of, Scott's insistence of having Joel dead really comes out of nowhere and the sheer magnitude of it is difficult to reason even disregarding that fact

In Last Life, yeah, I don't really care about that, that was standard death game happenings. The other instance I've been referring to instead has been Secret Life where Scott shares this similar sentiment he has in Limited Life as he kills Joel's second to last remaining teammate, and then him immediately afterward whilst taunting him about it. Just leaves a significantly terrible taste in my mouth following LimL. Joel did try and go after Scott in SL but largely only because of a task to do so. He was very happy to do it but he has never once succeeded, not even in Wild Life. Scott keeps putting Joel down and painting this image of him being deserving of his downfall when 1. Joel hasn't even tried to harm him in any notable way that Scott has referred back to until after this started and 2. he has never actually succeeded in harming Scott in any notable way after this started. And yet still Scott keeps referring to how Joel is after him for some strange reason that he can't possibly figure out, taking opportunities to taunt him and making him sound like a nuisance to his backside that he did nothing to deserve. It's incredibly frustrating when there's no justification I can see for the amount of loss he's caused for Joel in complete nonchalance. He spreads the idea that Joel is just evil and crazy (even though I'm sure he isn't even convinced of it himself, it's just beneficial for him) and should be put down like an animal for everyone's benefit and he's good at swindling people in that way to enforce his own version of events and beliefs however little water they actually hold

[xoxoavenger]

What Is This Feeling?

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Dean are certainly feeling something for each other, they just can't exactly put their finger on it. In the meantime, they'll rip each others throats out and annoy Castiel and Sam.

word count: 3003

warnings: a small mention of alcoholism, intense enemies to lovers, based on 'What Is This Feeling' from Wicked, you may think this is isn't Christmas themed but there is a grinch reference thrown around a couple times (I couldn't help myself)

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Dean had never felt this way about anyone before.

It was surprising, because he had been in a lot of relationships with a lot of women. But something about this woman made his head reel in a dangerous way. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, at least not until he talked to Sam.

"I swear, ever since the moment I saw her I've felt this way." He tells Sam as they drink beer in the library.

"Hm," Sam says, still looking at his book. He clearly is not too interested in what Dean has to say, which causes him to be a little upset.

"I'm being serious! I don't understand it." He knows he's whining, but he wishes there was a way for him to know what this feeling was. It's been driving him crazy for months on end. 

"Are you sure it's not love?" Sam asks as he looks over, and Dean makes a face.

"Definitely not love. More like," It's on the tip of his tongue, and his mouth turns down as he figures out what makes him dizzy about her.

Y/N and Castiel are having the same conversation in her room, just down the hall, at the same time.

"He makes my heart race. I've never felt anything like it. I can literally feel the blood leaving my face just talking about this." She tells him, swirling her wine in her glass. Cas frowns.

"It sounds like you're in love." He says in that stupid low voice, and she wants to hit him at just the word.

"Absolutely not. It feels more intense. Like," She narrows her eyes, because she knows exactly what the feeling is.

"Loathing."

~

After the two of them figure it out, their relationship somehow gets worse. Sam and Castiel can only sit on the couch of the hotel room, each holding a beer. The only thing that would make it picture perfect is if they were eating popcorn. Sam would get up and pop it if he didn't know that Dean would deck him for even thinking about standing and interrupting their argument.

"How could you let it go?" Y/N yells from her side of the room. Sam and Cas swing their eyes over to Dean as if this were a baseball game.

"Let it go?" Dean repeats, barely able to stop himself from sputtering. "What, did you want it to kill you? Or maybe I should have shot you and hoped the bullet went all the way through?" He yells, because the stupid werewolf had been able to run after they'd been track it the past couple days. Everyone knew the likelihood of them being able to find and track it again, especially so soon.

"I'm sorry, is your aim that bad that you couldn't shot it without shooting me?" She knows, deep down, that the werewolf was wrapped around her, that it would have been hard to get a clean shot with then way he was holding her like a shield. Cas had been able to swing and slice a chunk of the werewolf's arm with his angel blade, and the werewolf had made it's escape while Y/N fell to the ground and Dean had gone to her side instead of shooting at it, like Sam had been.

"Seriously? You know that thing was wrapped around you like a freaking slinky. Do you have a death wish?" He shoots, and she turns, putting her fingers to her forehead in annoyance. "Why are you turned around now?" He asks, and she explodes.

"Your face is annoying me!" She says it far too loud, and Sam and Cas exchange a look of surprise before looking to Dean. This has officially gone from arguing about the hunt to personal attacks.

"Ugh!" Dean groans, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. "I need alcohol just to deal with your voice." He says, and she turns back around, steam practically coming out of her ears.

"Are you angry because they didn't have a new jacket at army surplus? Too bad the old one has a knife shaped whole in it. Although, that probably made it look better." She's going after whatever she can think of, and she knows this isn't going to stop any time soon.

"Alright," Sam stand, putting his hands up. It's gone on a little too long, and he's sure any minute now they're going to get a call from the front desk because neighbors started complaining about the noise. "Let's just say you two hate each other and call it a day, yeah?" He suggests, and Y/N shakes her head.

