#some people get faces right the first time but that is NOT me

[henry7931]

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

[ID: The first image is a movie poster for the Dreamworks movie Home, showing Oh, a Boov (a wide, short, purple creature), Tip, a black girl, and a calico cat. The rest of the images are screenshots of sections of The True Meaning of Smekday, by Adam Rex.

In a ridiculously short amount of time, the Boov determined that humans were unwilling to mix peacefully into their culture. They pointed out all the people who fled instead of welcoming their new neighbors, even those whose homes had been taken outright. Captain Smek himself appeared on television for an official speech to humankind. (He didn't call us humankind, of course. He called us Noble Savages of Earth. Apparently we were all still living on Earth at this point.) "Noble Savages of Earth," he said. "Long time have we tried to live together in peace." (It had been five months.) "Long time have the Boov suffered under the hostileness and intolerableness of you people. With sad hearts I now concede that Boov and humans will never to exist as one." I remember being really excited at this point. Could I possibly be hearing right? Were the Boov about to leave? I was so stupid. "And so now I generously grant you Human Preserves—gifts of land that will be for humans forever, never to be taken away again, now." I stared at the TV, mouth agape. "But we were here first," I said pathetically.

The tent was strung with white Christmas lights and packed with people, all facing a stage on one end. And on the stage stood a redheaded man in a wifebeater with a Viking tattooed on his chest. People were booing him. "Shut up!" the redhead was saying. "I have the stage! All I'm saying is, now that we've all had to leave our real homes, we got a chance to get America right! There can be a place for the Saxon Americans, and a place for the coloreds, and a place for—shut up!"

"So every place has some kind of leader?" I asked. It had all happened so fast. "Sure. Most of them are former state governors, or senators, or whatever. The president runs a little town called Rye." "Just a little town?" "Yes..." said Mitch. "He's not very popular anymore, because of the invasion. People assume it was his fault somehow. But we have to have leaders. We have to have government." "I guess," I said. "Daniel Landry's district is far south of here," he said, "on some former Indian land." "Indian land? Like a reservation?" "That's right." "Is this Dan guy an Indian?" "I don't think so, no. I'm pretty sure he's white. He wasn't a governor or anything before, but he's really rich, so I imagine he's a good leader." "Uh-huh. But he's white," I said. "The Indians elected a white guy?" "Well...I don't know. I imagine all the other people elected him. It's mostly white folks living on the reservation now." I frowned. "And the Indians are okay with this?" "What do you mean?" "Well...it was a reservation," I said. "It was land we promised to the Native Americans. Forever." Mitch looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. "But...we needed it," he said.

"Mr. Hinkel," said the Chief, jerking his head toward the sleeping man. "He thinks Indians like me ought to live somewhere else. Likes to tell me about it a lot." I didn't really want to talk about Mr. Hinkel. "Well, maybe they'll let him go soon." "Doubt it," said the Chief. "Got beat up pretty good by someone who thinks gay people like him ought to live somewhere else."

The last excerpt from the book is in comic format, divided into four main panels. The first is captioned, "2,000 (two thousand) years ago - Many schools closed by the HighBoov, because Money is Needed Elsewhere. Boov are told not to worry about learning unimportant things. Boov are told to learn one useful thing that may be done over and over again and give their life meaning. HighBoov devise clever tests to find which Boov should be taught more, and which Boov should not be taught because Money is Needed Elsewhere." Boov are shown doing things like guarding, serving food, and taking care of children.

The second panel is captioned, "1,150 (one thousand, one hundred and fifty) years ago - Certain Boov who were taught many things announce that industry is polluting the waters of Boovworld." Boov in uniforms point to a chart of their world and gesture to something outside a window, presenting this information to other Boov in fancy outfits. "These scientist predict that the oceans soon will no longer be able to sustain life, unless things are changed."

The third panel is captioned, "1,149 (one thousand, one hundred and forty-nine) years ago - HighBoov declare that these warnings of pollution cannot be proven, so therefore nothing should be changed. The scientist Boov who gave these warnings are declared evil-evil that they should call our God unclean. These Boov are named the Forgotten and sent onto land into exile forever. Some of them die of asphyxiation. Most don't." A line of Boov trudge out of water onto land.

The fourth panel is captioned, "1,003 (one thousand and three) years ago - God dies of asphyxiation." There are many skeletons with lots of darkness in the background.

Plain text: "1,003 years ago, God dies of asphyxiation" End ID]

like the most politically neutered movie of all time unironically

[sinstear]

ㅤ❝ I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY AND ONCE A WEEK FOR YOU ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpairing. milf!abby x mechanic!reader

masterlist. warnings. 18+, sub!abby, dom!reader, milf!abby, mechanic!reader, dirty talk (a lot of it, oops), fingering, strap usage, abby just being a needy brat, breeding kink, there’s probably more a/n. merry christmas gays <3 this is a small installation to the milf!abby au me and @vifilms have created. if it’s a little confusing on the jump, don’t worry, you’ll get more parts explaining their relationship before or whatever soon. happy holidays, and if you don’t celebrate it, i hope you all have a blessed day either way <3

milf!abby who doesn’t hesitate to text you when it comes down to her friends having a small get-together, her first instinct was to ask you to come with her, and she was a little too giddy and excited when you replied with ‘of course, more time to spend with a pretty lady’ what she would never admit was that she spent an ungodly amount of minutes looking at your reply, apples of her cheeks crimson red before she replied with her own ‘sounds good, can’t wait to see you’ unaware that on the other side of town, you were already rummaging around in your closet, trying to find something perfect enough, that will go with whatever she picks, to wear. apart from ripped jeans, t-shirts, and a few jackets, you were at a loss. confused on what to wear to a small party with people who would dress up a little more … sophisticated-like. the bright colors, the pretty pearls. that wasn’t you. you were content with your hoodies, your jeans, your button-up shirts, and sweatpants. not what they love to wear.

milf!abby can’t focus the second you walk through the door that same night, dressed in a pair of jeans, heavy boots paired with a white shirt, and a jacket. she’s seen you in nothing but a tank top, oil and grease covering your arms, and even then you looked hot working on her car every day, you looked ethereal and more handsome tonight. abby doesn’t know how to react when she finds you talking to some of her friends, offering to help if they need it, seconds later. she thinks it’s kind that you are offering even though you were a guest. one of the many things she adores about you. always wanting to help.

milf!abby drags you away from the party not even 15 minutes later. her hands cupping your face, while yours are instantly pulling down the dress she was wearing, down over her shoulders, and bunching it around her hips as you cup both her tits and squeeze them in the palm of your hands, the second she pulls you into the bathroom. the soft sounds of her whines and whimpers fill the echoed room while you simply grin against her neck, pinching and pulling at her hard pebbled nipples. her head rests against the bathroom door, the whimpers tumbling from her shamelessly has you growling into her neck and slipping your leg between her thigh. a sinister grin appearing on your lips at her sudden gasp, wrapping her arm around your neck and holding you to her. “i bet if i put my hand up your dress right now, you’re gonna be soaked, hm?” you muttered against her flushed skin. “don’t even have to tell me, i know.” your mocking words had abby’s heart pounding in her chest, cunt clenching around nothing and cheeks flushed while she nods desperately. “love your tits so much, so fuckin’ pretty”

milf!abby’s eyes roll back in her head when you’re placing your hand over her mouth, muffling the sounds thats dripping from between her cherry red swollen lips as you bury your fingers deep in her cunt, groaning softly under your breath at the way she clenches around you tightly. “you know how much i love to hear you, but you gotta be quiet f’me, sweetheart, hm?” you coo, kissing away the tears streaking her face. “i know you can do it, don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

“m’sorry, just feels s’good.” abby whimpered against your hand, voice hitching when the palm of your hand rubbed against her neglected clit. fingers clutching at your crumpled shirt, knuckles white with the sheer iron grip she has on you. it makes you laugh, making her whine with a deeper blush knowing just how fucking needy she is. needy for you to touch her, making a mess of her, and have her weak in the knees. you only have to look at her, and she’s begging for you.

“yeah, i can tell, practically soaking my hand.”

that just makes abby clench around you harder. 

milf!abby clings to you for dear life and whimpers loudly into your neck when she gushes all over your fingers minutes later, slick running down the inners of her thigh and another whimper is ripped from her throat as you gently pull your fingers out of her cunt, bringing those fingers straight to your mouth with a grin. her pupils dilate more, if that’s even possible when you wrap your lips around them and suck. the moan you let out at the taste of her, has her rubbing her thighs together again. an action that you don’t miss. “taste just as sweet as last night, sweetheart.” you hummed with a cheeky grin, leaned forward, and kissed the side of her mouth. laughing at her whine. “patience, baby. just a little longer, and i promise, you can have my cock later.”

milf!abby is pathetic and whiny when you’ve finally got her bent over the sink, dress still bunched over her hips, panties in your back pocket for a keepsake, and she can’t hold back on those sounds you love to hear so much when your cock is deep inside her cunt. stretching her out perfectly, like her pussy was made for you. you could tell she was struggling to keep it down, not wanting her friends to hear. you on the other hand, were crazy. you wouldn’t care at all if they heard the pretty sounds you were pulling from her with each thrust of your hips. 

“wish i could feel you” you groaned, hands iron grip on her hips, pulling her back and down on your cock. your eyes dropping to shamelessly watching the way her cunt practically sucks your strap back inside of her. only for your eyes to snap up at the soft whine to find abby with her head buried in the bend of her elbow, trying to muffle her sounds. “lemme hear you, baby, yeah?” you cooed, tangling your fingers into her soft blonde locks and pulled her head back carefully. “yeah, you look so pretty like this” you smirked at her through the mirror. “look so sexy while i split you open on my cock.”

abby wasn’t sure whether to look at you or herself. her hair was disheveled, her light makeup ruined, cheeks flushed, hips bruised due to your grip, and her lips all red and swollen. if you both walked out of the bathroom now, everyone would know. they would all know what happened, and maybe that excites abby a little because her cunt clenches around your cock, gasps, and jolts against the mirror when you’re removing your hand from her hip, to reach down between her legs and rub light circles on her clit. “just needed to have all your worries and thoughts fucked out that pretty head of yours hm? don’t worry, sweetheart, m’gonna fuck you until you can barely remember your own name.”

the blonde opens her mouth to reply, brain completely empty and cheeks flushed darker red if that’s even possible, but her attempt at trying to reply to your words fail when you angle your hips just perfectly, your cock is deliciously rubbing that spot deep inside her and abby’s hand is quick to slip between her legs and rub circles on her clit with you. “fuck, fuck, right there, please please—” her voice breaks and her head slumps against her mirror, her breath fogging up the glass. “i need—”

“what do you need, hm baby? need me to fuck you until you can’t walk? mark you up? show everyone you’re mine?” you listed, groaning against her neck and fucking her hard, rubbing her clit faster. “need me to fill you up, s’that what you need? fill you up and make you a mama?”

“yes! yes yes, please—” abby’s chokes out, a little too late to warn you or barely registers a warning as her body tenses beneath you and gushes over your cock with a loud gasped whimper that has you putting your mouth over her mouth, not wanting her friends to know what was happening, even if it was something you so badly wanted deep down. “oh—” she sighs against your hand, eyes fluttering closed again as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm.  

“me saying i wanna make you a mama did it for you, huh?” you laughed against her ear, your breath fanning her skin hotly as you ran your nose up and down her neck. enjoying the way she lifts her head up and looks at you through the mirror. completely fucked out. only for you to groan softly when she’s pushing back against you with a whine. “sweetheart,”

“wanna make you cum” 

“later, you can do whatever you want”

milf!abby can’t avoid the grins and smirks her friends give her when you both finally make your way back downstairs to find them in the kitchen. they wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that abby was patting down her hair, fixing her dress. or you, in all your glory, were butting up your shirt, not caring at all that they were grinning your way. “have fun, abby?” one teased, eyeing up the marks on her neck. “it looks like you guys both had a lot of fun”

glaring at her friend, abby simply huffed, wrapped her arm around yours and scowled. “stop it!” she mumbled, trying to hide the obvious blush coating her face. while you, being a shit, were just laughing softly against her head. “don’t encourage them!”

“m’not doing anything” you grinned, hand slipping down to her lower back and kissing behind her ear. a place you know that always has her melting in your hands. “you don’t have to tell me you had fun, the sounds you were making are enough for me to know, sweetheart.” you whispered in her ear before walking away into the kitchen. that stupid fucking smirk, a smirk she loves a little too much, resting on your lips.

milf!abby who cannot wait until this little party is over so that she can go home and hold you up on your promise of letting her do whatever she wants to do to you. for the time being, she’s just going to have to sit there and let her friends tease her about the sounds that were coming from the bathroom, and ignoring the way you simply looked at her, slumped between two of her friends, legs spread with a beer in your hand and a grin on your face each time she would grow redder at their constant teasing. she just needed to get this party out of the way so she could have you all to herself once again, free to do whatever she wanted, and you were excited, to say the least. 

