#so I have to stay here for at least another year

[meazalykov]

used and discarded

barcelona femeni x f!reader with features of romantic!esmee brugts x f!reader, platonic!alexia putellas x f!reader, and platonic!kika nazareth x f!reader.

warnings: abandonment, r being used, alcohol/getting drunk, r being put in a dangerous situation, angst but comforting

there was loud music, crowded spaces, or overpriced drinks in the city center of barcelona. 

one thing about you, you were never one to turn down a night out, not because you particularly enjoyed it but because you loved spending time with people. 

at least, that’s what you thought.  

your college friends had invited you out, something they didn’t do often, at least not unless they needed something from you. you didn’t think like that though. you just figured they were busy, and when they did ask you to come out, you were happy to say yes.  

so, here you were, sitting at a bar in the center of barcelona, your friends all huddled around a small table. your presence alone had drawn attention; a few people had recognized you when you walked in, whispering amongst themselves about how one of barcelona’s midfielders were in the building.

“y/n, let’s take a picture,” lee, the one who had invited you out, grinned, sliding into the seat next to you.  

“huh? oh, sure,” you said, barely processing before she was already adjusting her phone’s camera.  

you weren’t even sure what the picture was for, but you didn’t question it, simply smiling as she leaned in. after a few clicks, she was already typing away on her phone, most likely uploading it to her instagram story.  

you had barely touched your drink, still nursing your first one while everyone else was already onto their second or third. you didn’t mind, though. you were used to staying in control.  

“sooo,” lee dragged out, setting her phone down, “any chance you can get us into that club you went to with your teammates last week?”  

you blinked, recalling the team outing at a private lounge that had required special reservations. 

“oh… i don’t know. alexia was the one who set it up.”  

“you could ask, though, right?”  

“i mean, i could, but i think it was a one-time thing…”  

“come on, y/n,” another one of your friends, sophie, pouted, “you have connections. just ask.”  

you hesitated. you didn’t like using your status for favors, and you definitely didn’t like asking alexia for something that would obviously annoy her. you didn’t want to say no, either. you had a hard time with that.  

“i’ll see,” you finally said, earning a satisfied grin from sophie.  

before you could dwell on it, your phone buzzed on the table. you glanced down, seeing a text from kika.  

kika: you still out?  

you furrowed your brows, replying quickly.  

you: yeah, why?  

she read the message immediately. then, the typing bubble appeared before disappearing. a few seconds later, another message popped up.  

kika: just wondering. don’t get too drunk, bebé.  

you smiled at the nickname, a warmth settling in your chest. kika was always looking out for you, she was your best friend on the team.  

“who’s that?” sophie leaned over, glancing at your phone screen before you could lock it.  

“kika,” you answered easily.  

“ugh,” another friend, laura, groaned and rolled her eyes, “she doesn’t like us.”  

“what?” you asked, confused.  

sofía laughed, shaking her head, “y/n, you’re so oblivious. your teammates hate us.”  

your stomach twisted slightly at that. 

“they don’t hate you.”  

“they do,” laura insisted, “especially the famous one alexia. she glares at us every time she sees us with you.”  

“yeah, and your girlfriend esmee? she never even speaks to us.”  

you frowned. you had never noticed that. sure, alexia could be intimidating, but she wasn’t rude. and esmee was just… esmee. she wasn’t overly social to begin with. not since you started dating her over a year ago.

“maybe you’re imagining it,” you tried to reason.  

sophie smirked. 

“sure, y/n. keep telling yourself that.”  

the conversation moved on, but the thought lingered in your mind. was that really true? did your teammates really dislike your friends? why hadn’t they told you?  

you had no way of knowing that they had told you, just not directly. they had made snide comments, given you looks, even subtly tried to pull you away from your college friends and find better one. you, ever the optimist, had brushed it off every time. it wasn’t until you left the bar a couple of hours later to go to another one with all of your friends. 

the next club had flashing neon lights everywhere, the bass-heavy music that made your heart vibrate, and the taste of alcohol on your tongue. your friends had pulled you onto the dance floor, your laughter mixing with theirs as you all jumped to the beat of whatever song was blasting through the speakers. 

arms were thrown over shoulders, drinks raised in cheers, and cameras constantly flashing as you posed for pictures that you would probably only remember through instagram stories the next morning.  

it felt good to be carefree for once and to be normal. no football, no training schedules, no expectations…just you and your college friends, blending into the crowd. they hyped you up as you downed another shot, playfully teasing you when you scrunch your face at the burn. 

sophie had draped an arm around your shoulders at one point, grinning as she said, "this is so much better than all that football stuff, right? just us, no stress."  

you had laughed, nodding, "well i don’t knowwww this is just fun."  

now, standing in front of the mirror in the bar’s bathroom, you weren’t so sure.  

your reflection stared back at you…swollen cheeks, slightly unfocused eyes, hair a little messier than you remembered. you swallowed hard, gripping the sink as the dizziness hit you all at once.  

"shit," you mumbled, splashing cold water on your face.  

you had training tomorrow. well, later today, technically. afternoon practice, but still. your coaches always told you that recovery was just as important as training itself but here you were, drunk off your ass, wobbling slightly as you turned off the sink.  

oh well. it was one night. you barely go out anyways. so pushing the thought aside, you dried your hands and pulled out your phone, the screen nearly blinding you in the dim lighting.  

1:34 a.m

you sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket before pushing the door open and stepping back into the main part of the bar. the air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled drinks, and cheap cologne. the music pounded in your ears, and the crowd had only grown since you left.  

you expected to see your friends still dancing, still drinking, still having the time of their lives. as you looked around, scanning the room, something felt… off.  they weren’t at the table where you last saw them. they weren’t by the bar either.  

your stomach twisted slightly as you wove through the crowd, bumping into people as you checked each corner of the bar. maybe they had gone outside for fresh air? maybe they had moved to a different section?  

after ten minutes of searching, the pit in your stomach deepened.  

they were gone.  

pulling out your phone, you quickly tapped into the group chat.  

you: where did you guys go?  

no response.  

you bit your lip, stepping up to the bar counter, trying to steady yourself as you leaned in toward the bartender. 

"um, excuse me?"  

the bartender, a middle-aged woman who looked like she had seen it all with her blue hair and tired eyes, barely glanced at you as she wiped down the counter, "yeah?"  

"did you see a group of girls? they were all wearing black, and one of them had, uh, purple hair?"  

she nodded, "yeah, they left about fifteen, twenty minutes ago."  

you blinked, "oh. are you sure?"  

she finally looked at you then, raising a brow, "yeah, kid. saw them walk out together. didn’t see them come back."  

your lips parted slightly, almost offended since you were called a kid but no words came out. you stood there, frozen, gripping your phone a little tighter as the reality of the situation slowly sank in.  

they left without you and without telling you.  

quickly, you opened your messages again, typing another text.  

you: did you guys leave??  

the three dots appeared, then disappeared. your stomach dropped. another few seconds passed. then, one by one, you watched as your messages were marked as read.  

no response.  

you stared at the screen, heart pounding.  

they left you. they actually left you. 

you looked around the bar again, as if expecting them to magically reappear, to jump out and tell you it was just a joke. unfortunately, they weren’t there. the people around you were strangers, caught up in their own worlds, unaware of the sinking feeling in your chest.  

your breath hitched as you tried to reason with yourself. maybe they thought you had already left. maybe they were too drunk and forgot to text you.  deep down, you knew the truth.  

they didn’t care.  

they had used you for pictures, for attention, for the free drinks you had bought earlier in the night. they had laughed with you, danced with you, but when the time came to actually care about you, they had walked out without a second thought.  

your hands trembled slightly as you locked your phone, shoving it into your pocket. you suddenly felt so stupid for believing they were your real friends and for thinking they actually liked you. you hated yourself for letting yourself get this drunk and careless when you had training tomorrow.  

the realization hit you like a truck.  

you were alone.

your fingers trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady yourself. deep breaths. in through your nose, out through your mouth. it wasn’t working. your chest was tight, your vision was swimming, and the realization that you were completely alone in a barcelona bar at nearly 2 a.m only made it worse.  

you swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill. you were not going to cry here. not in front of all these strangers and not where anyone could see you breaking down.  

so you did the only thing you could think of, you got up on shaky legs and pushed through the crowd, stumbling your way back to the bathroom. once inside, you locked yourself in the farthest stall and collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, pulling your knees to your chest as the first sob broke free.  

this wasn’t fair.  

you just wanted to feel normal, to have a life outside of football. was that too much to ask? unfortunately, this is what you got for trusting people, for believing that they actually cared about you. you frowned realizing that your teammates were right.  

you hiccupped, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears wouldn’t stop. you had never felt so stupid in your life. your phone buzzed in your lap, and for a moment, you debated ignoring it. when you sniffled and glanced down, your blurry vision barely made out the contact name ‘esmee <3’ and a tiktok link she had sent.  

your breath hitched. she was awake and without thinking, you clicked on her contact and hit call.  

it rang once.  

twice.   

“hey,” esmee’s voice came through, casual, like she hadn’t just been sent into a call unexpectedly from her girlfriend at 2 o’clock in the morning. 

“are you good?”  

the second you heard her voice, everything inside you cracked open.  

“esmee,” you choked out, your words tumbling over each other in a drunken panic, “i— i’m scared, i don’t–i-i i don’t know where i am, i was just having fun and then they.. fuck! they left me and i can’t find them and i-i- i don’t know how to get home..”  

“hey, hey, slow down” esmee’s voice sharpened, her usual laid-back tone replaced with concern and fear after hearing your cries, “where are you?”  

you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against your knee. 

“some bar. near the beach. a..um.. an old fashioned speakeasy like bar, i think? i don’t know which one.”  

“okay,” esmee said, her voice calm but urgent, “send me your location, yeah? you know how to do that?”  

you nodded quickly before realizing she couldn’t see you. 