"It's so much more than hate." She's staring daggers at Dean, who is chugging his beer.

"Finally something we can agree upon." He says as he pulls the bottle away and wipes his mouth, and she just rolls her eyes.

"He makes my skin fucking crawl, Sam. I can't stand him." She says, as if Dean isn't in the room at all.

"What about him makes you so angry?" Sam asks, and she doesn't even need to look at him to answer.

"Everything. All of it." She says, and Sam takes a deep breath.

"Okay," Sam is trying to keep his cool, but he kind of wants to laugh. This entire situation is childish, and he can't believe the two haven't figured their shit out yet. "Y/N and Cas, you share a room tonight."

"I couldn't handle her being in here anyway." Dean says, finishing the beer and throwing it in the trash before immediately grabbing a new one.

"Is it wrong to call him an alcoholic?" Y/N asks as Cas grabs her arm and starts to walk her to the door. "Because personally, I think it's just saying the truth, but I know some people,"

"Please stop," Cas begs quietly, opening the door. Dean has fire in his eyes, and she's lucky her back is turned when Dean starts to stalk toward her. Sam has to grab him and pull him back as Cas pulls her out the door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?" Sam asks finally as the door shuts and he lets go of his brother.

"Me?" Dean asks incredulously. "She's the one who started it!" He argues, and Sam just shakes his head.

"Y/N is a nice person. She gets along great with everyone else, and she always makes friends with people on cases. She even somehow has demons that like her more than you do. So yes, I think you're the problem." Sam tells his brother, and Dean just gets even angrier.

"She hates me too! There's not much I can do here, anyway." He argues, grabbing his stuff and walking to the bathroom.

"Maybe she wouldn't hate you if you weren't such a dick to her." Sam says, because he knows his brother can be a little rough around the edges, but Dean usually isn't this rude or upset with someone. There has to be a reason why they loathe each other, and Sam doesn't think it has anything to do with loathing.

~

"So, why do you hate him?" Cas asks Y/N as they pack up the next morning. The angel had let her off the hook the night before, but he needed answers now.

"Well, ever since the beginning, there's just been something about him. And I usually get along with everyone. But he doesn't make it easy, exactly." She says. She doesn't like talking about it, because she doesn't have a good reason for the feelings that bubble up every time she sees Dean.

"It sounds like you don't hate him." Cas tells her simply, and she just blinks.

"You're right, Cas. I loathe him. Entirely." She frowns, zipping up her bag. Cas doesn't know what to do about this. He just wants Y/N and Dean to get along, because he's getting so tired of them fighting so much. It's every time they see each other, every time they're together. It doesn't even matter if they're on a case, or who's watching.

A point proven when a couple hours later, on the way back to the bunker, they stop at a diner and a fight ensues.

"Just because you're the one who lost the werewolf doesn't mean you have to take it out on us by making us stop at the shitiest place." She tells him after they'd ordered. True, this diner didn't exactly live up to any standards, but she was overreacting slightly because of her feelings.

"I'm sorry you're just so entitled that you have to have a five star meal, but we don't exactly have the funds for that. Maybe, if you put in a bit more of your own work, rather than just joining all of our hunts, we'd have more money for better food." Dean goes off, voice raising. Instead of sending him a glare to quiet the argument like she normally does in public spaces, she doubles down.

"We have plenty of money, you asshat! You just need the greasiest burger you can get your hands on, because it reminds you of life on the road with your dad." She shoots back, and some people near them have started to stare. She doesn't have it in her to care anymore, and can only barely stop herself from telling Dean that their cards are fake and so is their money.

"Seriously? You think you can read me? Well, you're not a closed book!" Dean yells, far too loud for the small diner. "You're only with us because you're lonely and terrifies you. You've lost everyone you've ever cared about, which keeps you from caring too much now even when you're nice to everyone. And if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here." The words are barely out of his mouth before Y/N launches across the table, legs underneath her on the chair and arms out to choke him. One hand grabs his head and she's able to push it to the table once, hard, before Dean gets his bearings and puts his hands on her wrists.

"You think you're so smart, Winchester? You're a boy who grew up too fast and never had a childhood. Your whole adulthood has been you acting childish, because around your dad you were never allowed to. I get you had a bad life, but you think you're the only fucking one?" She grumbles into his face, fingers still twisted in his hair. He scowls, because she hit the nail on the head.

"I don't give a shit about what you think happened. I know a lot of people who were dealt a shittier hand than me. But at least I'm trying to make the world a better place. You act like you owe everyone you meet something, as if you're the reason their life ended up the way it did. News flash, the world doesn't revolve around you!" He yells in her face. She moves to get up onto the table to get better grip and maybe even choke him with her thighs.

"Okay!" Castiel grabs her leg as she tries to move, pulling her back. She's still got a grip on Dean's hair, so she pulls him too.

"Ow!" He yells as she grabs her fingers and unwinds them from his head. Y/N ends up on her back in the booth, Castiel holding her legs.

"It's time." Cas says as he looks at Sam.