[bonbonly]

If you are such a hore for charles rn, maybe we could get more sugar daddy charles? Maybe him punishing you for some reason?

you're spoiling me so badly right now PUHLEASE

bon's thoughts (18+)

sugardaddy!charles had specifically told you to get back home at 8:00 because he was going to take you out for dinner. you should've known your friends had different plans for you, though. they knew about your arrangement with the older man, and they couldn't stop giggling. you had asked charles to buy you some expensive purses, and he was happy that you were asking him to indulge you so he bought them. only problem was that you had gotten them for your friends who kept pestering you in between classes for those items. every time you’d sneak a new gucci bag for your best friend, you’d grow more worried that charles would one day ask you where all the bags he bought for you were. his money was only for you, not for your friends.

you received a text from charles at 6:30, asking you to finish your last class and head over to his place so you could wear an elegant red dress he bought you, and the gucci bag. you freak out, turning to your friend and begging her to give the bag back just for tonight but she frowned, telling you the bag was all the way back at her house 500 miles from the university. you nearly fainted at her words. charles was going to punish you for this, you were sure of it. so, you decided to do what you always did - ignore his texts because truth be told, you did like the angry sex that followed - but it was better than him not gifting you anything if he found out you’d been giving them to your friends, little miss saint.

“where’s the bag?” was the first question charles asked you when you finally returned home, “i searched all over your closet, mon chérie, i cannot find any of your bags.”

you gulp, awkwardly laughing, “a-about that actually…”

charles is laughing at the dinner table with some of his colleagues. he had been laughing this entire time, which you thought was a good sign but then again, he was never this cheerful. some of the people at the table stand up to grab some extra food, and you turn to face charles, leaning in to whisper into his ear,

"y-you're not mad at me?" you ask.

"mad? no," he responds, and you let out a sigh in relief, "no, i'm fuming, my love."

your jaw drops, and you feel him squeeze your thigh harshly, enough for it to hurt just a tiny bit. your eyes snap down to where his thumb is caressing the fat of your skin before he snickers under his breath, "my money is for your benefit. if i wanted to give money to your friends, i'd be a charity foundation, not your sugar daddy, is that clear?"

you nod your head, "i-i'm sorry, i kept trying to tell them no but they wouldn't listen! i would never try to go against you like that, you know-" your words are cut off as his fingers trail up your thigh, cupping your heat. you stiffen in your seat, making sure no one was looking to see what was happening under the table. charles' fingertips drag along your clothed cunt, and he smiles at the way you're squirming in your seat, begging him to stop, "no, not now. what if someone sees?"

"let everyone see how i use you, how you're mine and only mine. i must fuck you too hard because your brain just can't seem to understand it, hm? ma chérie, you're on the thinnest of ice as we speak right now. you're going to take my fingers for the rest of the night, and not a word out of you. not one sound." charles kisses your cheek, fingers pushing your panties to the side before collecting your arousal around your slick folds. you bite your tongue, trying not to whimper when his fingers push into your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. when the guests start coming back, you squish your thighs together as an effort to stop him but he glares at you, using his free hand to hold your thigh open as his fingers curl inside you.

"dinner's really good, right?" a woman asks you and you moan out loud,

"mhm, so good," you force a smile, narrowing your eyes at charles who's pumping his fingers faster inside you, a proud look on his face,

"my baby loves restaurants like this, i would take her to each one if she didn't want to waste my money so much," his eyes flicker at you, loving the way you're clearly struggling to hold it together. no noise, no sound, those words echo in your mind and you take massive bites of your food to occupy your mouth so you won't accidentally slip out another moan. thankfully, a performance in the background had just ended as the audience roars into applause, you let out a guttural moan that's disguised. you slump against your chair, chest heaving as charles pulls his fingers out and sucks your juices off, licking them clean before staring at you,

"if they ask, i'll tell them you're in the bathroom. they'll leave in a few minutes to the bar anyway," he instructs and you open your mouth to argue but he's quickly shoving you under the table. you want to use his money for your friends, wasting his time and energy to buy whatever you want? you can wait and do what he wants now, he doesn't care. he unbuckles his belt carefully, eyes flickering to his friends whose backs face him. they're too busy watching the singer on stage pour her heart out into a verse. he chuckles as he wraps the table's cloth around your face, only your mouth visible to him and he pulls out his throbbing member, shoving it down your throat without warning. your gags are silenced instantly and charles grips the back of your head, thrusting ruthlessly into your mouth as tears slip your eyes,

"you like it when i use you like this, right?" charles whispers, crouching down to make it look like he's on his phone, "fuck, using my money for your friends? how sweet, so sweet of you, mon chérie. so kind and helpful! i didn't know my little girl was this sweet to her friends at the expense of my money." he hisses, hands going under the table to yank your hair so that your mouth could open even wider for him. his balls slap against your chin, and he has to quiet his grunts as his thrusts become more erratic.

"fuck, i cannot wait to take you back home and fuck you properly. make sure you cannot walk for days so you won't come up with something stupid like this again." he scoffs, groaning under his breath as he shoots ropes of his cum down your throat. when he pulls out, he admires the sight of his cum dribbilng down your neck, dropping onto your full breasts that almost spill out of your dress.

"stay there for 5 minutes." charles says, "in the meantime, make yourself useful for me," and he sticks his thumb in your mouth, watching you suck diligently as he waits for his friends to leave.

[bunnwich]

Why Leona Gave Himself The Bad Ending

Leona Kingscholar Analysis

Usual disclaimer to say that these are just my thoughts and you don’t have to feel pressured to agree. This was my thought process as I played through the parts of Chapter 7 Parts 212-226, featuring Leona’s dream triggered by Malleus’s magic.

--

I wanna start off by saying that I believe all the dreams are a mixture of Malleus’s magic and the dreamers themselves. 

Idia theorized that Malleus is sort of “setting up the parameters” in a way, then each of the dreamers' personalities and imaginations affect the dream in different ways. The emphasis of this has been brought by Idia several times that it’s the strength of imagination that determines how complex dreams are. Which is maybe why in the first years dreams seem so basic? They’re young, their magical abilities are still new, and their magic is no match for Malleus’s magic. That and, to be fair, most of the first years don’t have the same amount of angst and turmoil as some of the other second years and third years have.

With that being said, I believe that because of his high intelligence, magical prowess, and his hyper-vigilance, that is the main reason Leona’s dream was so…different than the others.

But let's get into it!

There are a lot of Lion King references in this dream, and it’s very clear the writers wanted to play around and show this off. I feel like they did a good job of integrating the themes of the movie into Leona's dream. It does give me a little validation as I feel Leona’s struggles and personality are closely linked to his great Seven Counterpart, Scar. More so than any of the other overblotters. When I analyze Leona I sometimes I do use Scar as a starting point to understand his intentions.

This is how I came to the conclusion long ago that being king would never make Leona happy because it's not what he truly wants.

We start with the dream back in the Sunset Savanna. It’s VERY interesting to see that there is hyena prejudice right off the bat as a woman flees from Ruggie while he attempts to buy food. 

Right off, everyone can tell something is…off about the city. Especially coming fresh from Ruggie’s dream where everything was idyllic and happy for hyenas BECAUSE of Leona.

Grim hits us with the: “I laugh in the face of danger!” line. We even get the three hyenas referenced and the “love for you to stick around for dinner” line. The once proud lioness-dominated palace guard has been taken over by hyena “ruffians” (interesting choice to portray a disenfranchised group being given jobs as the new guard as a negative thing, but moving on.)

The first interesting thing we get is that the palace is somewhat rundown and empty? The group makes comments of how dark and dreary it is, and how few people are around. Is there an implication that the servants fled at some point after Leona became King or did he replace them? This further shows me that Leona for whatever reason has chosen to isolate himself. To me, it's most likely that he already feels isolated by his country and those in the palace.

From the looks of it “Malleus’s magic” has given Leona the one thing he has always wanted, but has he? Leona seems less than thrilled and genuinely upset by the fact his whole family is...gone. As I mentioned in my Leona relationships post, I think that he holds a complex relationship with his family, and while he resents them, in no way can I see him wanting them to be dead. 

It’s now I started to think that Leona’s magic was overriding the simple “let them eat cake” logic of all of the happier dreams. This dream feels TOO real, dark, dreary, and…sad. Could it be Leona’s intelligence or cynicism, ruining what’s supposed to be an idyllic scenario?

Why is even in his WILDEST dreams Leona is still miserable?

Hmm.

A lot of people have talked about Kifaji and their thoughts on his presence. It’s strange to see people praise him as “a loving parental figure” as if he’s really there trying to help Leona. But, Kifaji is not there. This Kifaji is a manifestation of Leona’s mind and I’ll get to why that’s interesting and what I think he represents. Remember, that often in other dreams we’ve seen of loved ones or rivals and they can act normal, out of character, or even cruel. Vil and Neigie come to mind and Neige turned out to be the blot keeping Vil asleep.

Kifaji is a bit different. He actively tries to help the group wake Leona as opposed to encouraging the twisted dream logic. For this reason, to me, Kifaji represents Leona’s conscious and the Dream!Leona we see represents his shadow self, like the dark side of the moon. AKA, the Leona we meet in Chapter 2. In fact, this whole dream feels like a rehash of Chapter 2.

We get the outdated Leona that dumbs himself down and settles for less, cloaking himself in his pride and believing that everyone is below him. An idle king while he lets others do his dirty work. (Scar basically.)

Leona asks Kifaji to sing (another Lion King reference) and it plays out how you would think. Leona tells Kifaji that he is the only competent person in the kingdom. And he argues that the kingdom is in shambles, not because of his choices as King, but because everyone else sucks basically.

Hmm. 

Kifaji reminds Leona that while he is clever and his plans are grand, that he can not treat people like human chess pieces. (Can I just say I love when chess is brought up to us because I find that when people analyze Leona or his thoughts they often forget how much he uses chess to process his thoughts. We saw that plenty in the Tamashina Mina event!) I think it helps him sort his thoughts and emotions which he can have a hard time doing.

I think Kifaji represents Leona’s mindset post Chapter 2 and because Kifaji in his real life is one of the only people who probably stands up to Leona, he has placed him in this antagonist role in his mind. (but not really) Plus, it’s not far off from Kifaji’s actual treatment of Leona in the Tamashina Mina event.

So yeah, Leona acts more like he does in Chapter 2—he's the player or the king even and everyone else around is just lowly pieces.

Just like the scene from The Lion King, Scar and Leona are not happy. Even though they are supposedly getting their deepest desire, they remain bitter and…alone. 

When I first began to read into Leona it was quite obvious to me that the whole “I’ll never be king" thing was just a front for something else. What I think Leona truly craves is approval and acceptance.

Being king, especially of a broken kingdom that despises him, will never make him happy. But, why do the people not love him? This is supposed to be a fantasy right?

There is this interesting layer of how he became king too. Instead of Cheka or Falena simply not existing, like I thought it might be, they are dead. That is…so much more tragic than it needed to be. As if deep down Leona believes the only way he can become king (his dreams to come true) is if tragedy happens. This reminds me of his bitter view/the symbolism of his unique magic. That he can only bring misery wherever he goes—everything he touches turns to sand. 

I also think that Leona is afraid of failing and much of this dream is his anxieties and insecurities that linger from all his past failures.

Though interestingly enough, I sense that in the dream, as implied later by Idia, Leona has implemented an “over-exaggeration” of his policies and plans for the kingdom. It was almost like he purposely ran his resources dry and gave up trying to compromise with anyone for the sake of “progress.”

Why, though?

It’s very masochistic in a way. It’s almost like he wanted to prove himself right. Everything he touches will turn to sand eventually and his grand plans will fail even if he claims they are “perfect.”

That’s why this dream is probably the most masochistic and self-deprecating we have seen. I think what initially began to draw me to Leona’s character is because of the hidden pain he holds. He is by far one of the most easygoing, and lackadaisical acting of the cast, but…he cares, he cares so, so much about how he is perceived and his haunted by his hopelessness about his future and the failures of his past.

I think the pain of never feeling good enough, causes his mind to be unable to “play nice” with Malleus’s dream magic to even manifest any sort of positive future. One where he holds a position he wants AND is loved and respected. it’s just impossible that he could ever have that, even in his wildest dreams. 

He’s too much of a “realist.”

Side tangent, but a frustrating take is to see was the: “Oh yeah, see? He would have sucked as king.” tinged comments after this came out.

 I think it’s more complicated than that. 