“y-yeah,” you stammered, but when you tried to exit the call and open the app, your fingers felt clumsy, your mind sluggish from the alcohol.  

“shit, hold on,” you muttered, fumbling with your phone.  

“you got it, love?” esmee asked, softer now, but still worried.  

“i.. um? i think? wait!”  

you cursed under your breath as you clicked the wrong thing twice, your breathing getting quicker the longer it took. finally, finally, you managed to send her your live location.  

“got it,” she confirmed almost immediately, “okay, i’m coming. just stay on the phone with me, alright?”  

you sniffled, “i.. i’m so sorry, es. i didn’t mean to wake you up!”  

“you didn’t wake me,” she interrupted, “i was already up waiting for you to get home safely before i went to sleep...”  

you couldn’t stop apologizing. the shame, the embarrassment, the fear…it was all too much. it was then when another thought slammed into you like a freight train.  

alexia.  

your breath hitched, and fresh tears welled in your eyes.  

“esmee,” you whimpered, “am i gonna get in trouble?”  

she hesitated for a second. 

“what do you mean?”  

“alexia,” you choked out, “she’s gonna be so mad. i— we have training tomorrow and now i— i’m drunk and stupid and i…”  

your voice cracked as sobs overtook you again.  

“hey, hey, stop that,” esmee said quickly, “we’ll deal with that later, okay? i’ll talk to her.. right now, i just need you to breathe. i’m on my way. just hold on for me, alright?”  

you tried, you really did. however, you couldn’t stop crying.  

“it’s gonna be okay,” esmee reassured you, voice unwavering, “just stay with me. i’m coming to get you.”

esmee arrived faster than you thought possible. by the time you stepped out of the bar, still clutching your phone with shaky fingers, she was already getting out of her car, eyes scanning the drunk and hyped up crowd until they locked onto you.  

“y/n,” she breathed out in relief, rushing toward you.  

you sniffled, rubbing your arms, the cold night air making your already trembling body shake even more. esmee’s face softened as she took in your red-rimmed eyes, the way you were shivering not just from the weather but from the way the alcohol was leaving your system too fast.  

without a second thought, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders. 

“oh my, you’re freezing,” she muttered, rubbing your arms through the fabric. you swallowed hard, feeling your throat close up. 

“i-i didn’t know what to do,” you admitted in a small, broken voice.  

esmee sighed, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.

 “it’s okay, you’re safe now,” she reassured, looping an arm around your waist. 

“come on, let’s get you to the car.”  

she guided you toward the passenger side, opening the door and helping you in before buckling your seatbelt for you when she noticed your fingers weren’t cooperating. once she was sure you were settled, she jogged around to the driver’s side, getting in and turning up the heat the second she started the engine.  

you curled into yourself, esmee’s jacket engulfing you as you tried to stop the shivers wracking your body.  

“i’m taking you to mine,” esmee announced as she pulled out of the parking lot, “i don’t feel good about leaving you alone like this.”  

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t. you just nodded, eyes unfocused as you stared at the dashboard.  

the drive was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle from you and the sound of esmee tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, deep in thought. when you arrived, esmee wasted no time guiding you inside, kicking off her shoes as she led you to the bathroom. 

“you should shower,” she told you gently, already reaching for a fresh towel from the shelf, “it’ll help you feel better.”  

you nodded numbly, taking the towel from her hands. before you could turn away, she added, “i put a t-shirt of mine and some sweatshorts on the counter for you. they’ll be warmer than what you have on.”  

you swallowed back another wave of emotion, touched by her care. 

“thank you, es. i love you.”  

she gave you a small, reassuring smile. 

“i love you too. take your time, okay?”  

you took a longer shower than you intended, letting the hot water soak into your skin and wash away the night. when you finally emerged, dressed in esmee’s warm, oversized clothes, she was waiting for you in the kitchen with a glass of water and a packet of vitamin c on the counter.  

“drink,” she instructed, sliding the glass toward you.  

you did as told, drinking slowly, your hands still trembling slightly around the cup.  

when you finished, esmee nodded approvingly and motioned toward the her bedroom. 

“come on, let’s get you to bed.”  

you followed her, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. the moment you curled up under the blankets, your body felt heavier, your eyelids drooping almost immediately.  esmee crouched beside you, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear. 

“get some sleep, yeah? we have training tomorrow.”  

your stomach clenched at the mention of training. will alexia get super mad for your irresponsibility?

esmee seemed to read your mind. 

“don’t worry about anything right now,” she said softly, “just sleep.”  

you nodded sluggishly, already halfway to unconsciousness. once your breathing evened out, esmee sat back on her heels, exhaling slowly. the dutch woman’s gaze flickered toward her phone.  

should she call alexia?  

es’ fingers hovered over the screen, debating. if she didn’t tell her, alexia would find out eventually. and if you didn’t say anything, esmee would.  

she locked her phone with a sigh.  

tomorrow. she’d deal with it tomorrow.

fourteen hours later and training felt like a nightmare. your body moved, your legs carried you through drills, your passes were sharp and physically you were fine. however you felt destroyed mentally. you were barely holding it together.  

the people you thought were your friends had left you and abandoned you in the middle of the night, drunk, alone, in a city that wasn’t really your home. yes, you’ve played at barcelona for two seasons so far but you did not grow up here. the more you thought about it, the worse it hurt and it was obvious to your team.  

you weren’t laughing at vicky’s jokes like usual. when salma hugged you, you barely hugged back.when  patri nudged you playfully at one point, expecting you to counter her with one of your usual surprise tackles, but you just stared at her blankly before looking away.  

the energy you normally carried was gone and alexia noticed, of course she did.  

she watched you closely throughout training, her brows furrowed every time she caught the vacant look in your eyes or the way your jaw clenched like you were holding something in. she had asked you once,

"you okay?" 

and you had lied to her,  

"yeah, i’m fine."

esmee, stretching beside you, visibly cringed at the words. she knew the truth. she had seen you break down in her living room hours ago, your voice cracking as you admitted how scared you had been, how stupid you felt for trusting them. she didn’t say anything, not yet, not until after training.  

when the session finally ended, you trudged off the field, heading toward the locker room before anyone could pull you aside but alexia was faster.  

“y/n,” she called, her voice leaving no room for argument.  

you turned around, your heartbeat picking up when you saw the sharp look in her eyes, “yeah?”  she stared at you for a moment, like she was waiting for you to break on your own. when you didn’t, she took a slow breath and asked again, “are you okay?”  

the same question but this time, her voice was firmer.  

you swallowed, forcing yourself to nod. 

“yeah. just tired.”  

the blonde woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could press further, esmee stepped in.  

“alexia,” esmee said, voice calm but firm.  

alexia turned to her, raising an eyebrow.  

esmee sighed, rubbing the back of her neck knowing that you would not tell alexia the truth out of embarrassment. 

“can i talk to you? privately.”  

alexia’s gaze flickered back to you briefly before she nodded. 

“of course.”  

you watched as esmee led her a few steps away, out of earshot. your stomach twisted, knowing exactly what was coming next.  

esmee exhaled deeply before starting. 

“she’s not okay,” she said flatly.  

alexia crossed her arms, “i know that. i’m just waiting for her to tell me the truth.”  

esmee shook her head. 

“she won’t.” she paused before continuing, “she went out with her college friends last night and got really drunk.”  

alexia’s jaw tightened.  

“and they left her,” esmee added, voice dropping slightly, “like…literally left her alone in a bar, drunk, with no way home.” alexia’s expression darkened immediately, “what?”  

esmee nodded grimly, “she called me in a panic at almost two in the morning. crying, scared out of her mind. she didn’t even know where she was at first. she could barely get her location to send.”  

alexia’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.  

“she is staying at my home for a while,” esmee continued, “i am making sure that she is okay, as her girlfriend and all. this morning wasn’t good at all, she is messed up about it. i mean, imagine thinking these people are your friends and then they just leave you when you’re at your most vulnerable. gosh it makes me want to tackle them and make sure that my cleat hits their shin or something..”  

alexia exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure, “why didn’t you guys tell me this happened?”  

esmee hesitated, “because she’s embarrassed and because she didn’t want you to be disappointed in her.”  

alexia ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply, “i’m not disappointed. i’m fucking furious…not at her, at those fucking smartasses.”  

esmee nodded, “yeah. me too.”  

alexia’s gaze flickered back to where you were sitting on the bench, staring down at your hands, looking so small and tired.  

“she needs to hear it from you,” esmee said gently, “that you’re not mad at her since she won’t believe me when i tell her.”  

alexia nodded, setting her jaw, “i’ll talk to her.”  

esmee clapped a hand on her shoulder, “good. and, uh… maybe be soft about it, yeah?”  

alexia rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance there, “i can be soft, you know.”  

esmee smirked, “mm-hmm. you better be.”  

alexia took a deep breath and started walking toward you.

however, you were gone.

you didn’t bother waiting for cooldown stretches, didn’t linger in the locker room like usual, didn’t stay to laugh with the team or chat about plans for the rest of the day. the second the coach dismissed you, you grabbed your bag and sprinted out, ignoring the confused voices calling after you.  

"now what was that about?" aitana muttered, glancing at kika.  

kika frowned, her confusion mirroring the rest of the team’s. when she turned to esmee and alexia, her brows furrowed even further at the way they shared a look…one that screamed ‘we know exactly what’s wrong.’  

