#last name change for this thread whoop

[m34tthews]

CHAPTER FOUR

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 12k (whoops)

warnings — minors dni. sexual themes (future chapters)

an — sorry for the long chapter i got too into the domestic bliss. HAPPY EXTENSION TO KNIESY AND JT 💙

masterlist

after their weekend tangled up in their own bliss, their bubble burst with the quiet reminder of the outside world — her calendar alert, blinking monday into her perphiery, and the folded hoodie she’d worn for two straight days now crumpled in the corner of his couch.

still, the morning was slow and golden.

not awkward quiet, not heavy — just that kind of lingering stillness that follows days of barely leaving the sheets, of mugs on nightstands and whispering beneath the covers like the world outside didn’t exist. the kind where her laugh had found a permanent place in the hollow of his chest, and he kissed her like he knew it.

by the time they were halfway down the highway, the mood had shifted but not in a bad way. just softer. grounded.

his hand rested palm-up on the center console, pinky gently looped around hers, that easy, unspoken connection still humming between them. the speakers played something low and familiar, a song from a few summers ago that she didn’t bothered to name. the windows were cracked, breeze threading through her hair, and auston looked more like a boy than an icon — hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, a gold chain glinting against the collar of his t-shirt, sunglasses resting low on his nose.

he looked content.

like he could drive like this forever if she asked.

she shifted in her seat and glanced over at him, drinking in the soft scruff at his jaw, the way the corner of his mouth twitched every time he caught her staring. and still, he didn’t say a word. just let her look.

and then she let him off the hook.

“so small problem,” she said lightly, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

he hummed, eyes still on the road. “yeah?”

“our moms talked last night.”

his brow arched slightly, but his expression didn’t change. “about?”

she hesitated, pressing her lips together like she was trying to gauge how to soften it. “about you coming with me for breakfast.”

he glanced at her, amused. “like, soon?”

she gave him a sheepish smile. “like… now.”

he blinked. “wait—”

“i forgot my mom makes breakfast every sunday,” she explained in a rush, already groaning at herself. “and she texted this morning saying she knows i’m with ‘ema’s boy’—her words, not mine—and that i should bring you.”

auston let out a soft laugh, dragging a hand over his jaw. “so i’m being summoned?”

“i told her we were exhausted,” she said, more flustered now. “i told her we just got up, but she didn’t care. she’s impossible to say no to.”

“it’s not a big deal,” he said easily, shrugging like she hadn’t just dropped the relationship-esque invite on him.

“really?” she leaned toward him, eyebrows raised. “because if it is—if you’re not ready or don’t want to—i can come up with a reason. i’ll cover for you. we can say felix has a fever and that you need to go home—”

“y/n,” he interrupted, warm now, “do you want me to come?”

she blinked at him, then nodded slowly. “yeah. i do.”

his hand left the wheel long enough to squeeze her thigh. “then i’m coming.”

her chest eased. the nerves she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding slowly uncoiled.

“you’re gonna regret it when she pulls out the baby albums.”

“baby albums don’t scare me,” he said, leaning over at the next red light to kiss her temple. “moms love me.”

she snorted. “she’ll grill you.”

“i don't doubt it"

“you’re not nervous?”

his mouth curved. “not if you’re there.”

and for a moment, the weekend’s magic wrapped around her again — that warm, quiet certainty that he wanted to be wherever she was. that even in the face of reality — tangled schedules, big careers, family dynamics — he didn’t flinch.

he showed up.

when they pulled up to her childhood home — the old stone steps she used to race down barefoot in the summer, the porch light she’d helped her dad string up in tenth grade — auston looked at it all like it mattered. like it already meant something to him, just because it meant something to her.

he opened the passenger side door for her, fingers brushing her wrist before he reached for her hand. the morning air was soft, and her heart pounded loud against the quiet.

“you ready?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.

he leaned down and kissed the side of her head, the scent of his cologne clinging to the air between them.

“born ready”

the door opens before she even knocks, and there's a chorus of voices all of a sudden — she hears footsteps from all directions, her mom's already yelling orders from the kitchen, and her dad's standing there in the foyer with open arms and a big smile.

"well, if it isn’t little auston matthews?"

auston smiles, already in motion for the embrace. "not so little anymore, sir."

his dad puts a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide as he inspects him. "no kidding. you're a damn giant now. what are they feeding you up in toronto?"

"probably not enough," auston jokes, slipping easily into the warmth of the moment.

"you remember me coaching you in teeball?"

"yup," auston grins, "but mainly i remember striking out a lot."

"because you swung like you were trying to drive the ball into orbit. hockey makes sense now."

"you were surprised when i took it, huh?"

her dad laughs, bringing them in. "hell yeah. kid from the desert, picking up skates rather than cleats? thought you went crazy."

then she arrives — maria.

the little girl toddles over from the living room, dragging a crayon in one hand and a half-colored princess book in the other. auston crouches down instinctively, not expecting her to stop shyly in front of him, blinking up.

“hey, sweetheart,” y/n says softly, kneeling down beside them. “remember auston?”

maria stares at him. then, wordlessly, she reaches out with tiny arms.

auston blinks. “me?”

she nods slowly.

he glances up at y/n, who's just as surprised. "she never lets anyone hold her."

auston picks her up, placing the toddler on his arm like it's second nature. maria burrows into his chest like this is perfectly ordinary.

her brother walks by and pretends to clutches his chest. "wow, betrayal. i gave you life, kid."

auston chuckles. "she's got good taste."

they make their way to the kitchen, where the rest of the family lingers — her uncles crowded near the coffee pot, the TV in the adjoining room playing low, cousins camped out at the table halfway through pancakes. her mom moves around the stove, flipping something over in a pan, her hair pulled back in that same quick bun she always wore when things got busy.

when she turns and sees them, her whole face lights up.

“finally,” she exclaims, drying her hands on a dish towel as she strides over. she goes straight for auston, her grin wide and knowing. “the one my daughter won’t shut up about.”

“mom—” y/n groans under her breath, but it’s weak, smile already tugging at the corner of her mouth.

auston just laughs, unfazed, gently setting maria down on the counter before stepping in for the hug. “it’s good to see you again, mrs. l/n.”

and her mom hugs him like she means it — not one of those polite, brief ones, but real and warm and full of history. he hugs her back just as easily, and it makes something pull in y/n’s chest. he already fits.

as they pull back, her mother eyes him playfully. “your mom sends me every single photo. every. single. one. she’s still my best friend, you know.”

auston smiles. “she’d be happy to know you said that.”

her mom loops an arm around y/n next. “we’ve been waiting for this day.”

“what, to roast me in front of him?” y/n mutters, but her tone’s soft, affectionate.

her dad appears then, holding a thick, slightly weather-worn photo album. “thought it was time we embarrassed you properly,” he says, already flipping pages as he heads toward the dining room. “breakfast isn’t ready for a few more minutes.”

her mom claps her hands and ushers y/n toward the stove. “come help me finish up those eggs.”

y/n throws auston a mock pleading look, but he’s already trailing after her dad, amused.

the photo album is full of memories — y/n in oversized bows, missing teeth, spaghetti sauce on her cheeks. auston chuckles quietly at each page, leaning in as her dad gives commentary like a tour guide.

“that one’s her first ballet recital,” he says proudly, tapping a photo of a young y/n in a tutu and scowl. “hated every second of it.”

auston laughs. “looks like it.”

they keep flipping — birthday parties, school trips, awkward phases — until suddenly, a photo catches his eye. it’s smaller than the rest, slipped between the plastic sheets. grainy, but unmistakable.

a classroom photo. a younger y/n, seated at her desk with a skeptical look on her face. and beside her — auston. shorter hair, softer jaw, same curious expression. a name tag crooked on his desk.

he blinks. “whoa.”

her dad peers over. “that’s from mrs. hadley’s class. third grade.”

auston’s thumb hovers just over the image. “i didn’t know we were in the same class that young.”

“your moms did,” her dad replies with a quiet smile. “i remember the teacher called them both because you guyshad a fight about whose turn it was at the reading corner.”

auston laughs under his breath, but his gaze doesn’t leave the photo. something about it hits different now — the two of them, tiny and oblivious, sitting side by side before life had a chance to twist them apart and back together again.

her dad watches him for a moment, then gently pulls the photo from the sleeve.

“take it,” he says, offering it over.

auston looks up, surprised. “are you sure?”

“course. you’re in it too, son.”

auston takes the photo, carefully tucking it between his fingers like it’s something delicate. something that matters.

“crazy,” he says quietly. “we’ve been in each other’s lives this long and i’m only just getting to know her.”

her dad smiles knowingly, then pats his shoulder. “life’s funny that way. but you’re here now.”

auston nods, still studying the photo. “we still spent so much time apart.”

“maybe that’s what makes now count more.”

auston glances toward the kitchen, toward the sound of her laugh drifting over from the stove as she argues with her mom about the right way to make scrambled eggs. his chest feels too full again. always with her — it feels like too much and just enough.

he slides the photo into the back pocket of his wallet, folding the memory into something he knows he won’t ever lose.

then there's her sister, natasha approached from the kitchen — calm, older, already handing out two mimosas by the sink.

"auston, yeah? we met once at a summer barbecue. i was the one frantically trying to keep all of the kids from arguing over pool noodles."

he grins, remembering the chaos faintly. "yeah, you had on that ginormous sun hat."

she giggles. "still got it. this is my fiancé, lucas."

they exchange handshakes, and y/n stands beside him, holding her breath as she observes it all occur. like she hadn't literally witnessed how seamlessly he fit into the family that had raised her. how he could hold a toddler in one arm and navigate her teasing brother, her outspoken mom, her sentimental dad — without flinching.

she catches his eye when he looks over at her from the other side of the room.

he winks. and she swears, in that moment, her heart drops all the way down to her belly.

because this doesn't so much feel like an introduction as a starting point.

the not-so-subtle flirting starts almost as the plates hit the table.

they're all seated around the big square dining table that's witnessed its share of birthdays, holidays, and sunday mornings spent in their pajamas over the years. auston's squished between y/n and her dad, who's already topped off his cup with coffee and regaled him with at least three stories about her tee-ball meltdowns.

y/n, to her credit, tries to be cool. she's sipping orange juice like she hasn't been staring at him every few seconds with an anxious intensity.

but her family can see right through her.

"so," marcus starts, drumming the fork against his plate as he grins a glare at her from across the table, "when were you going to inform us that mr. maple leaf was the guy you were staying up to 3 a.m. every night for?"

"jesus," y/n replies, nearly gagging on her juice. "that is not—

"don't worry, we figured it out," he continues casually. "you had the same stupid smile you used to get when mom let you stay up late watching disney channel and you're always sending memes at wicked hours in the family groupchat."

her sister-in-law, tamara leans in, seemingly ready to fan the flames. "i've been saying something's different. y/n usually bolts the moment someone attempts to inquire if she's dating anyone."

and now, she continues, observing auston with a sly grin, "she brings him over to her place all the time. even lets him hold maria."

"that wasn't me," y/n complains, looking between her niece and auston, who still has a remaining smudge of crayon on his forearm. "she grabbed him."

tamara smiles. "and that in itself says it all. maria doesn't reach out to anyone. not even her own father when he forgets to cut the crust off her sandwiches."

"i was tired," marcus mutters.

auston laughs, running a hand up the back of his neck as everyone glares at him. "honestly, i think she was being nice. i probably looked scared."

“you didn’t,” y/n says before she can stop herself, her voice too soft, too natural.

and that’s when her family really clocks it.

natasha tilts her head with a smirk. “you’re all soft now, huh?”

“what?” y/n blinks. “i’ve always been soft.”

“no,” tamara says, clearly enjoying this. “you’ve always been loving — but not like this. this is new. this is like… soft for someone.”

her dad sips his coffee like he’s had this conversation in his head a hundred times. “she’s calm around you,” he says, directing it toward auston. “you’ve got a good energy, kid. grounding.”

auston looks down for a second, bashful but pleased. “i try not to be too much.”

“he’s not,” y/n says, her voice quieter this time. “he’s… just right.”

her brother makes a fake gagging noise and everyone else is crying, but no one doesn't catch the way auston gently puts his hand over hers on the table, thumb tracing the edge of her palm.

"you know," her mom places the platter of french toast down with a smile, "i always hoped you'd end up with someone who looked at you like that."

y/n blinks. "like what?"

"like you hung the moon."

auston leans in and breathes, to her alone, "you do."

she gently kicks his foot under the table, stifling a smile.

but for the rest of breakfast, no question about it — everyone can see how she glows around him. how she listens differently when he talks, how she ensures he has enough coffee, how her laughter has a little more sparkle when he sits across from her.

they've known her since she was born and yet, they've never seen her like this.

when breakfast is done and the kids are chased out with sticky fingers and maria's new artwork stuck to the fridge, y/n remains in the kitchen with her mom. it's quieter in here — the gentle hum of the dishwasher and the far-off laughter of her dad and marcus blending with auston's deep, rich voice from the living room.

he belongs, she tells herself. too much.

she's washing a mug when her mother comes over next to her on the counter, washing a plate and giving her that look — the one she's had her whole life.

"he's sweet," her mom murmurs, tipping her head in the direction of the living room where auston sits now reigning over a sports debate with her dad. "and you — you look at him like he's your favourite book you've read a hundred times but still can't get enough of."

y/n exhales a laugh, blinking down at the sink. "you always say stuff like that."

"it's always true," her mom tells her, bumping her shoulder lightly. "but seriously — i meant what i said a minute or two ago. he looks at you like you like that."

y/n doesn't immediately reply. just dries her hands on a towel and leans back against the counter, lips pursed.

her mom studies her closely. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

she hesitates, then says quietly, "he's comfortable."

her mom raises an eyebrow. "and that's a bad thing?"

y/n strokes her hair. "i don't know. maybe? like. it's too easy. too comfortable."

"okay," her mom says gently, attempting to keep pace. "but. how is that a problem?"

because," y/n responses, voice tight with a truth she hasn't spoken yet, "he's only staying here until august. he has an entire life in toronto. a routine, a team, a schedule. i have mine here. my job. my family. maria's ballet recitals. nat's wedding. sunday breakfasts. this life."

her mom's face eases, "and?" she prompts.

"and i don't know how you make space for all of that," y/n gasps. "i don't know how to maintain this sense when all else is going to be different."

there's a strained silence between them before her mom reaches over, tucks a strand behind her ear like she used to when y/n was little.

"sweetheart," she whispers, "you don't have to set the rest of your life in place all at once in one morning. but what i do know is that if something makes you feel this good, this right… you owe it to yourself to see where it goes. even if it's scary."

y/n's eyes bristle a bit, but she nods.

her mom bumps her hip again and smiles. "and if he's half as in love with you as he appears to be… perhaps he's already thinking the same thing."

from down the hallway, they can hear auston laugh hard — full and unself-conscious — and y/n glances in the direction of the laughter with a heart that thumps too hard for comfort.

her mom watches her intently. "what do you feel when you look at him?"

y/n doesn't even hesitate this time.

"like home," she answers. "but… not here. not arizona. him."

her mom smiles softly. "then maybe he is your life now. not instead of all of this,” she gestures around their kitchen, “but alongside it."

and y/n — terrified but smiling — finally allows herself to think that maybe that's true.

the morning dwindled down into the becoming more than just a breakfast affair. their laughter spills over from the table as everyone's still half in their pajamas, children clinging to their parents, and mugs refilled.

y/n sits beside auston, knees scraped against the table, her hand wrapped around her mug as her soon to be brother-in-law, lucas talks in a manner that has everyone smiling. she's not saying anything at all, just listening, just watching him — the way he's somehow settling into her family's rhythm like he's been there forever.

he fits too well. that thought keeps snagging in her chest like a thread on a zipper.

natasha, on the lap of her fiancé, sleepily stirs her coffee and says casually, "so you're coming to the wedding, aren't you?" everyone stares at auston.

he raises his eyebrows. "uh—"

y/n slowly glances at nat. "you’re inviting him?"

natasha shrugs. "i figured you'd already done that."

y/n opens her eyes in surprise. "i was going to."

auston looks over at her, amused, warm. “i mean… i’d love to come,” he says, glancing around before resting his hand gently over hers on her thigh. “when is the wedding?”

“september twenty-first,” nat answers easily, now busy digging the last of the sugar out of the bowl.

auston turns back to y/n, softer now, quieter. “i go back first week of september.”

y/n nods at him slightly, her gaze on him rather than the table now. "i didn't know when you had to leave. that's why i didn't ask yet."

she is slightly sheepish. but there is more to it — a shift in her eyes, in her posture. a slight stumble. a tiny crack in her armor.

auston catches it right away.

he steps closer, speaking in a whisper. "hey."

she regards him.

"ask me," he says, firm. warm.

she swallows, heart already racing.

"do you want to be my date to the wedding?"

he smiles, tightens his grip on her hand. "of course i do."

she breathes out, as if she didn't know she was holding it. but still lingering there — the tension under her smile. the weight in her eyes.

they sit in quiet for a beat, the rest of the table’s attention drifting to a conversation about flower girl dresses and seating charts. but auston doesn’t let go of her hand.

“you okay?” he asks softly.

y/n blinks, then nods. “yeah. just—”

he waits for her to finish her thought, always so patient.

“it’s weird. we’ve been hanging out for, what, nearly a month?” she says, brows drawn. “but it feels like forever. and still not nearly long enough.”

auston’s thumb brushes over the back of her hand.

“i know,” he says quietly. “i feel it too.”

she finally looks at him again. really looks. there’s something about his expression — open and grounded, gentle and sure — that settles her, even as her chest twists.

he leans in just enough that his shoulder presses into hers.

“we’ll figure it out,” he says.

she slowly nods, leaning her cheek into his shoulder briefly before she sits up.

and in this moment, and for now, with his hand in hers and his family's laughter filling the air around them, she gives herself permission to hope that maybe they will.

at end of the afternoon, when he pulls into her apartment, the sun’s already dipping low — casting long shadows on the sidewalk, that warm orange haze filtering through the windshield. neither of them move to unbuckle right away. the silence is soft, not awkward, full of the kind of comfort that only comes when you’ve spent days breathing the same air as someone.

y/n finally breaks the silence, still facing forward, voice soft. "so. did that go okay?"

auston glances over at her, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other slumping forward over the center console between them. "what do you mean?"

she turns to him now, pulling one leg up into the seat, hands fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. "with my family. with all of them. it's a lot."

he smiles, easy and genuine. "i liked them."

"really?"

"yeah," he shifts more towards her. "your brother was funny. it helped that we already got over the overprotective brother gig. your sister's fiancé was already asking me to join his fantasy football league. your dad's the coolest dude alive, and your mom? she basically adopted me as her son."

y/n laughs, relaxing her eyes. "she does that."

"also," he nudges her knee with his. "maria actually reached out for me. that's gotta count for something."

"she hates people," y/n says, eyes wide. "you don't know. sometimes she won't even come to me."

"well, i guess i'm just a built different," y/n says with a smirk, being arrogant, and she tosses her head back in laughter.

there is a pause that follows, softer this time. she looks at him again, smile still on her lips.