"Time for what?" Y/N asks, getting up on her elbows and trying to kick her legs out of Cas' grip. He just holds on tighter, then nods at Sam before sliding out of the booth, his hands still gripping her ankles.

"Let go of me!" Dean yells, definitely causing a scene. And then, Cas gets up and pulls Y/N's legs with him, holding them over his head so she doesn't hit anything. Curse his stupid fucking angel strength.

"Cas!" She shrieks, grabbing her shirt to keep it from falling and revealing her stomach and bra to the entire diner, all of which were watching now.

"Which way to your bathrooms?" Cas asks calmly, as if he's not carrying a full grown woman upside down. The server points to the side, and Cas and Sam drag Y/N and Dean into the bathroom. Y/N's laid down on her back, confused out of her mind, and Dean is yelling at Sam as the younger Winchester pushes him into the small one-hole bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean yells. Y/N turns on her stomach, and Dean turns toward the door just in time to see it slam closed.

"Fuck," She mutters, getting up and moving to the door. She tries to open it, but the handle won't even budge. "They're holding the door closed." She tells Dean, who instantly moves to where she had been to try and open it.

"Let us out!" Dean screams when it becomes clear that he won't be able to open it either.

"Nope!" Sam yells out, sounding far too excited. It makes Y/N even more mad than she is right now.

"You two need to work it out. And until you do, you aren't leaving that bathroom." Cas says through the door. Y/N wants to pull her hair out.

"Ugh!" Y/N screams, taking in the bathroom. It's old and a little dirty, and she hates the smell.

"You have no room to complain. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here." He tells her, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms.

"Me?" She asks incredulously. She cannot believe the gall of this man. "You've got to be kidding."

"You started the whole fight!" He throws his arms out, and she thinks her eyes may pop out of her head. She takes a deep breath, because she wants to get out of this bathroom before she's forced to pee in front of Dean.

"Why did you let the werewolf get away?" She asks quietly. It's the softest tone she's ever used with him. He sighs, unable to look at her.

"How many times do we have to go over this? I didn't let it get away. Sorry your hunting standards are so high, but it's not like you were helping either." The way he says it, the tone so crisp and the words practiced, she knows he's lying.

"I'm not trying to make fun of you." She tells him, grabbing some paper towels and wiping off the water on the counter. "I just know you're lying, and I want to know why." She tells him, throwing the towels away before sitting on the counter.

"How would you know if I'm lying?" He asks defensively, and she rolls her eyes as she tries to tamp down her own snarky response.

"Dean," She groans, taking a deep breath. "I know that we aren't exactly close. But we aren't going to get out of this bathroom until we tell the truth, and I'm actually kinda hungry." She says, and she sees his exterior crack a little bit. He breathes out a long sigh, then looks from the ground to the wall.

"I did let the werewolf get away. You were right. I could have helped Sam go after it. I probably would have been able to shoot it." He admits, and it honestly surprises her. She didn't think he would tell her, at least not until they had been in there for an hour. She was about to push when he starts talking again. "I just saw you fall to the ground, and your eyes rolled back into your head, and I thought that you were more hurt somehow. I just needed to make sure that you were alright, and finding the werewolf was the furthest thing from my mind." It's silent in the bathroom, and Y/N is sure that Cas and Sam are listening. Dean looks at her, and they lock eyes for a few long moments.

"Why would you care?" She asks quietly, but it still echoes in the tiled room. Dean clenches his fists, rolling his eyes and walking towards her.

"I don't actually hate you." He says, standing far too close to her.

"Loathe entirely?" She asks with a small smile, heart racing. She's not sure why, exactly, but she can feel her face heating as well.

"No," He chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think it may start with an L." He walks even closer, his hands going to each side of her hips. She can smell his body spray, the smell of him that hangs around the bunker and usually infuriates her.

She realizes that maybe now she isn't infuriated with him. She's infatuated.

"I think I feel it too." She tells him, voice low as her gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

"I'm sure you do." He says with a smirk.

"Alright." She chuckles, throwing her head back in fake annoyance. He grabs the back of her head however, and pulls her into a searing kiss. All their emotions, all the heart racing and dizziness and blushing has all lead up to this kiss, where their lips move in tandem and their teeth clack as they both open their mouths. Y/N's pushed against the mirror by Dean, one of his hands slamming against it. She moans as her body arches into his, and her groans into her mouth as he puts one hand behind her back, pushing her impossibly closer.

"Do you think they're physically fighting?" Cas asks from outside the door. Both him and Sam have their ears pressed the door, however Sam is slowly starting to lean back.

"They're physically doing something." He replies, frowning. Cas jerks back, letting go of the door handle as he realizes what Sam is insinuating. 

"I'm not sure if this is going to be better than them fighting." The angel says, and the two go back to their table, where food is waiting for them.

"Worse." Sam says, trying not to imagine all of the shit that's about to go down in the bunker. "Definitely worse." 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @king-of-milf-lovers @lyarr24

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 2) :

ANDREW :

"I'm not here for your entertainment" "but as expected you are talented enough to multitask"

"you are neil josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive. I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. but you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it. on that day you're not going to run. you're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call."