This isn’t me trying to defend him necessarily, but to be fair, all dreams tend to be over exaggerations by the dreamer. Plus, I think the fact that Ruggie HATES Leona in this dream and is suddenly in favor of Falena, is a sign right there we can not trust Leona’s interpretation of the people he knows in his dream. He is sort of an unreliable narrator that way. 

Besides, like in The Lion King, why would all the water dry up, just because the hyenas over-hunted? 

A big theme in Lion King and even The Lion Guard TV show is "the balance of nature." The blight upon the Pridelands when Scar takes over feels more like symbolism of the “unbalance of nature” caused by the tragedy of Mufasa’s death. Which makes me again, connect that Leona feels the only way he can succeed is by inflicting misery on others. Like his magic, perhaps a part of him believes he is a curse. 

I theorized in my Tamashina Mina review, that maybe Leona feels like an outcast himself, and the separation he feels from his country is showcased in how he blames the citizens for the decline of the kingdom, rather than his plans. He feels isolated from them.

By this point, I was having flashbacks to Chapter 2, where he got a whiff of his plan failing and he still pushed through even though he knew it would fail. At first, he may have started doing okay as king, but maybe when he came upon too many obstacles or pushback, He just gave up. Because he was not instantly loved by the people, who probably already feared him, he’d rather not even try. Suddenly, they are “not worth his time”, and he can’t help them because they suck.

Leona’s problem has always been his pride. I think he has to put it aside to genuinely help people reach their potential and learn to collaborate with others more. Part of how this dream plays out, is him realizing that maybe some criticisms Kifaji had about his pride all along may be true. Leona refuses to play nice with others. 

That’s why I think Kifaji represents a more sensible and lucid Leona. He is in a sense, talking to his past self, and trying to shake himself from the dream and his outdated ideals.

Ortho even points out that Ruggie is not really the Ruggie we know but rather a part of Leona’s imagination. Again, which puts emphasis on how the characters in his dream are more indicative of his mindset as opposed to being “in character”. Maybe Ruggie hating him in his dream is his inner anxieties about him and Ruggie post Chapter 2 fallout. He feels like Ruggie could never forgive him for what he did. He let him down. And Leona being bad with people and feelings, doesn’t know the proper way to apologize.

Kifaji (woke Leona) says that the state of the kingdom is a result of him “pursuing efficiency over all things and disregarding other people's feelings.” It really feels like he is calling himself out here. Does he REALLY wanna help people? Or is it just Leona’s selfish pride who wants attention for just being smart?

Dream!Leona complains about the protesters interrupting his nap which is another sign for me of the exaggeration of the scenario of Leona being the king. Like...did he not criticize Falena for having the same carefree and laid-back attitude? And yet here he is...complacent in the same behavior he once criticized Falena of. 

Interesting.

Ortho mentions that Leona’s dream is clearly a more complex situation than the other dreams.

I think there is a key implication we are missing here too, that I haven’t seen many mention. There is a throwaway line that Jack mentions that Leona has not attended school and is king instead. And he doesn't seem to know Dream!Ruggie either. Nor Ruggie him.

There is no doubt his time at NRC has shaped him to be the Leona we know now. Someone who has at least somewhat benefited with the connections he made at school. It does seem like this Dream!Leona is regressed. And because he never attended school, he is a much colder person who has no regard for others' feelings at all. He is even more socially inept.

I feel like this is a common theme to show us that despite the independent nature of most of the students at NRC, that it can still be “the friends we made along the way.” trope.  These connections do matter and especially to Leona. He mentions this in his post-overblot monologue in the light novel. He found his pack at NRC.  This time with his dorm members affected his personality for the better. It's kinda sweet when you think about it!

Ortho mentions Dream!Leona appears DEEPLY absorbed in the delusions of his dream. This means that even though he has the lucid failsafe of Kifaji, Leona’s self-deprecation, despair, and pain are still overtaking his logic. That's what's crafted this nightmare. (And he later references it as such.) 

Everyone acknowledges that he can’t possibly be happy and looks EVEN MORE miserable than at school. It can't be a silly happy fantasy, but a grim dark reality of what he thinks of himself. 

That's why he gave himself the bad ending.

I love the double entendre of Idia saying Leona is building his dream like a “sandbox” game. Lots of Minecraft references. (Leona Minecrafter confirmed? Or hear me out…Leona playing King Crusaders or Civilization V FGHJ)

Anyways, Idia or Ortho, (I forget) suggests that perhaps he has run out of ”simulations” for his dream playthrough. And being an intelligent person his mind tends to overthink naturally and this caused his dream to have a more realistic tone. Plus, I theorize that because Leona is powerful and his intelligent, his magic and imagination was almost able to overwrite Malleus's, a standard happy dream formula.

Ortho suggests Leona chose a more “realistic mode “on purpose.” Perhaps like I theorized earlier, it is almost a masochistic test to see if he could have everything he wanted? Leona is a very analytical person who enjoys games. It makes sense, the way he often plays chess alone to practice “strategies.” But as I mentioned before, I think he just genuinely believes it's not possible. Ortho mentions he thinks Leona’s the type to understand that an “aggressive urban development” would come with risks.

Jack asks “If Leona knew this was a bad plan then why would he make the citizens suffer and be hated?”  (Sheesh, now we know Leona really is the type to play pretend and get a lil too real with it.)

Ruggie adds that Leona may be “doing something he knows he shouldn't be on purpose.” Like maybe he did it to be dastardly and maybe he just wanted to “feel the rush” of being a ruthless and hated king.

When Azul asks Ruggie if he thinks Leona takes pleasure in immoral things he says that he can't say for sure, only that he is a prince that no doubt can take pleasure in “bad things”.

To me, however, it feels like a masochistic move to prove to himself his happiness is unattainable. 

Then Sebek chimes in: “How could he go so far to kill his family only to abandon his responsibilities as a king and become a horrible one?"

No one seems to know for sure. Everyone in the group has their theories but the consensus in the group is that - nobody fuckin’ knows why this guy intricately carved himself such a miserable fantasy for himself. Very masochistic for a guy who appears to be so proud huh?

Idia continues to mention that Leona’s imagination is so vast compared to everyone else's. It fills out a whole “world” completely and the mechanics of this world must make sense. He's playing on hard mode. In Leona’s brain this seemed to manifest as if he is to “get what he wants” it can't be serendipitous or through triumph, IT MUST be through tragedy.

Can we lighten up a little?

Again, he may have started to do “good work” but quickly realized that keeping up with all to create a perfect kingdom was waaaay over his head. Maybe he was afraid to give it his all, because he knew everyone would still hate him anyway.

Another reason I think Leona thrives better as a “big fish in a small pond” so to speak. Like his dorm leader role where he can interact directly with his cute (this man used this word a lot for some reason) froshes, make tangible make things better for a small group or community. 

But as we saw, even with his dorm Leona began to feel overwhelmed with the pretty promises he made to his underclassmen in Chapter 2 about the Spelldrive tournament. He like…wants to be wanted but he’s terrified of people actually relying on him, because trying your best and then failing anyways is the most painful thing to him. His instinct when he gets too frustrated with something is to act like he never cared about it in the first place or anyone. AKA “I did everything right and it's THE REST OF YOU who are incompetent.”

That’s why I personally think that in the future Leona working within a small community might be a better fit for him, using his skills to see potential in others as a way to connect with them and teach them how to thrive. 

So yeah, needless to say the group is stumped on analyzing Leona’s intentions and Azul hilariously notes that Leona is just…a complicated person. 

What an understatement.

The group hatches a silly plan to have Ruggie puppet a Cheka hologram and yeah obviously it didn’t work.

This is where it started to get interesting again.

Dream!Kifaji said he’s been “waiting for the day Leona would wake up from his bad dream” and joins the fight against him to wake him. It’s like Leona telling himself that it's time to let his original dream go.

Ortho is surprised Kifaji is on their side, that he should be the darkness pulling Leona back in, but like I mentioned I think Kifaji is actually a “fail safe” Leona created to stay lucid or...maybe the little bit of hope he has fostered now that he has grown from Chapters 2’s events.

Since Kifaji is the one to normally call him out, maybe he's Leona’s way of processing his relationship with him. And that maybe…sometimes as annoying as Kifaji is, he has a point. Kifaji is the one who is implied to have raised him after all, so it's no surprise Leona sees him in a father-like role more than his own father.

“No one understands me, it's not my fault.”  Leona laments running away, running away from himself.

Reminds me a lot of Chapter 2 Leona where he began to feel sorry for himself instead of actually trying to fix things. It's clear that no matter how smart and mature Leona is…is that he still has a lot of growing to do. And that his relationship with his family and country are complex. There is not a black and white or good and bad with this situation and I feel like this is important when talking about him and his relationships with his family.

He was very much ostracized and probably neglected to some extent by his real parents but at a certain point, Leona decided to give up on improving himself just because he didn't achieve the results he wanted to. It's one of his biggest flaw.

His complacency is what drags him further into the darkness. Not Kifaji.

Sitting and stewing in his despair and how unfair his life has been instead of reaching out. Rehashing all thise chess strategies alone on his chess board until his brain hurts. Making grandiose plans instead of actually working hard toward a realistic goal. 

The idle king. A king with naught. (Nothing.)

I am now realizing that in a way (because Ruggie and Leona are so similar) Jack is Leona’s foil; he is the determined and earnest one who admires Leona at his best. He still holds the innocence and the idealism of working hard.

The group jumped through the darkness with Leona and we are replaying the events of Chapter 2 once again.

Ruggie and Jack watch it go down in dismay. Ruggie addresses that he once did think Leona’s way of thinking/plan was good and it’s cool to see he clearly regrets it now too.

They watch the drama play out as if Leona’s plan in Chapter 2 actually succeeded and see that he craves more. More ways for Savanaclaw to get ahead by unsavory means.

Jack says even if Leona becomes king there will be no end to his dissatisfaction. BOOM, there it is.

That is why Chapter 2 is so mind boggling.  Leona’s whole speech was about being king and second. But it’s clear now, it's not what he truly wants. I think Leona is afraid to admit what he really wants. Because that takes vulnerability and then comes the possibility of being rejected.

Jack also notes that, despite Leona getting “everything he wanted” he seems more grumpier and dissatisfied than usual.

“Leona is not your King, hes’ our Dorm Leader,” Jack growls. They fight and we get a nice callback to Lion King here. “Remember who you are.”

As Leona wakes up from his dreams he straight up says, yeah the scheme from Chapter 2 was…stupid. (Nice.)

Oh and we finally get some acknowledgement that Ruggie feels like Leona abandoned him in Chapter 2 which SHEEEEEEEESH. This is a deep cut for me, considering Ruggie’s real dad abandoned him. And it really confirms the fact he sees Leona as a father/big brother figure.

But, Leona doesn't, he sacrifices himself for Ruggie as the whole group tries to escape the crumbling dream. And while Ruggie cries out for Leona, Leona goes down smirking not knowing what will happen to him.

It’s time for him to face himself, his blot monster.

Blot!Leona wants them dead, all of them. Cheka, Falena, everyone. The real Leona finds it kind of pathetic. Because, in reality, I don't think Leona hates Cheka or Falena and he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Leona admits to his blot that yeah, no he can’t do the job. He can’t be king. And instead of it being a negative it’s more a relief? Maybe he is incompetent too. He is addressing himself and his previous grandiose illusions. He hasn’t done anything worthy of being king.

However, he will not give up. He’s finally living up to Savanaclaw’s motto of perseverance (which he sorta laughed off in Chapter 2?)

This next part is what struck me the most because. He just lays it out so simply, finally saying it out loud.

Self awareness!! Like he finally said it!! (And I felt very vindicated in this moment, NGL) 

What he desires most is the approval of others.

Ah, and Blot!Leona responds with the fact he can't earnestly try, it's too painful to think of failing. Props for Leona acknowledging his flaws! Just like with the other overblotters. But I'm especially floored here because of how PRIDEFUL he is all the time.

In order to have better relationships with people, he has to leave that whole “they all hated me” shit behind. Because in reality, there are people who care for him despite his flaws. There are those who look up to him and admire him, for him.

But, the idea of that I think is so…crazy to him that he tends to deny its very existence. Then when he is genuinely complimented on his leadership or whatever skills he brushes it off.

He calls himself disgusting which feels kinda sad but it’s proof he has moved on from his previous way of things. What did I say earlier? Leona is afraid of failure. 

Giving being a king a earnest optimistic go is too painful for him because ultimately he is afraid of failing. Like he was happier to play the role of tyrannical king than to bother to build relations with the citizens of his kingdom.