"i'm so glad you came," she says to him. "this weekend was… the best time i've had in years."

his eyes unclench, guarded pride on his face. "me too."

she leans back into the seat, exhales. "i work tomorrow."

he pretend-scowls playfully. "lame."

"tell me about it."

they both linger there a second longer, still not ready to say goodbye for the first time in days. there's a small ache seeping into her chest, like the weekend's sunlight is going away too quickly.

"you gonna be okay?" he asks.

she nods. "yeah. it's just weird. we've been together, like, nonstop."

he leans over the console, his knuckles gently stroking her jaw. "i'll be with you soon."

"you'd better," she says, trying to sound careless, but her voice cracks a bit.

auston leans in and kisses her, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that means i don't want to go either.

he kissed her again — this one deeper, longer, lips curving up over hers — and then let her go with a sigh that sounded pained.

when they do finally part, she opens the door, stepping out with one last glance over her shoulder.

"drive safely."

"text me when you get in," he says to her. "and y/n?"

she paused.

"thank your mom for me," he smiles. "for sharing your world." her heart is racing, and she smiles at him softly, lopsidedly before closing the door.

he sits and watches her make her way to the front of the building — slow, as if she's still debating whether or not to turn around — before she enters, leaving him in the fading light, already counting down the hours until he can see her again

“girl,” she said, arms crossed, eyes narrowing like a detective about to crack a case. “i’ve been gone all week just to come home see that you’ve been missing.”

she blinked, surprised. “you just got in?”

"ten minutes ago." naomi poked a finger at her, then the couch. "sit. talk. where in the world have you been?"

she stretched, padding over and sitting down on the cushions. "i was with auston."

naomi scowled, raising an eyebrow. "no shit. where. what did you do. and more importantly, did you do him?"

"naomi."

"don't 'naomi' me. i come home from my red-eye, thinking i'm going to wake up and see you in your own bed like a normal person, and then you come walking in wearing his shirt, and you look like you were nailed in four rooms."

she laughed, lying back and tossing a throw blanket over her legs. "we didn't sleep together."

naomi gasped like it personally enraged her. "you what?"

"we didn't. it's been a while. and i just—“she shrugged, going a little shy suddenly. "sex is kinda… boyfriend territory for me."

naomi flopped back dramatically, groaning. "you're cute. and doomed."

"it's just…" she hesitated, thinking of the weekend — how safe he made her feel, how her cheeks hurt from smiling, how she'd never slept so solidly beside someone else. "it's not just sex, you know?"

"oh, i know." naomi sat up again, looking at her hard. "but babe, he literally took you upstairs to shower so you could because you were so full from the seventeen things he ordered you. i know this because you texted me every second. if that's not boyfriend stuff, i don't know what is."

she couldn't help but grin. "he did tell me he waited to watch love island with me."

"see? boyfriend."

"but he lives in canada."

"it's another country, not another continent."

she lifted an eyebrow. "you don't get it."

"and you're in denial," naomi said. "come on, i saw the way you gazed at your phone every five seconds before i left. now you're playing it cool like you didn't spend the entire weekend basically living in his lap. i'm just saying”

"what?" she asked gently.

"he may not have told you yet. but the guy's already yours."

her heart thudded — steady and dangerous. because somewhere deep down, a piece of her hoped it was true. that this wasn't some kind of summer romance. that he wasn't just a guy who came and went.

that maybe, maybe, auston matthews was the kind of man who didn't treat her like a fill-in, but a priority.

after a self-care day and needed catch up for her busy best friend, y/n unwinded for the night preparing to go to bend when the screen of her phone up. she snuggled deeper into her hoodie zipped all the way up. her cheeks warm before she even answers.

she picks up with a tired smile, her voice still soft from the shower. “hey.”

he’s already smiling when she answers, phone propped sideways on his nightstand, shirtless and sprawled out beneath dark grey sheets. his arm tucked under his head, hair still damp, tattoos on full display.

“jesus,” she teases, curling deeper under her blanket, “could you be more naked on this call?”

he smirks, lazy and unbothered. “could you sound more disappointed?”

she laughs, rolling her eyes. “please. i’ve seen enough of you shirtless to be desensitized by now.”

“yeah?” he quirks a brow. “then why do you keep blushing every time i look at you like this?”

she groans, tossing her arm over her face. “maybe because you look like a wet dream who accidentally walked out of a romance novel.”

“mmm,” he hums, clearly enjoying himself, “you should write that down. for future use.”

she drops her arm to squint at him. “you’re annoying.”

“and you’re in my hoodie,” he nods smugly toward the neckline peeking out of her blanket, “so who really won tonight?”

she hides her smile by sipping from her water bottle. “you don’t even know if i’m wearing pants.”

his eyes flicker. "are you?”

she shrugs, slow and teasing. “guess you’ll never know.”

he groans low and dramatic, dragging his hand down his face. “you’re actually trying to kill me.”

the flirtation simmers for a few seconds, thick in the quiet between them. and that’s when she exhales, eyes flicking away from the camera.

“can i ask you something?”

“you know you can.”

her fingers fidget in her lap. “it’s kind of" she paused, "personal.”

auston shifts up a little, sensing the change in her tone. “what’s up?”

“i know we’ve been spending a lot of time together,” she begins, carefully, “and… i guess i’ve been thinking about how physical things have been. like kissing and touching and—everything else.”

he stays silent. not in a bad way. just listening.

“i know you’re used to things maybe moving faster. and i guess i’m just not that fast. i’ve only ever slept with people i dated seriously. and i’m not saying i don’t want to with you—i’m saying i just want to take my time.”

auston’s quiet for a second longer before he sits up fully, phone in his hand now as he holds the camera closer to his face.

“hey,” he says, voice firm and soft all at once. “thank you for saying that.”

she blinks. “yeah?”

“yeah. you’re not weird for thinking about that or wanting to slow down. i like you,” he says plainly. “and i’m not here just waiting for a green light to get in your pants. if you think that, then i’ve clearly fucked up somewhere.”

she bites her lip. “i don’t think that. i just… i know you’ve probably had a lot of—experiences.”

“i mean,” he smirks, “i am very talented.”

she groans. “auston.”

“i’m kidding. i mean, not really. but that doesn’t matter. what matters is you’re not just some girl i’m hooking up with. you know that, right?”

her eyes drop to her blanket again. “i do now.”

“and for the record,” he adds, grin sharpening slightly, “i’m very happy just making out with you. maybe too happy. my self-control’s been tested more times this week than during playoffs.”

she giggles, cheeks burning.

“so yeah,” he says with a wink, “you want slow? we’ll go slow. doesn’t mean i don’t wanna do everything else that doesn’t involve you know—getting naked.”

she raises a brow. “everything else?”

“every. thing.”

“you’re a fiend.”

“you like it,” he says, smug.

she smiles, cheeks warm. “i kind of do.”

he bites his lip, eyes softer now as he leans against his pillow again.

“go at your own pace, baby,” he murmurs. “i’m not going anywhere.”

later that week, auston found himself once again standing in her doorway when she came out of the bedroom, and the moment she did—diamondbacks jersey drapped past her shorts, tank top showing over the top of them, legs bare and golden in the late afternoon sunlight—his hands went instinctively to his hips, as though he needed to position himself physically for how well she looked.

“look at you," he said to her, smiling, already walking towards her. "my girl. a fanatic."

she rolled her eyes and half-laughed, but let him wrap both arms around her waist and hold her against his chest like he hadn't just seen her half an hour before. his fingers traced along the bottom of the jersey as he kissed her. she tasted of vanilla and sun, her lip balm sugar when he caught her lower lip between his.

"you look so good," he whispered into her mouth.

“you’re biased.”

“uh-huh,” he agreed, pulling back to take her in again. “but i’m also right.”

she snorted and tugged at his collar. “says the guy with these thighs out in public.”

he raised a brow and looked down at himself. just some black athletic shorts and a tight white tee. “i keep them out for you, baby. you're always checking me out. we both know you can't get enough of me”

"hmm, maybe," she teased, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and running her nails along his hip in a light scratch. "i am exclusively with you for your looks."

he grinned, then reached to pull up the hem of her jersey. "where is this from anyway?"

she stiffened a bit—not guiltily, but because she knew how he'd react. "naomi gave it to me."

he raised his eyebrows. "naomi, huh?"

"uh-huh."

"and who's jersey is this exactly?"

she shrugged. “she used to date someone on the team.”

he pulled back slightly. “is this a man’s?”

her lips twitched, clearly fighting a laugh. “technically, yes.”

his brows raised, a hand going to his chest. “you’re wearing another man’s jersey to a baseball game with me?”

she couldn’t help it anymore—she laughed, full and loud, looping her arms around his neck again. “you’re actually jealous.”

“i am not jealous,” he said way too fast. “i’m just—curious. deeply curious. and maybe a little annoyed.”

“only a little?” she teased

“very.”

“you’re ridiculous,” she grinned, pulling him closer again. “and hot. you’re also hot.”

“you’re trying to butter me up.”

“is it working?”

his eyes dropped to her lips, then back up. “painfully.”

before she could say anything else, he pulled his hat off and settled it on her head, backwards, adjusting it so it fit just right.

“there,” he murmured, voice low, admiring. “now you’re ready.”

she tilted her chin, playful. “to endure our subpar baseball team in the afternoon sun?”

“to have the best night of your life,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “but also, yeah. all of that.”

she giggled again, and as she went to turn away, he caught her hand, fingers interlacing like second nature.

"don't cook tonight," he yelled over his shoulder.

"what?" she said.

"don't cook. i'm taking you street tacos after the game. we're doing this right."

"so thoughtful," she teased, poking his side playfully as they moved toward the door.

he glared at her sideways, smug. "you are seeing a guy from arizona. baseball and tacos run through my veins."

"and so does petty jealousy."

"damn right," he growled, kissing her one last time before stepping out into the warm evening.

the seats were insanely close.

so close, in fact, that she swore she could see the stitching on the pitcher's glove and hear the umpire chewing his gum. her legs were crossed, sunglasses perched on the brim of his hat, and the oversized jersey she wore pooled around her hips like a blanket as she scanned the view in disbelief.

"well you must be rich. i swear i can see the sweat on the back of the umpire's neck" she muttered under her breath, turning to auston with a disbelieving shake of her head.

he grinned, reclining casually in his chair, one arm resting across the back of hers. “rich enough to take care of you,” he said with the smoothest shrug.

her lips parted in surprise, a breath of laughter escaping her—but then she turned her face away quickly, eyes on the jumbotron like she hadn’t just blushed down to her chest.

“don’t do that,” he murmured, leaning in, his hand finding her jaw to gently turn her back toward him. “don’t go all shy on me now.”

“you say things,” she whispered back, eyes wide and warm.

“i mean things,” he corrected easily, thumb brushing just under her ear before letting his hand fall again. instead, it curled around her shoulder, holding her close as she settled against him.

she never saw herself as one for over the top pda, especially not this close to the field, surrounded by fans and roaming cameras—but there was something quietly intimate about the way he kept her tucked into his side, the way his thumb traced lazy circles against her arm. it was an easy rhythm they fell into, like this was just their normal.

“clay’s never going to forgive me,” auston said after a beat, eyes on the scoreboard.

“why?”

“told him i had an extra ticket. then i gave it to you.”

she turned her head, pretending to gasp. “you ditched your friend?”

he looked down at her, smug. “you’re the type to say that like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“i never pegged you the type to ditch your friends the second you get a girlfriend,” she teased, squinting up at him with a grin.

he smirked, eyes crinkling. “guess i am. i used to give the guys hell when they’d bail for their girls. like—really chirp them.”

“and now?”

“now i get it,” he said simply, looking at her like it wasn’t even a question.

and then—just as she reached over to steal a sip of his drink—the crowd roared and she looked up to see the kiss cam had landed squarely on them.

“no way,” she breathed, eyes wide.

auston let out a low laugh beside her, leaning forward slightly to confirm, and yep—there they were. big screen. stadium full of people watching.

he turned to her with a grin already forming, eyes dancing.

“guess it’s our moment,” he murmured, voice low and warm against her ear.

she blinked, caught between surprise and laughter. “you’re enjoying this.”

“a little,” he admitted, leaning closer, close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest. “but mostly i’m curious.”

“about what?”

he tilted his head, his gaze dipping to her mouth, slow and deliberate. “how you’re gonna kiss me with all these people watching.”

her breath caught. “you’re ridiculous.”

“probably,” he whispered, his tone teasing but coaxing. “but if it helps… you could always kiss me like no one else is here. just us.”

her heart pounded, lips twitching despite herself. “and if i don’t?”

he shrugged, playful, lips barely an inch from hers. “then i’ll just have to live with the heartbreak.”

she rolled her eyes, fighting the smile threatening her composure. “you’re the dramatic one here.”

“just persuasive,” he murmured.

she hesitated for a second longer, then sighed dramatically—grinning now—and leaned in, catching his face in her hands and kissing him slow. deliberate. like she’d been thinking about it long before the cameras ever found them.

his hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers gentle in her hair, the kiss deepening like they were home on the couch and not in the middle of a roaring stadium.

when they finally broke apart, the crowd erupted, and she buried her face in his shoulder, laughing hard as he grinned into her hair.

“unreal,” he said quietly, breath warm against her temple. “you’re gonna ruin me.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“you kissed me.”

“you were giving me the eyes.”

he grinned, tugging her closer. “you like those eyes.”

she just rolled hers—smiling the whole time—and curled her hand over his on her thigh, settling back in with her head on his shoulder.

the crowd around them faded. the noise of the stadium softened. and for a while, it felt like it was just the two of them—him and his girl, tucked in too-close seats, completely content.

they didn’t even make it out of the parking lot before auston was already pulling up directions to the taco spot he’d been raving about all week, somewhere tucked into the corner of a gas station, barely marked, but supposedly life-changing. he kept his word, even though he was clearly still recovering from the kiss cam, from the teasing, from her tank top and that damn whisper in his ear.

but now, with the stadium lights far behind them and her legs curled up in his passenger seat, music humming low, everything felt easy again. the anticipation simmered beneath the surface, but the comfort between them had only grown.

when they got to the spot, it was almost empty—just a couple of guys leaning against their cars and the smell of grilled meat heavy in the air. auston ordered them a little of everything, telling her to sit and let him do the work. she watched him from their picnic table, hoodie from his car slung off one shoulder, legs swinging beneath the bench.

“i’m telling you right now,” he said, sliding the tray in front of her a few minutes later, “these tacos are gonna change your life. top five things to ever happen to you.”

she picked one up without hesitation, holding his gaze as she bit into it. the second the flavors hit, she groaned—eyes fluttering shut like it was a religious experience.

auston froze. just froze.

“okay,” she mumbled through a full mouth, lips glistening from the salsa, “i might actually marry you.”

he blinked. “jesus. do you have to moan like that?”

she laughed, unapologetic. “what? it’s good!”

“you sound like we skipped dinner and went straight home.”

“you wish,” she teased, nudging his leg under the table.

“you’re actually evil,” he muttered, biting into his taco with a grunt. “you do this on purpose.”

she shrugged, licking sauce from her thumb. “maybe i just really like tacos.”

he looked at her, totally deadpan. “you like ruining me.”

she leaned her chin on her palm, eyes dancing. “and yet, you keep coming back for more.”

he shook his head, cheeks flushed, trying not to smile. “you’re unbelievable.”

“thank you.”

they ate like that—bantering, teasing, brushing legs under the table like it was second nature. she snuck fries off his tray, he fed her bites with his fingers when her hands were too messy. he wiped sauce from her chin with his thumb and flicked it at her playfully, and she kicked his shin for it, which only made him laugh.

it was stupid and soft and easy.

“i’m never bringing you here again,” he warned as she reached for her third taco. “you’ve ruined tacos for me.”

“or made them better.”

he sighed, leaning back and watching her with this quiet kind of adoration, like the space between them was filled with everything he never knew he’d want so badly.

“you always do,” he said under his breath, more to himself than to her.

but she caught it anyway—and her fingers slid across the table, lacing through his.

they barely made it through the door before auston’s mouth was on hers—slow, possessive, his large hands spanning her hips as he backed her up against the entryway wall.

she was still laughing breathlessly from something he’d said in the car, something stupid about how tacos would forever be tainted for him now—because of her and the way she groaned while eating them. but now, with his body flush against hers, that laughter faded into a soft gasp, swallowed by the next kiss.

“you’ve been looking at me like you wanted to eat me since the second inning,” she murmured against his lips, one leg hooking around his thigh under the table.

he smirked, head dipping to kiss just beneath her jaw. “still do,” he muttered, teeth grazing her skin. “was counting down every goddamn minute of that game. you're lucky i didn’t drag you to the bathroom.”

she rolled her eyes, tilting her head to the side to give him more room. “as if you’d risk being caught on the jumbotron again.”

“you’re worth the scandal.”

they didn’t stay much longer after that. he’d barely stopped grinning the entire walk to the car, and she kept pretending she wasn’t still blushing from the kiss cam. the drive was full of quiet teasing—his hand on her thigh at every red light, her fingers brushing his jaw like she wasn’t entirely done kissing him.

by the time they pulled into her place, the air between them had shifted warmer, heavier. like something inevitable was pulling at the edges.

she unlocked the door, and he followed her inside like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“there he is,” she whispered, her palms pressed to his chest, feeling the way it rose and fell unevenly under her touch.

“you do this on purpose,” he repeated his earlier words, eyes darkening as she bent forward to kiss a spot just below his collarbone.

“do what?” she asked innocently, pressing another kiss to the center of his chest, lips soft and warm against his skin. her hair brushed along his shoulder as she pulled back just enough to smirk up at him.

“you know exactly what.” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tighter, guiding her just enough so their bodies met in a way that made both of them pause, breath catching.

she opened her mouth to say something—maybe another tease, maybe something filthier—but then—

“what the fuck?”

the sharp voice cut through the air like a slap. they both froze.

auston looked up first. y/n followed.

and there, standing in the entryway with her luggage halfway through the door, was naomi.

“naomi!” y/n practically squeaked, scrambling upright and nearly kneeing auston in the chest in the process. her tank was rumpled, shorts twisted, and her hair was clearly not in a state fit to greet a roommate.

naomi blinked. slowly. then raised a brow.

“you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” y/n said, voice pitchy with horror, dragging a throw pillow over her stomach like that would somehow help.

“well clearly,” naomi deadpanned, eyes flicking from her to auston’s half-naked, flushed state. “because if you knew, you wouldn’t be about to defile our couch.”

auston cleared his throat, dragging his shirt from behind the cushions and pulling it over his head. “uh. hey.”

naomi blinked again before he rlips spread into a cheshire smile, “you must be auston.”

“guilty,” he muttered, cheeks tinged red, though his mouth twitched like he was holding back a laugh.

“cool. so…” she looked back at y/n. “is this, like, a thing now?”

y/n was halfway to her bedroom door when she tossed a look over her shoulder. “i am not sure this is the best time to have this conversation, naomi.”

“clearly.”

“i’m going to change. and then maybe jump off the balcony.”