“what the fuck happened?” kika asked, her gaze darting between them.  

neither alexia nor esmee answered.  

instead, alexia let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the exit you had just bolted through. 

by the time you reached your apartment, your entire body ached…not from training, but from exhaustion, from the emotional weight sitting heavy in your chest. you barely registered the way your hands trembled as you unlocked the door, throwing your bag onto the couch before heading straight to the bathroom.  

the second the hot water hit your skin, you broke.  

sobs wracked through you, the sound bouncing off the shower tiles as you clutched your chest, feeling like you were falling apart. you had already blocked them, every single one of them on every social media platform, and on your phone, making sure that you cut them out of your life.  however, it didn’t make you feel any better because no matter how much you tried to erase them, the damage was done.  

they had left you drunk, alone, and vulnerable. you could’ve been hurt. you could’ve been taken advantage of. the more you thought about it, the more sick you felt. were they laughing about it now? did they think it was funny? did they plan to do that to you?  

you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against the shower wall, trying to drown the thoughts out with the sound of the water. however, nothing helped. by the time you ran out of tears, your chest physically ached. you dried yourself off, threw on a pair of pajamas, and crawled into bed.  

it was barely 5 p.m., but you didn’t care. last night had given you almost no sleep, and all you wanted was to escape into unconsciousness but just as your body started to relax, the doorbell rang rapidly… over and over.  

your stomach dropped.  

no. you squeezed your eyes shut, willing whoever it was to just go away but the ringing didn’t stop. with a heavy, exhausted sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as you made your way to the door.  

the second you opened it, your heart nearly stopped.  

your girlfriend. alexia. kika.  

fuck.  

you swallowed, gripping the door handle tightly, too drained to even process the why behind their presence but without a word, you stepped aside, letting them in.  

you barely had time to turn before alexia was on you, wrapping you in a tight embrace, her arms locking around your shoulders.  

“why would they do this to you?” her voice cracked slightly, thick with emotion.  

your chest clenched. your breath hitched. and just like that…you broke all over again. a choked sob escaped your throat as you clung to alexia, your fingers digging into the back of her shirt as you cried into her shoulder.  

“i- i don’t know,” you hiccupped, shaking your head against her, “i don’t know what i did to them… why they hate me?”  

“they don’t hate you,” kika interrupted firmly, gently pulling you toward the couch, “they’re just terrible and evil people. and you did nothing to deserve that.”  

you let yourself sink into the cushions, your body feeling heavy from exhaustion and heartbreak.  kika sat beside you, rubbing soothing circles into your back, while esmee… who had been quiet up until now since she moved beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders while giving light kisses on your shoulder blade.  

“that was maybe the scariest moment of my life,” you admitted quietly, voice hoarse from crying, “i was so drunk… i didn’t know where i was… and they just left me. i should’ve just stayed my ass home.”  

esmee squeezed you tighter, her warmth comforting against your shaking body. “you’re safe now,” she murmured, “they don’t get to hurt you anymore.”  

alexia, who had taken a seat on the coffee table in front of you, reached forward, gently tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “listen to me,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions in her eyes. “you are not trash. you are not disposable. they used you because you’re kind, because you give without expecting anything in return and that’s not a flaw, y/n. that’s what makes you, you. you just have to learn how to set boundaries..”  

you sniffled, looking down at your lap, “it doesn’t feel like a good thing right now.”  

alexia’s fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. 

you swallowed hard, more tears welling in your eyes, “but how do i stop feeling like this?”  

“time,” kika said softly, still rubbing your back, “and us. we’re not letting you go through this alone.”  

esmee kissed the top of your head, “no more shitty friends. you have the team, and you have me.”  

you exhaled shakily, nodding, even though your chest still ached.  

kika stood suddenly, stretching before heading toward the kitchen, “i’m making you tea. you need something warm in you.”  

“cabinet above the sink,” you mumbled, sniffling again.  

“got it,” kika called back.  

alexia stayed in front of you, her fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as she continued to study you, as if trying to will away all of your pain just by being there.  

“i should’ve noticed sooner,” alexia murmured, voice laced with guilt.  

you shook your head quickly. 

“it’s not your fault, alexia.”  

she clenched her jaw, clearly not convinced. but instead of arguing, she simply sighed and leaned back slightly.  

“you’re staying with esmee for while,” she decided firmly.  

“yes! you might as well move in with me at this point since we’ve been talking about it. i don’t want you to be alone right now either...” esmee interrupted before you could object. 

you nodded weakly, whispering while looking at your girlfriend, “okay.”  

masterlist

author's note: this is my 100th post lol

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

This is all I've read this month, in chronological order. Every month I always think it's too little but unfortunately it's the best I can do.

Please give love to these writers, reblog and comment because they are very talented and deserve so much.

As for me, you won't see me posting for a while. I'll be back sooner or later but I can't say when. Writing has always been a joy for me but I haven't felt well lately and I don't even feel like opening my wip files (stuff that nobody needs anyway so who cares, I’m just another stupid voice in the chaos), let alone finding an idea that doesn't make me gag.

If you need to ask me something for my challenge I'll be here for you but for the rest I probably won't be that active, sorry.

Please mind the tags and warnings to make sure a story doesn’t trigger you and makes you uncomfortable, I’m not responsible for what you choose to read, only you are.

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Joel Miller x f!reader

You and Joel return from a double date, and you find out he’s jealous of your colleague, Frankie  

Going down - @aurorawritestoescape

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

BDSMaid epilogue - Series Masterlist @mountainsandmayhem

Joel Miller x f!reader

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Untitled thigh riding - @probablyreadinsmut

Javier Peña x f!reader

What happens behind Buc-ees stays behind Buc-ees - @probablyreadinsmut

Joel Miller x f!reader

56 year old Joel Miller spends his days as a blue collar contractor busy on the job site, though his idea of being 'busy' involves standing around cat-calling ladies all day long. One day he tries his luck with you and he gets more than he bargained for in the process.

Naughty thoughts - @aurorawritestoescape

Professor!Joel Miller x f!reader

you’re failing Prof. Miller’s class and he finds a punishment for you.

Owned Collection - @milla-frenchy

Joel Miller x fem reader

Family time - @greenwitchfromthewoods

Frankie Morales x f!reader

you came back from your parents in a really bad mental state

What If We Kissed In The Buc-ee's Bathroom?

CatCaller!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Ol' Joel has done goofed, he's let you into his life and now you've completely turned it upside down. Oh and we're doing more than just kissin' it that bathroom ;)

Girl Dinner part 4 - Masterlist - @slimybeth69 Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Joel Miller x f!reader

After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

Perfect Match - @aurorawritestoescape

Dieter Bravo x f!reader x Marcus Pike (lactation kink)

Dieter becomes a face of a dating app and meets you and your husband while shooting an ad for it. Feeling an immense attraction, he invites you both to his penthouse, planning to enjoy the night and you to the fullest.

Untitled - @letsgobarbs

Kermit (Pedro Pascal Close Encounter 50th) x AFAB!Reader

PWP with Kermit

Hold my hand - @aurorawritestoescape

Clint x f!reader

you have good news for Clint and it seems that you two are ready for another big step in your relationship.

The Senator’s secret - @baronessvonglitter

modern!Oberyn Martell x fem!Reader x modern! Senator!Marcus Acacius

An old flame invites you to be his fake girlfriend so he can spend the evening with his new secret lover. It doesn't hurt that the three of you are attracted to each other..

Shameless - @milla-frenchy

Lucien De Leon x fem reader

you ask Lucien to come over and he does exactly what you need him to

Vices - @baronessvonglitter

Din Djarin x OFC x bi! f!Reader x OMC

You're not one to be shy of your vices, but a night with a mysterious woman has you and your work partner Din chasing new highs.

Visitation - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

Javier visits you in prison after putting you in there.

(Un) faithful - @probablyreadinsmut (Chapter 3)

Series Masterlist

After an admission from Lorraine, you and Javier take some time to think about what you both want, but after a tortorous round of golf with Randy and your husband, the writing on the wall becomes visible for both you and Javi.

Bottoms up - @joelmillerisapunk

bfd!Joel Miller x bfstepdad!Arthur Morgan x f!reader

a threesome sex pollen fic where two men kiss

Iron hand - @thundermartini

Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Back in Saint Denis to recharge after a bounty, Arthur makes an unforgettable encounter. Fate makes you cross paths again months later.

Dark Room - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

Accidentally getting locked in the photo developing room with Javier.

For you I’d steal the stars - @gothcsz // Drabble

Marcus Acacius x POC f!reader

The afternoon - @frannyzooey

Joel Miller x f!reader

Preciosa - @lotusbxtch

Pero Tovar x f!wife!reader

You would have never predicted that such a delicate thing would be Pero Tovar’s undoing.

Last Call - @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

Joel Miller x f!reader

After you breakup with your boyfriend of 6 years, you head to the bar to wait while he packs up his shit at your place. Joel is a bartender in the bar you randomly picked. Will fate bring you together? tldr: Joel talks you through it.

The Condom - @toxicanonymity / Drabble

Javi P x f!reader x Steve Murphy

Good Boy - @sp00kymulderr / Drabble

Joel Miller x trans male reader

We shouldn’t have done that - @yxtkiwiyxt

dbf! joel miller (or maybe it's just dad’s buddy) x f!reader

It's been a while since you've seen Joel, not since that 'moment' that happened between you two. Now, you have to face him when Sarah calls you in a panic, asking for a ride from a party because her friends are too drunk to drive.