As his blot self withers away it’s almost…sad compared to the previous blot monster showdowns we’ve seen. It mentions something about “his friends” (A reference to Scar’s final words.) like he’s reaching out for Leona so it's not alone anymore. And Leona almost embraces his monster? It’s clear he feels pity for this thing…him. His pain, his depression, his loneliness. Maybe a step in the way of self-love? He acknowledges (almost as to soothe it) that it will always be with him, clawing from inside. Except now, he won’t give up.

He vows that he will get what he wants one day, for both of them. He’ll have his “own throne and pride” instead of wanting for someone else’s. He’ll find his place to belong through his own merit.

It reminds me of that expression “find your own tribe” which is an expression that those who are not close to heirt families understand all too well.  He wants to find satisfaction outside his desire to rule and maybe because we know he prefers NRC to home, this confirms his fondness for his dorm life. (Savanaclaw found a family dorm.)

When he returns to his original dream of being king Kifaji is there as they look on at Pride Rock. The fact that it is raining is telling that hope has returned. (Just like at the end of Lion King) and that by accepting that “being king” is not what he really wants now “all things are balanced again”.

They have a nice moment here. Leona acknowledging that he has been given the tools to do good things by Kifaji’s training is a big mature moment for him. (Especially how they acted toward one another in the Tamashina Mina event)  And Kifaji praising him, since this a dream, could be a testament to what he wishes would happen between them.

AKA Leona finally feels more, “at peace” with himself.

As Leona destroys this false kingdom with his sand he seems reserved, it’s almost bittersweet as it all settles over him, his new found aspirations, letting the old ones go. He's letting the past go. A big theme in Lion King. (I really feel the writers must be fans of the movies.) 

Kifaji says: “Go to the place you really belong.”

This line kinda got me. Because the implication is that Night Raven College and his dorm is where he really belongs. Leona is confirming that his experiences at NRC have shaped who he is SO MUCH. 

For years he accepted his life as it was, a cage, and now he is acknowledging that he has the power to break that cage and do whatever he wants. It’s a great callback to the advice he gave Jamil in Chapter 6.

This is quite refreshing as he mentioned before that it was too “late for him”. Now, he realizes it isn’t.

Back with the gang, Ruggie admits his fear that Leona will abandon him again. Leona denies it, and says somewhat casually that he is in fact a true friend of his. This feels like a clever inversion of the line that Scar says to the hyenas about being his “friends.” 

But, we know now that Leona does mean it now. And this shows Leona’s desire to finally stray from the “path”  of his Great Seven counterpart and actually like…have friends?

The reunion of the Savanaclaw trio is actually really sweet. For a dorm full of cocky jocks with strong personalities they seem to be so genuinely happy to be reunited.

Jack bursting out into tears and crying got me tearing up. Like Ruggie and Leona clearly are bit more reserved in their emotions but we see Savanaclaw really are close, despite their disagreements. They care for one another as a dysfunctional little family. 

As a dorm that doesn't get much mainstream attention compared to others it was so nice to have this little moment. It's hard to tell, but I’m 99% sure there was a group hug based on how the sprites moved and the sound effects. At least a nice back pat from Leona. (Thanks, dad.) 

All in all, I really...enjoyed his dream section. As someone who is pretty hyper-critical, for the most part, it satisfied most of the things I wanted to feel. I even got emotional at a few points! Yes, it would have been nicer to spend more time with “king” Leona and dive into it more. Or get more lore about his family. But, he admitted it FINALLY, everything I have clocked about him all those years ago. It’s very satisfying to see his growth in a tangible straightforward way, instead of just me reading between the lines.

I hope we will continue to see even more growth with his character (Like we did in the Halloween event)  and I’m excited to see the role he will play in the rest of Chapter 7, even if it’s just him being a cranky old man. (What do you expect he was raised by one?)

I'd like to end this with some positivity. As someone who deep dives into character stuff a lot I know it's really comforting to see part of yourself reflected back in your favorite characters.

To anyone reading who feels they have things in common with Leona or his despair, the truth is that you should keep going, even if it's just to spite the world itself.

Your vision and presence in this world are valid all on their own and that failing is not indicative of your value as a person. It never will be.

Keep fighting to find your place, your pack and never forget who you are.💚

--

Thanks for reading!! This one took quite a bit to edit and think through so if you like my Leona analyses, I’d appreciate a reblog or even just if you wanna share it with your friends! Shoutout to the youtuber ガスマスクゲーマー whose video I pulled these screenshots from. Thank you!

[madameevil]

These are just my own thoughts, I'm not here to try and prove anything is right one way or another.

"Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains."

Those two didn't come across that way to me. Elgar'nan started out as a general of the army against the Titans. He didn't relinquish the power he obtained after that because he believed the Elven people needed guidance ("stern leadership") and that his strength could protect them from future threats. Mythal agreed in the sense that they needed leader to unite their people.

Elves being, as far as we're aware, the first spirits to take on a mortal form were not aware of the potential corruption that would occur. We know this occurs when they can't fulfill their initial purpose. Through this Elgar'nan grows to be a tyrant when he's unable to abide by his initial purpose. What was his initial purpose? Hard to say. Emmrich calls him a "Manifestation of Tyranny." We'd probably have to look into exactly how the spirit corrupted to then deduce what he was prior.

Ghilan'nain was the only (?) mortal elf brought into the pantheon. She used to create living wonders. After she was brought into the pantheon, we know that she grew to be more twisted. She sought to push the boundaries of creation further. Since she was mortal first, I don't think her corruption to "villainy" is like Elgar'nan's. Given the dialogue she has with Solas in one of the memories, I interpreted her need to keep pushing as "I have to continue to prove myself." / "Prove to the others that I actually belong here." because she doesn't have the distinction of being a first-born and immortal.

Now we take these character flaws and we add a dash of blight to them...

The blight comes from the compressed anger and suffering of the titans. It's anger and corruption seeps into the individual and slowly consumes them. So the blight would them amplify any anger those two had pushing them to the extremes. With the codex entries we get featuring letters, Solas's memories with the wolf statues, or his memories in the crossroads that we play through...or even the way Elgar'nan talks to. I wouldn't put them as "evil for evil's sake" villains. I think their character flaws or corruption they faced was simply amplified by the blight. The blight they thought they could control. Which leads me to "A God's Arrogance"

"For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure."

I think the concept of "A God's Arrogance" explains this fine. They're two individuals who still view themselves as Gods. If they viewed the far more advanced ancient elves as well beneath them then modern elves or any other beings are even lower. If ancient elves were cattle, modern creatures are ants. Why would a God ever think that an ant could be a problem? Why would a God ever think that an army of ants be a problem? From a more "evil" God perspective: If that's not enough then why kill something when you can try to break them down? Why kill them when you can relish in their squirming? And better yet, this one is a pawn to the only being you actually still view as a threat. So why not make them watch you break down their piece slowly?

Now if Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain were actually Gods then perhaps they would have just stepped on the ant and moved on. But they're not. They're pretending to be Gods. They're acting how they think Gods would act. It's honestly a difficult thing to write. Writing Gods in general is hard because we're physically incapable of putting ourselves in the shoes of a being with so much power. Writing someone who is acting like how they think Gods should act and then adding in thousands of years of isolated torture and corruption, is another thing.

"they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead?"

This also relates to "A God's Arrogance." When we play through Solas's memories in the Crossroads we hear Ghilan'nain claim she can control the blight. That she is somehow stronger and can hone it into something more than just a mindless raging plague. Elgar'nan then continuously reassures her of this fact if you eavesdrop on their conversations at the golden tree thing at the start of the Crossroads. Ghilan'nain believes she can take the blight and control it to not end up with everything/everyone dead. She believes this is the next step in evolution and it's a gift to receive it from her. This isn't "Because they are evil" , to me that is a gross oversimplification of their motivations.

Whether those motivations strike you as compelling is your choice.

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

The companions do discuss it. The reason they choose not to bring it up is because of how they believe it would impact the elves and there's nothing to gain by throwing the world into further chaos than it already is. The Elves are already discriminated against, then two of their Gods emerge and cause an apocalyptic situation, so why would they then choose to add another target on their back by challenging the chantry? I agreed with the characters here. I don't think it's the right time. I would love to see this lead to a gradual change in future games though!

Whether this reasoning is enough for you, is your choice.

"We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. [...] His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. [...] His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. [...]Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?"

I think there are far more eloquent people who can talk about Solas's role in the story and his motivations. His actions seem heavily based in both The Cycle of Abuse and Survivors Guilt. These are powerful motivators. These motivators also parallel the individual companion stories.

Lucanis has suffered abuse at the hands of his grandmother and family members. Lucanis also has survivors guilt when he believes his grandmother was killed. He tries to avoid it but you hear about it in his mind prison.

Davrin has suffered from institutional abuse. He's convinced his sole purpose in life is to die now. He brings it up constantly. He also suffers from survivors guilt after Weisshaupt. You can talk to him about it when he presents to you the wood carvings of his friends who didn't survive. He even shouts out, something along the lines of "why am I still here when they're not?"

Neve has survivors guilt about what happened to Rana's partner. She talks to you about how everyone around her dies or gets hurt.

Emmrich has survivors guilt about what happened to his parents that leads into his fear of dying. If you choose not to save Manfred, he's heard crying in his room and struggling to accept it.

Bellara has survivors guilt about what happened to her brother. She blames herself for it. She hopes that she can do enough that she'll be able to forgive herself.

I think Taash's story relates to Solas's predicament in a different way. I think their theme of struggling between two worlds whether that be culturally or with their gender can relate to Solas's struggle between the ancient culture he was born into and the modern elven culture he finds himself in. Since I'm not part of the nonbinary community or diaspora community, I can't talk in detail about this from their perspective and won't try to.

With all this in mind, I do think these comparisons help place Solas as a "foil character." Solas's reaction however is DRASTICALLY different from our protagonists (plural for companions included) but also offers a contrast to Rook (our protagonist) who inherits Varric's vision.

With all that though, I don't think his purpose in the narrative is "nothing." Whether making him a foil character was what he should have been or what was desired is up to you.

As for why he wants to tear down the Veil, a lot of it is hidden in subtext. "People are always dying. It's what they do." And it's his fault they are. Solas often always speaks in riddles and literally veils the true meaning. Every time he talks to Rook there's a hidden purpose and meaning behind it. If you analyze it, which others much better at literary analysis than me have, you may find more motivation, complexity, and reasoning. I think picking apart his words adds a good amount of nuance to it as well.

"It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic."

Is that not what happened? Her death was a catalyst to spur his rebellion against the Evanuris. It's her death and service that binds him and why she's required to get the good ending. She has to release him.

"I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that."

Would have been cool, but since all that seems left of them is the blighted part and that's thoroughly severed, I don't think it would have worked. Without some possession that helps sooth the anger, it's so maddened that it's not quite coherent. I didn't really ever expect them to wake up. I did expect to learn more about them from the Descent DLC in DAI and I did get to learn a lot more! So I was satisfied with that.

"The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games."

To me the Veil was more like a key aspect of World Building. You need to know about it to understand the religions, how magic works, how spirits and possession work, etc. So it makes sense to introduce it as a concept in each game. It takes a beating in the games and we see the effects of that. So in this game, it ending with it being fully repaired. It did have a role, could it have been bigger? Sure.

"It just ends, and everything is the same. I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins."

I don't know how it is the same. Elves have to reconcile the differences between what they believed and what they now know. They've uncovered ancient artifacts and have a grasp on the Eluvians now which they certainly didn't have in Origins. The blight is forever changed with the Veil fully repaired. There's no more small leak. The Calling is implied to be gone due to this. It's implied that the blight can be cured or slowly die away instead of lingering. Which brings me to this...

"The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another.

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

It is fully repaired now though. It's reinforced. It's not us slapping duct tape on it like we did with elven relics in DAI. The ending tells us this. Now this doesn't stop people from doing what the magisters did and poking holes in it in the future, but we also don't know how Solas (and possibly Inky) presence will affect it. Will it help prevent holes? Will it help ease the blight even more? There's a lot of room to expand on these, but it'll take time for the world to change. So I expect any consequences in future games - not immediate.

"For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn."

I actually think the game had a lot of complexity and nuance just perhaps, not in the way many went in expecting. There was complexity in the companions and their stories, how it intertwined with the overarching narrative and Solas's. How grief and regret shape a person. How all the propaganda the South had been feeding us for years wasn't always accurate. It's different from "moral complexity" of previous games but if I'm being honest, I never found the previous games to be morally complex. There was a clear cut "good" option and a clear cut "bad" option. Literally some choices people gush about boils down to "Is slavery bad? Yes or No?" ... it's bad guys. It's not complex. It's bad. "Is forced imprisonment from childhood bad? Yes or No?.... yes. Imprisoning children in a tower with police brutality is bad. It's not complex. It's always been pretty black or white. The complexity typically came from the factions we interacted with. The Wardens portrayed as glorious heroes have a darker side to them. We saw it in Origins. We see it in DAI. We see it in DAV with the Griffons. This organization isn't all white. It's more of a grey.