“wear a parachute,” naomi called after her, then turned to auston with the exact kind of smug expression that made him uneasy.

they sat there for a second in silence—him still breathless, her settling in with a water bottle like it was any regular tuesday.

“so,” she finally said, giving him a once-over. “you’re that hockey guy.”

he smirked. “and you’re that roommate.”

naomi raised a brow. “tight game you went to tonight.”

he snorted, one arm slung over the back of the couch. “yeah, i guess so"

naomi raised a brow, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway. “must’ve been a really exciting game, considering you’re still trying to score.”

auston was shocked to silence at how forward her roommate was. she was clearly the bad cop to y/n's good cop.

and just before y/n came back, she lobbed a final warning across the couch.

“next time? sock on the door, romeo.”

as her roommate walked away most likely to change auston sprawled across the couch like he owned it—because at this point, honestly, he kind of did. he spent more time here than his own place. legs stretched out, one arm draped over the backrest, remote in hand. his curls were still slightly messy from their earlier almost and his smug little grin hadn’t left since naomi walked in and roasted them both.

he looked very at home, shirt back on, but comfort and ease radiating off him as he waited.

when y/n finally emerged from her bedroom—freshly changed in loose sleep shorts and one of her oversized shirts, her hair up in a tied up; he smiled to himself, that satisfied kind of grin that made her stomach flip.

she didn’t say anything as she approached. just slumped beside him, letting her body lean into his as if they hadn’t just been caught practically dry humping in front of her roommate.

and that’s when he struck. a light but firm pat to her bum.

she gasped, snapping upright and glaring at him as he grinned unapologetically and delivered a second one..

“hey!”

“one for leaving me half-naked in front of your roommate,” he said casually, arm curling around her shoulder to tug her back down beside him. “and one for teasing me all night at the game and in the truck and at tacos. should I go on?”

she bit back a smile, cheeks warm as she settled closer. “you’re lucky i like you.”

he leaned down, lips brushing her temple. “you love me.”

she huffed a laugh, poking his ribs. “keep dreaming, matthews.”

before he could come up with a retort, naomi re-entered the living room with a fresh glass of water and a very pointed look at them curled up like a rom-com poster.

“wow,” she said, deadpan. “should i sleep with noise-canceling headphones tonight? or just burn this couch now and save myself the trauma?”

y/n groaned. “naomi—”

“no, it’s fine,” naomi waved her off, flopping into the armchair across from them. “i’ll just never sit there again. but seriously—” she looked auston straight in the eye, “—you hurt her, i will kill you. and don’t test me. i’ve watched forensic files for years. i know where to hide bodies.”

auston blinked. “that’s comforting.”

“just saying.” she smiled sweetly, sipping her water. “i’ve got friends with shovels.”

auston let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and scrubbed a hand down his face leaning over to y/n to whisper not so quietly, “why is she scarier than every coach i’ve ever had?”

y/n smirked, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “she likes you.”

he glanced down at her, sheepish. “could’ve fooled me.”

y/n rolled her eyes, half-mortified, half-loving every bit of this man squirming. she turned to her roomate, “we’re literally just trying to watch tv.”

“then pick something, lovebirds. before i change my mind and go back to traveling.”

auston grinned and reached for the remote. “guess it’s time for your favourite, huh?”

“don’t,” he warned her, but she was already beaming.

“love island, baby.”

“i don’t like it,” auston insisted, even as he opened the streaming app. “i just watch it so i know what you're talking about.”

“sure,” y/n teased, curling into his side. “and you definitely didn’t yell at the screen last episode when mike came back from casa amor with joanna.”

“he was shady,” auston muttered. “you could see it in his eyes.”

naomi laughed out loud. “oh yeah. he’s hooked.”

“he’s gone,” y/n said with a grin, peering up at him. “welcome to the dark side.”

“whatever,” auston grumbled, pulling her closer with a smirk. “as long as i get to do this—” he nuzzled her hair, voice low and warm, “—you can make me watch whatever ridiculous british drama you want.”

y/n smiled into his chest, and they all settled in, the room dim and warm, filled with the glow of the tv and the comfort of found rhythm. something soft, something easy.

something that felt a little like forever.

after an episode and half, naomi stretched dramatically across the armchair, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “i’ll be heading to bed. it was fun to tease you guys but big mama needs her beauty sleep.” her eyes glittered with playful warning as she stood, swaying slightly with the hint of exhaustion. “but seriously, auston, don’t hurt my girl. y/n’s a catch”

as the show played on, y/n gradually relaxed against auston, the steady rhythm of his voice narrating the plot becoming a soft lullaby. her eyelids grew heavy, and before long, she’d drifted off, her breathing slow and even.

auston sighed quietly, brushing a loose strand of hair from y/n’s face. “i’ve got to go,” he said softly, reluctant.

she nodded, standing with him. their hands found each other easily as they walked toward the door, the night wrapping around them like a secret

auston smiled down at her, brushing a stray lock from her face. careful not to wake her, he stood quietly, grabbing felix’s leash.

he kissed her like he always did before heading out—slow, soft, and with a grip on her waist that lingered like he didn’t want to go. his hoodie hung low over his brow, curls tucked beneath his cap, and his voice was a little raspier from the long day, eyes already heavy with sleep.

“goodnight, baby,” he murmured into the corner of her mouth, kissing her again. and then again. “text me when you get in bed. and drink water. you didn’t drink any at dinner.”

the word slipped out so naturally—so effortless, like it had always belonged to her. like she’d always been his to call by something so simple, so sweet. it clung to her long after he’d finally left, her front door clicking closed behind him.

she just stood there for a second, fingers ghosting over her lips, heart hammering quietly against her ribs.

“oh my god.”

naomi’s voice cut through the quiet like a knife as she popped out of the kitchen with a wine glass in hand. “he just called you baby. you didn’t tell me we’re at baby stage.”

y/n blinked, startled, and then groaned as she dragged herself over to the couch. “we’re not—i mean, yes, but like—it just came out. and anyways aren't you suppose to be asleep?”

“oh please i was waiting for him to leave for our debrief,” naomi said, following and dropping beside her dramatically. “that was not a slip. that was a seasoned boyfriend move. he’s been thinking it.”

y/n hid her face behind a pillow and mumbled into it. “i’m in trouble.”

naomi softened a little. “you like him that much?”

"nai, i think i’m falling for him,” she admitted, voice low. “like—actually. and it’s terrifying.”

naomi took a long sip of her wine and didn’t say anything right away, just watched her closely. “why?”

y/n let the pillow fall to her lap, fingers fidgeting with the edge. “it’s just… the more time i spend with him, the more i see it. the meetings. the constant phone calls. the brand deals. his schedule is nonstop. his world is—huge. it doesn’t stop moving.”

naomi stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“he’s auston matthews,” y/n continued, her voice a little thinner now. “he’s got fans camping outside hotel lobbies. endorsement deals. interviews. he’s flying out for things i don’t even hear about until after they happen. and then there’s me. my life is small. it’s this apartment. the clinic. my mom calling me about what color to paint the spare room. you. my niece and nephew”

she paused, swallowing.

“and still, he shows up,” she said. “he brings me coffee, he picks me up and drops me from work, he lets me rant about annoying pet parents, and he listens like it’s the most important thing in the world. he holds my hand like he doesn’t want to let go.”

her voice dipped lower. “but sometimes, when i watch him on the phone—he just looks so far away. like i can see the part of his life i’ll never really fit into.” she looked down at her lap. “and it scares me, nai. because i think—no i know—i’m starting to fall for him.”

naomi placed her wine down and pulled her legs up onto the couch. “first of all—you deserve all of that and more. and second, none of that sounds bad.”

“it’s not,” y/n said quickly. “it’s not. it’s just—i keep thinking, how does this work? how do we work when he’s on the road or in toronto? when I’m here and he’s there. it’s easier now because it’s summer and he’s off, but—what happens after?”

naomi reached out and gently tugged her hand. “you love hard. i know that. and this? it sounds like it could be the real thing.”

y/n looked at her, eyes a little glassy.

“and from everything i’ve seen?” naomi smiled softly. “he’s just as deep in it as you are. he looks at you like you hung the damn moon. he’s obsessed with you.”

y/n laughed, shaky and real.

“seriously,” naomi continued. “he watches you when you’re not looking. he talks about you like he’s still trying to believe you’re real. that man has it bad.”

y/n leaned back against the couch, exhaling slow. “i’ve never felt like this before.”

“then hold onto it,” naomi said. “seriously. don’t overthink yourself out of this. we’ll figure the rest out later. don’t let fear steal a good thing before it even has a chance.”

y/n nodded slowly. “yeah. okay.”

and somewhere in her heart, the part that still worried and overthought, something warm and safe settled. because despite the distance, despite the questions—he was hers. and right now, that was enough.

she wasn’t expecting the flowers.

he showed up just after her shift ended, standing outside the clinic with felix in one hand and a bouquet in the other. sunflowers and white daisies — cheerful and a little messy, like they were picked with heart instead of strategy. there was a ribbon, too. not store-bought. just a piece of twine he must’ve found.

he was in usual grey shorts, his long sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, teasing her with a glimpse at his sleeve and sunglasses perched in his hair. felix was already wagging like he owned the sidewalk.

she froze in the doorway.

“hi,” he said, like it wasn’t a big deal. like he hadn’t just thrown her entire day off-center with his presence and a bouquet.

“what is this?” she asked, blinking, eyes wide as she stepped down toward him.

he shrugged, lifting the flowers. “they made me think of you.”

she bit her lip. “sunflowers and daisies made you think of me?”

“yeah,” he said. “according to google, they symbolize new beginnings and positivity,. they remind me of you not just because of hat because they're bright. beautiful. hard to ignore.”

her cheeks flushed immediately, and she looked away, trying not to smile too obviously as she took the bouquet from his hands. the paper crinkled between her fingers

“i’m gonna cry and it’s gonna be your fault,” she muttered, holding them to her chest like a shield.

he grinned, proud of himself in the quietest way. “you're my girl. flowers are the bare minimum and i figured i could take you home,” he added casually. “unless you have somewhere to be?”

she shook her head. “no. just—this. you. all of this is very…” she trailed off, glancing up at him, cheeks still pink.

“too much?”

“no,” she said quickly. “just. new.”

auston nodded. his fingers brushed hers when he reached to hold the leash, grounding her in the moment.

“good kind of new, though?” he asked.

she smiled — soft, a little shy. “yeah. it’s a good kind of new.”

they walked together to the car, slow and aimless. felix trotted ahead, leash gently swaying between them.

they walked together, slow and aimless. felix trotted ahead, leash gently swaying between them.

he brought her coffee that morning too — too sweet, just how she liked it. he always remembered. and the worst part, the part that made her feel like her heart was just a little too full for her chest, was how easy he made it all feel. how he didn’t expect anything back. how he showed up just to be near her.

he drove her home after. said he wanted to, and she didn’t argue.

felix scrambled into the backseat the second auston opened the door, his tail wagging like a drum, nails clicking on the plastic as he spun in excited little circles before finally settling into a panting sprawl behind them.

she climbed into the passenger seat, still holding her tumbler and lunch bag, and they pulled out onto the quiet street.

the car ride was warm, quiet — one of those shared silences that didn’t beg to be filled. his aux played low, some r&b song neither of them knew the words to, and felix let out a little snore in the back as the car gently rumbled along the pavement.

auston kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, brushing her thigh when the car slowed at stop signs. every few minutes, she’d glance over and catch him already looking at her, smile tucked in the corner of his mouth like he didn’t want her to know.

but she did.

at a red light, he leaned across the console and pressed a kiss to her cheek, soft, quick, before pulling away like it was nothing.

it wasn’t nothing.

she turned her face toward him, and before he could ask, she kissed him again. this time their mouths met fully, slow and warm, the kind of kiss that curled in the pit of her stomach and left her breathless just from the weight of it.

felix sneezed in protest behind them, and they both laughed into the kiss, breaking apart with their foreheads still touching.

“he’s jealous,” auston murmured.

“he’s spoiled,” she replied, smiling against his lips.

they pulled into her driveway just as the sun began to dip lower, casting soft gold across her porch. felix barked once, already at the door before she even unhooked his leash.

after getting back to her place, when they reached her door, she lingered.

auston stood behind her, close — too close — his fingers brushing hers when she pulled the key from her pocket. neither of them moved to say goodbye.

her heart was thudding loud enough she swore he could hear it.

she turned to him slowly. “you really didn’t have to drive me.”

he tilted his head, eyes soft. “i wanted to.”

she swallowed, smiling gently. “i know.”

he leaned in, brushing his mouth against hers again — less a kiss, more a question. she answered it with her hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer.

after getting back to her place, when they reached her door, she lingered.

“i don’t have a vase,” she said quietly, fingers still wrapped around the flowers.

he looked at her, eyes steady. “then i guess we’ll have to make it work.”

like it was nothing. like that meant more time. like that meant i want to keep doing this with you.

she opened the door slowly, stepping backward into her apartment, still watching him.

“you coming in?” she reached her hand out.

“always.”

they ended up curled on her couch again, this time under the same throw blanket, both of them stretched out while felix dozed like a log at their feet. the flowers sat on the kitchen counter in a mason jar she found in the back of a cupboard, a little lopsided, a little perfect.

her head rested against auston’s chest, his hand tracing slow, absentminded circles along her arm. it was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around them like a second blanket. steady. safe.

“you know” she started, her voice soft, eyes fixed somewhere around the collar of his hoodie. “no one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

his fingers paused for a second, then resumed.

“really?” he asked, a little disbelieving. “not even trent?”

she snorted, not even trying to hide it. “trent and i spent more time broken up than actually dating because he was so obsessed with how it looked.”

auston laughed under his breath. “i always wondered how that guy pulled it off.”

“he didn’t,” she said, smiling faintly. “i was just too young and too dumb to figure it out.”

he hummed, his hand slipping down to find hers, fingers tracing over her knuckles, slow and thoughtful.

“i was gonna ask you to prom, you know,” he said, like it had just occurred to him — like it wasn’t something he’d carried with him for ten years.

her head lifted slightly. “wait what?”

he smiled at her reaction, eyes warm. “i had everything planned. the ask, the flowers, even the stupid sign. practiced the speech with my mom. and then…” he trailed off with a half-shrug.

“then?” she pressed, sitting up a little more now, eyes searching his face.

“then i saw trent at your locker,” he said, quiet again. “you were smiling, and he was holding your hand. and i just—i don’t know. i figured he beat me to it. so i gave up.”

her eyes widened, mouth parting like she wanted to interrupt, but he kept going.

“i asked ashley to prom like ten minutes later,” he added with a huff of a laugh. “and to be my girlfriend. even though we didn’t even really know each other.”

she blinked, stunned. “seriously?”

“yeah.” he let out a breath. “i was so sure you were back with trent. and i didn’t want to look stupid.”

she sat up completely now, facing him, her hair slightly tousled from the couch pillow, eyes sharp but filled with something soft underneath.

“auston,” she said slowly. “that day he wasn’t my boyfriend. not anymore. we’d just been talking. and that was the day he asked me to prom.”

auston’s brows lifted slightly. “you said yes.”

“i did,” she admitted. “but only because he asked first. and i thought—i thought you and ashley were already a thing.”

they stared at each other for a long second. it felt like time folded a little between them.

“but you kissed her,” she said next, voice quieter now, almost shy.

auston tilted his head, watching her. “you saw that?”

she hesitated and then nodded slowly. “i watched you.”

he exhaled slowly, like her words knocked the wind from his lungs. and then something changed in his expression — a sort of realization mixed with disbelief.

“you watched me,” he echoed, almost smiling. “you cared.”

she gave a soft shrug, suddenly sheepish under his gaze. “maybe a little more than i wanted to.”

“god,” he murmured, leaning back against the couch cushion and rubbing a hand over his face. “we were so dumb.”

“so dumb,” she agreed, but there was laughter behind it now.

he reached for her hand again, tugging gently until she settled back beside him, her legs folded up, her head resting on his shoulder once more.

“i still have the card,” he said after a beat, like a secret he hadn’t told anyone.

“from the prom thing?” she asked, surprised.

he nodded. “yeah. it’s in some box at my mom’s place. it said something really corny. like… ‘you make even the ice melt.’”

she burst out laughing, burying her face in his shirt. “oh my god. you didn’t.”

“i was sixteen and had a crush. give me a break.”

she pulled back, grinning at him. “i wish you’d given it to me.”

“i wish i had too.”

and then they were quiet again. not heavy. not sad. just full. of things that could’ve been. of things that maybe still could be.

felix shifted in his sleep and let out a loud snore, and they both broke into laughter, their shoulders shaking as their hands stayed knotted together beneath the blanket.

she was quiet for a while after the laughter faded. curled into his side again, but a little less relaxed. a little more caught in her own thoughts.

auston noticed. he always did. his thumb brushed gently across the back of her hand, coaxing her out of wherever her head had gone.

“hey,” he murmured. “where’d you go?”

she hesitated. then—“do you think we would’ve been good together?”

his breath caught, barely noticeable, but she felt the shift.

she didn’t look at him when she asked it. just let the question settle between them like something fragile, her voice barely above a whisper. “back then, i mean. if things had gone differently.”

auston didn’t answer right away. his hand stilled on hers. for a moment, all she could hear was the distant hum of traffic and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

“i don’t know,” he said honestly. “maybe not.”

she blinked, pulling back just enough to glance up at him.

he met her gaze, steady. “i was leaving for switzerland three months after prom. and i was so focused on hockey, on trying to make it work. everything else kind of disappeared.” his mouth twisted slightly, something self-aware and a little regretful. “i don’t think i would’ve been a good boyfriend back then.”

she held his gaze, quiet. then, almost stubbornly, she said, “i doubt that.”

he blinked. “why?”

she sat up a bit, her hand still in his, eyes lingering on their intertwined fingers as she spoke. “because you were always good to me. even when we barely talked. you used to wait outside chem just to walk me to english. and that time i had that awful group project meltdown? you gave me peanut butter m&ms and didn’t even ask why i was crying.”

he laughed softly at the memory. “you said you liked them and you were dramatic.”

“i was a teenager,” she said. “and you still remembered my favourite snack.”

auston looked at her, a little stunned. “you remember that?”

“of course i do,” she said, quieter now. “you always noticed things. even if we weren’t… whatever this is.”

she didn’t mean to say it like that — this — but it was already out in the air between them.

auston leaned forward, elbows on his knees, her hand still warm in his. “i think about it sometimes. how close we were without really being close. how easy it always felt with you.”

her throat tightened. “yeah.”

“but maybe we were supposed to miss each other back then,” he added gently. “so we could figure it out now.”

she watched him, heart tugging painfully at the calm certainty in his voice. “you really believe that?”

he shrugged slightly, but his eyes never left hers. “of course i do. how else did we crossed paths again?”

she sat there, staring at him like he’d just peeled something open inside her. then she nodded once, small and slow.

“okay,” she whispered.

and this time, when she leaned into his side again, it wasn’t tentative. it was soft and full and sure.

and she didn’t say anything — not right away. she just curled a little closer and let her hand rest over his heart, where everything had always been too quiet until her.