[burningcheese-merchant]

No, Merchant, feel free to complain to your hearts content. I'm certainly much meaner to ugly blue alastoroncelerbillcipherspamton from temu and every last inch of his undeserved popularity. I seethe because as an Ovenbreak player of SEVEN YEARS, none of my faves get remembered in a tweet, let alone merchandise. The dragons, who all took over five years to collectively come out, got a pin set and devsis wiped their asses with them then moved on. I waited over a YEAR for another sugar nova odyssey update to come out because xylitol nova and astronaut are my favorite cookies ever and I'm still fucking waiting 🫠 meanwhile the beasts are getting shat out every 3 months with the most rushed nonsensical recycled plotlines held together with scotch tape because making profit is what really matters here, not competent storytelling. I wouldn't even be this furious if the beasts got equal attention and spotlight but we both know that's not true hahaha 😬 they love to shove their (really badly designed) golden cow in our faces because Smilk was lab engineered to get sexyman tumblr girlies screaming their heads off while not even being 1/4th the interesting character they want you desperately think he is. JUSTICE for burning spice, mystic flour, and everyone else who will get done dirty for this boring walmart Jevil 😒

Oh my gosh 🤣🤣🤣 tell us how you REALLY feel, Anon, let it all out. It's not healthy to bottle up your emotions like that (you might want to stay anonymous though, I don't think either of us want an angry mob at your doorstep lol)

I'm anticipating a ramble (as I am wont to do) so under the cut it goes

Gonna start by saying I DO like Shadow Milk. I really do. It took me a little while for him to grow on me when he first appeared, admittedly (ESPECIALLY his voice...), but I am genuinely fond of the little blue jester man. But he's certainly not my favorite, far from it. That title belongs to Burning Spice and Burning Spice alone lol. The only reason I ever turned the English audio back on (I usually play the game in Japanese, I love hearing my fave anime characters speak lol) was so I could hear that gorgeous baritone of his... Burning Spice is everything to me. I love his design, I love his voice, I love his dialogue, I love his personality, I love him soooooo much. He's my babygirl. If Silent Salt turns out anything like the character I've constructed inside of my head, then he will share the #1 spot with Spice. I'll go ahead and say that right away

I'm upset because, like you said, it feels like he got majorly shafted while Shadow Milk gets all the praise and attention. Mystic Flour as well, poor girl, but I'm focusing on Spice just to drive the point home a bit better. He didn't even get a fucking countdown. What was his little merch thing? That weird ass candle (I thought it was a vase at first lol) and that's it. Furthermore, his story feels the least developed. There was and is SO MUCH that could have been said about him as a person as well as his dynamic/connection with Golden Cheese, that wasn't for whatever reason. Episodes 5 and 6 feel like they're missing something (and you feel what the "something" is in that brief flashback to Spice's past. There's more to what became of him than "I was bored", there HAS to be. Boredom is a symptom, not the cause. I maintain that this theory of mine has merit, and it would've been nice if they dove deeper into it than they did), you know? And I hate it. I hate that Spice is basically the forgotten middle child of the Beasts while Shadow Milk gets all the glory. Seriously, for Shadow Milk:

They changed their YT avatar to him for a while (it has ALWAYS been Gingerbrave, they never changed it once to anyone else all these years). iirc they did this on Twitter too

They dedicate an HOUR LONG commentary video to episode 7 and Shadow Milk (arguably fair, because it WAS the 4th anniversary. But even so. Did they do this for any other Beast? Any other episode? Any other anniversary?)

They give him a costume (a legendary one, at that) plus a set with his Ancient. NO OTHER Beast/Ancient pair has that, and I struggle to imagine they ever will. Do you understand what I would do to have a BS/GC costume set? DO YOU???

They make an exclusive, limited edition plushie (that caused a massive shitstorm iirc, justice for everyone that got fucked over during that and fuck scalpers)

They make a whole ass pop-up store event themed entirely around Shadow Milk and episodes 7 and 8

Why? Because he's the fan favorite lol. He's long since been the golden child of this community, and now we know he's Devsisters' golden child, too. (And they're desperate for money because they're drowning in debt. That's also probably why they released Shadow Milk on the 3rd anniversary: to drum up interest on a milestone anniversary by bringing in a beloved character. Thematically/narratively, Shadow Milk should've been released last. But that's just my opinion.)

Again, I really do like Shadow Milk. I call him "Walmart Bill Cipher" affectionately (and because he genuinely does remind me of Bill. In fact, I think Bill might've inspired SM to some degree). But it's unfortunate that other characters, the other Beasts especially, are pushed aside and ignored just so Shadow Milk can hog all the spotlight. It is with a very intense grimace that I agree that Shadow Milk is a Tumble sexyman. He fits the stereotype to a T. It would serve us all well to accept that truth. He even got added to the Tumblr sexyman wiki before it turned to flour lol. Burning Spice is... NOT a Tumblr sexyman. He is a regular old hunk. Tumblr was never in the business of liking big, beefy hunks, at least not the Tumblr I knew 10 years ago lol.

I'm also, to reference it again, just really disappointed that so little was and is done to explore the other Beast/Ancient pairs - and the fandom is guilty of this, too (not to knock the PV/SM anaylses at all! They're all fantastic and I genuinely do understand and love the deep, complex connection between them!). To go back to BS and GC, because they're my lifeblood (not just for shipping reasons I swear)... it's particularly egregious to me that THEIR dynamic wasn't given the attention and detail it deserves. They are LIFE AND DEATH, the very foundation of the world itself, things I (personally) consider significantly more important than truth and deceit because it is from life and death that all else springs forth. Truth and deceit are things you actively look for; life (abundance) and death (destruction) are just there, everywhere you look, even within yourself. You can close your eyes, ears, heart to the truth and you can learn to shun, decipher, defend against deceit; there is no escape from life nor death. None whatsoever. And so much can be done with that. So much can be done with them. Burning Spice and Golden Cheese need each other in the exact same way that Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla need each other. They parallel each other quite a bit, too. They're so similar and so different. They could have and SHOULD HAVE had so much to say to and about each other, like what Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla have. But that didn't happen. Didn't happen with Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour, either. All of that love and care and philosophical exploration goes to the clown and the Jesus Christ allegory. Which is FINE, I'm not saying to leave those two hanging, just... show some of that love to the beefcake and the bird, too. And Korean Batman (Cacao reminds me of Batman, I'm sorry 🤣) and Ms. Angel of Death, too. Please, man. Truth and Deceit aren't the only dichotomy that matters and is worthy of thought and discussion

(and oh my God, dude. The Ovenbreak shit. I've been playing for as long as you, and that shit is diabolical at this point. We get ONE dragon update a year, and they always leave us on the most painful cliffhanger of all time each time. (And this last one... I have many issues, but the most glaring one of all: WHERE THE FUCK IS FIRE SPIRIT??? WHY ISN'T HE IN THE STORY??? HE IS INTRINSICALLY LINKED TO PITAYA DRAGON! THEY HAVE AN UNBREAKABLE BOND BECAUSE OF THEIR DEAL THAT GRANTED HIM SOME OF PITAYA'S POWER AND SAVED HIS LIFE! HE SHOULD BE AN INTEGRAL PART OF THIS ARC! HE SHOULD BE AT THE FOREFRONT! IF PITAYA GETS HURT, HE GETS HURT! FIRE SPIRIT'S WELL-BEING IS DIRECTLY TIED TO PITAYA'S AND THE DRAGON'S VALLEY AND BOTH ARE IN SERIOUS JEOPARDY!!! Oh God I can scream about this for so long. I have a similar issue with the Red Dragon arc in CRK, WHY WASN'T FIRE SPIRIT THERE?) I LOVE the dragons, I love their relationship with each other, I love the conflict between them, even the unique bonds/quarrels between specific ones! And their storyline is picked up and dropped over and over again, left to collect dust until they feel like continuing the story. Hell, remember Gingerbrave and co.'s quest to find where that wizard compass is pointing, and to find a place for them to build a peaceful life away from the Witches? Me neither lol. Sea Fairy's great sacrifice with Sugarteara and the cursed pearl? (SF was done SO dirty in Kingdom, she's an actual character in OB and in CRK all she cares about is Moonlight, to the point that she lets an entire civilization fall to ruin because she refuses to do her fucking job) The Xylitol gang... Well, as of writing this, that's the next update... Which will give us another legendary cookie, hardly 3 months after Dreamweaver lol. Fuck Stevia Nova, I already don't give a damn. Give me more Xylitol Nova and Astronaut and that's it

I have a lot more to say (especially about BS and GC, God I could talk about them FOREVER, they're so interesting to me), but I think I've rambled enough lol. All the love for Shadow Milk, truly, but all the love and justice for Burning Spice and the other Beasts and every other character that gets ignored, too

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you think that we are getting book 8 that will focus on Grim since we almost are on the end of book 7? And how do you feel if that what happened and we get book 8 that focus on Grim and Yuu like why are they here all of that? Do you want to see a specific thing that wasn't mentioned in the main story?

Last question how do you feel about twst ending? Would you stay in the fandom or find another interest? I'm not ready for that like if twst ended I will move to twst fanfics 🥲

But to be honest with how they are using the 3D animation as inspiration too now for the new events I have hope that even if the main story ended we will still have plenty of new events coming plus we have the anime coming too and manga chapters still going. I don't want this fandom to die as soon as main story end.

Honestly I don't mind if the game kept going forever 😂 not necessarily the main story but with events and talk about the world.

Imagine something like twst: The New NRC Generation like they did with many animes XD

Okay I talked so much sorry for the rambling.

As I have stated in the FAQ section of my pinned post (I kindly ask that people check that first before sending asks because I have been asked some variant of “what do you think about a potential book 8”/“how do you want book 7 to end” dozens of times; I don’t answer them because the answer is already out there but overlooked, but I feel bad for ignoring so many people 😅):

"I want to actually see Yuu going home and the current students moving on to the next year of schooling. We could focus on how the guys have grown and are growing, how these more mature versions of the characters interact with the incoming freshmen/first years, or the long-term consequences of their OBs (particularly Malleus's, which probably caused an international crisis). It would also be cool to learn more about RSA students after book 7, but I don’t want them to rehash the OB formula."