Meanwhile the opposite occurs with the crows. We get horrendous portrayals of them in DAO, DAII, and a little bit in DAI and yet we interact with a different family and we see, no this organization isn't actually all black. It's more of a grey.

All of that is still present and emphasized in DAV. I think the game just decided not to shove it in your face like it did in other games. It's more subtle but to me it's still there.

"The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why."

I honestly don't know why they would ever utter the phrase "Veilguard" specifically and why that should be a bad thing that they don't. It would just feel like an "Avengers Assemble" moment or forced in. Further more and relating to this piece:

"I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned…"

I don't think the game was ever going to be that. You are picked by Varric. Varric who watched what the Kirkwall companions did. Who watched what happened to the Inquisition. Varric who was going to go try and stop this friend from making a mistake when he couldn't in the past. The person Varric brought on the team wasn't going to be evil. They weren't going to disagree with his vision. They weren't going to go against him. They were going to be his second in command and by into what he told them. He is after all a famous storyteller. Viewing it as Rook is an extension of Varric and tasked with carrying on Varric's role...it limits the characters available. I don't necessarily mind this, but I think it's a big reason why people go so far as to say "it's not an RPG" which is honestly just disgusting. It is an RPG. You can't call Monster Hunter or FF that have little to no story or choice impact RPGs but not this.

In addition to that and to talk about this:

"They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems…"

Which is talking about our two escaped gods again, it's just QoL for the Game. It's a game first and foremost. Would you prefer everything be on a timer? Maybe you would, but many wouldn't. Many gamers actively hate timed quests. So this isn't a narrative reason so much as a gameplay reason. They want to give you time to do the quests. The same thing happens in all the other games. "Ah god we have to get to the top of the tower! ASAP!" - yea yea hold on I have to loot all 5 of these bodies and all these crates over here and do one last glance over. OR "Oh dear the empress is going to be assassinated we have to move quickly!" - Uh huh yea I get that but let me spend about 10 more hours in the Hinterlands trying to kill this fucking dragon. Not ever decision in the game is a narrative one. This one isn't.

How does this relate to the choice of the Veil coming down or staying up? This was never going to be a choice. The impact it would have would be too drastically different that there'd be no way to reconcile it in future games. You'd have to make two completely different games for that choice. So they were going to choose one or the other. In the end they chose this. Would the opposite have been cool? Maybe! Or it could have been the end of the world like that one proposed ending in the Artbook where everything is obliterated. I mean people are already pissed that "their world state is destroyed in the south" imagine the outcry if the whole world was wiped with the veil coming down. There just doesn't seem a good way to make this work for everyone or keep it a choice. Unfortunately.

Now that that's all done. These are just my thoughts and how I interpreted it. Part of the beauty of art and games by extension is that they should be open to multiple interpretations. There should be discussions surrounding the narrative that aren't just masked bigotry. And with that, Ima log off Tumblr since this too me way to long...and no I'm not going to reread it to make sure it's coherent. Ima just send it.

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

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

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

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

Alas, no. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I digress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[myownwholewildworld]

A DARK SUMMON ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: Joel is a man with dark urges, ones that only you can satisfy. a/n: eeeeeek! 👀 Secret Santa 2024 is here!!! thank you so much to @pedrostories for organising #pedrostoriesgift24, i had a blast and i can’t wait to see what other people have come up with! this is my gift to @huntingingoodwill! AHHHH, HI THERE! Carmen i hope you like it sweetheart!!! 🥹 tried mixing the dark/ddde element with a stroke of brat taming, hope i've done it justice! merry Christmas to those celebrating!!! love y’all <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. noncon/CNC. ending with a twist. mind the age gap. brat taming!joel. pet names (sugar, sweetheart, kiddo, kitten). mouth fucking/oral (m! receiving). cum eating. fingering. dacryphilia. orgasm denial. boot humping. a bit of anal play. pussy pronouns. pussy spanking. one account of a face slap. mention of voyeurism. slut shaming. tight squeeze sex position. unprotected piv. reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair up in a ponytail. dual pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~4.1k. divider by @cafekitsune

“On the count of three, I’ll let you go. If you escape, then you’re free,” Joel groaned behind you, his teeth sinking in the bare skin of your left shoulder. “But if I catch you… I’ll fuck you.”

His voice was a low threat that left goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your survival instinct flaring alive like flames rekindled by a gust of wind. All the muscles in your body contracted, anticipating the chase you would have to endure to flee.

Your heart was pounding so hard, you almost missed his next words.

“And believe me, I ain’t holding back if I get my hands on you,” such dark promise dripped from his lips, your heart twisting inside your ribcage.

Joel slowly untied your wrists, uncomfortably resting on your back, taking his time. He yanked at the rope and your hands slammed against his swollen bulge, an animalistic growl tearing his throat.

You swallowed, eyeing the open door in front of you and planning your escape route. Joel kept on tugging at the thick cord to free you from his grasp, your hands unwillingly brushing the tent on his worn jeans.

Then the hemp string completely loosened up, the tingling sensation in your fingers slowly fading away.

The tethers keeping you bound were quickly replaced by Joel’s hands, his meaty fingers wrapping around your wrists to keep you in place. The bastard pulled at your right hand, forcing your palm open to rub his covered erection.

Making a decided effort to ignore him, how he used you to get off, your eyes fixed on the door, your face expression a blank canvas. You knew better than showing him fear.

“One,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Two,” Joel continued to count out loud.

Your whole being automatically entered fight-or-flight mode, your breathing quicker and shallower as your heartbeat burst in your eardrums painfully. Your chest raised and then sunk in quick succession, the oxygen barely reaching your brain.

If you got to the door and ran for your life, you were almost sure you could lose him in the tangled maze of the abandoned mall. As he dragged you across the shopping center earlier, your mind recorded every single detail that could get you out of here. A few turns, down a corridor, some stairs, then straight ahead before another turn ― that was the closest fire exit.

You were so focused on running away, there was little room for any other feeling. If you let panic paralyse you, then he would win. And you were a bitter loser, especially if your integrity was at stake.

“Three.”

As soon as Joel took a step back, you lurched for a second, like a baby deer dazed by headlights. It only took your legs a moment to ground you ― then you lunged forward, almost falling face first, and ran towards the door. Grabbing the frame, you did a hard turn and sprinted as fast as your legs could take you.

Lungs burning and brimming with tears now, you sped up looking for that exit you saw on your way here. But keeping a cool mind while reality settled in was a hard task ― so much so you had lost track of how many turns you had taken.

“Shit, no,” you mumbled with a trembling little voice. “No, no, no,” you chanted, your throat clamping down.

Stopping, you scanned your surroundings, not recognising any of the untidy window displays. You paced around, trying to decide where to go, how the fuck to get out.

“Ready or not, here I come, kiddo,” Joel yelled, his voice not as far away as you would have liked.

You froze in place, weighing your options. Your hands were now shaking, the thrill of the chase giving you a burst of adrenaline but also clouding your mind.

Knees almost giving way, you saw the store to your right and decided your best option was waiting him out. He would tire, assume you had been able to run away. Didn’t matter if you had to stay put for hours, Joel would eventually stop looking. So, you ran inside, only to realise that it was a homeware shop.

It was pretty much run down, all decorations spilt everywhere in disarray. There were fake ghosts and corpses hanging from the ceiling, and you were sure the spiderwebs were not part of the décor. There were also some Santa toys laying around, candy canes and a decrepit nativity scene. Some orange lights flickered at the bottom of the store, giving the whole space a very eerie appearance. It was obvious that when the world went to shit, this shop was in the middle of selling all the Halloween décor, and transitioning into Christmas time.

You hesitated, but there was no time to choose another hideout. Booted steps approached, the heaviness of his footfall echoing in the distance. If the way your skin bristled was any indication, you knew Joel was close. Too close.

Almost tumbling, you circled the counter and ducked. There was a big, spacious cabinet underneath with the doors almost off the hinges. It was stuffed with macabre toys and plushies, but those didn’t deter you. Pushing them aside to make room, you wiggled inside, hoping Joel would never find you here.

As you shut the doors, darkness surrounded you. It was pitch-black inside, almost suffocating ― the blackness combined with the claustrophobia hastened the rush of blood through your veins.

No, too dark ― too damn dark. You poked at the door slightly, leaving it ajar so a sliver of light filtered in.

You drew in a big breath in an attempt to soothe your racing heart. Swallowed the knot in your throat too and curled your hands into fists to control the tremor.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back, your head resting against the back of the cabinet.

Then you heard him.

“Come out and play, you little brat,” Joel mocked you as he sauntered towards the counter. “You’re just postponing the inevitable, sweetheart.”

He had seen you go into this shop, so now only needed to find out your hiding place. Joel had already looked through the obvious spots and had come up empty. He was starting to consider he might have seen wrong, but your rugged breathing gave you away as soon as he walked around the cash register.

A grin curled the corners of his mouth, noticing the slightly ajar door underneath the worktop ― your little, sharp breaths filtering through the crack.

Like any other predator, he knew his prey very well ― you. Joel was completely sure that, right about now, your heart would be wildly beating in your chest, hearing him so close. You could probably see the tip of his boots too, your pulse quickening.

The thought of you all panicky and sweaty stirred something dark within him ― something lustful. So much so, his erection only got harder even though he had already worked himself up with the groping of your hand on his bulge. It felt uncomfortable really, how his shaft rubbed against the zipper, his pubic hairs catching in the chain.

With a low growl, he slipped one hand in his jeans to rearrange his cock, to ease the pain. Squeezing his throbbing dick between his fingers, Joel hissed at how sensitive the wet head was.

It was just a brief, feeble attempt to satiate his vice for you. Only fucking you would relieve him.

“Where are ya?” he mumbled, lightly poking at the cabinet’s door with the tip of his boot, dragging out the moment.

Joel heard you whimper, a hummed bleat that ignited the fire in his groin.

Not being able to resist the call of your cries any longer, he crouched down and swung the doors open.

Your teary, widened eyes greeted him, just as if he had arrived at the gates of his own personal heaven. You were tucked away, your back pressing onto the melamine sheet, as you cowered into the corner.

“Hi there, sugar,” he grinned, head tilted.

As soon as his strong, broad hand wrapped around one of your ankles, you started kicking and screaming, his cock twitching in response. Careful not to be in the receiving end of your strikes, he pulled you out while you put up an admirable fight. You clawed at whatever you could find, all the grisly plushies and toys spilling out of the cabinet.

“No! Let me go! STOP!” you yelled, a messy tangle of limbs kicking everywhere to free yourself from his grasp.

With your belly flat on the tiled floor, Joel yanked at your ponytail until your back arched uncomfortably, his lips trailing your jugular as he straddled the back of your waist.

“Yeah, fight back, kitten,” he grumbled in your ear, releasing his purchase on your hair.

Your head collapsed on the floor, your little sobs unleashing the beast within him. Grabbing your arms so you would cease in your futile escaping attempt, he shoved your limbs under his knees, pinning you down completely.

You wiggled under him, a begging mess as you tried to kick him off you.

“Please, Joel, don’t do this,” you pleaded, the swaying of your hips under him only enlivening his cock even more.

“That’s not what you were telling the other guy last night, were you?” he scolded you, unbuckling his belt and tugging at it in one clean sweep that took it off the loops on his jeans. “Hm? When you were making out with him in that alley, with your tiny hand buried in his pants and jerking him off. If he could have his share, so can I.”

He moved his knees just enough to liberate your arms, pressing your wrists onto the small of your back as he forcefully tied them up again, this time with his belt.

“Joel, I wasn’t―”

“Oh, yeah, you fucking were, sugar. You saw me standing there, watching, and you didn’t stop. Did you?” he groaned, ensuring the belt was as tight as possible around your wrists. “It actually made you wetter, I just know. Just like you probably are now.”

You wailed, words incoherent as you kept on mumbling and fighting back. Your resistance was an irresistible call for him, one that could not be ignored. Your sobs were a dark summon, the twisted side of him revelling in what was to come.

Joel slithered down your body, sitting on your calves with his knees on either side of you and then pulled your jeans and panties down unceremoniously, yanking at them eagerly. You choked on your tears, your tied hands trying to cover your exposed ass and the sweet dripping nook between your thighs.

Joel slapped your hands away, growling at you for denying him such a view. He held on to your wrists with the span of one hand, pressing them on the small of your back.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he grumbled with an obscure need.

His right hand glided down the swell of your butt cheeks until his ring and middle fingers pried your pussy lips open. Dragging the pads along your damp, velvety seam drove him fucking mad.