"I'm not afraid of you" "that's why you're so interesting"

DAN :

"don't thank us, remember us. we're your teammates. we're here to help you with whatever you need."

"you've got us now"

"that was perfect. but don't do something that reckless again. we can't replace you. hear me?"

"neil, you can use the girls' shower while we're busy"

MATT :

"just try not to think about it until we get there. you won't do yourself any favorite if you spend the ride stressing out about things you can't change."

"if you don't have anywhere to go, I'll drag you home with me"

KEVIN :

"if you get hurt out there, you do something about it. you take it easy, you have coach pull you, you ask abby for help - I don't care. if you ever say 'I'm fine' about your health again I will make you rue the day you were born"

"neil has no place in riko's games. he is a fox."

"run. it's the only way you'll survive"

"you should be court."

"will you still teach me?" "every night."

"I will watch you. if you want to drink tonight. I won't let you say something you'll regret." "you'll be drunk inside an hour. then who'll stop me?" "I would stop drinking."

"you're not going. do you know what he'll do to you?"

WYMACK :

"why did you pay for stalls coach?" "maybe I knew you'd need them one day"

"neil, if you can't be here say so. abby can take you elsewhere until it's time to leave. get out of here and get some fresh air."

"what can I do?" "I don't know" "when you know, tell me"

"sometimes the world feels so big but then I'm reminded how small it is" "big or small just remember you're not alone in it."

"if riko really was behind it somehow, the blame is all on him. he chose to take out his petty rage on seth. he chose to cross a line. you didn't. you hear me? you didn't. don't ever blame yourself for seth's death. that it too dangerous a road to walk down. you keep your eyes on your own path and keep moving forward"

"neil" "I'm fine" "be fine inside where it's warmer"

"look I know I've always told you all to take your personal problems up with betsy or abby. I've said it's not my place to get into anything outside the court. I hope you've figured out by now I'm just blowing hot air. I'm not real good at being a shoulder, but I do have a working set of ears."

"help me" "let me"

"this doesn't mean anything. I'm still a fox." "of course you are."

NICKY :

"kid you're killing me. why do you always get that deer-in-headlights look when someone does something nice for you?"

"you worry about neil's career. I'll worry about his personal happiness."

"I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't reallt dan and matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you."

"there's obsession and there's dysfunction. you can't make exy your end-all be-all. this won't last forever, okay? you'll shine bright, then you'll retire, and then what? you gonna spend the rest of your life at home alone with all your trophies? you can't be just this, neil. this isn't enough to live for."

"thanks for taking one for the team, neil. you're a real friend."

"are we? friends?" "you are going to be the absolute death of me. yeah, kid. we're friends. you're stuck with us, like it or not."

"I only see that look on neil's face when someone tries to do something nice for him, but we all know kevin's as bratty as they come. what did you say, kevin, and do I need to defend neil's honor or what?"

RENEE :

"I am not the girl I once was but the shade of my old life will always existe inside of me. that is what helps me connect with andrew. I am hoping it will help me connect with you."

"I do not know your story. if you've trusted andrew with anything, he hasn't shared the details with me and he never will. but if you are as like us as we first predicted you to be, perhaps one day you can also come to see me as a friend."

"if either andrew or I can help you, please know we are here."

"and you neil? are you all right?"

[vespaer77]

Aside from the fact that I think I might be the only person on the planet who could genuinely be interested in the Executors (I say "could" because my faith in good storytelling from BW is on shaky ground), I fully agree with this post.

And I say this as someone who wasn't sure that the Veil coming down was the right move. But whether someone thinks the Veil should come down or stay up is immaterial. The whole point is that no arguments for the validity of either claim were really ever truly examined. The only reasoning in the game that we get for the Veil remaining intact is that its collapse would "drown the world in demons." Which is... almost a fallacy on its own. Aside from naturally occurring malign spirits (that we learn about from the Mournwatch), demons exist as a direct result of the Veil simply existing.

Perhaps the danger is in not knowing what would happen to all of the mundane, unmagical folk when confronted with the full power of all the raw, unfiltered, chaotic magic of the Fade. But that's still thinking of magic within the confines of the Fade itself. We have no perspective, outside of Solas, on what magic really looks like when the Fade and the mundane world combine. Does it change? Is it still dangerous? Who does it endanger? Are we wrong? Are we right? Who knows? The whole point is that there's never an opportunity to ask those questions. And we have at least three characters fully immersed and available in the story who could provide concrete, first-person, lived and experienced answers.

But we never ask.

We have a spirit of Wisdom who loves answering questions.

And we never ask.

Hell, in addition, we have two dwarves that are connected, isatunolly, with the Titans, who were also there before the Veil.

And we don't get to really ask anything of great value. Even our characters are canonically frustrated with how little we get to ask.

I just think it's very interesting that this game was called Dreadwolf for so long, and then it wasn't. The game we got has very little to do with, and makes very little use of, the Dread Wolf at all. So the game is called The Veilguard. But at no point does the Veilguard really ever.... guard... the Veil. Or make any mention of guarding the Veil. Or have any discussion on why guarding the Veil is so super important or what it even means, especially considering that, in the first 20min of the game, the only real element threatening the Veil is neutralized until the last 10min.