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[gobiin-z]

Since i enjoyed writing the last one, i have another post on Shed 17 headcanons

Dr Routh this time because you can’t have Mr Head Train Conductor Guy without having Mr Evil Scientist Guy next to him

(Also turns out he is a doctor and not a professor. I don’t know why but professor made sense in my brain)

DR OWEN ROUTH

Same as last time, I’ll start with appearance. Dr Routh was overall more presentable than most people, wearing a smart black suit most of the week. From a photo i managed to take of a scene in Shed 17, it appears that Dr Routh is wearing something black underneath his lab coat. Some kind of jacket could be plausible, but i think it’s cooler if it’s some kind of waistcoat or suit vest. To compliment his pink shirt, I think Routh would wear pink and/or colourful socks with his shoes. A, to keep up the illusion that everything’s fine and nothing malicious is happening behind the scenes and B, I can see him as the type of man to enjoy sock shopping for some reason.

Routh also has glasses. Little oval-y shaped glasses that he wears all the time.

As well, I feel like Routh along with other scientists would wear name badges. Sodor was a very tourist-driven location, and since the trains were so unpredictable in the beginning, having the scientists on standby would’ve been beneficial. As such, name badges would’ve been necessary so that people knew who they were.

Routh’s recorder thing that he has is barely hanging on by a thread. Like, duck tape everywhere, scratches on it, probably a plaster or two. Routh’s easily spent a night or two trying to repair it because it got dropped and somethings fallen off again .

After G-1 and cart-ifying Hartley, Routh continued to work with Topham Hat until they got involved in another controversy a few years later. Routh, realising that it actually might be helpful to have Hartley around again, started to experiment with biofused material; more specifically, changing it back into its original form.

After almost a year and a lot of trail and error with probably other carts, Routh was successful in turning Hartley back into a person. …but then immediately threw him into another experiment (thankfully with no bio fusion involved) to cover up the controversy he was still facing. Topham Hat disappeared during this time, and no one has seen him since.

After the controversy was over and Hartley was no longer needed, he was let go. Not turned back into a cart, just…able to walk out. Go back to his wife. Go back to his son. Routh was in charge now, and he knew Hartley wouldn’t say anything after everything that had happened. It was the least Routh could do for the man.

He still thinks about that sometimes. Where Hartley is, how he’s doing, what he could’ve changed in the past to prevent this from happening. He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He doesn’t have nightmares, like Hartley does, but the past still haunts him. He can’t look at trains properly anymore. Not without working out where the internal organs of a person would fit, at least.

And just as he’s about to spiral into a dark rabbit hole he can’t climb out of, he receives a text message. From the last person he would’ve expected.

(Got a bit story-like at the end there, whoops)

(Ummmm yeah that’s what I’ve got for Routh. Next, I’ll probably do something of Routh and Hartley meeting again, seeing as that’s where this idea is going I think)

[criswritessometimes]

70's sleaze

contents - ted’s name your price character, flirting, a wee bit of pining

author’s note // ok, name your price with ted’s character on it is the reason i started this blog. don’t look at me that way. also, i work in film and tv but on the art department side, so if many sound people out there notice anything wrong, uhhh, whoops! tell me what it is and i will fix it :).

(some sound terms so no one lost, lav mic is the small hands-free mic usually clipped to clothing and hair mic are similar to lavs but typically sit on the forehead and are threaded through the head and down the neck)

you loved your job; you really did. you’d been working in los angeles in film and tv for the last 2-ish years and were on some more niche projects, but you were doing what you loved (and getting paid), and that’s all that mattered. 

that leads to today. one of your friends had hooked you up with a pa job for a project called ‘name your price.’ you were working with ferdinand on the sound team; basically, he wanted an assistant to fix mics and battery packs on screen while he was focused on audio cues. it was a simple job and mostly sitting around with him talking. you glanced at the levels on the mics occasionally and kept seeing mic four acting up. the guy would speak, and his input was low even though his fader was all the way up. you lean into ferdinand and whisper, “during the first break, i’m gonna check mic four. the levels are weird on it.” he nods in agreement, “mic four is on ted; he’s at the furthest podium.”

the break comes, and you have a minute and a half to try and fix the mic. you get out of your seat, walking over behind the podiums, and tap ted on the shoulder; he’s a lot taller than you thought. “umm excuse me,” he turns to you, “uhh hi ted, i’m (y/n), i’m part of the sound team. your mic is giving us weird levels, and i was wondering if i could check your mic pack?” you explain. ted looks you up and down with his eyes peeking over the top of his sunglasses, still in character. “anything for you doll.” he hands you the mic pack as he dances to the music and chats with the other contestants. you fiddle with the mic pack, setting it to channel 5 and turning up the sensitivity to see if that changes anything. “ted you you speak into your mic? we just need to check levels.” you ask him. ted turns back to you, “of course i can sugar.” as he’s speaking, you’re looking over at ferdinand to get a thumbs up that levels are better. you don’t get it, and have 15 seconds until the break is over. “ok,” you say to yourself. ted still has his attention on you. “you can stop talking. try and be a little quieter this next segment. your mic is being really weird. i’ll be back to fix it.” you explain to him while closing the back of the mic pack . “is it ok if i put this back on you?” you ask. “go ahead; you know it best.” ted replies, a little less in character. he turns around, and you move his jacket to clip it back to the back of his pants. 

you walk back off screen to look at the levels. “do you mind if i?” you whisper, referencing playing with the faders on the sound board. “be my guest.” ferdinand replies, focused on hitting the multiple sound cues austin wanted from him. you move your chair closer to the soundboard and the connected monitor. you know the basics of sound mixing and what audio levels should look like, and hopefully, that’s enough. after a bit of tweaking, which was more complicated than you anticipated since ted isn’t speaking consistently, you pull the mic to a somewhat happy medium. however, you are going to have to turn the receiver down on the mic pack again. 

the next break comes, and you walk back over to ted. he’s dancing as he sees you and gives you a sleazy smile while visibly looking you up and down again. “hi ted, it’s me again.” you greet. “ahh my favorite crew member.” he greets. “may i see your mic pack again?” you ask. “of course sugar.” he dances to face the opposite way so you can grab it. he turns back to you, and you’re dancing along with him in a simple side-to-side as you tune the receiver down a hair. looking up at him, “can i speak into your mic?” you ask. he nods, “go for it,” while his eyes peer over his sunglasses. you move him to the side a little so you can look over to ferdinand, “woah take a guy to dinner before you start throwing me around!” he exclaims as he’s taken off balance slightly. your face softens, “oh, i’m so sorry, i didn’t notice i almost knocked you over.” you apologize. he breaks character and puts his hand on the side of your upper arm. “hey, don’t sweat it, i’m just fuckin’ with you.” you lean into his chest, looking up at him. “oh so no dinner?” you tease and see a very faint blush appear on his neck. you had to admit, he was quite attractive and the 70s-sleazeball character was doing something for you. you look back at ferdinand waiting for the thumbs up. you play with the receiver nob on the pack until you get the thumbs up for him. “umm i mean yeah sure.” ted stuttered out, “yeah dinner sounds great.” “am i making you nervous ted?” you ask, moving around him to place his pack back in his belt. “what no, we’ll talk later.” he recovers. you wink back at him as you walk off-screen as the break ends. you can see him getting back into character and trying to shake the blush off.

the rest of the show is going well, and you’re really happy you got the job from your friend. you were still paying attention to the mic levels and only had to change the batteries in austin's mic so far. during the chat the bed segment, ted starts taking fake pills from will and you stare at his hands as he makes sure the camera sees them and pops them in his mouth. it felt like your brain short-circuited; you can only imagine what his hands would feel like gripping your hips, then slowly moving up to your waist and kneading at you- “fuck, hey (y/n).” ferdinand pulls you out of your daze as you look at the levels and would you believe it, ted’s mic is super low even though the faders are almost all the way up. you shake your head as you try and vanish the thoughts, well at least for now, and focus on your job. “can we just change the mic?” you ask him. “i think we only have one other mic pack.” ferdinand whispers back. “cool so i need to change the pack right?” you clarify. he gives an iffy pause, “you may just want to take the lav from him, but the only other mic we have is a hair mic.” “i mean i know how to put one on an actor if thats the only option.” you explain, finding the years of theater in high school and sticking mics on your classmates was paying off. “that’d be great, thanks (y/n).” and ferdinand pats your shoulder. as the segment continues, you find the mic pack, the hair mic, the tape for the wire, and bobby pins, in the box production gave you for the shoot. you’re standing up, ready for the next break since you only had 2 minutes for the whole operation. 

the show starts the next break, and ted locks eyes with you immediately and points to his mic. you’re walking over to him to begin to explain what you’re doing. “ok,” you reach him and start ripping your tape into smaller pieces. “so we’re changing your mic and i’m going to give you a hair mi-” you look up and him and realize, again he’s a lot taller than you. without thinking, you grab his wrist and pull him off stage to have you sit in your seat. “so we’re giving you a hair mic,” you start your explanation up again, “is it ok if i touch your neck and hair?” you ask. “please, go for it.” he replies, a little quicker than you’d be used to. “what do you need me to do?” he asks, looking up at you. “take your lav and mic pack off and hand it to ferdinand. please and thank you.” you answer, and you start to work. as he’s taking the first mic off, you have bobby pins between your lips as you position the head of the mic on his forehead. you tape the wire down, snake it across his scalp, and bobby pin it in his hair so it's less likely to fall out. the mic snakes down his neck. you gently press pieces of tape on the back and side of his neck with the back of your knuckles as a way to respect his boundaries. “stand up for me please.” you instruct him. he does. “i’m gonna clip the new pack in the same spot on your belt,” you reach around him and do so, “also try not to mess with your hair too much, i placed the mic in with bobby pins, and you can’t see it from above and i don’t want it falling out.” you plead. “oh yeah, of course. thank you for changing it quickly (y/n). you're my favorite crew member.” he pats the side of your shoulder, winks, and then walks back on stage. you’re left feeling like you passed out and woke up to ted winking at you since you got super into your working headscape. well at least you remembered the wink. 

everything for the rest of the show is going well; ted is messing with his hair, but not to the extent that you've seen him do it before he got the new mic. throughout the show, you can see ted glancing over to you as a part of the pill addict character he’s playing, having a breakdown and looking off into space. you’re not sure if he’s looking at you or just your general direction. still, you tell yourself he’s looking at you. the breaks come and go, and ted is either dancing in the main space with the other contestants, talking to you briefly, or asking how the audio looks. his smile is so soft, and his mannerisms are so goofy you can't help but lean your head and gaze into his eyes as you chat.

during the last break for the live stream and before the haunted board segment, you walk around checking the cast's batteries on their packs. you reach ted's podium, and before you walk over to austin and will, he grabs your upper arm and pulls you over to him. his grip didn’t hurt; it just surprised you. “i have an idea for a bit for the last segment, you in?” he asks, whispering into your ear. you look back up at him and nod, “sure, why not.” he releases you, cheesing and dancing, knowing he’s still on camera.

the last segment starts with will being taken off stage for ‘illegally selling prescription pills’, mainly to ted. he claims to be by the rv park selling more after the show. ted walks over to Will, asking about the pills, and dry swallows one as he walks back to his podium and makes sure the camera sees it. the camera doesn't see the glance behind ted's sunglasses, which makes you feel like a meal to be eaten, akin to the pill. you swallow, trying to suppress the blush creeping onto your face. as you avert your gaze back to the levels to get a hold of yourself. until you hear austin ask, “can we get sound out here, ted is having mic issues.” you look at ferdinand, and he looks back at you, nodding his head towards the stage. you stand and walk over with tape in your hand and see the problem. ted messed with the mic so much it was undone from his hair. as you get closer to him, he takes you into a fake headlock and starts asking for more pills frantically; this must have been the bit. “more pills or i’ll kill like i did to that man in gainesville florida!” you look shocked and panicked as your face reddens as he was actually choking you a little and the other contestants back away from ted. austin sees the bit and plays into it. he looks at you, “(y/n), isn't it?” you nod. he looks up towards ted, “ok ted, just let (y/n) go and the pills that will be in your trailer, ok?” he’s slowly creeping up on the both of you, getting closer. ted thinks it over, and you feel his grip loosen on your neck. you take a deep breath, and his arm releases you from the hold. you fake fall onto the ground and scamper away behind the curtain. “ok, ted and (y/n) real funny,” austin says, “but can we get someone to fix his mic?” you come back out and walk over to ted. he smiles down at you. “sorry if that was too much.” he apologies. you motion for him to bend down slightly so you can fix the placement of the mic, “its ok, it was funny.” you replace his tape and walk behind the curtain again, making your way around the side of the stage to join ferdinand again at the sound table.

as the last segment comes to an end and wubby is named the winner, the cast mill about waiting for the broadcast to end, and you're doing the same so you can pack up and go. to you, it’s always fun to have an on set flirt or crush for a project. ted was a good player for the whole thing. everyone who has a mic comes over to the sound table to give it back, with ted being the last one. he sets it on the table, and his hand brushes yours, “hey i can uhh walk you to your car, i know it’s getting pretty dark outside.” he offers. you smile at him, “yeah i’ll met you outside the studio when i’m done.” he grins and walks off. you coil the mic wires up, place them with their corresponding mic pack, and take the batteries out of the pack before putting them back into the audio box labeled ‘mics’ in old painter's tape. ferdinand puts the small soundboard into the big storage bin production gave you along with the mic box. “is that it?” you ask. “i think so, hey it was great to work with you, hope you see you around more.” ferdinand extends a hand for you to shake, you do, “yeah, the same to you, this was a really fun project. If you're on it in the future, please let me know.” he chuckles, “you’ll be the first person i contact, i'll get your number from the call sheet.” you both release your hands as you grab your personal bag, wave by to ferdinand and walk out of the studio, seeing ted waiting for you. you see ted standing outside the studio doors, checking his phone and waiting for you. he looks up when he hears footsteps and smiles when he sees you. “hey ready?” he checks. “yeah, i’m pretty sure, if not i hope production will keep it for me or i guess i’ll see it on ebay in a few days.” you joke starting to walk out of the building with him. ted chuckles at your joke, and you feel a warmth in your chest from his laugh. the both of you reach the door to the building and leave. the parking lot is still dark even with the 2 light poles. “well, lead the way!” he instructs then follows you to the other side of the lot. “i was always told to take a spot far away from the building.” you tell him. “really? where’d you learn that?” he asks in disbelief. “oh i was lying I was just running late and this was the first spot i saw.” you confess as the both of you walk up to your car, he can tell it’s yours when you unlock it, and the headlights flash. “oh alright.” he tuts out. as the both of you stand there, you’re not quite sure what to say. you want to see him again but not on set, like dinner or drin- “hey if it isn’t weird,” ted starts breaking your inner struggle, “but would you like to get dinner sometime, you seem cool and i’d like to get to know you better.” “yes!” it quickly falls out of your mouth. you clear your throat, “i mean yeah, that would be great, it would be great to get to know you better.” you stand there for a minute as he puts his phone out for you to put your contact information in. you take his phone and type your number in then handing it back to him. “well, i’ll be seeing you.” he sheepishly says starting to walk off. “see ya!” you yell and wave towards him. when you get settled in your car, you take a minute and breathe. a smile starts to foam on your face from the day, and you feel a buzz in your pocket. 

from: 213 555 8620

hey, it’s ted :)

[wendynerdwrites]

Pretty cringe on Bioware's part

Okay, so I do not work for Bioware, don't have connections, and what I'm writing is based only on some background and experience in social media and online marketing. I HAVE NO INSIDER KNOWLEDGE AND CLAIM NONE.

But... It VERY MUCH LOOKS TO ME that this new name change is a plot to try and circumvent SEO on the new Dragon Age release being about how delayed the game is and all the layoffs and the severance lawsuits and shit.

And yeah, maybe this'll seem obvious to some of you, but I kind of just want to word vomit: (and this is a further musing on a TWITTER thread I made earlier. Sorry I just have to get this manic-episode cynicism out)

Why else at the supposed 11th hour would you change the game title to one that is just, so bad for so many reasons?

(It should be obvious that I'm editorializing here, but I like to cover my ass more these days)

So yeah, reasons why I think this name change is so bad and nonsensical it could only be made for desperate reasons:

Okay, so because I like to overthink stupid shit like video game name changes and have become quite Dragon Age fixated over the years, I was going over this bullshit too much.

Like, I tried to explain things to myself because sometimes I want a break from feeling cynical even with shit like this.

So I read this and mulled it over:

"BioWare general manager Gary McKay explains that while Solas is “still very much a part of the story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” the team wanted a title that reflected a “really deep and compelling group of companions.” --- Kat Bailey for Gameinfomer.com

Okay, fine, well, the last game is called "Dragon Age: Inquisition" and not "Dragon Age: Corypheus" or "Dragon Age: Elder One." And you know, stuff like "Leliana's Song" focuses on, you know, Leliana."

But you what, me? That doesn't hold up.

For one thing, Leliana's Song is a DLC. No one is going to mistake a main series Dragon Age release as being not about an ensemble cast of characters and just being about Solas because of a naming convention in the DLC. Especially given how common that can be in RPG's anyway.

First thing you often learn about Dragon Age as a series is that it's story focused RPG with strong cast of supporting characters and a lot of lore. Granted, that may not be the case for EVERYONE depending on when they or how they got acquainted for the series; but that's how it's commonly characterized.

In one game, Solas was given far more significance plot and character wise than Corypheus had in two.

Corypheus has good points. He's got a backstory that is couched comfortably by the lore and significant to the story. He's got motivation - he's pissed about there not being Gods and Tevinter falling, so he's trying to become a God now to restore the world he wants. He's got one of the most FUCKING BALLER VILLAIN REVEALS:

He also works very well thematically. He's a good symbol of corruption and the results of hubris and tyranny when Thedas is being torn apart by it's various authorities and their abuses of power. Civil War in Orlais. Templars have broken from the Chantry, the mages from the Templars, and they're all at war. From the first game we know that this is what is left of the peace and safety won by your Warden and their people. And we know a few reasons why. In Dragon Age II, we know how that happened and SO MANY MORE reasons why. THERE'S CORRUPTION IN THE WARDENS AND WTF IS EVEN HAPPENING IN WEISSHAUPT??? OR THE DEEP ROADS??? We add in an Orlesian Civil War and also, boom! Whoops! THE GUY WHO CAUSED ALL THOSE BLIGHTS WE'VE DIED IN IS BACK AND HE WANTS TO RIP THE SKY APART! OOH LOOK HE JUST DID!

He's the anthropomorphic personification of all of that.

But, uh, even with fabulous voice acting, Corypheus is not much of a character in his own right. He is more of a device for both plot and theme than, like, a person. As far as more humanizing antagonists, we get that from Samson, Calpernia, and Alexius than Corypheus.

Corypheus wants to restore Tevinter to the Empire he wishes to be God of. He's pissed at there being no Gods. So now he wants to rule over everything (while also destroying it.) "THIS CORRUPT WORLD NEEDS TO BE MADE ANEW BLAH BLAH BLAH I'M AN RPG BIG BAD"

And that's fine with me. Never had a problem with Corypheus turning into Darkspawn Skeletor.