“You’re such a slut, sugar,” he rejoiced, forcing his fingers in your dripping hole down to the knuckles. The sucking sound coming from your entrance made his mind spiral out of control. “So fucking wet, you’re enjoying this, aren’t ya?”

He pulled his fingers out, then back in harshly. You whimpered, the running tears ruining your eyeliner.

“I AM NOT! Stop, you motherfucker!” You screamed, writhing under Joel in an attempt to get him off you. “I fucking hate your guts!”

Your pitiful, pathetic sobs grew louder as Joel fingered you like a man possessed, your cunt leaking everywhere. Your inner walls clutched around his fingers involuntarily, the warmth inside your pussy skyrocketing.

Joel was mad with lust, his throbbing cock strained in his jeans. He released your hands to release his dick from the prison of his clothing and started to fist himself at the same pace his fingers sank into you.

“Your mouth says no, but your sweet little pussy is begging for me, you little fuck toy,” he growled, his nuts feeling heavy with every pump he imposed on you and himself. “My fuck toy.”

Feeling your climax building up, your reddened cunt sheathing his digits greedily and palpitating now, Joel slid the fingers out of your seeping opening. You began crying audibly now, your orgasm being denied and fading into oblivion. But Joel knew you wouldn’t beg him to let you finish, you proud little thing. At least not yet.

He smiled, jerking himself off with your slick, buttering his pearly glans with your arousal.

“Keep cryin’, sugar, no one’s coming to help ya,” he mumbled, eyelids heavy as he traced the fold of your ass with the tip of his thudding cock.

It hitched in your unprepared tight ring, and he didn’t hesitate to push in slightly.

You snarled like a wild animal, kicking again and screaming in pain as his mushroom head found refuge in your rimmed hole. It was so fucking tight inside, suffocating even, Joel felt his glans pulsating.

“Being the whore that you are, I know that your pussy has been worked open several times, but what about your ass, hm?” he teased you, tip buried in your―hopefully―virgin ass.

“You piece of shit!” you shrieked.

Joel cackled, head snapping back at your retort. Then tutted at you, pulling out of your apparently forbidden hole. He almost felt sorry for you, but one glance at your pussy was all he needed to have his attention redirected.

“Alright, alright, sugar. In your pussy then,” he conceded, feeling benevolent. “I know she’s greedy for some cock, isn’t she?”

Joel swiped his glans clean with your panties, then grabbed a few of the plush toys and teddy bears that had spilt from the cabinet. He shoved them under your waist to prop your perky ass up, giving him better access to your slit.

“There she is, look at her go. Your hole is clenching, sugar, I can see her. She’s mouthing for something to keep her quiet,” he mumbled, almost sweetly, before his thumb found your unattended, glistening clit. Joel pressed circles onto your bundle of nerves lazily, your little cries transforming into wanton hiccups. “She’s so needy, leaking everywhere. I’mma give her what she needs, I’m that altruistic.”

His thumb broke contact with your melting clit, then Joel aligned his cock with the opening in your cunt and buried himself in one harsh thrust, down to the hilt. You cried again, your hands holding onto the hem of his tee shirt. Joel leaned down on you, placing his elbows to either side of your head, but most of his weight rested on you ― suffocating, omnipresent above you.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his hard cock pulsing inside you, so Joel began railing you as if the world was ending. Jackhammering into you, he glued you to the floor, his balls slapping your clit with every pump.

Joel kissed your neck as you stilled under him with no fight left within you.

“Has my sweet little fuck toy finally broken?” he taunted you with a smirk.

You said nothing in reply, not wanting to inflate his ego any more.

A teddy bunny with crosses for eyes stared at you as Joel drilled into you, your body rocking back and forth beneath him with the force of every potent thrust. He was growing harder and warmer inside you, if that was even possible, because you already felt full to the fucking brim. The noises coming from where you were joint like mating dogs sounded obscene, squelching and wet. Sinful.

Your body betrayed you, your pussy squeezing his beating dick tight, as if she didn’t want to let him go. Joel’s nuts would bounce against your clit, adding another layer to it all, breaking your resolution. But you managed to keep your lips sealed shut, your bottom one trembling with effort.

He began pulsing, his girth stretching your burning walls further apart as if they were putty. The way you would mould around him, hugging him tight ― it felt damn wrong. Deliciously wrong. How his flushed cockhead dragged along the soft spot along your anterior wall drove you fucking insane, but still you did not whimper aloud ― would never give him that satisfaction.

And then, suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and on the tipping edge of another orgasm.

“Joel, p-pl-please…” you sobbed quietly, ashamedly.

“Please what, sugar?”

You hated him for making you beg, but your cunt was drenched and throbbing ― your climax had been snatched away from you twice now, leaving you hanging on a precipice that was making you feel lightheaded.

You fought with your mind, not wanting to come but needing to.

Instead of answering, you sobbed through pursed lips, forehead resting on the tiled floor underneath you. Then Joel spanked your swollen pussy lips once and you wailed, the sudden sting flourishing into something else.

“Count out loud,” he ordered.

When his palm landed on your cunt again, your hips bucked up with equal parts of pain and pleasure.

“Two,” you whispered breathless.

His palm fell hard on your puffy skin, and you whimpered, tears welling up.

“Three,” another spank, another wail. “F-f-f-f-f-four…” you stuttered, tears falling off the cliffs of your cheeks.

The last slap was stronger than the others, foully resonating between the walls of the Halloween shop. It stung real bad, but then…

“FIVE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably, your pussy gushing as she had never before, and the biggest wave of your life washed over you like a tsunami. The burning sensation flowed up your spine, waking up all your nerve endings, and down your legs curling your toes. Your eyes had rolled to the back of your head, and you were drooling all over the floor, breathing heavily, still trembling under Joel’s watchful gaze.

You would never admit to him that it had been the best orgasm of your life.

Joel rubbed his palm against your sensitive cunt, soothing the harshness of his spanks. Then crouched down to press a few delicate kisses on your bulgy pussy lips, his broad hands coaxing your ass cheeks apart for better access.

His tongue flicked and buried in your wet slit, the tip sweeping from your tender clit to your fucked-out hole, collecting the cream of your arousal in his mouth. His warm breath felt like a balm, your entrance squeezing with unwanted pleasure when he suckled on your clit again. Being eaten out from behind short-circuited your brain, slick heat pooling in your clit again.

Unwillingly, you grinded your cunt on his mouth, chasing another high, silently whimpering. Joel laughed, mouth still on your pussy with hot puffs of air fanning your damp fold.

“What a good little slut you are. But we need to work on your manners, you should be thanking me,” he hummed. “My turn to come.”

Joel came off you, turning you around on the floor so you were facing up. Another denied orgasm and you were close to losing your shit, but you kept the façade from tumbling down.

Then he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to sit up, and pushed your back against the cabinet you had previously hid in. He grounded each foot to either side of you, his cock at your eye level.

“Say ahhh for me, sugar,” he asked darkly, his hand holding your chin.

Looking up at him, your eyes glassy, you shook your head no, pursing your lips together to keep your mouth shut.

“Playing hard to get now, hmm, kiddo?” Joel chuckled, rubbing his slick glans on your lips. “I know you love to suck cock, you little bitch. Don’t deny it.”

The tip of his dick breached your lips and swiped along your clenched teeth, but you didn’t budge. That was until he slapped you, which made you open your mouth automatically. With no free will left in you, you let him slot his throbbing cock between your lips and down your throat.

“If you use your teeth, I’ll break your jaw. Understood?”

Doe-eyed, you glanced up at him innocently and nodded with his dick buried in your mouth.

“Good girl, I’m sure you can take it like a champ,” he chortled.

He held onto the edge of the counter and began rocking his hips back and forth, first gently. You hollowed your cheeks and let him use your mouth as he pleased, the pulsing glans caressing your palate and then your uvula. Lips sealed shut around his girth, you made sure your teeth wouldn’t graze his skin ― your crimsoned cheek still burnt.

Towering above you, Joel moaned, head tilted back and knuckles white. The rhythm of his hips started picking up a relentless pace, his mushroom head breaching your uvula and making you gag while saliva and precum pooled in your mouth, dripping off the corners and landing on your breasts.

It didn’t matter how much you retched, it didn’t stop him whatsoever ― the gurgling sounds just spurred him on even more. Joel fucked your mouth harshly, burying himself as further down as possible, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust. The back of your head banged the cabinet door repeatedly as you fought for air to reach your lungs.

With your hands tied to your back, there wasn't much you could do about the growing ache in the pebbled nub between your thighs. Unconsciously, you rubbed your knees together, aiming for the orgasm you had been denied.

Joel noticed your efforts and felt pity for you. His poor little thing throbbing, pussy used and crying for some more. Feeling generous, he moved one foot between your legs, the tip of his boot notching your bundle of nerves just right ― and that was your cue to tilt your hips absentmindedly, humping his boot while you moaned around his veiny shaft.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate, sugar,” he pressed his boot further into your seam, and you wailed in response. “Should be ashamed of yourself, you fucking brat. Like being used like this, don't ya?”

His degradation, along with your incessant rubbing, was your undoing. Your hole clenched around nothing and a massive bubble of thick slick came down your narrow cavity, wetting the tip of his boot with your white cream, as you climaxed ― cunt pulsing and squeezing uncontrollably.

At the sight of you orgasming, Joel finally came in your mouth with a guttural groan, pinning you against the cabinet, dick pulsing maddingly on your tongue as the white ropes of his hot cum filled up your wet cavity, almost choking you.

Joel looked down at you with a satisfied grin and swept some tears away with his thumb, his cock still plugging your lips.

“You’ve done well for me, kiddo. You haven’t thrown up,” his praise made your eyes perk up, fixed on his brown ones. “As messy as you look right now, you look beautiful with my dick in your mouth.”

He pulled back, freeing your mouth. Before you could spit out his spent, Joel pinched your nose and sealed your mouth with the palm of his hand, forcing you to swallow. So you did.

Tucking away his cock, he then helped you up, veered you around in his arms, and untied your hands, restoring your circulation. As Joel put the belt back on, your pulled up your panties and jeans, then stirred around to face him.

A smile crept up on your face, curling the corners of your mouth.

Joel reciprocated, his sideways smirk making your heart jolt. He bowed down to kiss you, tasting himself in your mouth.

“I love it when you unleash this side of you, when you get rough like this,” you whispered cheekily against his lips. “We should do this more often.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head with fake disapproval, and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You’re such a good actress. There was a point where I almost believed you, sweetheart,” he admitted, and it was your turn to laugh.

“Was that when I used the safe words?” you taunted, and he nodded.

“Yeah, sorry I got carried away. But you know how much I would love to be the first one to fuck your ass, baby,” he pleaded with you, his hands gently resting on the small of your back.

“Maybe next time and with a bit more prep. But only if you behave,” you promised him, kissing him again.

“I always behave, sugar.”

[jburrgf]

About You I — The Love Trope Series.

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship! reader

◦summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦description: you and joe had a thing months before, but the things ended in a bad way. now, you see yourself stuck in something that requires you to be close to him every single day.

◦playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART ONE: CLEAN.

There are certain moments in life that seem impossible to forget. The second I walked onto LSU’s campus, I knew my life was about to change. But not just because of the classes, the social scene, or the crazy football culture.

When I started in LSU, it was supposed to be a clean slate. A chance to focus on my career path and prove to myself that I could thrive in a bigger pond, surrounded by people just as driven as me. Advertising and Public Relations wasn’t just a degree—it was a strategy. A way to blend my creative instincts with a business-minded edge.

What I didn’t expect was LSU’s football program to be the centerpiece of everything.

LSU football wasn’t just a sport. It was culture, identity, and religion rolled into one. By my second semester, I was interning with the athletic department, brainstorming marketing campaigns and filming promos for the team. I was good at what I did—so good that I convinced myself it didn’t bother me when my work bled into my personal life.

Everything started to go wrong when I met him. Tall, blond, American aesthetic, and so, but so kind. That was Joe Burrow, the youngest transferred from Ohio State to the south. New just like me.

Joe was Joe —calm, collected, and infuriatingly charming. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other players, but the air shifted when he walked into a room. Everyone noticed him. And the first time we crossed paths, I did too.

We met my junior year at a party, back when he was just Joe—a talented quarterback with a quiet intensity and a way of looking at you like he could see straight through every mask you’d ever worn. I hadn’t planned on noticing him, but it was impossible not to.

And since then, I'm haunted by his face, his smile, his smell, his body. Every little thing that made him Joe, it was inside my head like a bad song that you can’t stop singing. I didn’t want that, not in the beginning.

And now, I'm running from him like the plague. Every place he might be, I'm not going. Every little encounter or party, or dinner, or what else, I wasn’t going.

It was a party I didn’t want to go to. Maddie had been bothering me for weeks to go to this party, and honestly, I didn't feel like going. Simply no desire.