"As for a potential book 8, I don’t know if there’s enough evidence for it? Book 7 is cramming a lot in right now so it’s possible that all the loose ends will be tied up there. Book 8 also implies a strong focus on Ramhackle, which… I know we love Yuusonas and all, but the game cannot canonically fill in their backstory a ton or it will ruin player self-inserting/projection. That means we’d have to rely on Grim and Grim alone to be the emotional crux that somehow transcends even Malleus’s chapter. I think that’d be hard to pull off, especially since we'd be expecting book 8 to be even LONGER than the 290+ book 7 is. If there's a book 8 at all, it might have to be closer to prologue length...? Because even if they push the Mickey stuff and revealing Crowley's motives to a theoretical book 8, I can't imagine this would take up more parts than book 7 already has 💦"

Secondly, I don’t think “Twst ending” is… the best phrasing? It’s not like the game is going to shut down as soon as book 7 finishes. Live service games close when they’re no longer financially viable, not because they finished a main story arc. Several of these kinds of games continue the main story into a new arc—and while we don’t have any official confirmation of this for Twst, it would be just silly for a money and merch machine to be shut down for an arbitrary reason. If it's not broken, then don't axe it. I would be genuinely shocked if Twst just left the main story untouched after book 7, though it may take some time before new main story stuff comes out, as the writers would have to... you know, write. Running the servers based on events alone, especially when we are not guaranteed new story events every month, doesn't sound sustainable in the long term. There's still going to be new Twst stuff coming out for a long time between the manga, anime, and light novels too. That's at least a good couple of years.

dyugaoydaswqyb Anyway, I'll be staying in the fandom even once book 7 finished; it's very near and dear to my heart ^^ Like I said, I think Twst will probably continue its service for a while. And it's not like you can only have one interest at a time, right??

[lexicrvg]

On a random night in 1989, Ice and Mav have a fight about their future together. Ice wants to quit the navy and love Mav in all the ways he deserves, out and proud, but Maverick doesn't let him. He knows Ice wants to climb through the ranks and get stars on his shoulder, he can't be the reason Ice misses this.

That night, they broke up. Ice couldn't bear be with someone who didn't love him just as much as he loves them, and Maverick couldn't tell Ice he wouldn't give up flying for him.

Ice quits the navy. He would've done it with or without Maverick.

30+ years go by, and their lives haven't even once crossed paths, not even at Slider's wedding nor Sundown's funeral. It seems like the universe had separate plans for them, and it stuck this way.

(They were at both of these events, but Wolfman was in charge of "Not let Mav and Tom see each other" and he always aces a task)

Until Wolf's retirement party, that is. With him being the center of attention, he gives Hollywood the most important task of his life, Wood have other plans tho, he's very easily distracted by his husband's beautiful smile and when they're least expecting it...

"Hey" Maverick says, sitting on the bar, side by side with Tom.

"Pete!" Tom opens a big smile "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, right." Mav takes a pause, looking at the other up and down. "You look great"

And he did. Being away from the navy must've given Tom 10 years of his life back.

"You look exactly the same," Tom laughs. "Like, scarily so."

Pete laughs with him, although the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. In just 2 minutes, between seeing Tom from across the room and engaging in conversation with him, Mav noticed he seems... happy.

"I think I've been time traveling in those jets," he jokes, and Tom laughs. Again.

Tom didn't have such an easy smile back then. It rubs on Maverick the wrong way.

"How have you been?" Tom asks, after taking a sip of his vodka.

Maverick did not have a good answer to that question. Miserable? Missing you every day of my life? Discharged?

"Good" it's what he settles for. "You?"

Something in Tom's eyes twitches, like he's well aware Maverick's lying to his face, he says nothing about it, and Mav doesn't give him a chance to. He spots the ring on Tom's finger and, before he can help himself, he asks:

"What's her name?" Earning yet another laugh from Tom.

"I know it's been a while, but I'm sure you remember I'm not particularly interested in women." Tom plays with his ring and adds: "His name is Grant, and he's..." Tom searches for something in the room, then points. "... right there."

Against his better judgment, Mav turns to see where Tom's pointing. He regrets it immediately. Grant is gorgeous.

He's the exact opposite of Pete. For starters, he's tall, taller than Ice, taller than Slider whom he's talking excitedly with. Grant's hair is silver, and he carries a smile that would make Mav swoon if the situation was any different.

"We met in 2001" Tom continues, smiling lovingly at his partner. "Got married in 2016, and..."

"And...?"

"Our kid came to our lives in 2019. She just turned 10."

Maverick feels like he's going to throw up. Husband and daughter. Tom had both a husband and a daughter while Pete was still in weird terms with Bradley and as single as he's ever been. It wasn't fair. He was the one who didn't want Tom and now... Now, Tom has been living a happy life with a family he could only dream of when he was in the navy, and Pete still held onto a tiny bit of hope that he would get Ice back.

It wasn't fair. Not at all. He might die of regret.

"Listen, I gotta go to the restroom, " Ice said, getting up. "You stay here! I'll be back. We have a lot of catch-up to do, " and walked away.

Mav downed the rest of Tom's drink in one go, very disappointedly realizing it was water and not vodka.

"Hey, shortstack!" comes from Ron Kerner, looking a bit tipsy, bringing Grant on his arm. "I want you to meet my dear friend, Grant!"

"Yeah, I..."

"Grant, this is Pete Mitchell, Tom's wingmen" hearing Slider refer to him as Ice's wingmen did something weird to Mav's heart. "Mav, this is Grant Kazansky, he's..."

"Ice's husband, yeah, I heard."

Both Slider and Grant giggle at this. Grown man. Giggling. "He hates being called Ice nowadays," Grant explains. "He says Iceman is someone who should stay in the past."

"Sorry, old habits." Mav opens an awkward smile.

"Can I get you a drink?" Grant offers. "Something stronger than Tom's water."

"I thought it was vodka." Mav murmurs.

Already gesturing to the bartender to bring a drink, Grant says: "He stopped drinking when our princess came to our lives."

"And yet I'm her contact emergency" Slider interrupts.

"Because you let her eat ice cream before dinner!"

And isn't this nice? Maverick thought to himself. Him, his biggest love's husband and fucking Ron Kerner all sitting together and having a nice chat!

Before he could actually throw up in front of these people, he excused himself and went to get some fresh air.

Not even 5 minutes go by before someone sits down besides him on the sidewalk.

"He talked about you." Grant says, offering Mav a glass of something that might be whiskey — or apple juice, you never know.

"Good things, I hope." Mav says, taking the glass.

Grant snorts, but doesn't answer. Awkward silence rovers between them.

"Do you love him?" Pete asks, breaking it.

Without missing a beat, Grant answers: "More than I ever loved anyone."

Something twists in Mav's stomach, but he ignores it.

"That's good. He only deserves good things."

But it went without saying. Grant knew Tom deserved only good things, hell, Ice knew it. He would never settle for less than he deserves, and that's why he's with Grant and not Maverick.

"He's lucky to have you," Pete finishes, swallowing the bitter taste the words leave in his mouth.

"I'm lucky to have him." After a beat of awkward silence, Grant adds: "You should come by to dinner."

Mav must've heard it wrong, so he waits for Grant to correct himself. It never comes.

"What?"

"Dinner at our place," Grant explains. "He'd love to get you back in his life, he treasures his friends a lot."

Friends. Right. That's what they are. No.

"We haven't been friends in a long time," not since 1986, he lefts unsaid, since we started dating.

Grant seems to think about it, then decides, "Now it's a good time to reconect. Enjoy your drink."

Then he walks back into the bar, leaving Mav and his thoughts alone.

It all seems a bit crazy for him. Ice — sorry, Tom — has a husband. And they've been together for more than twenty years. A husband who loves him dearly and isn't afraid to say so. A husband who goes to navy events just to celebrate Tom's old friends. A husband who looks like could and would kill anyone who did Tom wrong. A husband who sat down with Tom's ex and invited him to dinner just because.

Pete thinks he should accept the offer. Just to see what Tom's been up to and meet his daughter, would she like him? Would she call him "Uncle Mav"? He should call Slider and check on what to wear and say...

Oh. He doesn't know what to say around Tom. They're strangers now. The man who he once shared a house, a bed, a life, and a heart with is now a stranger to him.

The realization does something to him, something very bad. He takes a sip of his drink and decides this day could not get any worse.

Huh. Whiskey. A good one. At least Grant knows his liquor.

[doppel-doodles]

Thoughts and feelings on Poppy: Small analysis.

Didn't think I would make another one of these anytime soon buuuuut looks like my brain had different plans, so let's dicuss the knock-off Chucky shall we?

While by no means her biggest fan I feel like Poppy actions deserve a bit more civil discussion than hate. (That's not to say that you shouldn't hate on her. You should, it's hilarious.)

While not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, I genuinely think Poppy kinda has a point with her ambition to blow everything up.

Like- rationally that is the objectively the better choice to bury everything because be for real with me: These toys are not safe and neither is the world outside the factory.

There is a higher chance of them being locked up for research or being shot on sight than there is of anyone actually trying to integrate them into society, and even if someone did there is also a very likely scenario of any stress Inducing situation causing a toy to feel threatened and go into fight mode, which how you get a dead guy on the floor.

And even if they lived in hiding instead, exactly how different would that be from living in the factory? Now instead having to worry about murder toys they also have stuff like: weather,wild animals and of course humans-

So an ideal solution would be to bury it all, let the victims finally rest in peace, make these horrors public and never repeat this mistake again.

Of course there is the fact that these are not objects or mindless monsters, they are all still people with very real human emotions and thoughts who have shown themselves to be capable of being peaceful when feeling safe.

But even in an ideal world I doubt that there wouldn't be any incidents considering that anyone currently alive in the factory is or was at one point a murderer.

Where Poppy lost me is the part where she made it abundantly clear that SHE would get to live, not because it was a necessary step, no,no she just didn't wanna die. If YOU make the decision to sink the ship then you better be ready to go down with it captain.

She is part of this, a part of the horrors. They will live on with her just like they would with ANY other living toy she does not get a pass just because she is tall enough to be kicked around like a football, if Bobby bearhug overhere was able to maul me to death then so can she-

It's honestly just a dick move on her part and a massive "fuck you" to everyone else as it implies that she somehow is special or deserves to live more instead of them when she is no different than the others, but their sacrifice insures her survival.

That is why we side with Doey outside the game.