Corypheus is a dick who wants to be God. But he works as a device to save the world from and lead to lore revelations and shit.

I don't know if Corypheus ever had anyone he cared about. I don't know what he like(d?) to eat. He has no goals that don't serve glorifying himself and being a tyrant. I don't know if he hates Thedas as anything other than standing in the way of the Tevinter he can be god-emperor of. I don't know what he really thinks of anything in the world of Thedas other than "inferior, kill it." He doesn't have complex motivations or thoughts on the world we're playing in. We don't know if any of his thoughts or perceptions have changed over the course of the thousands of years he's lived. If there's anything he enjoys. We don't know what kind of personalities he's drawn to. What he actually enjoyed about the world he came from.

We get all of that shit and more from Solas. Even if you don't like him, don't play with him much, he has a distinct personality. And his significance to the lore of the world actually reveals a lot more than Corypheus's. Solas CREATED THE FUCKING VEIL. ALSO THE ELVEN LEGENDS ARE ALL FUCKED UP. FLEMETH IS ACTUALLY HIS ANCIENT DIVINE PLATONIC DOMMY MOMMY FROM BACK IN THE DAY WHEN THEY WERE BOTH LITERAL GODS! DID WE MENTION HE CREATED THE VEIL?! BECAUSE THE DALISH ARE FUCKING WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING! AND TEVINTER DIDN'T DESTROY ARLATHAN! AND WE'RE ALSO GOING TO LEARN SOME SHIT ABOUT THE FORGOTTEN ONES! ALSO DID WE MENTION HOW THE VEIL CAME TO BE????

All this through this Elven God of Bad Decisions:

Also, yes, Solas has got major thematic importance but I feel like that's a whole other rant and this is getting too long.

Point is: Solas is, flat out, more significant to the world all of these characters inhabit than Corypy-tits. The literal fabric of their plain of existence is woven by him. The entire way magic has worked and been handled, (something that is extremely significant character-wise for at least a third of this game's cast) is because of him and his history. There was a century between the fourth and fifth Blights. And, you know, the veil he created played a part in their origins.

Even putting aside that legacy characters like Varric, Cullen, and Leliana all have personal history. Solas is why Circles exist/ed. Those Magisters who started the Blight did so by fucking with his creation. He is why elves age and live as a diaspora.

And that's just what we know him to be responsible for. What about those hints about the Forgotten Ones? Exactly how did his rebellion work? What is his plan for the other Evanuris and will it work? [(No.)] What will that reveal about what the others are/were capable of? And what exactly happened between them and the Titans?

Look, I'd go on, but I don't want to go on too much longer like the Solas girlie I totally am. Point is: Solas's backstory alone has had significant ramifications for everyone in Thedas. And the ways he's affected their lives varies between races, generations, magical ability, etc. And that's through creation of the Veil alone.

And we know a shit ton about who Solas is as a person.

You don't need to be a Solas pro, Solas-anti, neutral, or Solas-mancer for this to be true.

So yeah, I would say he's "very much a part of the story." But also, in a way that informs and contributes to the characterization of the ensemble cast.

Inquisition's antagonist was no Fen'Harel. And you're not going to subtract from your ensemble, but rather enhance them (if you care at all about writing them well) by having a focus on him.

Now, I totally think the idea that the final big antagonist will be the Evanuris or someone else lurking behind the veil has merit. But Solas will ultimately be that catalyst.

"Okay, but maybe Bioware doesn't see it that way. Maybe they saw some social media complaints about too much Solas focus and did a hasty rebrand."

Well, for one, that complaint has been around for years now. And it's valid. The problem isn't a lot of Solas, it's that we got so little else. The promotion is bad, not the character or their role in the story. But if that's really it, why now? Why are they only changing the name now?

Now, okay, but Inquisition was still called Inquisition.... This game is about the Veil Guard. It's called Veil Guard.

Cool, but once again, then why hold onto Dreadwolf for so long? Why focus so much on Solas? Why haven't we gotten any glimpses of companions?

And, um, if this is really what you want, shouldn't the title be... better?

Inquisition is a good, solid, and communicative title. While the Inquisition of Thedas is not exactly the Spanish One, there is enough association there to give a general idea. Origins had a group of dumbass misfit fugitives drawn together to save the world. II was similar except they were mercs who get drawn into shit against their will and unwittingly. Inquisition: okay, so this time they'll probably be more of an official, religious-quasi military organization. It'll probably be controversial.

You can be a complete noob to Dragon Age and figure that out.

Veil Guard sounds like something last minute they got from Game of Thrones at the last minute. Okay, the Kingsguard are cool. They guard the king. We're stopping the veil from being torn down, so Veil Guard.

Here's the thing: none of the main ASOIAF series is called The Kingsguard, and you don't need to know anything about A Song of Ice and Fire to get it. Everyone knows what the fuck a king is and why he should be guarded. So even if there is a book called "The King's Guard" we'll get it. It's a book about fuckers guarding a king.

This game is about fuckers guarding... a veil....? The veil?

If you're up on your Dragon Age lore and are really into it, yes, you know what that means. If you're a noob or a casual who hasn't given much thought to Dragon Age in, say, a decade, uhh...:

Noobs: "The game is about fuckers guarding... a veil...? The veil???? Is it some sort of artifact, like it has Jesus's face on it? Or if they mean veil between worlds like some Lovecraft shit, is the new Dragon Age a horror game? Are people trying to travel to different worlds and we're trying to stop them? "

Casuals: "Or wait, is this about that dream world thing? That demon place that spits out demons? Didn't we just get done fixing that in the last game??? Wow, real original. Bioware Magic! "

It also just sounds uncool. Inquisition is an imposing title. Dreadwolf is an imposing title. The Veil Guard sounds like a sartorial maintenance product.

You want people to focus on your ensemble cast? SHOW IT! Because as long as all the promo keeps giving us new Solas anyways, it's just weak sauce.

Nah, this has panic move all over it.

Now, I'm trying to spin this optimistically in that I think this means we may actually get the game within this decade. Because I refuse to believe a) "Veil Guard" is the best they got out of a proper round of workshopping and b) That if this was truly about trying to avoid focussing on Solas too much, they'd announce this without a bunch of promo for the rest of the cast to accompanying it.

Bioware: "We wanted people to know the story is just all about solas, but more about our ensemble cast! We wanted this enough to change the name this late in the game!"

Everyone: "ALRIGHT! SHOW US THIS ENSEMBLE!!!"

Bioware:

Nah bitch, that's not what this is about. Bioware needs this to be a hit, and they need a hit soon. But they don't want their long-awaited blockbuster release to be mired in bad press. They don't want the general audience googling their new massive title only to find articles and reddit threads about layoffs, labor disputes, Mary Kirby's departure, the massive delays, the contract non-renewals happening in the midst of severance lawsuits.

BioWare wants to get their title out finally and they want to bury all the bad shit that's been plaguing this project. All the stories about the labor disputes, layoffs, firings, and lawsuits have mentioned the "Dreadwolf" team.

And quite frankly, it's just shitty. It looks bad. It's desperate.

[sonic-spirit-studios]

Stealing this idea from Furufoo on Fur Affinity 💙. I'm sure I've seen artists' Year in Review things before, but the format it used really clicked with me.

I haven't really touched drawing much since finishing zone 1 of It Doesn't Matter...whoops.

Yeah, it's been...a lot. The election hit us all really hard. Been rushing to wrap up the last hanging threads of name change stuff before inauguration. And...we've been planning to try and move to Germany in the very near future. So been grinding on that and working through Duolingo as fast as possible. It's...interesting.

[fishballnoodlestore123]

OK so. Au dump here but it's mostly inspo-ed by books I've finished.

<<Tag, you're next on the list♪ >>

Sci-fi AU. Subject #H3-871, better known by the name he's given himself. Aoyagi Toya. Running away from the research facilities that have been his haven for the last couple years or so. Too bad he's known just about every secret in the government halls. What's that? The government has been experimenting on unsuspecting human souls? That's crazy.

Shinonome Akito. Leader of a small rebel group. Been tryna link some disappearances to his own sister's. So say, when someone appears and whoops the guards chasing after him...its too suspicious to be a coincidence.

Toya doesn't know whether to trust. Akito doesn't know how to accept help. But information is the one thing they need, and time is the one thing they do not have.

And as they unravel the threads that bind the city's secrets and race against time, they learn to love.

<< Stories of Our Pasts >>

Welcome to Kirabia Academy. It's divided into two realms, one side filled with the prestigious, one with the not-so-prestigious. Akito's doing his best to survive in the not-so-prestigious side, while trying very hard to change his rip off story enough so its readable. All that changes when after a lesson with Mochizuki Honami, the seemingly perfect student from the Debonair side is found murdered, with only the med's report : damaged brain tumor.

So when Akito is offered her spot, to say he's shocked would be an understatement. And he's more than welcomed into the Debonair side, including catching the attention of the hot guy, aka the guy down the hall, aka Toya. But secrets are afoot. Why does Aoyagi Toya keep playing piano seemingly without rest? Why do all of his seniors look so tired? And why is there a weird ination ceremony ? And why does he write his story without even remembering it? Why is his hand tired in the morning?

How far would you go to be remembered?

<< Grimore of Dark Tales >>

Professor Gakupo. Someone who no one really likes. Someone who'swoken up on the wrong side of the bed too many times. But when he's found murdered...

20 students. 6 facility members. How far will you go to protect the truth?

[ocelberich]

. kaeya alberich has joined the adventurer's guild !

# OCELBERICH ━━━ private, roleplay blog for kaeya alberich of genshin impact; interpreted & loved by barely ( any pronouns ); affiliated with gnostic hymns.

portrayal notes.

as stated in the handbook, i prefer to use the chinese dub for kaeya's characterization though i will likely compare it to english & japanese dubs for nuance. though i play the game in english, my preference differs.

a slightly major difference, to me, between the dubs is that, unlike in the english & japanese versions, kaeya sounds more similar to a teasing, older brother figure that you know nothing of, rather than the handsome mysterious companion that i'm familiar with as an english-player. ( though this isn't to say that he isn't a handsome mysterious companion of ours. it's simply a matter of how heavy one mood is compared to the other. ) his inflection is different between performances, of course, but i rather enjoy the tone SUN YE chose to use in his. thus, my kaeya will be written with such.

last canon appearance is, correct me if i'm wrong: version 3.8, secret summer paradise, thus he will be written as of then!

though i keep a document on all muse-related dialogue & information that is constantly updating, i have yet to fully make my document relating to khaenri'ah. so, if you see me yapping incorrectly and want to politely vibe check me, please do! i welcome all vibe checks.

though kaeya's application was written exactly one month ago, i did not expect to write him and, thus, am a bit shy about how i may portray him. this is simply to say that, yes, i will make mistakes, so please be patient with me.

patience, too, comes with shipping. while kaeya is friendly, his ability to recognize certain bonds as real will come late and in due time as a result of his distrust in the world & and himself. while i'm open to shipping romantically, i'll be leaving that to ooc discussions before anything is incorporated on the dash. likewise, my headcanon of kaeya being demiromantic will swiftly be realized, as romance is a wary concept to him.

for now, that's all! thank you for reading and i hope to write with you in the near future 💕

navigation.

i. handbook ━━━ includes mun information, blog rules, art credit, writing specifics, & more! ii. character ━━━ if you click this link, you sell your soul to me in a blood pact because the about doc is nowhere near finished and i made sure to warn you beforehand iii. talents ━━━ necessary talent page, as of the affiliated group's rule

tags explained.

♛ ━━━ ❝ what is treason to the bloodied plumes of royalty? ・ 【 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 】 . ( all posts that are "in character", hence the tag )

♛ ━━━ ❝ whoops! the cavalry captain without his cavalry! ・ 【 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 】 . ( all posts that are "out of character", ex. shitposts, maintenance, meta, etc )

♛ ━━━ ❝ they will know him as the captain with a crown of lies beneath his cape ・ 【 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘 】 . ( reblogged art, including possible art by the mun, of the muse )

♛ ━━━ ❝ the incarnate of a hunted bird's misery ・ 【 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 】 . ( posts centered around a muse's headcanons, meta, etc )

♛ ━━━ ❝ to enjoy is to consume; to consume is to sacrifice ・ 【 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 】 . ( all reblogged posts with prompts, ask memes, sentence starters and the likes )

♛ ━━━ ❝ he is what a father has made him; what a nation expects of him ・ 【 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗 】 . ( all posts that are replies to an ask, excluding threads made from certain asks )

♛ ━━━ ❝ thread name ・ 【 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 】 . ( the threads tag )

♛ ━━━ ❝ support tag ・ 【 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 】 . ( support tags for all muses this muse interacts with, always liable to change )

[wcrofchange-a]

@gamecn plotted an all for the game au starter.

anakin mcalistar sat in the restaurant he was meeting ‘luje sun-angel’ at. he looked up at the television, snorting at what he what he saw. it was an interview from his last game--the same interview in which he said that he was ‘so flattered’ that lucas di angelo-soalce had taken one of his moves. his eyes found his brother and he nodded to the tele. “i can’t believe they buy this shit.”

[sweetcathedral]

Note: Finally back from my break! Lots of things keep happening in my life that I’ve never expected, so I’m busier than usual, but I have queued up some quick stories for the next few weeks. Although this was inspired by the Are You Am I dresses, it’s more centred around Catholicism that I have a love-hate relationship with. Enjoy!

⚠️: 18+, fem! reader, altar sex, raw, church sex, overstimulation, creampie/breeding

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.

“The hell are you wearing?” Sukuna arched his brow in a grimace expression.

You looked down at your outfit, not seeing what could be wrong with it. It’s your first time wearing something like this; a silk dress with dainty straps and a raw hemming that looks like it’s about to come undone & sheer opaque black stockings. “I don’t see anything wrong with it, does it look bad?” Sukuna strides towards you, analyzing your outfit, even lifting the hem of your dress as if he doesn’t know what’s already there.

“I will never understand the evolution of clothing in this era,” he cocks his head to the side with a placid look in his eyes. Ah, right. He died a long time ago.

“What did people used to wear in your time?”

“Fabrics that actually clothed them,” he tugs at your stockings and wiggles his finger in them, still trying to wrap his head around its function.

“Hey, stop that, it tickles and it feels weird,” you giggled, pushing his hand away.

“I don’t see any point in wearing it. I could rip this off right now.”

“Sukuna, no! This is expensive!” you bicker at him, clinging on to your dress as he tugs at it like a child does when they want their mom’s attention.

“Just ask Gojo to buy you a new one when we’re finished.”

“Finished?” the sound of threads shredding apart startles you.

You scan yourself like a puppy chasing its tail to see if he’d actually ripped your dress apart. Nothing, but something felt off—looking down at your stockings, you see that there was a large slit running down your leg, exposing your thigh.

"Heh, whoops," he flicks the small shred of fabric off his nails, walking you into a corner. The shadow of the room contrasts his face making his eyes glow a deeper crimson. "Don’t look away from me," grabbing your face, his nails dig into your skin as you try to fight off his grip. Lifting you against the wall, he softly drags his nails along your exposed thighs, teasingly drawing circular patterns the higher up he goes.

"Sukuna," you pleaded softly, his hand now on your neck, lifting you ´til you were on your tippy toes & trying to balance yourself so that you wouldn’t fall into complete suffocation.

"Shh, someone might hear you," he whispers in a low octave. You forgot you weren’t in a closed off area. The two of you were originally sent to an abandoned church to investigate a curse user of the Roman Catholic religion, that is until Sukuna took over Yuji’s body.

Your body jolts at Sukuna brushing his knuckles over your clit. The heat of you traces over the length of his finger through the thin fabric of your panties, stifling a moan. "Don’t be shy. It won’t be your first time sinning in front of a God," he cooed in your ears. He told you to be quiet, but he really just wanted to see you hold yourself back as he evokes your temptations & diminishes your composure. He loves seeing you corrupted, especially when it’s in a respectable church built to honour a God who guides herds of blinded sheep.

Only shame & humiliation wash over you as you avert your gaze from looking at the smaller crucifix hanging over the doorway the two of you came from. He turns to look in the same direction you did, a sly grin stretches from ear to ear. “I have a better idea,” his eyes narrow in defiance as he turns to look at the God overseeing the center aisle.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.

You released a deep exhale at the feeling of something soft and wet trailing over your inner thighs—Sukuna. The warm feeling eases the tension all over your body and you can feel the heat of your blood pumping in your ears, his face getting closer and closer to where you want him the most. “Maybe we should find a more private setting,” you try convincing him.

“Now why would I want that? Just look at how wet you are down here,” he bites on your panties and pulls them off, revealing a dripping mess. It was embarrassing, immoral, but there was something about how good it feels to be doing something so wrong. The thrill of it sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, your heart beating against your ribcage. More. “Tell me what you want.”

Everything, but even that thought wasn’t enough. “I want you . . . to take me to hell,” you whisper to him.

Taken aback by the words that just came out of your mouth, he brings himself back with that same sly grin and a soft look in his eyes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

From one moment to the next, Sukuna drove your sanity out from you until you could think of nothing, but only him. The bold movement of his tongue reaching in to taste you, his fingers teasing around your clit and fondling your breasts, his lips pressing on every part of your skin, leaving wet splotches that are deep enough in colour to bloom into an aching bruise afterwards.

“Sukuna,” you lift the hem of your dress over as you fold your legs to your chest—revealing your painfully aching cunt, glistening with desire. The syllables of his name roll off the tip of your tongue like nectar. “More.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” he pulls your hips towards him, enough for your cunt to be pressing against the thick bulge fighting the strain of his black jeans. The altar creaked, as if in disappointment, at the sudden weight change.

Mesmerized by the sight of you laid on the altar like an offering, he takes his time to soak in the image, burning it into his mind; the burnished oak altar with the scene of the last supper carved beneath it, a warm glow cascading from the skylight of the church and the large crucified God, looking down at the lustful act unfolding in his house of worship. But then the feeling of your hips impatiently bucking at him interrupts his thoughts. “You know, they say patience is a virtue,” pleased at your eagerness.

“Fuck the virtues.”

“What a bold thing to say in a church,” he softly chuckles, the sound of his zipper perking your ears.

You reach for his belt, but he laces his fingers into yours, pressing your hand down. The tip of him brushes against your soft folds, lubricating itself with your juices. Without a struggle, his cock unfolds you, pushing a welcoming entrance open between your legs. Your walls flutter in excitement, pulling him in, as the creaking floors of the church groaned in disapproval.

“Oh, God,” you gripped at the altar cloth.

“You should moan louder for the angels to hear,” he thrusted into you harder than when he entered, the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls. “Fuck.”

All righteous thoughts were purged out of you, like a soul being cleansed anew at adoration. Demon. It wasn’t your first time with him and it definitely won’t be your last. You can feel your body getting desperate to finish as you began to buck your hips faster.

“Closer,” you held your breath, arching your back.

The sound of his name falling off your lips sends a painful feeling of the need of wanting more. He wanted to strip away your senses to see a side of you that no one else has ever seen, the first to discover you and explore whatever you hid away from plain sight. That is what drove the King of Curses, Father of All Sins, to greed.