"I'm serious, Y/N. You work too hard," Maddie, my best friend at LSU, said to me. We had just left one of our classes together, and were walking around the campus, heading towards Maddie's car. "You're missing the entire college experience."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m here to build my career, not get drunk at frat houses.”

“Even Beyoncé has to relax,” she shot back. “I’m picking you up at eight, tomorro, no excuses. But now, we’re going to Malone’s.”

[…]

I didn’t want to be here.

Malone’s was Maddie’s favorite spot, a college-town bar where everyone gathered on weekends to drink, laugh, and pretend their responsibilities didn’t exist. It was the kind of place where the sticky floors were part of the charm, and you couldn’t walk two feet without bumping into someone you knew. Normally, I’d avoid it like the plague—especially on a night like tonight, when Maddie’s sole mission was to convince me to go to that stupid party tomorrow.

“You’re being dramatic,” Maddie said as I slid into the booth across from her, the sound of the bar’s chatter and faint music drowning out half her words. “It’s just one party. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I rolled my eyes, pulling my coat tighter around me despite the warmth of the bar. “You say that like you don’t know me. I don’t do frat parties, Maddie. I don’t want to spend my Saturday night elbow-to-elbow with drunk people I barely know.”

“That’s the fun of it,” she countered, her grin far too smug for my liking.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, reaching for the drink she’d already ordered for me.

“I’m persistent,” she corrected. “And don’t think I didn't notice that you didn’t actually say no.”

I groaned, leaning back in the booth. Maddie had been trying to drag me to this party for days, claiming it was some can’t-miss event that would somehow make my life infinitely better. I wasn’t convinced, but I’d stopped arguing because, frankly, I didn’t have the energy.

I was checking on the bar from above my shoulders when It happened.

Joe Burrow.

The last person I ever expected to see here, especially tonight.

My chest tightened the moment I spotted him standing by the dartboard, his tall frame impossible to miss, his blond hair was slightly disheveled, and the faint scruff on his jaw made him look older than he had when we’d last spoken. Joe was dressed casually, jeans and a hoodie, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, and was laughing at something one of his friends said, the sound cutting through the low hum of the bar like a knife.It wasn’t just the way he carried himself or the fact that he was Joe Burrow—LSU’s star quarterback—but the way my body reacted, as if it had its own memory of him.

I hadn’t seen him in months—not since we’d ended things without really ending them. And now, seeing him here, so casually present in my space, felt like a slap to the face. Work Out from J Cole was playing, and everything felt like a movie scene.

It wasn’t like we had history. At least not in the way most people assumed. We barely knew each other. But there had been that one night at a party a while back, and another one after a game, and another one at our friends house, and another one… and the tension between us had never fully died down. I could still remember the way his eyes had felt on me, like he was measuring me in some silent way I didn’t know how to interpret.

“Y/N.” Maddie’s voice snapped me out of my daze. She followed my line of sight and groaned. “Oh no.”

I shook my head, panic setting in. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t even know if he saw you.”

“I’m not sticking around to find out,” I said, already sliding out of the booth.

“Y/N—”

But I was gone, weaving through the crowd toward the back hallway where the bathrooms were. I needed to breathe, to get away from the overwhelming weight of his presence.

The bathroom at Malone’s was about as glamorous as you’d expect—a narrow space with flickering fluorescent lights and graffiti scrawled across the stalls. I locked myself in one of the stalls, leaning back against the door as I tried to steady my breathing.

Of all the places to run into Joe, it had to be here.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about him. I had—more than I cared to admit. But thinking about him was one thing. Seeing him, knowing he was just a few feet away, was something else entirely.

I couldn’t face him. Not now, not here.

The bathroom was quiet, the kind of eerie stillness that felt out of place in the chaos of Malone’s. I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the smudged mirror.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath.

I didn’t even know why I was reacting like this. It wasn’t like we were still together. We weren’t anything anymore. And yet, the sight of him had thrown me completely off balance, dredging up feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago.

But I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, either.

I opened the bathroom door and nearly walked straight into him.

Joe was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed squarely on me.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and steady, a hint of amusement curling at the edges.

Nope.

Without a second thought, I ducked back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I paced the small space, my mind racing. He’d seen me, which meant he was waiting for me. I couldn’t hide in here forever, but the thought of facing him felt impossible.

Eventually, I forced myself to take a deep breath and opened the door again.

Joe was gone.

Relief flooded through me as I stepped out into the hallway, my eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of him. But instead of Joe, my attention was drawn to a small slip of paper pinned to the corkboard on the wall next to the bathroom.

It wasn’t there before.

Curious, I stepped closer and pulled it free. The handwriting was unmistakable—slanted and bold, with a certain sharpness to the letters that felt uniquely him.

“Go to the party tomorrow. Please.”

I stared at the note, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

My fingers tightened around the paper as Maddie appeared at the end of the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the note.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shoving it into my pocket.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Ready to head back? I don’t think Joe’s here anymore.”

I nodded, though my mind was miles away.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I would go. Maybe I wouldn’t.

But one thing was for sure: Joe Burrow had just made sure I wouldn’t forget this night.

——————————————

part 2: About You II (The Love Trope Series) — Friend.

hey guys! this is the beginning of my Love Tropes Series. The first part, About You, it’s going to be launched in four parts! stay tuned :)

[enhaeil]

NITE AND DAY! ☆ 엔하이픈

"i can tell you how i feel about you, nite and day."

nite and day - al b. sure

ENHYPEN AT A COOKOUT!

c/w: implied black reader... but i mean, anybody can read ig!

heeseung

"baby i'm so nervous to meet your family. i mean what if they hate my gifts? what if they hate me? do i stink?-"

you cut him off, laughing at his nerves. "hee, my momma already loves you, so you're one step ahead. and for the record, you don't stink. you smell like me."

"not my fault. i can't keep you off of me." he says smuggly.

you roll your eyes playfully before opening your car door. "last time i checked it was you who couldn't stay off of me, mr. made-us-late." you say as you walk up the stairs to your porch. you look behind you and notice heeseung still nervously standing in front of the house.

"heeseung, get your ass in this house!"

jay

your family decided it was about time they hosted a family reunion. it would be the first family event since you and jay got married, so you thought it'd be a good idea to go.

you finish ironing the reunion shirts and throw yours on, handing jay his. you turn around in the mirror to look at where it shows your now shared last name on the back.

"mr. and mrs. park huh? who would've thought!" he says, wrapping a hand around your waist. he leans down to press a kiss on your lips before you guys head out for the busy day.

you finally arrive at the house and are immediately bombarded with family. jay feels a little awkward at first, but once the family starts giving out hugs, he's in.

you run inside to help your mom prepare some food real quick and leave jay with your brothers.

"excuse me," he feels a small hand tug on his pants. "who are you?"

he looks down at the voice and notices a small child, presumably your niece. he crouches down to her height. "well, i'm your uncle jay."

"hi uncle jay. do you want to play dollies with us?" how could jay say no to such a cute face?

by the time you come back out, jay is standing by the grill with a 'kiss the chef' apron on. you dont hesitate to make your way over there and give him a smooch.

"looks you're fitting right in baby." you say as you wipe some sweat off his forehead with a cloth.

jake

you left for 3 minutes, and you come back out to your boyfriend jake being tackled by all your little cousins.

you rush over there to save him, yanking the little ones off one by one and helping him up off the grass.

"jakey. mind explaining what happened?" you giggle, dusting grass out of his hair.

"it started off as one. then two. then the whole stampede came running towards me. they really love their uncle jake!" he says, catching his breath.

you drag him towards the food table, fixing his plate as he takes a breather. "here, you've probably worked up an appetite."

he wastes no time chowing down. he finishes his food quickly, holding his stomach as he leans back.

"you know what this experience has made me realize, y/n?" he says casually. you hum, waiting for him to continue.

"i'm ready to have a baby." you almost choke on your potato salad.

"a baby, jake? i mean,... sure, but at least put a ring on me first!"

"i'm already one step ahead of you, babe."

sunghoon

sunghoon is usually reserved and to himself around new people. however, your family has seemed to turn him into a new man.

you're flipping some meat on the grill before you feel your mans presence behind you. he wraps his arms around your waist, swaying you to the beat of the music playing.

"hi, hoonie. what's up?" you say as place your hand over his.

"i was thinking. we should take your little cousins ice skating one day." he presses a soft kiss against your check.

"you think so? what, you wanna show off your skills?" he chuckles and nods his head.

"of course and i think it'll-" he starts before he's cut off.

"aye hoon!!! come over here for a round of dominos."

"gotta go, baby, your cousins are about to teach me how to play their version of dominos!!" he says, running off like an excited kid.

sunoo

sunoo wanted to make the best impression on your family, so for the potluck, he decided to make dishes from his culture.

you watched your boyfriend as he slaved over the stove to whip up some samgyeopsal and tteok, making sure they taste perfect.

you can't help but go up to him and kiss his cheek. "it's so cute how hard you're working, noo. they're gonna love whatever you make."

"i sure hope so. i mean, y/n. these are my future in-laws we're talking about here. i refuse to be known as the brother in law who can't even boil water!"

"that will never happen! and if it does, i'll cook something, and we can say you did it." you giggle.

jungwon

jungwon had never been to a cookout before. actually, he's never been to a black cookout. man was so excited he slept next to his outfit instead of you.

you sit by the coolers as you watch jungwon mingle with your uncles. before he comes jogging back to you.

"hi won, you hungry?" you say, standing up to hug him. he presses a kiss onto your cheek before replying. "yes, let's eat!"

you fix jungwon's plate and you guys sit down and eat together. the moment he takes that first bite you swear you see his eyes light up.

"y/n. baby." he says, one cheek stuffed with chicken. you hum in return.

"i think i just fell in love."

jungwon definitely returned for seconds and a to-go plate.

niki

you were home for college and decided to bring your boyfriend back with you. every spring, your family held a reunion, and niki decided to tag along.

"are you sure i'm not invading, y/n? i mean, it's a family reunion." he says, watching you do your makeup in the mirror.

"no nik, you're good, i promise. as long as you're with me, you're family."

that afternoon, you guys arrive at the park where it was being held and make your way to the picnic area.

everyone greets you and niki as the party starts to kick off.

niki is awkward, and he doesn't know what to do at first until some of your male relatives drag him away.

by the time you see riki again, it's as if he's a different person. "y/n, baby!! come here and dance with me" he says, holding on to your waist as y'all "step in the name of love."

what does he even know about that?

[cheriladycl01]

I’m part of nature right? Photograph me! - Zhou Guanyu x Photographer! Reader

Plot: You’re a nature photographer… but end up at an F1 race?

You’d worked for the national geographic since you could remember. It started with you submitting a picture you took, age 10 on your first camera for the CountryFile Calendar. Then you’re parents helped you make an account online where you posted all your ‘professional’ pictures on. And then you went to university and managed to get an internship with the national geographic where you’d worked your way up ever since.

You’d always loved nature so being able to travel all the time for your job around the world to see what it had to offer was your favourite thing.

You’d been in Japan for about a year covering Fuji and an upcoming documentary, getting loads of content while exploring the country for all it had to offer and making tons of local friends.

One of those local friends was a fellow photographer and invited to an F1 race which was where he took his pictures.

You’d agreed to come after seeing the expensive and once in a lifetime paddock tickets being flashed in front of your face before prepping your camera and everything you might need.

You didn’t know what to expect.

“Lots of car noises, lots of people, it’s hard to get the pictures especially of the drivers as they’re constantly on the move. And the cars … they’re even harder to get” the friend says as he starts to take picture of a driver in orange who’s walking away in his race suit towards the mechanics in the garage.

“Yeah I can tell it’s so different yet so similar to nature in a weird way” you grin.

Yes, there was hours that you were waiting with just the whisps of wind around you and little scurries of feet or tails going through the grass until there were fights between Stags on a cliff. Or a baby monkey peaking out from behind his mother. Which here, amongst all the chaos you were waiting for the one moment … the opposite yet the same.

And do you did. You waited getting the perfect shots of some of the drivers. One that took you most by surprise was Zhou Guanyu in the Neon Green and Black racing suit that matched his car.

“Who’s that?” You ask the friend who looks away from his camera lens pointed towards one of the garages.

“Mmmm he’s the Chinese driver for Sauber. Or Stake. They have a really long ass name so it’s kinda confusing but his name is Zhou Guanyu” he offers looking at where you’re concentrated on.

“I like his helmet. It has cute little animals on it!” You grin having taking a picture of the helmet held down by his leg rather than the driver himself.

Once it came to the actual race you spent lots of time trying to fix your settings to fit the car. There was so much going on that you could get and you didn’t really know where to start and what to have your lens focus on. It was incredibly overwhelming.