But-

A point people tend to brush aside is that she isn't just looking out for her own survival, the plan is that we,kissy and poppy are going to rescue the orphans sleeping in the factory but like, how do we know they are actually alive?

Even if we take Poppy at her word(which we shouldn’t as she is an unreliable narrator) that they weren't killed during the hour of joy and actually were put into a coma, that was years ago.

Once you think about the likelihood of that still being the case you start to see all the holes in that statement.

You tell me a bunch of children put into a medically induced coma for YEARS are still alive and well under the care of an insane monster in a factory that's falling apart?

If that's the case I want the prototype as my actual doctor he probably has already found a way to keep me young and healthy forever.

If 2+2=4

Stay with me here.

Then I ain't gotta be a genius to know this shit don't add up-

Like Poppy is also not dumb, I think she would’ve at least considered that possibility right?

Or maybe she didn’t.

Because she didn’t want to consider that scenario.

Poppy is a very flawed character: A coward,selfish and very headstrong in her plans. She’ll figure out how to get her way whether you like it or not and she tends to not pay the feelings of others not much mind, focusing on the bigger picture.

But she is far from the worst person here, she is a victim in all of this but that doesn’t mean she is incapable of being bad either.

Those flaws mentioned above as well as her fear to get locked up again or worse drive a lot of her actions in game and clearly she has ulterior motives.

I find her fascinating, similar to kevin she is not the perfect victim so I get the vibe that the fandom is way harsher to judge her.

People also don't simp for her like they do for the doctor and completely disregard all of his actions but I digress-

Anyway thanks for joining me fellas that's all I'm gonna say for now.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Ring ring, dear. Hello? Kind Words.

So...! Kestrel and I had our talk. It was not a very long talk, but that hardly mattered to me - I was just so happy to hear his voice again. I couldn't stay upset with him, no matter how hard I tried to be. He sounded so troubled... he told me how guilty he felt that he had been ignoring me, and truly hadn't meant to let it go on for so long. I do believe him; he has always had an irksome habit of putting things off until they can no longer be ignored. I suppose this was no exception, either. He did apologize, though he still seemed a bit... hrmm. Hesitant?

But he did say that once spring break came around, he would fly back home to visit again! I am so excited to see him! I'm going to squeeze him until he pops, too. There was something else he said, too, but, oh, I must have missed it; to be quite honest, it was a bit difficult to focus on the conversation at that point. My mind was just buzzing with thoughts of how I am going to tell him all about you! I would have then, but I feel it would be best to do it in person, yes? Perhaps by then we can figure out a way for him to hear you in his head, too! Ahaha!

Oh, it's so funny... when Kestrel was young, he was always jealous of his friends whom had siblings. I remember the few birthdays where he would beg me for nothing else but a little brother or sister, and I always dreaded having to disappoint him so! But it was not like I could manifest another baby out of the air myself, hahaha! Of course, he eventually figured that out...

Silly... I do still think of Sebastian on occasion - Kestrel's father. But I think I just miss his handsome face more than anything else. I was nineteen, still doing ballet when we met, though I was far from the best in my class. Still, he was quite drawn to my dancing... unfortunately, I had to quit once I found out I was pregnant. And then he wanted me to move to Europe with him - Europe! It was an utterly terrifying thought, uprooting myself like that. I couldn't bear to just leave everything behind, especially my mom... but I suppose he must have felt the same way, and left me instead. At least I had Mom, and Rebh, then... I got over him eventually. And he did give me Kestrel in the end, so I could not stay upset with him forever. I do wonder if he still thinks of us sometimes, too.

Oh, listen to me getting sentimental again... Did you ever think about having a family of your own at any point? (Besides the Curlings, haha!) I will admit, I do hope Kestrel has his own fledglings one day - when he is ready, of course. I would never want to push on him what happened with Sebastian and I. He is still in school, after all! Did I ever tell you he is majoring in environmental studies? I believe his girlfriend is in a similar field, as well! I am very proud of the both of them. And you too, of course. That has never changed.

...

I... do hope all of my excited blithering to you has assuaged some of your fears, dear. I did hear that, you know? It... broke my heart. I would never dream of doing such a thing to you. (And if I did, it would be yet another nightmare for me.) But that is like saying a mother can only ever love one child... it is like what Rebh said about me all over again, all those years ago... but that is simply not true. (R-right? It isn't true. I know how to love someone. I do...) I would not be here now if I did not intend to be here forever. Or, at the very least, as long as you want me to be here...

And I want to talk to you, sweet pea. I want to share my stories with you. I want you to share parts of your life, too. I want to meet you when you are safe and sound, and I want you to meet Kestrel too, and I wish so badly that you could have met my mom. I want to make you peanut butter sandwiches and watch The Wizard of Oz together. I want to keep telling you about the birds. All of them. The hawks and the pigeons and the owls and the scissor-tailed flycatchers.

And I don't want you to ever stop calling me Mum. It is everything to me. Please?

Oh thank God

Hello!!

Ah, yeah, makes sense. The longer you wait, the harder it is to start! Glad it more or less worked out between you two.

Oh, good, good. Yeah no, probably better in person. Hopefully easier to convince him you've not gone bonkers that way, yeah? Hah. In his head? Wouldn't want to impose or anything.

Pfft. I don't think I could be much of a little sibling, even with my somewhat lacking height at the moment.

You did ballet? From what I've heard, that's not easy. Even if you say you weren't the best, I'll bet you were pretty good! Sorry to hear you had to quit. Still, I know all about uprooting yourself between Europe and North America. Mine just... happened to be in the other direction. It's tough. Don't blame you for not wanting to. If I'm being real, he sounds like an asshole.

Eh... s'complicated. I've got a big family what with my parents, sister, niece and nephew, aunts and uncles, cousins... We Curlys are pretty widespread. As for starting one of my own, uh. Marriage never really happened. I doubt it was ever on the table to begin with, though I didn't realize it back then. Kids, maybe. Don't think I'd be the best at it though, whatever else my horde of unofficial children may claim. Mm, yeah... Environmental studies is fun! Lots of good things to learn there. He's focusing on Earth environment, I'm assuming? Hope that turns out well for Kestrel and his girlfriend. ...Thank you.

...

Huh? Fears? ...Oh. I didn't think you could— Sorry. I didn't think— someone else, uh, said that. Earlier that day. It isn't true what Rebh said, I know that. It wasn't you, it was me getting paranoid. Promise. I want you here, I do.

...I'm glad. I like hearing your stories. I want— I want to meet you and Kestrel too. I want to do all that.

Hah. Okay. I will, Mum.

...

Are you fucking serious right now?

Oh, come on. You're not real. You're not even one of them, are you? You're my own thoughts. Fuck off.

I'm trying to help you out here.

Yeah? How's that, fake Jimmy I made up just now?

Are you trying to play house or something? You need to get over yourself, Curls. You're a grown fucking man.

La la la. Not listening.

God, you're so— My parents were pieces of shit. But you? You had everything you wanted. You had real parents who loved you before you fucked off to space. And here you are. Trying to take a third from someone else.

Leave me alone, Imaginary Jim.

I'm imaginary because I'm you, idiot. These are your thoughts that you can't frame to yourself in a way that lets you keep living this fantasy. The truth is, Curly, she said it was a brief conversation for a reason. There's still friction there. You can feel it, right?

...Right. None of my business though. They'll work it out.

Yeah. They'll work it out. What do you think is going to happen when they do?

She said—

She said what? She'd never leave you? Like we said to each other? ...Lighten up. I'm not really him. We both know that. But Curly. Get real, yeah? "You see, son, I'm hearing a voice from a dying man lightyears away." The kid is never going to believe her. He'll think she's fucking insane. She'll have to choose between him and you. Some whiny bastard giving her nightmares or, you know, her real son.

...stop.

Won't bother telling you who she'll choose. You already know.

You're not even real oh my God leave me alone.

...Hey, Curly?

...Yeah?

Can the voices hear this?

Oh, fuck me...

Next time you're going to process your intrusive thoughts through me you should do it quieter. Just saying.

Yep.

[whats-her-quirk]

Secret Oath Chapter 7

last || m.list

➷➷➷➷➷

marco bott x fem!reader

18+ mdni

word count: 3.1k

chapter warnings: explicit smut, dry humping, oral, praise, a touch of corruption, first times, they're in love your honor

a/n: it's chapter 7 but its been just over 2 years since I started this fic so I think that qualifies as slow burn

♪ good old fashioned lover boy by queen ♪ you and I by lady gaga

➷➷➷➷➷

When you drag yourself out of bed for wake-up duty the next morning, Marco is waiting on the deck with coffee in his red thermos. He holds it out to you.

“Two sugars. I only have one travel mug, but I figured we could share. If you want.”

You’re in no position to turn down caffeine, but it’s more than that. You hadn’t asked him to do rounds with you, but here he is: eyes bright like he’s been awake for a while, holding a mug of coffee sweetened the way you like when he usually takes his black. This man might be in love with you.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Considering he might be inside you later, you decide you might as well get used to kissing spontaneously. He rests a hand on your waist, tongue brushing yours in a way that crosses from sweet to steamy.

After a long, heady look into his sable eyes, you gratefully reach for the thermos and take a long sip. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

“How about just one more kiss instead?”

You couldn’t possibly resist.

-

Almost as soon as you arrive at arts and crafts with your group and Ymir’s, Moblit puts you to work. He can’t know that you told Marco your secret; it must be cosmic punishment. While Mobs shows the campers how to make leaf rubbings, you get down to business peeling the paper off of at least a hundred crayons. Ymir grumbles beside you, her fingernails too short to get under the labels. Now’s your chance, and you need to take it.

“Hey, wingwoman.”

Ymir scoffs. “Are you addressing me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, well, well…”

“You should be glad that I’m asking you for a favor.”

“Historia owes me so much money.”

“What?”

“I knew you’d come crawling to me. She didn’t believe me. But I have a sixth sense.” Ymir taps her head.