Echoes of your panting and moaning became a choir of sultry tones, replacing the familiar sounds of organs and bells in the church. Even though your legs were trembling from reaching your limits, he kept on going, ignoring your pleas and begging.

“Not yet,” he grunts in your ear.

“Please . . . I can’t take it anymore.”

Tears stream down your face as you grip onto Sukuna’s arms. The feeling in your legs were no longer there and you were having a hard time controlling your tremors. Just when you thought you couldn’t reach another climax, your cunt began pulsating rapidly as your body uncontrollably tensed up again.

When Sukuna pulled out, a waterfall of cum spilled out of you and pooled onto the altar cloth, dripping down the carving of the Last Supper. The two of you pant in exhaustion, he’s laying on top of you with his arms wrapped around your head, his hand firmly holding you close to him.

You brush your fingers through his hair, reciprocating the same affection back. “Tell me you’re finished for today,” you giggled.

“I wanna say ‘no’, but that’d mean you’d be knocking on Shoko’s door again.”

Both of you laughed as you teasingly tugged at his ear.

“Should we clean—!”

As he helped carry you off the altar, you looked back at the aging oak and crumpled cloth that had been perfectly fine and untainted—now dented with deep inhuman scratch marks surrounding the faint imprint of where you laid.

[luke-shywalker]

OKAY @blackberry-command-cap YOU ASKED FOR THIS SO…

Ask Ben Solo @askbensolo

(Here’s the link to read Ask Ben Solo in chronological order)

The backstory:

It was 2016, TFA had just come out, and Emo Kylo Ren memes were all the rage, most notably the Emo Kylo Ren Twitter account which was iconic. In the early-to-mid 2010s on Tumblr, character ask blogs were in vogue—kinda like roleplay blogs but different—instead of roleplaying with other roleplaying blogs, it was more focused on the character answering asks from the readers. (Ask culture on Tumblr used to be bigger, because this was before we had DMs on Tumblr—omg am I old??)

Anyway I always wanted to run an ask blog, so I came up with the idea for Ask Teenage Kylo Ren (later changed to Ask Ben Solo). It started out as a joke blog purely meme-ing on Kylo for being a teen emo loser who was in the throes of puberty and obsessed with Darth Vader and had trash takes on politics.

I was also a teenager at this time. Over the course of the next couple years I ended up pouring a lot of authenticity into Ben’s character, and fleshed him out as a kid who was terrified of growing up and struggled with mental illness and was being preyed upon by Snoke. I think my characterization of him resonated with a lot of people. He really took on a life of his own, and I have no idea if this is the Ben Solo anymore, but he is my Ben Solo and I love him. The blog is a weird mix of comedy and character drama. Crack-treated-seriously, I guess? This Ben never went to Jedi school, lived with his parents, was homeschooled, and chronically online. He started as a fifteen-year-old and aged up every year.

Things that happened on Ask Ben Solo:

Uncle Luke gave Ben a stuffed animal bantha that the anons named Ren and it was his only friend for a long time

Ben became really into writing poetry

Ben got braces

Ben was aromantic/asexual (until the 2024 reboot whoops SORRY)

Ben kept having dreams about Snoke/hearing Snoke in his mind and basically just wouldn’t listen every time the anons tried to warn him

Ben visited Jedi school and didn’t become a Jedi but made a few friends (my OCs haha, this was before there were any canon Jedi students yet)

Ben gave into Snoke and ran away from home, but changed his mind at the last minute and decided to quit Snoking for good

Ben went to therapy (THANK THE FORCE)

The Solo family adopted REY

Around 2018-2019 Ask Ben Solo got abandoned because I was in college and having a rough time and then TROS came out and sucked and I tried posting once in 2020 but it just didn’t feel the same so I left the blog (and my main blog) to rot.

Then in 2024 I got an ask on my main (so I saw it in my email—hadn’t opened Tumblr in years) where someone told me they really liked Ask Ben Solo and I was like :’) what. After all this time??

I’d been in a creative rut for years so I decided to come back and reboot the blog. I don’t really draw anymore…for reasons unknown to me…so it’s mostly text-based now. And since the sequel trilogy hype is long dead, there are way less people reading it now, which has been a bit of a challenge for me to adjust to, especially since such a big part of the project was the reader interaction.

But, it’s been so interesting to revisit and reinvent Ben as an adult!!! Now he’s 23 and lives on Naboo where he graduated from college. Some of the current story threads are:

Adulting™

Ben is in his first relationship (kinda?) with a former Jedi classmate

Rey is now the cringe teenager!! She’s obsessed with Twi’ktok

Ben has conflict with his mom because she’s very protective of him after the Snoke thing

Poe and BB-8 are Ben’s housemates now. Also Threepio is there. (Leia sent Threepio to spy on Ben)

Hux exists. But he goes by “Armitage Arkanis” and works at Spacebucks. Not much is known about him. …Yet.

Snoke might be back?? Ben doesn’t want you to think so though

Ben just wants to live his life and ignore the Force and forget what happened when he was a teen and try to be happy—and he’s trying—but it just feels…empty.

One thing I super miss is Ben living with his parents. I think that was one of the best parts about Ask Ben Solo. The most interesting thing about Kylo Ren was that he was Han and Leia’s kid and to this day we still don’t have a lot of canon on their lives as family. I have some machinations to force Ben back into living with his parents (as an adult rip) hehehehehe

About once a week I question why I’m still running Ask Ben Solo because it will never be as good as it was in 2016-2018 and I know this. But I think continuing it is better than ending it…haha… I also think a lot about adapting it into a true fanfic that could be posted on Ao3 but I don’t think this is possible. It’s Ben’s blog! Where he has bad takes and is cringe and spills his emotions and updates it in real time and answers your questions! That’s like the whole concept haha

There are also three sister blogs to Ask Ben Solo that are updated much less frequently. Two for my OCs who are Ben’s friends from Jedi school, and one for Rey.

SO YEAH THAT’S ASK BEN SOLO. hahahahaha

And here is the gold star my friend gave me a couple months ago for making her care about Kylo Ren. Multiple people have said this to me about this blog. I say this to me about my blog. Behold, my award:

@blackberry-command-cap

NDNSJSJCNJDKCBDJDJJDJFNDJ OH BOY YOU ARE SO GONNA REGRET ASKING ME THIS HAHHAJAJAHA

it’s my fanfic project basically. I need some time but let me write up the full explanation hdhdhsjdjsj

[mashep23]

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

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

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf

Word Count: 1800

Summary: The calm before the storm

A/n hello, and thanks again @sillyrabbit81 for reading and editing for me :)

Chapter 11

Henry was angry. It was truly the first time he had allowed himself to feel such anger in almost fifteen years. Everything that was happening, all the pieces coming together to paint a picture of that night, it didn’t bring healing like it should, instead, it just bought more pain. All the locked away feelings he had tried so hard to forget from the past kept coming up, especially when he saw Tom’s face. Everything in him wanted to go full wolf, ignore human laws and decimate his friend’s abusers. If he had not felt a strong need to comfort Tom, to help heal some of his wounds then he would have snuck out right there and then.

But Jessie had different ideas, even after the boys left, she insisted he stay by her side. It was as if she knew what he was thinking, knew he would be reckless. When they arrived at the house, he did a quick sniff of the perimeter before feeling secure that there were no new smells. He found Jessie in the kitchen making a coffee. What he wouldn’t give to taste the magic brew again, it had been so long since his last sip. Wondering if she would understand him, he padded over to her and bumped her leg, put his nose in the air, sniffed at the cup she had finished pouring and then yipped. For the first time in a few days she smiled, a genuine large smile. “Did you want some coffee, Henry?” He yipped again, this time emphasising it with his tongue panting.

She found a small ceramic bowl and poured some coffee into it, she picked it up and placed it on the coffee table in the living room. It was the perfect height for him to first sniff the delectable scent, then hesitantly dip his tongue in. It was perfect, she had made it smooth, bold, and milky. He turned his head to her and almost laughed at the look on her face as she watched with anticipation. “Is it ok? I can change it if you don’t like it that milky.” Her nervousness was real, and he wanted to show her how much he liked it, so instead he turned around and lapped the whole bowl up before jumping on the couch and giving her a series of long sloppy kisses on the cheek. Giggling Jessie squealed, “Henry! Stop! If that’s a yes you liked it then great. But if that’s just a reaction to the coffee then no more for you mister.” He stopped immediately not wanting the coffee to stop.

Henry curled up next to her on the couch laying his head in her lap. It was the only intimate thing that he could do whilst he was still in wolf form. He wanted her to know she was safe. Her fingers began to caress his fur, threading through massaging his skin. The tension and anger melted, all that mattered at that moment was his mate.

She softly cleared her throat, “Henry, I need to let you know about something important. Please yip if you are understanding me.” It had been a while since her voice had not made sense, another sign he hoped that he was closer to the surface. “Yip” was his reply. Her body sagged a bit. “Good, I have insisted Tom come to live here for a while until he is safe to go home. But that might be a long while. I learned something this morning and I need to tell you, but I don’t want you to overreact, ok?”

Overreact, what was she talking about? Henry listened intently a soft growl intimating he heard but was not happy. “Tom, well Tom is my secret admirer.” At that comment, Henry leapt up sitting his full height on the couch. His eyes bored into Jessies, looking to see if what she said was true and not a horrible joke. But the seriousness on her face confirmed her words. Both her hands came up and cradled his muzzle, keeping his eyes on hers as she spoke with authority. “Now listen to me Henry, I know you have been jealous and I appreciate you trying to protect me from Boyd. But you know Tom, he is sweet, caring, and young. You have nothing to be jealous of. I see him as more of a younger brother, heck even as a son. So, you have nothing to fear, I want you to continue to care for him just as you have been. He needs our love and affection right now, not more rejection. Ok?”

Not sure how he felt about it, on top of everything else, he flopped back down in her lap. Not willing yet to acknowledge what she was asking of him. She didn’t know how much it hurt to see her with another, to know outside of a dream he could not hold her. He settled enjoying her hands once again scratching behind his ear and smoothing his fur. They stayed like that until the sound of multiple footsteps sounded at the front door, Henry jumped up and ran to the door his fur heckled and a low growl sending out a warning. “Hey Jessie, Wolfy, it’s just us.” Jessie walked past him and opened the door showing a mountain of bags hiding the two boys behind.

Henry’s heckles stayed up as he watched the wall of bags shuffle into the room. It wasn’t till the bags had been placed down, and Tom’s face was shown again, that his fur smoothed down, at that moment he made his mind up. No matter how painful it was seeing someone else fawn over his mate, he would treat Tom as family. He walked up to Tom, rubbing his body up against him then gave his hand a quick lick. Tom’s hand rested on his head-scratching behind his ear. “Thanks, Wolfy. I missed you too buddy.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jessie with a soft smile on her face.

Joe stayed for dinner, the foursome enjoyed steak and veggies, with ice cream for dessert. After dinner, Joe tried to convince the party too, “Have a fashion parade.” A chorus of no’s including a growl from Henry had him lifting his hands in surrender,.“Oh, you guys are no fun. At least let us get dressed in our pj’s.” Jessie frowned at this comment, causing Joe to explain, “We thought with everything going on it might be a good idea to have a slumber party. You know an extra body in case you know who decides to turn up.” Henry was surprised at Joe’s gesture. As excitable as the boy was he was a true friend to Jessie. Jessie, he could see, was struggling and if he guessed her problem, it was accepting help. She had been independent for so long, had to be strong for herself, work everything out for herself. He could only guess if she was anything like himself that she would try to back out of this extra support.

Before she had a chance to speak, he pushed towards her, growling low making her look at him. He put as much feeling behind his eyes as he could trying harder than ever to push towards the surface. The message he wished to convey was one of “please, accept their help.”

She looked at him, her head cocked to one side before her ridged stance melted and her soft voice yielded. “As long as Dillon is ok with it, Joe that’s fine. Heaven knows this house has enough rooms to have 3 separate guests so I’m ok with you having a ‘slumber party.” Joe whooped at that and ran to ring his boyfriend.

Henry had to snigger, here she was surrounded by boys, Tom was 19, and Joe 22 they had gone and changed into PJ’s that had caused Jessie to giggle, the Pokémon images outlined on the two-piece top and pants make them look like overgrown children. Confirmed by them pulling the cushions of the chairs and creating a fort with blankets for them to sit in and eat popcorn as they watched movies. It truly was a sight to see but Henry could tell she was slightly uncomfortable with the interaction. But with his body surrounding hers, she began to relax and enjoy the constant chatter of Joe and Tom.

As the clock chimed 11pm, the party began to go quiet, and eventually, Jessie put on her boss hat. “All right boys. Time for teeth, toilet, and bed, and I want this room set to rights before you head upstairs.” Yawns and tired agreements grumbled as Henry got up and yipped to Jessie. “You need to go out Henry?” It was the first time she had addressed him with his full name in front of the others.

Joe was the only one who made any note of it as he was picking up the last cushion. “I like that name, Jessie. It suits him.” She smiled at Henry, then let him out.

When he was back inside, they locked up the doors and walked silently upstairs. She poked her head in both rooms saying the good night before moving to her own room. After looking after her own needs Jessie snuggled under the covers. Henry positioned himself so he was stretched out next to her ready to hold her in his arms he shut his eyes pleading for sleep to come fast.

Trees, trees, and more trees, the more he pushed the thicker they grew as if they were alive and deliberately holding him back. Henry began to grow angry again, how dare they stop him from seeing his mate. His anger hit a point causing him to turn into his wolf while in the dream state. This allowed him to duck under the branches until he finally broke free into the clearing. There was Jessie, patiently waiting for her man but the look of shock on her face when wolf Henry broke through into the clearing was evident.

“Henry? Are you, ok?” He looked up at her, the anger still burning hot in his eyes. She stilled for a moment then sat patting her lap in an invitation for him to join her. He passed back and forth for a moment before his heart rate began to settle, then he walked forward, and laid down beside her. His head in her lap she gently caressed his fur before he was fully calm. At that moment his desire for her pulled to the front so much so that he began to shift, she stilled as his body creaked and popped until Henry’s head laid in her lap his naked body stretched out for all to see.

Chapter 12

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

I don’t care if it’s been months. Technoblade was fucking wrong and I will die mad about it. 

Let me start this off by saying that I really like Technoblade as a character. I think he’s very interesting and acts as a great counterbalance on the Dream SMP, but drawing a parallel between c!Tommy and Theseus was wrong and it drives me up the wall that it’s become an established thing both in canon and fandom.

If you are going to draw a parallel between c!Tommy and a Greek hero, the clear parallel is Achilles. 

Here we have a man. This man has anger management issues. He is known to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation, hold grudges, and deliberately goad others in a way that can feel petty and immature. On the other hand this is a man whose fatal flaw is his unwavering loyalty to others. A man who, when properly motivated, will be the first to charge and the last to retreat. A man who feels everything to the fullest, known for his passion rather than his thoughtfulness or strategy (though don’t let that fool you, he has those qualities, they are simply not as “on display” as others may be). 

This is a man with a very close personal male friend. This friend is perceived as being sweet and calm, a balm against their rather abrasive counterpart. This is misleading. The friend is also violent and chaotic, but hides it better than most, and certainly better than their friend. 

Everyone loves the friend. Not everyone loves the man. 

The man goes into a homicidal rage when that friend was harmed and killed.

Is any of this sounding familiar at all?! 

Do you know what the name “Achilles” means? 

“He who carries the distress of his people”. 

The triple meaning of which is either: “he carries the burden of the distress of his people”, “he creates that distress himself”, or “he brings distress to others on behalf of his people”, and have you ever, ever in your life heard a more accurate description of mr tommy innit. 

Here’s the other thing. Theseus is a dick. He is the biggest fucking dick. He’s a manipulator. An opportunist. He never considers the consequences of how his choices might affect others. He betrays allies at every opportunity and takes credit for anything and everything that may reflect well on him, regardless of who actually thought of it. 

Do you want to know why Theseus was exiled by his people? Why he died alone? 

The way Techno tells it, it seems like the people are in the wrong. Why would people betray and exile their Hero? Seems pretty ungrateful. I’ll tell you why.

TLDR c!Tommy’s parallel in Greek mythology is Achilles not fucking Theseus

Please understand, Theseus doesn’t go to defeat the Minotaur for any noble reason. It has nothing to do with the fact that the people under his care are being taken on a regular basis by an opposing city state in order to be fed to an Unholy Monster of Death (who’s actually a victim in all of this but that’s a whole other post). It’s for his ego. It’s because he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of the Mediterranean Basin egging him on to be the biggest best Hero Prince there ever was. 

It’s also important to note that the term “Hero” does not have any moral standing connected to it in the world of Greek Mythology. Being a Hero does not mean you are a good person. It means you make a good story. 

At the time he goes to defeat the Minotaur, Theseus is actually fairly new to the whole prince gig (long story) but it means that the people of Athens aren’t exactly attached to him. He kind of just turned up. He hasn’t earned their loyalty or respect. They don’t know him enough to love him, let alone reviere him.  

His dad does want to know if he succeeds though. 

This tribute is a great tragedy for their people so the ships that carry them away and come back empty always have black sails, both in mourning and in recognition of their sacrifice. So Dad says “Hey, if, against all odds, you end up succeeding and defeating the Minotaur, switch out the black sails for white sails, and I’ll know even before you arrive that our people are safe. I’ll keep a look out on that cliff. See you soon ... or not” Then he probably patted Theseus awkwardly on the shoulder or something.

So Theseus boards the ship with all the other miserable 20 somethings who think they’re as dead as freshly plated steak tartare with the expressed intention of destroying the Minotaur in a blaze of self reflecting Glory and making his name as a Hero. 

Theseus only defeats the Minotaur, by the way, because Ariadne, a Cretian princess, did practically all the heavy lifting for him. She’s the one who figures it all out. She’s the one who understands the intricacies of the maze, and she is the one who comes up with the plan of using thread as a guide back out of that maze. She’s also the one who stands sentinel at the entrance and makes sure he doesn’t run out of said thread. All of this help and guidance is given upon the understanding that, having utterly betrayed her own kingdom, Theseus will take her back to Athens and marry her, ensuring her safety. 

Except Theseus doesn’t want to marry her. He never wanted to marry her. He’s a young prince in his prime with years of Heroing ahead of him. Ariadne was only ever a means to an end. 

So they defeat the Minotaur. Big Whoop. 

The ship stops off on a little island before returning home and Theseus sends Ariadne off to get supplies (there’s a dear). Literally as soon as Ariadne is out of sight Theseus is in such a hurry to avoid his responsibilities and promises that he pulls that ship straight back out onto the open sea, before his crew can do anything else (such as change the sails perhaps, remember that).

He abandons the one person who actually helped him, completely alone, without any resources, in a foreign land, and unable to return home even if she wanted to. 

Dad now sees the sails that he’s been on a look out for this whole time, hoping and praying for white. Instead he sees black and is so overcome with despair that he throws himself right off the cliff, commiting suicide and leaving Athens leaderless.