The game, called The Veilguard, isn't about the Veil at all.

In my humble opinion? This game should have been given a title that had more to do with the Blight or the gods or something. Or, given how many times it gets said in game, it could've just been called, "Dragon Age: It's Just So Hard." Even on a meta level, that's a title I could've believed, lol.

All this without even mentioning that one mural memory. We all know the one. The one that falls somewhere between a shameful, textbook retcon and a blatant attempt at gaslighting.

Whoops. I mentioned it, didn't I? Maybe I'll make a longer post about that someday. That's the part of this game that really grinds my gears, the status of the Veil notwithstanding.

In short, I firmly believe that the vilification of Solas is purely based on a retcon (and one that makes no logical sense when properly examined) and it's a hill I'm prepared to die on.

Anyhoops, if someone told me that, even though this game had been in development for 10yrs, the final version of this game was produced from start to finish in 16mos or less, I'd honestly believe it. I also feel like they were 100% shooting for a game that would have DLC afterwards and were told late in their development cycle that there wouldn't be so they tried to gift wrap everything with the ribbons and bows that they had. Like... go to the Halls of Valor and tell me that this is a fully finished game that was intended to be complete from the very beginning.

Castles in the Fade, or What Was the Point of the Veil Anyway

Something that will now haunt me until the end of time is why was the concept of the Veil ever introduced into this series.

We’ve been hearing about it since the very first game. There’s a codex entry about tears in the Veil in Origins. Tamlen mentions a thin spot in the Veil if you play a Dalish elf. Sandal has a prophecy in Dragon Age 2: “One day the magic will come back—all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Admittedly, this is just one line said by a character who often says odd things, but it hinted to the fact they were planning to do something with the Veil from the very beginning. The state of the Veil is repeatedly brought up. It all had to mean something! Or so I thought. 

When I saw “The Dread Wolf Rises” quest in Veilguard, I said, “Oh, here we go!” The Veil is coming down, magic is coming back, and it’s going to set up such an interesting story for the next game. 

Alas, no. 

I hadn’t really enjoyed my time playing Veilguard up until this point. It felt like the game was ducking and dodging every bit of world building and lore that could possibly bring nuance or complexity to the story. Every returning character or faction was a cardboard cutout of themself. They shoved Solas is a time-out box and gave him nothing to do. They refused to let him have any impact or influence on the story when he had been set up to be our main antagonist back in Trespasser. This game used to be called Dreadwolf! And while we learn about his past… we never talk to him about it. In the present, he’s in stasis.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains. They are mad, bad, and only as dangerous as the narrative will allow as to not give Rook and co too much trouble. They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems… until Elgar’nan moves the moon to cause an eclipse. A vital component in making his own lyrium dagger. For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure.

The Evil Duo need their own dagger ostensibly to tear down the Veil, because they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead? I guess they haven’t thought that through, because of the madness and the evilness.

Ok, I thought. Perhaps the gods will be the one to tear down the Veil. Or maybe we’ll have a choice to let Solas do it his way before they can, which will be less chaotic and less full of Blight. Because the Veil has to be coming down one way or another? Why introduce the concept of the Veil, especially a Veil that has been thinning and failing since the series began, if it’s just going to… stay.

There is a principle in storytelling called Chekov’s gun. If something is mentioned in a story, it must have a purpose. If you keeping mentioning that gun hanging on the wall over the fireplace, it’s because at some point in the story, someone is going to take it down and use it. The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games.

The Veil has been a character unto itself. It was the central focus of the third game, and its dissolution was set up to be the core conflict of the fourth game. We learn everything we thought we knew about the Veil was a lie. It was not created by the Maker to separate the Fade from this world because of jealous spirits, it was created by a guy named Solas to trap the elven gods and the Blight from destroying the world. Also, the elven gods were never gods, and they are also evil.

This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded. Religious crisis averted.

But I digress.

When the title of the fourth game was changed from Dreadwolf to Veilguard, I started to see the writing on the wall. Still, I held out hope the Veil would have some greater purpose in the story. That its introduction as a concept was for a reason. That something in this world would change.

Instead, from the get-go, the question of the Veil is no question at all. We only get Solas and Varric making oblique or catastrophizing statements about it. Solas says little beyond he has a plan. If I ever wanted to hear a villain monologue about their plan, it was now! Varric, on the other hand, decries Solas’s plan. He warns that should the Veil fall, it will destroy the world and drown it in demons. And that’s that.

We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. In Inquisition and Trespasser, we learn it took the immortality from the elves. It cut most of magic off from the world. Spirits are trapped and are being corrupted into demons, and most of what we know about spirits and demons is wrong. There are ancient elves possibly asleep? That part is left vague, but ancient elves are still about. We meet some in Mythal’s temple. There seems to have been some merit in bringing it down, because elves were flocking to Solas’s cause at the end of Trespasser. He had agents working for him already. What do they know that we don’t know?