“Ok, seriously. I need the cabin to myself during free time today. Can you make sure everybody has somewhere else to be?”

Ymir considers this, her bottom lip jutting out in thought. “Well, Hisu goes where I go. If Hitch and Mikasa aren’t already occupied with a Jaeger each, I can probably convince them to go for a hike. Or better, a drive. With the AC on full blast.”

You throw your arms around Ymir and squeeze. “You rock.”

She pushes you off. “You’re just now realizing that? Some friend you are.” She picks at another crayon. “Do you need me to come up with an alibi or should I just tell everyone you’re having clumsy sex with the resident virgin?”

“He could be a sex god. You don’t know.”

“Fat chance.”

“I guess I’ll have to let you know. In excruciating detail.”

“Fuck no you won’t.”

–

Marco meets you on the steps outside your cabin, hands deep in the pocket of his red hoodie. True to her word, Ymir made Historia invite Mikasa and Eren to drive to town with them to buy soda at the convenience store. Hitch said she already had plans and not to wait up.

“What about the rest of the guys?” you ask.

Marco rubs the back of his neck. “All at the pool. Apparently they put up a net and I’m missing a grand volleyball tournament with the Galliards. I told them I had something else to do.”

You give him a sly smile. “Shame.”

Grateful for the privacy, you nudge Marco on the shoulder and lead him inside. After flipping the latch on the door and turning on a small lamp in the corner, you sit down on your bunk and pat the space next to you. “Take off your shoes and stay a while.”

Marco chuckles, cheeks reddening, but does as you say. He lays his hand on top of yours. “I’ll be honest. I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

“If you’re not ready, you’re allowed to change your mind.”

“I’m less worried about stopping than I am about getting started.” He leans in, his forehead touching yours. Quieter, he asks, “Can you take the lead?”

“Mmhmm.” You slide both hands up his neck, thumbs coming to rest at the corners of his jaw. “Kiss me a little first and see if you feel better.”

You don’t need to ask twice. Marco rolls on top of you like he’s been waiting for the chance, hands on your waist as he presses you into the bed. His mouth finds yours hungrily, his breath toothpaste-fresh. He prepped for this.

His tongue dips into your mouth, kissing you deeper. You rake your fingers through his hair, behind his ears, down his back. He’s folded over the edge of the bed, toes on the floor. Slowly, you drag one foot up the length of his leg, arching into the next kiss.

Marco gathers you in his arms as your body rolls.

Your hips seek his own. Now that you’ve had a little taste, all you can think about is getting closer to him. You can’t help yourself: you want to feel his skin, his breath, his body heat. You want it to smother you.

But as badly as you want him, you know you need to take this one step at a time. Today is about enjoying it: his first time, and your first time with him.

As gently as you can, you tug the hem of his hoodie up toward his chest with your fingertips. His t-shirt rides with it, a swath of his tanned-bronze skin meeting your stomach. You nudge inside his shirt, hands meeting his warm back, teasing him for more access bit by bit.

Marco finds your hip and slides a hand up under your top. He’s timid at first, but when you sigh and bend to his touch, he ventures on, hesitating only when he brushes the edge of your bra. With a slight tremble, he cups your breast in his palm.

He inhales sharply, then with a little, almost imperceptible hum, he melts. You feel him start to let go of it all: the fear, the hesitation, the self-consciousness. With another deep breath, he gives an experimental squeeze.

You break the kiss long enough to pull your shirt off over your head. You feel a flash of shyness and cover your bare stomach with your arms as Marco looks down at you with reverence. His pupils dilate, making his irises look almost black as he unfolds, standing to remove his hoodie and shirt in one motion. You expect him to drop them on the floor but giggle when he drapes them carefully over the rail on Historia’s nearby bunk.

“Sorry.” He blushes.

“Don’t be.” You pull your legs up on the bed and stretch out. “Come here.”

Marco drops into your open arms, lips finding yours before he crawls onto his hands and knees on top of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbles through a messy kiss.

You cup his jaw, bringing him closer. “So are you,” you try to say, but he swallows your words.

Your eyes flutter closed and your hands wander, stroking down the planes of his strong neck, his broad shoulders, his sun-speckled chest. There’s so much of him to explore, so much of his body yet untouched. You can’t get enough.

The ambient creaking of the cabin and the rustling of wind outside are punctuated by the slick sounds of kisses as you pore over each other. Marco’s mouth drops to the bend of your neck, drawing heat to the spot. He tangles his legs with yours and rolls you both onto your sides. Arching, you slide your hands around the small of his back and push your hips forward. Dizzy stars burst behind your eyelids as his erection twitches against your lower stomach through his running shorts.

With a little moan, you wrap a thigh around his waist for leverage and grind. Marco jerks his hips forward, head thrown back against your pillow with a hushed, “Fuck.” You drink it in, savoring the sound like the last sip of wine at the bottom of the bottle.

Your leg holds Marco against you, right where he should be, as you set a rhythm, rolling your hips up and down his body. Every few strokes, your clit catches against his clothed cock with delicious friction. When you moan, he moans.

Marco’s breath lands heavily against your face as he tilts his chin down, forehead against your own, to focus on the motion. He watches as you dry-hump against his bulge. Even without being skin to skin, it’s filthy. His hands grip your ass and everything begins to speed up.

Yes. Yes. This is finally happening.

Marco grips your hips and rolls over, balancing his weight above you on his elbows. His breaths come heavy, his body crashing over yours again and again like waves. Plunging your hand between you, you reach for his cock. He moans and humps into your hand like he can’t stop. God, it’s so big, straining against his shorts, and sensitive, throbbing in your grip.

You pant, quick and shallow, thinking about having him inside you, how full you’re going to be. It’s hard to stay calm when the anticipation burns so brightly.

When you let go of his shaft, Marco whines at the loss. You lock eyes as you brush his waistband with just your fingertips. “Ok?” you ask.

He nods desperately. “Please.”

Together, you push the elastic down until he kicks his shorts off behind him along with his underwear. Needy but defenseless, he babbles, “I’m sorry if it’s too much, if you don’t want to—”

You wrap your hand around him, lightheaded at the girth. “Marco, you’re perfect.”

He groans in his throat and rocks into your hand, a man possessed.

With a hand to his side, you guide Marco onto his back. Puffing, he rests while you take off the rest of your clothes. His arm falls across his eyes. “Oh my god.”

He pulls it away to watch as you kneel between his legs and press a kiss to the head of his cock. His muscles tense at your first few kitten licks before you wrap your lips around him. With your fist around his base, you run your tongue back and forth over his frenulum. When you come up for air, you give a few more wet strokes over his tip before Marco reaches for you.

“Please, it feels so good, but I’m gonna cum instantly if you keep doing that.” His laugh comes out more like a breath, but his smile is in his eyes.

Smirking, you crawl up to his middle. Your legs have to spread so wide just to straddle him, but fuck if your hips hurt later. The pain will be sweet. He’s worth it. He’s worth anything.

Marco paws at your arms, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to kiss me after I blow you,” you offer. “I know it bothers some people.”

Marco shakes his head and drags you to him with his hands to the back of your neck. “I don’t care, I want to,” he pants. “I need to kiss you right now.”

Messy kisses string between you, deep, hungry caresses against your tongue. “How do I—” he mumbles into your mouth, “How do I get you ready?”

“You can touch me,” you sigh.

“God,” he moans, reaching between your thighs. “Show me?”

Head hanging over your bent neck, you guide him by the wrist until two of his fingers press over your clit. You show him where to rub the little circles you like, wetting his fingers with your dew. Bracing two hands on either side of his head, you leave him to it, closing your eyes to focus on the repeated motion while you breathe into each other’s mouths.

You hold yourself together until your legs start to tremble. A rush of heat spreads from your face down your neck, flowing between your legs with an irresistible tingle. The words come out clipped and sharp. “You can put a finger in. Please.”

Marco fumbles a little at first but spreads you like a pro once he gets his bearings. One finger dips inside, and it’s both a relief and a lightning strike to your core. “Yes,” you can’t help but hiss.

It’s not like he knows nothing—Marco presses and curls his knuckle, and it makes you whine with pleasure. “Two, please.”

He adds another finger, and the heel of his hand brushes your clit with every flex. Heat builds until it skyrockets, your legs and hips jerking above him as you find a little peak. As the pulses dull around his fingers, your muscles release and your head swims with pleasure. You had no idea how badly you needed that.

You open your eyes to Marco staring in awe. “Did I really make you cum?”

You tap his arm so he knows to pull his fingers out. “Yeah. It was really good.” On wobbly thighs, you climb out of his lap and rest on your knees beside him. “Please tell me you remembered the condoms.”

Marco twists to his side. “Yeah, in my hoodie pocket.”

“I got it.” Slippery between your legs, you retrieve the condom and reach for the bottle of lube you know Historia keeps under her bunk while you’re there.

“Is that—”

“Yeah. It’s been a little while, and I might need it. Trust me, you’ll like it. Want me to put the condom on?” Your hands shake, eagerness making your movements sharp and clumsy. If he’s ready, you don’t want to wait another second.

“Sure.” Marco pushes up onto his elbows while you tear open the gold foil. He did the right thing buying the bigger size. “How do you want to… what’s going to be most comfortable for you?” He sighs as you roll the condom down his length, holding it in place at the tip. Your mouth practically waters as you squeeze out a few drops of lube and spread it on.

“If it’s ok with you, I think it’ll be easiest if I’m on top. At least for the first time, it’ll be better if I can control the angle and the speed.”

Marco lies back, exhaling heavily. You straddle him again, and his hands slide up your thighs. You can tell he’s steadying himself. Swallowing thickly, he asks, “You sure you’ll be ok? Is it going to fit?”

Your chest clenches. At a time like this, he’s thinking about you. Above all the emotions swirling inside you—excitement, lust, nervousness, all of it—you feel safe and important. You couldn’t be more grateful to be with someone like Marco. You hope this thing between the two of you can turn into something that lasts.