So when Theseus does rock up, the people of Athens understandably want nothing to do with him. He’s only recently become prince anyway. No one cares about him or is loyal to him. The king has just commited suicide because of him, leaving the city state in complete disarray, he’s just abandoned a key ally, proving that his word is worthless, and has demonstrated beyond a doubt that he is not fit to be a leader, let alone their Prince. 

So they exile him. 

He goes on to have more adventures of course, and he does become one of the most well-known “Heroes” in Greek Mythology, but don’t for one second think he improves.

Theseus is a dick. He will always be a dick. 

He never learns, never grows, and in the end, dies alone and abandoned, just as he abandoned so many others before him. 

TLDR c!Tommy’s parallel in Greek mythology is Achilles NOT fucking Theseus 

[fallen-gravity]

Aftermath

A whole summer later, and Mabel's still having nightmares about being trapped in her bubble. One unfortunate morning, Ford just happens to be the one who overhears her crying in her sleep.

Notes:

A huge, huge shout out to @ariasofelegance

A little white ago I reblogged a silly post that said something like "come into my inbox and tell me what my writing brand is", and without hesitating she dragged me into the dirt. Got me so on the nose that it backfired and whoops, I wanted to write it.

Said ask can be found here

Hope you’re happy with the results, Rin ;)

AO3

It’s the sound of sugary pop music seemingly wafting in through her bedroom window that wakes Mabel first. She assumes it’s just an alarm she doesn’t remember setting, and frantically waves her arm out for her nightstand so she can turn it off and go back to sleep for another minute or ten.

Then it’s the fact that her hand smacks something that squeaks, and okay, maybe Waddles accidentally left one of his toys in her room. He’s got plenty, so she can shrug off that as long as it’s not his favorite then he can go another few minutes without it. She’ll bring it downstairs to him when she wakes up, or if Dipper rises before her he can bring it downstairs instead.

It’s fine. She can brush those things off, and to prove it to herself she turns over on her other side and brings her blanket up to cover her ears. If anyone needs her they’re gonna have to climb the stairs all the way up to the attic and tell her themselves. She smiles to herself at the thought, and settles easily back into her sleep.

It doesn’t really click that something’s…off until the sun shines in through her window. Despite knowing that she’s facing away from her window, the sunlight still pierces through Mabel’s blanket and lands right into her eyes. Even for the mid-summer Oregon sun she’s gotten accustomed to, it’s uncomfortably warm and unreasonably bright for so early in the morning.

…Stranger still, she’s sure that Dipper would’ve already complained about it before she did, or at the very least, she’s sure she already would’ve heard him shuffling around the room by now.

Mabel takes it to mean that he must already be awake and downstairs, and groans. It still doesn’t explain why the sun is so painful in her eyes, but she guesses that could be a result of her sleeping in later than she’s used to.

“Alright, universe, you got me” Mabel mumbles, and stretches as she finally pushes herself into a sitting position. Opening her eyes is a bit tougher with the sun still harshly shining into them, but it’s manageable, and…

…This doesn’t look like the attic.

She attempts to rub the sleep out of her eyes, in case she’s still not fully awake yet, but no, the image in front of her still doesn’t change. She’s about to try standing up to see if walking around will help snap her out of her haze, but before she can even kick her feet over the edge her bedroom door swings open.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Mabel sighs. “Can you close the window? I can’t see a thing”

“Sure thing, Miss Mabel!” a cheery voice that is decidedly not Dipper’s replies, and with a snap of their fingers the lights go out. Now that her eyes finally adjust, Mabel’s able to glance around her room, and…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no.

There are stone statues of her face in every corner of her room, piles of rainbow plushies stacked all over the floor, a collage of sweaters all over the wall, inflatable furniture scattered everywhere, and most notably, a large rug with a bright shooting star embroidered into the center.

“Miss Mabel?” the strange voice asks again, and a bright pink hippo steps into view towards her bed. “Is everything okay?”

Mabel frantically scoots backwards in her strange bed. “Stay back!” she tries to shout, but everything comes out as more of a panicked waver. “Stay back or I’ll grapple hook you in the face!” she frantically pats all around her body for any sign of her trusty weapon.

The hippo tilts its head in confusion, a squeak emerging from it. “Oh, Miss Mabel, you’re a riot! Don’t you remember?”

Mabel freezes in her frantic patting. “Remember what?”

The strange hippo laughs. “Our volleyball match! You promised you’d play with me, but then you took a suuuper long nap instead!”

Mabel shakes her head. It can’t be. It can’t be. She knows Dipper already came to rescue her, she knows they already took the bus back to Piedmont together, she knows they promised to stick together through thick and thin.

Or…did they? What if that was all part of this sick fantasy too? What if Bill just made her believe that Dipper came to her aid, when he’s actually been captured, or hurt, or worse, and Bill is still pacifying her for as long as he can to keep Weirdmageddon going?

She can’t breathe. She tugs at the collar of her turtleneck, but that only makes things worse, because it’s not until she notices the hot pink of her collar that she realizes she’s wearing her shooting star sweater. She wants to rip it off and claw at it until it comes apart thread by thread.

“M-Miss Mabel?”

She has to get out of here.

“Of course!” she replies, just to avoid suspicion. “Let’s go play some volleyball!” She claps loudly, and the pink hippo grins, seemingly unfazed by her behavior.

“Great!” it beams, and bounces happily out the door. Mabel follows more slowly, casting nervous glances everywhere she looks for any signs of creeping yellow eyes.

“Oh, shoot!” the hippo shouts once they’re outside, and Mabel nearly jumps a mile out of her skin.

“What is it?”

“We don’t have enough players,” the hippo pouts. “I can go see if I can find anyone who-”

“No!” Mabel shouts, and a few beachgoers freeze to cast glances her way. She blushes, and tries again. “I...I mean, we could always get my brother to play with us! Where’s my good ol’ twin brother?”

For the briefest of moments the hippo’s eyes flash yellow, but they’re back to normal just as quickly.

“Over here, sis!” Dippy Fresh waves, approaching them on his skateboard.

Mabel steps back, shaking her head. “Where’s my real twin brother?”

The crowd of beachgoers begins murmuring uncomfortably to each other.

“Aww, c’mon sis, don’t be like that!” he grins, jumping off of his skateboard and taking a step closer.

“You’re not my real brother” she hisses. “None of this is real! I know it isn’t!”

She’s shouting now, but she doesn’t care. “Come out and face me yourself, Bill! I know you’re out there! I don’t want to take part in this sick fantasy anymore!”

Everyone around her gasps, and between one breath and the next she’s painfully tackled to the ground.

“Mabel Pines!” an unfamiliar voice shouts, mixed seamlessly with the shrill echo of Bill’s. “Not only have you broken the one and only law of Mabeland, you have also spoke up in defiance of Bill Cipher, the true creator of this land. A simple court trial will not be enough. For these transgressions, you will be taken straight to the Fearamid for proper punishment”.

Mabel’s face pales. “W-wait! I was only just kidding!” She pleas, but a strong pair of arms is already lifting her into the air. She kicks and thrashes, but no matter how much she fights back, more pairs of hands seem to grab onto her and keep her in place.

“No!” she shouts. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise! I’ll do anything you guys want! I’ll never leave you again!”

“It’s too late!” Bill’s voice finally separates itself from the crowd, and he manifests himself in front of her. He lifts her into the air, and she starts thrashing even harder, but nothing she’s doing is working to free herself from her grip.

At the very back of her mind, she thinks she can hear someone shouting her name. But she’s sure that’s all just part of the illusion, that Bill’s using the sound of her own family against her to torture her one last time before she never sees them again, and-

Something brushes against her forehead.

Something soft, and warm, and comforting, and so humanlike compared to everything else around her that it’s enough to make the every single aspect of the illusion disappear into thin air all at once, even Bill himself.

Everything’s black, and then, with a blink of her eyes, she’s staring into Ford’s eyes, soft and loving and pooling with worry. It doesn’t take long for her to piece together that it’s his hand on her forehead.

“Mabel?” he asks, and she realizes quickly that it had been his voice shouting her name in the bubble.

She gasps, bolting upright, and does her best to recover her breathing. Ford doges out of the way to avoid smacking heads, but stays right where he is beside her, rubbing soothing little circles into her back.

Her throat hurts. She must’ve been shouting in her sleep. She wants to cry, but she can’t even do that right, because  the moment a sob tries to escape her throat her chest feels like it’s closing up, and she can’t take a breath anymore, no matter how much air she inhales.

“It’s okay,” Ford whispers to her. “Deep breaths”

Mabel shakes her head. “I…I can’t”

“Yes you can,” he replies, firmly but kindly. He scooches closer to her, slowly as not to re-startle her. “Mabel, look at me”

She does. His eyes are so soft, conveying so many grounding, human emotions that the single moment of eye contact alone is almost enough to completely ground her back to reality. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, once she’s finally able to maintain eye contact without her eyes trembling. “You’re awake, I promise” he offers his hands out to her. “Reach out and squeeze my hands if you need to, but I promise that I really am right here”

Mabel reaches out and takes his hands in her own. They’re so much bigger than hers, and they’re rough with calluses and there’s quill ink stuck under his nails, but they’re so comfortably the hands of her great uncle, all the way down to the extra sixth finger on each hand that the sob stuck in her throat finally breaks its way through. He’s not just another illusion, he’s not a perfect copy that Bill sent to keep her complacent, he’s just…Grunkle Ford.

Mabel throws herself into his arms as her sobs overwhelm her small body. She buries her face into the collar of his turtleneck, and forces her eyes to focus on a little loose strand sticking out at the back of his neck. It’s just a tiny little imperfect detail that could easily be snipped or sewn back into place, but a little imperfection like that to let her know she’s home is more comforting than she’s willing to admit.

Ford wraps his arms around her and holds her closely. He gently runs a hand through her hair, whispering I know and it’s okay over and over again into her hair, and she just buries her whole face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of coffee and ash and ink coming from his sweater like it’s a lifeline.

She stays in his embrace until her sobs finally calm, and they pull away gently. She wipes at her nose with her wrist.

“I’m sorry”

Ford shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, dear. I know firsthand just how awful it feels to suffer through a panic attack alone”.

Alone?

She glances to the other side of the bedroom, and finds Dipper’s bed empty. Her heart drops to her stomach. “Wh-where’s..?” she starts, but Ford places a gentle hand on her shoulder before she can finish that train of thought.

“Dipper’s okay, he’s outside with Soos”

“Grunkle Stan?”

“He ran out to the store, but he’s okay too”  

Mabel buries her face into her hands. “You didn’t…come in here because you could hear me from downstairs, did you?”

Ford shakes his head, a fond smile itching to spread across his face. “I came upstairs when I’d heard you were still asleep and didn’t want my favorite niece to miss out on such a beautiful morning,” he pauses, the smile on his face vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. “But then when I came in to wake you up, you looked like you were having a panic attack in your sleep, and…” his voice trails off. “You started…crying out names.” He winds a protective arm around her shoulder, and gently squeezes her arm. “I’d never want to make you recount something so awful, but if you want to talk about it, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon”

Mabel sighs. It isn’t even close to being the first dream she’s had about the bubble, so she should be used to all of these strange feelings by now. But this particular dream felt the most based in reality, and it’s the first time Bill’s actually shown up and threatened to hurt her to her face.

She returns his gesture, winding an arm around Ford’s back and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. She scooches just a tiny bit closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “I…” she begins, squeezing her eyes shut to brace herself. “I was trapped in Mabeland again. Except it wasn’t like all the other times I’ve had nightmares about it where I knew something was off and I hit the ground running as soon as I realized where I was, it was more like…I felt like I’d always been there.”

With her free hand, Mabel brings the collar of her sweater all the way up to her nose. Anything to distract her from her uncle’s worried expression burning into her. “It was like everything we did last summer was for nothing. I woke up in my bed in the castle, and everyone was acting like it was peachy keen. I tried asking someone about where Dipper was, just for some sense of normalcy, but all that did was summon that dumb clone Mabeland created of him so I wouldn’t get too lonely. I know it’s dumb, but the whole thing just felt…too real. Like I was still stuck there, and the apocalypse was still going on out here, and the whole rescue mission was just a sick dream that Bill put in my head to trick me into believing everything was okay”

Mabel squishes her face into Ford’s sweater and just forces herself to focus on his scent, on the soft material of his sweater, on the gentle pattern of his breathing. “Everything was ripped away from me, Grunkle Ford, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I tried speaking up for myself, but that only made things worse, because Bill showed up, and he-”

She’s suddenly painfully aware that she’s trembling again, and can’t help the tears building in her eyes. She tries burying her face even further into Ford’s sweater to collect herself and keep going, but before she can she feels Ford’s hand at the back of her head, gently holding her in place as she cries.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, his voice a soothing presence among her racing thoughts. “You don’t have to keep going.” He’s back to gently petting her hair, and the gesture is consistent and familiar enough to ease Mabel’s crying. “I’m so sorry that you’re still having nightmares about this”.

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and finally finds the strength to pull herself away from his sweater. “It’s not your fault”, she says, and her eyes drop to the hardwood floor of her bedroom. “I’m just so scared, Grunkle Ford.” She grips onto the edges of her skirt. “I know that I shouldn’t be, because I know Bill’s been gone for a year and I know everything’s okay now, but I just can’t help but feel that everything’s not.”

Ford nods solemnly, and for a moment he doesn’t respond, until he shifts in his sitting position so he’s facing directly towards Mabel rather than beside her. “Mabel, may I show you something?”

Mabel blinks, her head tilting slightly in confusion. “Sure, Grunkle Ford, what is it?”

Ford rolls the sleeves of his turtleneck up to his elbows. His wrists are covered in faded white slits, and the rest of his arms are covered in burn scars, scratches, gashes, and decades-old bruises that never healed properly. Some of them are still red and blistering, and others look so faded that she could just as easily mistake them for birthmarks.

It hurts Mabel’s heart just to look at them. Her hands hover cautiously over them, and she glances at the wonderful great uncle that they’re attached to. “C-can I…?”

He nods. “Sure.”

Mabel gently runs her fingers along each of them so lightly that it’s almost as if she isn’t touching them at all. She knows that he’d been hurt in the past, and she knows that it couldn’t have been easy roughing it out in the multiverse for thirty consecutive years, but it breaks her heart to see the evidence of it all up close.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ford sighs, cutting into her thoughts. “But most of these don’t come from the portal” he pauses to rub at the back of his head. “Or, rather, they do, but not in the way that you probably think”

Mabel pauses. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…sometime after Bill betrayed my trust, but before I was able to get the metal plate in my head to keep him out, he’d take advantage of our deal that let him into my mind whenever he pleased,” he taps at his forehead. “He was furious that I shut down the portal, so any time I fell asleep he’d use the opportunity to hurt me as much as he could. He never wanted to kill me because he was convinced I’d change my mind in due time, but he felt the need to torture me so I’d never act against him again. He’d slit my wrists, he’d burn me, he’d do just about everything he could to make sure I could feel the repercussions of his actions when I woke up.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “Thankfully he was never able to break a bone before I woke up in time to stop him, but…” he trails off, and for the briefest of moments he looks as though he’s lost in thought.

“I’m getting ahead of myself,” Ford blushes, snapping himself from his own thoughts before Mabel has any time to ask if he’s okay. “The point is,” he says, “Just because you know he’s gone now doesn’t mean that he never hurt you. Your nightmares are your scars, and they’re just as real as the scars under my sweater.”

Mabel wants to respond with a proper thank you, because she’s genuinely touched by the validation, but there’s a part of her that just can’t move past all the gashes and scars on Ford’s arms. She knows she’s seen similar cuts elsewhere, maybe not nearly as dire, but she knows in the back of her mind that’s just because she was just barely able to stop them from becoming much, much worse.

“I don’t think it’s just the nightmares” she mumbles, just barely loud enough for Ford to hear.

“Hmm?” Ford hums. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Mabel runs two fingers gently around the white scars on Ford’s wrist. “I don’t think it’s just that he hurt me, I think it’s that he hurt a lot of people that I love, too.” She shakes her head. “I know there isn’t a lot I could’ve done to prevent it, but…I was so oblivious to it, Grunkle Ford. I had no idea he was hurting so many people until it was almost too late”.

She keeps rubbing gentle circles into his wrist, like she can make the scars and all of the memories of the pain he went through vanish into thin air with her loving touch alone. “Dipper’s got these scars too. I know he’s okay now, but…” the sigh that escapes her is broken and shaky. “I know that much worse things could’ve happened to him, too”.

Ford frowns. “He…did tell me about being possessed, yes. But he also told me that he couldn’t have gotten his body back without your help. Bill’s a master at trickery, Mabel, it’s not your fault you couldn’t recognize him in Dipper’s body”.

…But she also knows that the reason Dipper was possessed in the first place is because he was up all night trying to crack a code that she told him she’d help him with, and she also knows that if she found out that it wasn’t Dipper controlling his body until it was too late, then…

“He wrote a letter”

The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, tears building in her eyes again.

“Who did?” The soft smile slips off of Ford’s face. “Dipper?”

Mabel shakes her head. “Bill wrote a letter when he was still in possession of Dipper’s body. I’ve never shown it to Dipper before because I didn’t wanna freak him out, but I just…couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, because I was so afraid that if I did, Bill was going to find out, and wait until the moment my back was turned so he could…” her voice trails off, and she can’t finish the sentence no matter how badly she needs to get it off of her chest.

“Mabel?” Ford asks, his voice dripping with worry.

She shakes her head, and hops down from her bed to reach underneath. She grabs a seemingly useless crumped up piece of paper, and carefully unfolds it and pats down all the wrinkles before she offers it to Ford. “Before he could do this,” she replies, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

Ford takes the letter from her, and Mabel takes her seat back on the bed beside him. All she can bring herself to do is just watch as Ford’s expression becomes more and more horrified as he reads further down the letter, and the hurt in his eyes when he looks into hers when he finishes reading is palpable.

“I’m scared, Grunkle Ford” she repeats, her mouth continuing to speak before her brain can stop her. “I know Bill’s gone for good, but how can I be so sure that everything’s okay when I know that this is what he could’ve done to my brother?”

For a few painfully short moments Ford says nothing. Mabel’s sure he’s at a loss of words, or that it was a mistake showing him the letter because he’s freaking out now too, but much to her surprise  Ford’s next move is pulling her into his arms again and hugging her so tightly it’s as if he never wants to let go again.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into her hair, but doesn’t give her enough time to respond before he keeps going. “Mabel, I’m so sorry you’ve been burdened with this. You’re the last person I would ever wish to feel so unsafe that you can’t even trust the quiet moments.”

His breathing sounds broken and shaky, but if he’s tearing up at all he’s doing a really good job at hiding it.  “You don’t deserve any of this. You’re too young to feel like you have any responsibilities over anyone’s life or death. I’m so sorry that he made you feel this way”

She knows he’s not the kind of person to use his words carelessly. She knows that he’s phrasing it this way because he recognizes his own behavior in her. She doesn’t respond verbally, but she reciprocates the hug best she can, and a heavy sigh escapes Ford when she does. They stay there in silence for a few short minutes, just reveling in the comfort and safety of the other’s arms.

When they finally pull away, Ford seems to have gathered his composure again.