Apparently nothing, because by the time Veilguard rolls around, there are no mention of agents. He is working alone. His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. The Veil is unnatural, so it must be removed—consequences be damned. We are never given any reason to think Solas has a leg to stand on in his pursuit of tearing down the Veil. We never hear any kind of counter argument from anyone, not even Solas, as to why the Veil should come down. We are only told it will destroy the world. It will drown the world in demons. This is all Solas’s fault.

There is no nuance. No complexity. No moral quandary to mull over. The game gives us vague warnings with no explanation as to what exactly is so world-annihilating about the Veil coming down. We must take Varric’s word at face value. We’re the heroes; Solas is the villain. Stop him.

It makes me wonder why Solas was ever a companion in Inquisition, let alone a romance option. Solas was presented to us as a complicated character in Inquisition. We had the potential throughout the game to make him see the value of this world, to help him realize he was wrong about it. “We aren’t even people to you,” the Inquisitor says in Trespasser. Solas replies, “Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong...again.” He began the third game viewing the world as tranquil, seeing the people in it as nothing more than figments in a nightmare, just as we saw our companions in the In Hushed Whispers quest. He ends the game having made friends, having recognized he was mistaken. He might have even fallen in love. (Or he may still seen no merit in this world if the Inquisitor antagonized him the entirety of their time together.) But something makes him continue with his plan to tear down the Veil, despite recognizing this world is real. He must know something we don’t. Something we’ll learn about in the next game.

We’ve been hearing about the Veil for three games now. We’ve set up our complex antivillain for the next installment, and he’s going to tear the Veil down. We swear to stop him or save him. But it has to be more complex than that. It can’t be so straightforward. Uncomplicated. Simple. Boring. Right? Right?

Nope. He really is just the villain, mustache-twirling and all. He apparently had no greater motivation, no as of yet unrevealed knowledge that would put this whole Veil thing into a new context. It was really as simple as the Veil falling will destroy the world, so Solas must be stopped. There is no new information that is revealed which makes us question what we are doing. Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?

Solas was the trickster archetype of this tale. He was our version of Loki from Norse mythology. What is the role of the trickster archetype? To challenge the status quo. To bring about events of extreme change, like say, the tearing down of a Veil that holds back all of magic. Loki is a huge contributing factor in Ragnarök. Through his manipulation, he causes the death of the beloved god, Baldr. This ushers in a long winter, which signifies the beginning of the end. Loki is imprisoned for this crime. When the final battle between gods and giants begins, the sun and moon are swallowed, plunging the earth into darkness. The earth shakes and Loki is freed to fight on the side of the giants. The world burns in raw chaos, falls beneath the sea, and is reborn. The world is remade, and a new realm of the gods and a new, better earth is formed.

It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic. This could be seen as equivalent to the long winter. Solas falls asleep, trapped in dreams. He wakes and sets in motion bringing about the apocalypse. It’s not a perfect one to one, but it’s there if you squint. We have a war against the gods in Veilguard. I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that. There is a final battle, but it does not end in the end of the world. Or a better world. It just ends, and everything is the same.

It seems our trickster god caused his apocalypse thousands of years before our story started, when he created the Veil. His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. He is no Loki at all.

If you can’t tell, I wanted the Veil to come down. Did I think the Veil coming down would be painless? Have no negative consequences? No. Of course not. But keeping it up has negative consequences too. And it made for an interesting story. Or at least it could have. But we never explore that. The game presents no counter argument to having the Veil stay up, which, again, begs the question: what was the point of introducing the concept of the Veil at all?

Did I think the Veil coming down was actually the best solution to help Thedas become a better place? I don’t know, and I never will, because the game never argues for it one way or another. It just tells you to want it in place and to stop asking questions. In real life, a catastrophic event is not the best way to solve any of the world’s problems. But this is the realm of fiction. We have gods and monsters, magic and myth. We have introduced the status quo of Thedas, recognized it needs to change, then our trickster god appears ready to fulfill his role in the narrative. 

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins. Veilguard actually tries its hardest to pretend any previously mentioned problems don’t exist, so of course the Veil coming down has no merit. There are no problems to solve in this world, apparently. Solas is just stuck in the past and can’t get with the times. Silly Solas.

The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another. Large amounts of bloodshed weaken it, so I guess Thedas better achieve world peace real quick to avoid any battles. There were seven super-powered mages holding it together… now there is just one. Ironically, the Veil was going to fall after two more Blights anyway. The Wardens were doing Solas’s work for him! It would also have released the full force of the Blight at that time… which Solas was trying to avoid, I presume.

It feels like keeping the Veil up just pushed a big problem onto Thedas’ future generations. We’ll keep slapping bandaids on it until it all falls apart. Someone else can deal with the fallout, but we’ll be dead by then, so who cares.

Primarily, I wanted the Veil to come down from a storytelling perspective. The Veil was an interesting concept and I wanted the story to do something interesting with it. Conflict is what makes stories stories and the Veil coming down could create so much compelling and complex conflict. And the Fade is weird, and I like weird. Stories are also about change, and I wanted to see Thedas change. Yet, Veilguard is over, and barely anything has changed. Instead of magic coming back being a conflict for the next game, they went with Fantasy Illuminati. Oh.