You kiss him deep and slow, rekindling the fire between you and topping it off with a sweet peck to his forehead. “Yes. I want you.”

His hands slide to your waist. “I want you too.”

With one more kiss, you reach below you, positioning him at your entrance, and sink down. As the first few inches slip in, your eyes widen and Marco’s hands clamp down tight. “Fuck,” you both curse at almost the same time.

He’s so thick. It’s all you can think about as you work him inside you, pulling out before pushing further down with each rock of your body. He’s filling you up. He’s splitting you open. It’s incredible.

You moan as your cunt sucks him in, and before you really know it, you’re as fully seated as you can be. There might be an inch or so that you just can’t fit, not today. It doesn’t matter—he feels fucking perfect for you.

Clenching involuntarily, you hold yourself in place as you acclimate to the stretch. Your hips prickle with heat, and you can only hope you’ll feel this tomorrow and be reminded of how it felt to be this full—to remember the absolute pleasure of being the first one to ever be filled by him.

Marco’s jaw drops as he rubs your hips, the tops of your thighs, anywhere he can reach. “You doing ok?” you pant.

Marco groans and nods. Words come huskily. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, feels good.”

His lashes flutter. “Can you move?”

“Mmhmm.” Pacing yourself, you grind up and down, tucking your hips to guide him to your sweet spot with each thrust. Overcome with the need to be as close as possible, you fold, pressing yourself closer to his chest.

With his hot hands guiding you, Marco huffs in your ear, and you ride. Finding your rhythm and steadily increasing it, he arches to meet you as he rolls your hips down. Intensity crescendos, passion breaking over you in waves and weeks of longing pouring over your bodies until it reaches its climax. You move as one until you hit critical mass and Marco takes the lead.

Moaning low and shallow, Marco slams into you over and over, driving you to the edge with a sharp cry, and you snap. It hits you in surges, your prolonged pulses dragging pathetic moans from your throat until you finally clamp down and force Marco to the other side with you. He whines until he chokes on it, his cock throbbing until he’s spent.

As much as you just want to collapse on top of him, your hips are screaming, so you carefully pull him out before curling into his side. You lie together, Marco’s arms around you, pulling you close in the crinkly twin bed. Between breaths, he kisses your lips, your cheeks, your neck before tucking your head under his chin, holding you in the still and quiet after the storm.

You trace constellations in the freckles on his chest. “So. How was it?”

“Worth it,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to your crown.

–

That night, around the campfire late in the evening, no one mentions it when you show up wearing Marco’s big red hoodie. Nobody asks where you were during free time or questions why you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other during the free-throw competition after dinner. The most you get is a wink and finger gun from Ymir, but she keeps her big mouth shut, and you love her for it. Everyone probably knows, or at least suspects, and maybe they’ll tease you for it later, but for tonight, they grant you peace.

After making you each a s’more, Marco wraps the both of you in his blanket. Despite your sticky smiles, you lean your head on his shoulder, one hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat under it.

➷➷➷➷➷

last || m.list

[orsan1070]

A Quick Z-A Lore Overview

I love me some Pokemon lore, so here's a quick compilation of all the important things I noticed in the Z-A trailer and gameplay footage! A lot of this has already been mentioned by others, but I just wanted to get this out there! (This isn't complete, just a compilation of things I noticed and wanted to talk about.)

The very first thing the trailer gives us is a look at the protagonists.

Now, it took me a bit to notice, but these are totally based on Ethan and Lyra, right?

Firstly, their hair is very very similar. Their hats have the same color scheme, minus Ethan's counterpart missing the yellow. The Z-A protag's shoes match their respective HGSS protagonist's outfit colors very closely, and their belts match their PokeNavs. As for what this means, well, that's... less clear.

The Z-A website says the protagonist begins by "arriving in Lumiose for some sightseeing" and "While visiting Lumiose City during your travels, you’ll come to stay in an old hotel named Hotel Z." As for whether they're literally Ethan and Lyra on vacation, I'm... not sure. It's true that Legends Arceus features Lucas / Dawn, isekaid into Hisui, but here, we're in modern-day Kalos. We're definitely after XY, judging by AZ's Floette, likely after SM, due to the prominence of the Rotom Phone, and, honestly, I think after SV, due to the Rotom Phone's new capabilities (more on that later). Now, we know Red is 20 in SM, according to concept art, placing his adventure as nine years prior. Ethan / Lyra came three years later, making them 17 in SM. We don't know how much time passed between SM and SwSh and SV, other than I think Peony's Adven-tour lacking Penny only makes sense eighteen months or more before SV. Even if you disagree with me, the Johto protagonists effectively have to be adults by the time of SV and onwards, where we seem to be. Plus, the Z-A protagonists seem to not have Ethan and Lyra's eye colors-- it's kinda an averaged grey-brown. I don't think we're literally Ethan/Lyra for that reason, but I do think we're related somehow.

Just a minor observation, but those are the ambiguous statues seen in places like Kanto's Victory Road, and the Wild Zone number is inside a pentagon, much like the Route signs in the original Kalos games! Neat!

I know Sandile are frequently shown hiding in the sand like this, but if I'm not mistaken, this is the first time they've shown Krokorok like that?

Wild Zone 1 is given quite a bit of focus in the trailer-- enough where it's super simple to point out where on the map it is! It's what I've outlined in purple, while it seems like we meet the starters in the red circle. The Fletchling and Fletchinder are obscuring Hotel Z, where we can see later in the trailer the first rival battle with Urbain/Taunie occurs, and what's past the first Wild Zone?

That's Sycamore Pokemon Lab! Seems like we'll be heading there quite early in the story. Is Sycamore himself still in charge, or has enough time passed where it's changed hands to Sina, Dexio, Trevor, or another character?

In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it animation when jumping across roofs, we can see that it's actually the Rotom Phone enabling the player to double-jump! The last shot of the trailer also features a Rotom Phone:

It definitely seems like the Rotom Phone will be playing a big role! I also think this points to Z-A taking place after SV-- the Rotom Phone is clearly doing more advanced things than catching us when we fall, and now it has three cameras, when it had one in SwSh and two in SV!

As for why the Rotom Phone is relevant, well, Lumiose City is the home of Clemont, who invented the Rotom Pokedex (according to concept art, Samson in SM, and Kukui in Masters). Perhaps our Rotom Phone's new features tie back to him in some way?

AZ and his Floette being together means this is after XY at the very least. But, also, why does AZ seem older? He didn't need a cane before. He's immortal, he shouldn't *be* aging (the height is not due to his immortality, that's due to ultimate weapon exposure). Was his immortality lifted somehow?

While the Pokemon Centers in Lumiose have changed designs, as has the PC, the nurse behind the counter seems to be roughly the same.

In the gameplay overview, we can see this holographic person. The other man is likely speaking to him with the Holo Caster-- in fact, holographic technology seems to be heavily connected to the reconstruction in general, with the Wild Zone gates seemingly being holograms and the redevelopment program being described as high-tech. Lysandre was the one who made the original Holo Caster, though, and he's dead. So, uh, what's going on here? Could Malva be involved somehow? She was the main newscaster on the Holo Caster. This definitely seems to tie Quasartico to Flare in some way...

I'm very curious as to the in-universe etymology of Quasartico, by the way. A quasar is a very specific thing to use in a name, yknow?

One of the final shots of the gameplay overview is this-- the Looker Bureau! Emma runs it now, so she'll likely appear. I wonder what role it'll play in the story.

That's... all I've got! All the little lore details I figured were worth sharing. Thanks for reading!

[artuurle]

I find I'm still stuck in place after so long.

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[skrunksthatwunk]

how do i tell my roommate that her cat repeatedly pissing on and destroying my things is something that people usually offer to clean or replace or apologize for instead of shrugging off

[todayisafridaynight]

plane scene is so funny cause why is mine a sleeper agent that wakes up whenever daigo is mentioned

can’t wait to see it in dragon engine :3

mine has been the winner for Funniest Character Imaginable for 15 consecutive years and i have yet to see anyone come close i fear

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... put together a roommates quiz finally after years of thinking it would be an interesting idea lol.. Though obviously not meant to be taken super seriously, I just like thinking about this aspect of personality compatibility. Like yeah, maybe you could get along with someone just chatting with them, but living together is such a different thing. .. curiouse...

[otome-dissection]

back on my bullshit (replacing every other one of my waking thoughts with Goro Majima)

[egregiousderp]

A week’s vacation starts tomorrow. Minus Halloween, of course, because I love working Halloween at the store enough I requested to work it. I’m up to two kids who already are clearly living in their costumes: one in a Sonic Onesie with matching yellow crocs decked in sonic-themed jibbitz, and one Batman with the built-in foam muscles on a maybe…seven year old and five year old respectively? Best part of Halloween for me, honestly, seeing the kids who are going to *be* Spider-Man or whatever until Thanksgiving when their parents finally go TAKE THAT OFF WE HAVE COMPANY COMING.

Got cleared for the Jedi costume as long as I’m bladeless and the saber stays on the belt, so that’s…honestly, easy, but also feels a little weird because it’s like “oh cool what do I do with the time, now?” Like, I debated making a togruta headdress for it but decided not to just in case it’s “scary” for the real little ones.

Car’s still needing to go to the shop because it won’t start and the hood latch is broken, and my sick time from the Week of Mystery Dysentery has come up mysteriously short a hundred bucks from my already not so great paycheck, and car insurance had to be paid.

So it looks like I’m spending a week inside cooking two big meals to make use of the pantry stuff that just got cleared, with MAYBE a third if mom feels like eating chopped liver with me if I make it, and seeing how many paper cranes I can make to contribute to the thousand.

…It’s so weird working so hard to get full time for so many years, and now the benefits are slightly annoying and way less helpful than the guaranteed hours—especially since the home situation is so toxic and I’m trapped, unable to go anywhere.