“I promise, Mabel” he takes one of her hands into his own. “I promise you that he’s gone. He can never hurt you or me or Dipper or Stan ever again. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t, and it doesn’t mean that recovering from that sort of pain will be easy, but if there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that he’s never showing his face here again”.

Mabel finally crumbles in his arms. She’s sobbing again, but it’s a cathartic kind of sob, and she’s gripping onto Ford’s shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping her together.

“And even if he does, I know just the grappling hook to scare him away”.

Between her sobs, Mabel can’t help but giggle.

[tennessoui]

omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Comics: Spies Like Us and Dime after Dime or Weblena: The Preschool Days (Lena Retrospective) (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, My Lena Retrospective, which fittingly has now come to Women’s History Month! I sadly do not have anything besides this arc prepared for the month. This month is pretty packed for me with two shows a week to cover, as while there’s only two weeks of Ducktales left final space starts up right after to take it’s spot, two arcs to cover, and two time specific movie reviews: animal crossing the movie and the 1990 TMNT film. I will try to get more than the currently planned top 12 superheroines list out there... but this month is very tight as is, so if I do not I deeply apologize.

Now that’s out of the way, it’s appropriate we start Women’s history month on some likely lesser known parts of Lena’s history, with some comics stories focusing on our faviorite emo lesbian duck and her 87 counterpart. Before I get started on that though Kev my patreon pointed out something intresting a few weeks back i’ve been forgetting to get to and since we’re looking into Minima, I felt this was the perfect time to do so: Lena’s Concept art. 

There’s quite a few things to gleam from this. For starters as pointed out in the reddit thread I got the image as a whole from this was made in 2015, meaning Lena was one of the first new characters designed for the series and was part of it from the VERY early stages, as evidenced by the fact that despite clearly having their new personalities established, Beakly and Webby still had the old designs. 

The other notable change is that her first design was way more like both Magica nad Minima, a bit more modern, but clearly far more obvious who she was related to. She also had all black feathers making the shadow twist a bit more obvious and was likely done away with both to avoid giving that twist away, the same reason for the fake lestrange name, and to avoid accidently black coding her, as while Lena being black would’ve been intersting, it also would’ve invited a firestorm of controversy given that their one black character in season 1.. woul’dve started off as a homeless, manipulative antagonist, and none of that would play well nor was it something the progressive crew of this show couldn’t spot from a mile away.  And even this early on they have an almost final design ready, simply changing the shirt to fit her personality more, and her hair to be pink because it honestly looked better She also had green eyes throughout, but for whatever reason they phased them out. That part I don’t quite get as they look nice but probably they were hard to translate to the reboot style once they settled on their own. Her purple eyeshadow and haircut though have stuck since and were good calls. 

One last VERY obvious note.. Webby was gay for Lena from minute one. While Dana helped it is now VERY obvious they gay coded this relationship from the design phase, and the crew was entirely aware the whole time and I gave them less credit than I should have. They clearly had this in mind, and it’s very likely ONLY subtext because Disney, while making more and more progress, is very reluctant to have queer characters as Owl House was a struggle and since they have a tighter leash on properites based on the sensational 6, that means Frank knew they had the same odds of making Webby or Della queer in anything but subtext that a pig has of suviving in a slaughterhouse. I bring this up because I fear the series getting accused of queerbaiting somewhere down the road instead of doing what they could with a bad hand and hoping they could make the show as gay as they could. Penny is as out as they posisbly could get her, and Violet and Lena’s dad’s got a full apperance, if no speaking role that made it obvious beyond a shadow of a doubt their gay and did it in a plot important episode. So they did their best and I want them to get credit for that. 

But while this is all intresting stuff, join me under the cut for the meat of today’s review as I dig into Lena’s only apperance in the tie-in comic that was never punished here, and the only apperance of her protoype Minima.

Spies Like Us:  As I mentioned this comic was never published here which is doubly weird to me because of how I knew this story existed. Since I follow comics weekly and buy trades reguarly, I read the solicits companies put out eveyr month to see what new series are coming, what the ones i’m currently reading are doing, and what trades are coming out. That sort of thing, and it’s something I love. I know their basically adds.. but their well put together adds that really pull you into the books you like. The big two and the indies are all very good at it and sometimes i’ts the only way to know a comic is coming if the company dosen’t make a press release for it ahead of time. 

So naturally given there are several comics I follow at idw, paticuarlly the TMNT comics, I read those solicits and found they were going to do an issue with Webby and Lena becoming spies, and was excited about it. I ended up forgetting about it and never really followed the Ducktales comic as it came out, and upon reading an issue or two recently, one for another comission by kev as one story, happy happy valley, was particularly terrible. For those who haven’t read the story or my review, it involved the family getting stranded on an island where their forced to partake in activites and smile..that somehow turned into an aseop about Louie wanting to be rich. It ended with this

Yes.. really. That actually happened. But even with this, I fully planned to cover the issue when I covered Lena, and brought it up to Kev when he commissioned the retrospective. He gave me the discord equilvent of a blank stare and had never heard of it. I soon found out why: the story was replaced as, and fair play to disney, it spoiled Beakly’s past from the agent 23 episode which wasn’t going to air in time.  What dosen’t work is they never reprinted the story in The US.. didn’t put it in a future issue and just swap it’s place didn’t put it in the nothing. And the story was fully complete as we’ll see, with a cover and everything so they had no excuse whatsoever to NEVER use it, even with what happened to Lena in the season finale, this clearly took place before that and it was weird to just shelve it because of that. But thankfully when a bunch of the stories were reprinted overseas, this and another one, also webby centric got published overseas. But not in english.

Lucky for me, I was able to find an english translation of an english story which you can read RIGHT HERE. It was translated by @neopuff and I thank them for it as without them this review would not be possible and want to give them all the credit. So was it worth all their hard work translating it? Well let’s take a look. 

We begin at the Manor where Lena is skulking around suspiciously.. though it turns out she and Webby are just playing hide and seek. Though Lena accuses cheating. The dialouge here is pretty flat though that’s not Neopuff’s fault at all. As I can attest from reading other stories a lot of the early IDW comics are just this flat in dialoguge no matter the writer as they were likely given character descriptions and basic info about the show they likely had written up for merchandising and Frank and Co were given no involvement and likely weren’t made avaliable to consult on the comics to help them be a bit more fleshed out. It’s very obvious to me Disney just tried to get these pumped out so they’d have a series in stores to tie in without carring about qualities and given Scrooge debuted in comics, their lack of care toward that side of things in general, but especially in the first american published original duck comics in a while, bothers me a lot. It’s inexcusable. 

That being said the story isn’t half bad nor is the setup as the two hear a beeping and find it’s Beakly’s phone going off with a mysterious message from Q, Webby thinks she’s been reactivated, and is encouraged by Lena to go look after her while she stays along. While Webby says in response

It just feels grossly out of character for both. Lena is far more subtle about manipulation as shown five minutes ago and Webby blindly trusts her. Because she has a massive crush on her and is naïve about how the world works. It just seems very odd of her to get suspicious as she never does on screen, and again it comes off as Disney having barely given the writers any materials on them when i’m sure Frank or Matt would’ve been happy to write up a thing for them to help outside of the usual press materials they were given. 

Though hte last line isn’t all that out of character and has an obvious answer as within a jumpcut Launchpad’s taking them to London and is told to blend in.. which he does with an australian flag and accent.. good gag. 

So our heroines do some heroic breaking and entering and look for the package, but soon find while hiding it’s already in transit.. and had obvious bows on int. Whoops. Our heroes trie the old follow tha tcar bit and refreshingly, it dosen’t pan out as the guy stops and tells them to get out. A nice twist. Unable to follow, our heroes instead find launchpad lost, as his map is upside down

So Lena dares him if he can follow that plane, a nice bit of character for both. I will give Joe credit. While the dialouge’s a bit flat and there was that out of character moment.. for the most part he does nail the actual character down and does use it decently enough. He’s just not given enough page room or actual details to work  with is all. 

So while our heroes follow they end up having to crash as they run out of fuel.. lucky their with the expert but end up near home where the package is delivered to. Turns out this wasn’t a spy thing, this was just a thing with her aunt. That’s fine and a nice gag.. it’s just ruined by just sorta.. ending. Lena leaves disapointed and Beakly scolds webby for “playing spy” and she’s sad. That’s it that’s how it ends. Which dosen’t fit the characters, as while Beakly would defintely scold her, it just dosen’t FIT that she’d be that tearse or not appricate the effort or give her an actual lecture and it feels like Joe had no idea how to end this after the gag and just.. ended it. 

Final Thoughts for Spies Likes Us: This was okay.  It is a bit of a disappointment as for the only story not available.. i’ts just okay and not really above an average Ducktales comics story, with some nice character bits but feeling a bit weak overall, as do at least the first half of the idw comics. I haven’t read the later stuff to see if it got better. It’s worth a read if you like Webby and Lena as characters and it’s not BAD, it’s just not anything impressive and is a simple hyjinks filled misunderstanding story. 

Dime After Dime:

So now  we go back a bit to the original. I didn’t do these in chronological order because frankly, Dime after Dime is the better story of the two and the bigger one at that, so I have more to work with here. But the original also had comics and honestly from the few i’ve read much BETTER comics. I chalk this up to two things: The Ducktales 87 comics seem to have come out AFTER the series was already a hit, and since Ducktales is pretty close to the original uncle scrooge comics minus it’s own tweaks here and there, it’s easy enough to just write the stories like you would a regular uncle scrooge story, just with Webby and Launchpad added, whereas the idw writers were staffed with writing for all new versions of the characters with noticable differences without much to go on.  It’s why to me with tie in comics you have two options: Wait long enough so you can put your story inbtween the episodes like the Steven Universe and Regular Show comics did or just make your own continuity entirely like the Adventure Time Comics and the Archie TMNT Adventures series did. The ONLY time i’ve seen a comic work like this is the Bravest Warriors comic, which had a talented writer and fit well enough in the margins until it sadly ended.. and honestly is BETTER in some cases than the series. I might get to it someday. The point is this comic shows why you need to have a deft hand adapting something instead of just falling your arms about and hoping it’ll work. 

So today’s comic was part of some Disney Series called cartoon tales, which clearly repackaged comic stories from wherever, and put them together. I don’t know much about it and the only other issue avaliable collects the disney adventures adaptation of “Just Us Justice Ducks”, which I might cover at some point. This book does have two other stories which i’d be happy to do on comission or on my own at some point, one involving gladstone the other gizmoduck, but for now, i’m just sticking to the title story and the reason you all came here. 

So we open with Magica gazing into her crystal ball from her Mt. Vesuvies base saying that Scrooge will never know what hit him I know exactly what and who wiil hit him thank you very much. 

Scrooge is seeing Webby off to her first day of day camp, getting all teary eyed which is touching. Beakly apparently goes with her as the story never SAYS Sshe does but she’s not also not around when the story moves on, as Launchpad says it looks like rain. Scrooge dismisses him, though Launchpad turns out to be right. Scrooge had good reason for once though, instead of just being a dick good on you comic for making me not want to punch him in the face, trust me that is a high bar to clear with the scrooge comics, as the weather was fine just a minute ago. Naturally it was Magica All Along! Nothing scrooge can do now that eveyrthing has gone wrong! Her entrance though is sadly not a catchy earwormy tune, but .. this confusing line

I think your thinking of Gladstone. And he’s still single so.. have at that but no Scrooge is the one who values hard work over anything else and brags about THAT or being rich. I .. I don’t get this line and frankly I don’t want to. Even in stories where the dime is supernaturally lucky and the source of his wealth he dosen’t boast about it because he’s not stupid and dosen’t want everyone knowing how to bankrupt him instantly. This line will baffle me until I die, presumably, given my life’s tragetctory, after reviewing an episode of mighty ducks and slipping on some a jerky wrapper. 

Scrooge asks what she wants... 

No this isn’t that kind of story sadly. Her plan is to.. zap the bin with lightning and take the dime. Really just went with your first draft didn’t you magica? But as stupid as this plan is Scrooge has prepared for it. He installed a lightning rod on the bin to save on power, and to power his new super soaker traps. So all Magica did was save him money. She flies off and nothing is acomplished. 

So we get back to Webby at the Teenie Weenie Day Camp.. and just so you don’t think that was a terrible joke on my part...

My theory for how this name got approved at all is the editor KNEW how that sounded and just wanted to see if Disney would actually print a comic with the phrase Teenie Weenie without getting what it means in slang or how hilariously inapproriate it is to namme a children’s camp after it. 

Your probably wondering who that grown woman calling Webby a dweeb is. Well story wise, she’s SUPPOSED to be another kid at the camp around Webby’s age. In practice, she looks like THIS in closeup

So it looks and plays like a 30 year old woman snuck into the day camp and no one’s noticed she’s not actually a children. Or their just humoring her because she had a week to live. I don’t know. I do know she doesn’t get to judge on names. 

Snippy Von Glitz, proof rich people really do hate their kids and this this comic is trying personally to give me material. Snippy is your average alpha bitch, taking a chair from Minma and being obnoxious and classist and all that jazz. Minima gets hers back by making the chair bouncy then returning it to normal so Snippy gets in trouble when she makes up things about the chair, with the lady in charge getting ready to call her Dad. You cannot convince me that her “Dad” is just what she calls her husband, this is how they both get off, and that the lady at the preschool only tolerates it because they pay her a lot and so far the kids haven’t noticed Snippy is 30. Webby likes minima finding her name pretty, proving that the ho yay is alive no matter the webby and magica relative, and Minma returns the favor by saving her from a block. 

Minma is reluctant to make an actual friend, finding they aren’t worth anything and given most of the kids here apparently pick on her and her aunt is well.. Magica, it’s understandable why she’d be so cold. But Webby presses on and says something from Scrooge about friends. Which given Ducktales scrooge has none goes weird but it gets Minma to find out she knows and lives with Scrooge, so she cons webby into taking the dime for show and tell, showing that she can manipulate them with her powers, and that he won’t notice it’s missing, getting her with “I thought you wanted to be friends” 

So let’s pause for a second and compare and contrast the two: Both are the niece, or at least sorta in Lena’s case, of Magica, both manipulate webby, and both are her first real friend: The 87 boys are little monsters and I don’t consider them friends or even brothers, while the 2017 ones are just that: brothers. Their her siblings in all but blood, not friends and have hteir own long complicated history. 

But otherwise the two are vastly different. Lena is a far more complex character as she’s been abused her whole life, is a rebel because Magica hardly gave her agency, and while she starts wooing webby out of self interest it’s clear even as far as the first episode she cares. Lena would gladly be part of the world if she could and this whole scheme is to gain that choice. 

Minma is still sympathetic but very different: She walls herself off because the other kids laugh and mock her for being herself and lashes out at them.. not unreasonably mind , but still feeling she needs no one else.. but as we’ll learn later she’s only helping Magica to finally feel accepted, to get all the fancy clothes and stuff that will make her popular instead of that grown woman masquerading as a kid for disturbing reasons. Minma is at her heart just a hurt kid desperate to fit in. And while Lena shares the desire for a place to belong.. it’s at it’s core much sadder. Lena.. wants a family. Someone to love her and to care about her and actually look after her. Minma has that she just wants to be loved. it’s similar but very diffrent and I can see why Lena evolved into what she did, as Frank and Matt ended up going in a far darker but ultimately more interesting direction. Minima is not a bad character at all though and without her I don’t think we would’ve had Lena, but at the end of the day the 87verse is just not that complicated, so the reboot needed something more and that more evolved into who we have now. 

Both kids excitedly talk about their new friends, with their respective guardians being distracted. Scrooge is distracted by the fact his car is a bit bumpy and Launchpad offers to fix it up for free with some parts from a buddy, which given the sentence “This won’t cost you anything” makes him erect, Scrooge agrees. Magica meanwhile, whose watching Minima while her mom is away which raises a LOT of questions we don’t have time for like who she is, is she’s poes wife or does Magica have other siblings... it’s a lot of questions we’re never going to get answers to. 

The next day Webby got the dime easy as Scrooge was distracted. so Minima swaps them while she’s distracted. But while swiping it was easy, which to be fair Webby is likely approved in his security so it woudln’t match her.. or the story just needed to progress. You make the call. 

Magica does the logical thing and goes and get sthe dime and the story ends there.. and i’m shitting you, she of course brags to scrooge, reveals minima as her spy, and offers to RACE him for it shortly after he realizes he has a fake.

The only major flaw in this story is Magica’s overconfdience, which isn’t BAD persay, but here has gotten to dumbass proportions. She just can’t plan for anything and a CHILD has a better plan than her that only dosen’t work for reasons we’ll get to. And that plan is almost ruined by Magica taunting scrooge!

So a race is on but Launchpad has transformed Scrooge’s old Model T into this

Damn that’s cool. Scrooge of course dosen’t like it, but honestly you get what you paid for. Oh that’s right you paid nothing for something you NEED to use every day for transportation. 

At  the rickity thickity bridge, Steve Buschemi’s worst roll and her minion ask Webby to roll with them and Minima mistakes this for betrayal planning to soak them all.. only for Webby to DEFEND HER, pointing out minma’s her friend, how she dresses is fine and she loves her no matter what.. the last part’s implied. The 30-year old asshole and her minon leave Webby and Minma is genuinely touched, as no one’s done that for her before. She put up so many walls... she didn’t realize someone could ACTUALLY care about her, so obessed with thinking she had to be like that soccer mom in preschoolers clothing, she just had to be herself: kinda werid but in that fun adams family way. Webby says she knows Minma would do the same.. so while she prepares to let’s get back to the race. Magica realizes Launchpad’s roadster is actually gaining and spreads some tacks, but Scrooge counters with some money.. because of course he has a lot of money in the trunk. But Magica takes out the bridge and while scrooge awesomely JUMPS IT... he’s still too late. 

As you probably guess though, Minima had a change of heart, and gave Webby the real dime back, and Scrooge confirms it. Minima TRIES to tell Magica, and Magica is horrified her niece is a goody goody “I���ll never hear the end of it at my astral aerobics class”.. I.. I want to see that. Let’s raise those spirit ladies and kick kick that soul, doge that shadow king punch them in the soul. Yes! Now eat it eat it and absorb it’s power!

We end on a button joke as Webby apologizes for taking the dime., Scrooge accepts it and Webby tells them magica learned to carpet and they gulp for some reason. 

Final Thoughts on Dime after Dime: This story was decent. It has problems, some jokes don’t land and Magica is made horribly incompetent, but minima’s character arc is endearing, and Webby herself is precious as always and her winning Minima over feels genuine. And Scrooge is in prime adoring uncle mode with her and i’ts just so cute. And the roadster race is pretty awesome to watch honestly. It’s an exceptional and enjoyable tie in story.. and not the last ducktales 87 story we’ll be covering here. Wink wonk. 

Next Time: Things get DARK as Lena and Webby head into the depths of Scrooge’s hidden bin and Lena heads into the depths of her own soul. 

Tommorow: Woo-Ooo mofos as we go back to the very beginning of the reboot! A family restored, a lost city to explore, and a glomgold rises! Be here or be square.