The Veil turned out to be a nothing-burger, and no problems in this world are even close to being solved. Slavery is still rampant in Tevinter. The elven people are still oppressed everywhere. Mages have no more rights in the South than they did in Origins. Spirits are still trapped and being corrupted. The Calling still exists, though might be different somehow now? They don’t really get into that. The Chantry’s validity is still not allowed to be questioned. The Blight still exists in some form, but again it’s vague. Oh, and we learn the dwarves have been gravely wronged, and the Titans are still tranquil. At least if you redeem Solas and a romanced Lavellan joins him, they can work together on healing the Blight and helping the Titans. Oh, good. One problem is being acknowledged and some action will be taken. Offscreen. Hurray? Solas doesn’t have a really great track record of fixing problems, so Lavellan is definitely going to need to be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.

For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn. The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why.

I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned… things suck quite a bit in Thedas already for a lot of people right now. Let the Veil’s fate be a difficult choice to make. If the conflict cannot be what to do about the Veil, it should be am I doing the right thing about the Veil. If the heart of your game is so thin on motive, everything else falls apart around it.

I hoped they were setting up a complex, Thedas-sized existential conflict for this game in Trespasser, but no. I wanted something to happen, but nothing did. 

I want to feel challenged and changed by a story, not left feeling empty. I’m tired of superficial entertainment. I want to sink my teeth into a narrative that doesn’t paint the world in broad strokes of black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Ultimately, I think my issue is why even introduce a concept like The Veil if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it. Or anything at all. What I thought was Chekov’s Veil turned out to just be a MacGuffin. And that’s disappointing.

[makabray]

okay so i know that this is something that at least a few other people have already talked about, but if i may put my own two cents in: i feel like mouthwashing as a game is a lot less narratively impactful if you treat curly as an enabler and nothing more. he is not blameless, that is for sure, but to act like he was a willing (or even enthusiastic) accomplice to jimmy's crimes is doing a disservice to both his character and the overall message the plot is trying to convey.

curly's role in the plot isn't to point out that some men will disregard the feelings of women to prioritize their male peers (though that is something that happens, don't get me wrong) as much as it is to highlight that even the best of intentions can lead to absolute ruin. curly cared about anya, he cared about the entire crew, and yet it was this same compassion that he had for jimmy in particular which inevitably lead to their downfall. i really do believe that he thought he was doing the right thing, but because of his personal attachment to jimmy and the larger forces at work (those being late-stage capitalism and rape culture), he couldn't see him for what he really is until it was too late.

it's this kind of "good-intentioned enabling" as i saw someone else put it which makes his role as one of the two player characters so significant. like everything else in the game, the choice to set part of the story from his point of view is entirely deliberate, but i think the reason for this is to encourage the player to reflect on their own place in perpetuating the things that allow this kind of shit to happen. much like curly, you too probably want to believe that kindness and good intentions are enough, but that just isn't always true. sometimes, it's those good intentions that make things so much worse before you can even realize it.

mouthwashing isn't about if curly or anyone else on that ship is a good or bad person, and it's not about if curly or even jimmy deserved their fates, it's about responsibility. it's about the difficulty of knowing what to do and when to do it, and it's about whether or not you, the player, would be able make things right.

after all, if you were told that your best friend had done something terrible, what would you have done about it? would you take responsibility? it's easy to say yes, of course, that you'd do anything. but would you really, before it's too late? and if you couldn't, would you be able to admit that to yourself? to others?

that is what mouthwashing is about.

[utilitycaster]

What do you mean (from your latest post) that you think that many actual play failures are failures of ambition?

Usually, when an actual play show doesn't click for me, it's because the GM or players aimed very high or tried to push the boundaries (of the medium or system) and it didn't quite land right. It's a pretty new medium, and while I've been very openly disparaging of how much many writers in the AP space focus overmuch on novelty over consistent quality, I do think these failures are important! I think it's good to play with what the medium can be! I just think that sometimes, it does indeed fail.

Examples off the top of my head:

Too much plot for allotted length: EXU Prime was fun to watch but I think this plot really needed to be a 16-20 episode season, not an 8 episode one, which meant that we never really learned Myr'atta's motivation or the deal with Ted until years later in the real world despite that being the core plot. Similar issues have come up with various D20 seasons; I think running a one- or two- session story isn't too hard to do, or running a longform campaign isn't too hard to do, but 8 or 10 or 20 episodes can be really difficult to plan for properly, and a lot of people overfill.

Trying to bend the system too far: I wrote a long-ass post I cannot find about this for a few D20 seasons as well (notably Neverafter) and I've fallen off of WBN for a few reasons but in part because it really increasingly feels like D&D is the wrong system - the classes of D&D support the worldbuilding, but the pace and style and magic system of D&D increasingly feel like they and the narrative are in conflict.

Trying to fit in An Important Message: the infamous Rusty Quill Gaming Everything Changes [now make a monumental decision we have not once explored in 7 real world years of telling this story, in the last half of the last episode] is a big one here. This is not unique to AP (this is why Battlestar Galactica's ending is widely panned) but I think the nature of actual play makes it more likely because to some extent you as the GM must relinquish a good degree of control.

Not realizing what you need to plan for: ultimately, in my opinion, the failure of Campaign 3. I don't think the problem is that Matt wanted to bring everything together across multiple campaigns; I don't think this is a cheap setup with a pre-determined outcome (though I could be proven wrong); I think the problem is that there needed to be a much more stringent character creation process and on-rails early plot to actually get from point A to point B in a way that felt natural within the story.

Trying to break production value records while neglecting story: With the caveat that I hated nearly every second of the hour of Kollok I watched, I have yet to see a review that talks about anything it does other than how good the production values are (*whisper* they're not even that good). Burrow's End had some really good aesthetic/filming choices and some really not good ones on top of having a story I found weak; the season of Candela Obscura I thought had the strongest story had no split-screen film edits. This could just be that my AP introduction was TAZ Balance followed by simultaneous C1 and early C2, but like...I've heard incredible actual play with no music and no fancy lighting and no sound effects and no official character art, and I've watched some heavily produced stuff that had the plot of a fucking Ed Wood movie and was utterly joyless to boot. Story first; accessibility production values (clean and clear sound, transcripts, making all speakers visible if you're a filmed production) second; anything else should ONLY come after that.

[kaija-rayne-author]

DAV is maximized (made for?) Tank/Warrior players

Curiosity is absolutely one of my fatal flaws. I was sorta feeling shitty about the whole 'you probably just suck at the fighting system in DAV' thing.

Let me preface this with saying that I'm good with rogues. It's my usual playstyle and I almost always do a first run of any RPG as a rogue.

What I'm really not all that good at? Tanks. Pretty much any other class I'm at least suitably competent with. I mean, I can tank, but it's just not something I'm more than acceptably good at. I also have very little experience with them. I think I've tanked in 3 games? Out of the, it must be hundreds, of games I've played? I just don't prefer to tank. I'm a rogue/mage/healer style player. The one who backs up the tank or keeps them on their feet, y'know?

So, because curiosity will likely be the death of me at some point, and despite never wanting to touch it again, I made a warrior character in DAV. I just... had to know if it was me or the game. I suppose I enjoy actually being a good gamer more than I suspected. DAV offended my pride, perhaps. Self-awareness isn't comfortable.

That fighting system, that I had so much trouble with as a rogue (with other rogues and a mage as backup since we don't get our tank companions til later in act one) has, so far, been so fucking easy as a warrior I'm actually thinking of increasing the difficulty level.

DAV is just maximized for warrior players and people who like to bash barrels in, not any other class. Which is just shitty game design.

I suppose I should have seen it before. The rest of the companions you start with are all support characters. Two rogues and a mage. Your first companion you aquire is Bellara, also a rogue. Oops. Mage. Bellara is a mage. I forgor.

I dunno, I'm going to run this character until I get to the spot (when Harding receives her special ability) where I first wanted to rage quit as a rogue. But so far? I haven't died once. I'd gotten creamed numerous times as a rogue character by this spot in the game. I can go toe to fucking toe with a fucking ogre! And only have to heal once!

It's truly ridiculous. I'll test out mage after, if I can find the patience. It's reasonably unlikely that I'll actually decide to finish this run. Unless I do it for writing my fix it fic reasons . But I can kinda see more clearly why some people actually liked it. It's actually almost fun as a tank.

I did also say I'd never touch DAV again too, though, soooooo.

If you turn your brain completely off, don't give a shit about the Lore, and if the story is a back seat sort of thing for you as a gamer, this might actually be somewhat fun. It's not Dragon Age regardless, they screwed the pooch to sell the pups on that one. (I'm a Lore fiend, story and character first player. I legitimately don't give a shit about the fighting in RPGs. It's a back seat thing for me. As long as I can make it work, I'm good.)

SMDH

I said DAV was wickedly unbalanced in my review series, but I didn’t think it was so bad that they... just didn't bother to make it a fun game for rogue players. Despite them getting rid of half of what makes playing a rogue fun (sneaking, hiding in shadows, picking fucking locks, y'know, rogue stuff.) Not sure about mages yet. I do want to try one just out of pissed off, irritated curiosity, though.

Snorts. They made this game for warrior players. And I can't honestly find words to describe how shitty that is. It lacks most of the stuff that makes any RPG an actual RPG. It's maximized for warriors and people who like to destroy barrels. (Why. Why the fucking barrels?) Rogues are nothing but light skirmishers. I'll have to actually play a mage and see, but I've talked to people who said it's easy as a mage, too.

WTAF does BioWare have against rogue players to nerf the class so badly?

I'm honestly floored by how easy this game is as a warrior. I'll even test it out on max difficulty, (which is usually what I play at, max or one down).

But the shittiness of designing a game mostly for tank players can't be ignored. I changed nothing but the class. And I'm not far enough into the game yet for build to matter that much. I think I've gotten roughly 5 skill points to put into my character.

No wonder they denied game keys to honest reviewers.