You got some good pictures, some even encapsulating your love on nature in them. Using the cherry blossom around the track.

You were looking around the paddock for your friend who you’d come with, camera held against your chest the neck strap holding most of the weight.

As you pause in the middle of the busy walkway to look around for anything familiar you hear a voice shout to you.

“Hey! Watch out!” The voice says, and at first you didn’t register that they were talking to you, until you were pulled to one side.

You look just where you were stood to see a driver go zooming past on a scooter. No regard for anything other than their destination.

“You’ve got to be careful it’s busy here” the same voice says and it’s the first time you look up at them.

It was the guy you’d noticed earlier except now he wasn’t in his green and black race suit. He was actually really fashionable, your fingers twitched on instinct at your camera. Whenever you saw something pretty you had to take a picture and right now he read the prettiest thing around.

“Are you okay?” He asks at your silence.

“Erm, yes sorry I - it was my fault I was looking for my friend and I think I got a little lost. It’s my first time taking pictures at a race, you see I’m usuallya photographer in nature. But I’ve been living in Japan for a while now and this friend asked me to come here to Suzuka with him as he takes pictures of the cars and … now I’m rambling and you probably don’t care” you smile awkwardly at the man in front of you who wears a grin.

“It’s okay, keep talking. I could listen to you all day, you have a pretty voice” he smirks and when you look at his whole face your brain sort of short circuits.

God he was pretty.

“I erm, well did you want to see the pictures I took! I think I got one of your car. But erm I didn’t get many because I had this spot and was taking pictures of the cars with the cherry blossom, see look at this red car, I think that’s the Ferrari right?” You ask showing him the picture of the red car surrounded by the cherry blossom you’d found. “But you’re car colours didn’t really look great with the light pink, but I got some really cool pics of you when it started to rain see!” You smile showing him the picture you’d got.

“Woah these are really cool! You said you photographed nature?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“Oh yeah! I work for the national geographic, it’s like a ma-“ you start but he just laughs.

“I’m… familiar with the national geographic, that’s pretty impressive” he grins and you blush forgetting that you’d worked for a big international company and not a small niche side shop in Manchester anymore.

“Oh, right yeah of course you are!” You stutter awkwardly.

“You know I’m part of nature why don’t you photograph me?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Actually, I’d love too, right now where the sun is setting it’s getting the perfect sheen across your eyes and then the backdrop of the track is super cool and with this lens it will come out super clear and… sorry” you say looking down and he just laughs.

“Go on take the picture” he prompts making you grin and take a careful step back, making sure you aren’t in the way. You snap a few pictures of him, he seems to naturally look good on camera. It was actually like the camera was secretly drawn to him.

“Maybe we could grab a coffee and you can show me round your favourite places in Japan while you show me your photos?” He asks confidently and your brain malfunctions once again, as you’re about to snap the last picture.

Was this guy asking you on a date? You couldn’t help but wonder to yourself as you watched his face ease into a smile as he patiently waited for you answer.

“YES” you blurt out before covering your mouth embarrassed by how brash you’d sounded.

“Sorry erm yes I would love too! When are you … like done up around here I’m not too familiar with … it all” you laugh looking around the paddock that’s starting to be packed away.

“I can leave now, I just have to check out with the team. Why don’t you wait for me by the paddock entrance and we can get the train to where you’re going to take me?” He asks and you nod, he gives your hand a little squeeze before running off towards the Stake hospitality.

You say goodbye to your friend who you found on your way out, who didn’t want to leave you all alone at first not believing who you were meeting but when you assured him you’d be okay he nodded and left.

You were waiting for what felt like hours until you saw Zhou come running towards you.

“Sorry that took longer than I expected. Now where were we?” He asks with a smile taking your hand.

“To the train station. We’re going to Osaka” you smile. It was one of your favourite (that was easily accessible) places in Japan.

“I’ve never been! I’m very excited” he grins as you guys walk out and towards the train station.

You guys spent the evening in Osaka, you showed him all your favourite street foods, and the first places you’d visited. You told him the story where you’d got lost and an old Japanese man tired to help you, with your broken mix of English and the Japanese you’d picked up.

He didn’t really have many stories but he was more than happy to listen to you. Chip in every now and then when he felt necessary or had something of value to say.

“Next year you can come to China, not just for the race but I think you’ll enjoy taking pictures there!” He smiles and you grin.

“That’s actually my next assignment” you admit.

“What?!” He asks in shock.

“I’m on the Asia leg right now. We normally switch out every few years so before Japan I was in Cambodia for 2 months, then Japan and then I’m moving into China” you explain.

“You know what, we might just be soulmates” he teases as he bites into the Tokoyaki you’d brought for him to try bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Yeah?” You laugh, taking a bite of your own salty deep fried goodness.

“Mmmmm yeah” he smiles.

y/user

Liked by zhouguanyu24 and others

y/user: Really different environment this weekend in 🇯🇵. Really had a great time learning what it takes to be a car photographer and it’s really not for the weak. I think I’ll stick with nature for now.

View all comments

zhouguanyu24: it was nice to meet you. I hope to see you at another race 🏁

-> y/user: it was incredible to meet you too!

fan1: who is this KYMILLMAN wannabe

-> fan2: she’s a photographer for the national geo. She went to an f1 race for leisure and obviously got some of the best pictures ever

fan3: my goat

fan4: who did you have the most fun meeting?

-> y/user: meeting Zhou was the highlight of my trip 👍🏼

Instagram Story Caption

Day out in Japan 🇯🇵

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Christmas Future - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3031>

Cancelled.

That was the word in red that flittered after every single flight on the departures board at Gatwick airport. Your flight was cancelled and so was everyone else's. 

You probably should have guessed that this was going to happen, but the small part of you that was desperate to go home was being optimistic. Pulling out your phone, you shot a few texts to your family to tell them that, unless the blizzard magically blew over, there was no way in hell that you were getting home on time to be there for Christmas morning. Or Christmas at all. 

Everyone was resigned to the same fate, pulling their books and portable chargers out of their bags in preparation for the undoubtable hours that were to come. People were standing around, sitting on floors, crammed onto the seemingly endless yet dwindling seats.

You were standing too, still with your eyes glued to the screen as if it would change the words on the surface by sheer will. Turning your head, you saw the snowflakes dancing in the wind and battering the large windows of the airport, and you knew that your hopes were getting crushed.

You went to stand by the seats, waiting for someone to make the grave mistake of getting up to get a snack or go to the toilet. You knew it was going to be a while before someone caved and let their basic human rights override their need to have a seat, but you just stuffed your earphones into your ears and let the music take the time away.

After a few hours, your feet were starting to get sore, so you lowered yourself to the floor like a lot of other people around. It had cleared out slightly, since some people had just left to go and find a hotel for the night instead of sleeping on the floor of the airport. 

The idea had crossed your mind a few times, but you wanted the opportunity to be on the first flight going as soon as possible. Being home was worth having a sore back and exhaustion. 

You noticed how a few people had started talking to each other randomly, just for some way to pass the time. It was strange how they would have just ignored each other in passing, but were now getting to know one another.

While you were busy making up fake scenarios about the people you were seeing around, you failed to notice a pair of eyes watching you. He couldn't help but notice the disappointment on your face when all flights were cancelled until further notice and the tiredness in your expression when you slumped down on the floor. 

He wondered if you were like him, just trying to get home in time for Christmas. He saw has your head lolled back and your eyes started to flutter closed, and he spotted the slight wince in your expression as you shifted around, trying to get comfortable. 

He felt bad. He had been sat there for hours, and he was pretty settled. And there you were, a young lady being forced to sit on the floor. The chivalrous side of him was telling him to give up the seat for you, but the self-preservation was also telling him to stay in his seat and not be so generous to strangers. 

But, he eventually gave in. Leaving his backpack on the seat so that no one would take it, he got up and walked over to you. His back was practically groaning after being in the same position for so long. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, his voice feeling hoarse from not having used it in a few hours.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked, hoping you could hear him over your music, because that could have gotten very awkward. For a few seconds, he didn't think that you had heard him, but you took one of your earphones out to listen to him. 

"Yeah?" you said, looking up at the handsome stranger. He was tall, but that was probably because he was towering over you. He had a thick mop of nearly black hair, falling over the tanned skin of his forehead. But his eyes captured you the most. Deep and brown. All too easy to get lost in. 

"I had just noticed you've been sitting here for a long time, and you look like you could use rest in a proper chair," he said, and you couldn't help but let a soft smile spread across your lips. A handsome stranger with manners? Now you really felt like you were dreaming. Maybe the lack of sleep was making you delirious. 

"Are you sure? I don't mind sitting here if you don't want to lose your seat," you said, grateful for his generosity, but also feeling slightly guilty at the thought of taking up his offer. 

"Course, I've been sat there for a few hours. I don't mind taking the floor for a little while," he smiled, rocking back on his heels slightly. This was getting into dangerous territory now. Handsome, manners, dazzling smile. 

"Well thank you," you said, putting your things back in your bag and making a poor attempt at standing up. He offered a hand out to you, and you took it without hesitation. They were a lot bigger than yours, as well has a lot warmer. Slightly calloused too, he could probably do with some hand cream but you doubted he was that type of guy.

Walking you over to the seat, he picked his backpack up from it and slung it over his left shoulder. Slumping down into the seat, your body was happy to have some small sliver of a cushion as opposed to just hard flooring.

The stranger just stood there, unsure of whether to walk away and find some free floor space or wait with you. You noticed his internal struggle, and decided that you didn't want the stranger to return to being a stranger just yet. 

"Do you want to sit with me? I've got a neck pillow you can use, since you're going to be on the floor?" you asked, instantly feeling like an idiot. It felt like your attraction to him was completely obvious, but there was no way to get to know someone unless you talked to them.

"Sure," he nodded with that smile again. You shuffled your legs to the side so that he could rest his back on the edge of the seat, and you pulled your neck pillow out of your bag to hand to him. He had to admit, it was a very nice and comfy neck pillow. 

Despite what you could only assume to be a whole day of travelling, he still smelt unreal as he sat so close to you. Something deep, musky. Definitely something expensive. 

The stranger was also thinking of you as you sat there. He'd expect someone to be cranky after all of the flights being cancelled - especially on Christmas Eve. Yet here you were, being so nice to him after a day of globe trotting. 

"So, what's your name?" he asked, turning his head to look at you. 

"Y/N, you?" you returned.

"Carlos." he said, and he suited the name. His shoulder kept brushing against your legs, and you could feel the warmth of him through his jacket sleeve. "Were you heading home for the holidays?" he questioned, looking down at his watch as if the flights would suddenly be back on. 

It looked expensive, even if you didn't know the exact brand. He likely had money, was probably flying business or first class. It wasn't apparent quite yet which one it would be. 

"Yeah, I was. But I don't think anyone is making it in time for Christmas at this rate." you explained, and he nodded in response. 

"Me too. But I think I'll have to be prepared for the family to open presents without me," he said, and you could hear the hint of sadness in his tone. You completely understood, since this would be the first Christmas that you wouldn't be spending with your family.

"So where would home be if this blizzard wasn't keeping us all hostage?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Carlos seemed to get the hint, chuckling slightly at your quip. It was a hearty, deep sound. One that made the cold airport seem a little warmer. 

"Madrid, not a long flight thankfully. I'd hate to do some sort of long haul after being stuck here for however long we're going to be."

"But I guess you can get a good sleep on a long haul. On shorter flights, there's not much time to fall asleep and get enough rest so then you'll be even more tired on landing then customs and baggage claim and then getting to where you need to go." you rambled, and you noticed that Carlos was just looking at you. 

He was staring up at you from his spot on the floor. He had a soft smile on his face, as if he was enjoying your little analysis into long haul versus short haul flights at a time like this. "Sorry..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap. 

"No, no. You're good," he reassured, nudging you in the leg with his shoulder. You felt comfortable with Carlos, despite the fact that you had only known him for about ten minutes. The two of you settled into a silence for a short while, just enjoying having someone there to talk to if you felt like it.

Snow was still hammering against the window, and it wasn't showing any signs of slowing down any time soon. Sighing to yourself, you leant back in your chair to try and get comfy for a short nap. Carlos noticed you shifting and turned to look at you.

"Do you want your pillow back?" he asked.

"No, it's OK. You're on the floor, you need it more," you shook your head, shuffling to try and find some sort of position that your body would allow you to sleep in.

"Wake me up if there are any flights to Geneva. Or if you get a flight so that I can say goodbye," you told him.

"Geneva, eh?" he asked, looking very intrigued. "I would not have guessed that you're swiss." he continued. To be fair, he was very obviously Spanish, so it was easy to guess. With you, it was a bit more of a mystery. 

"I'm not, my entire family live there," you explained, and he was listening intently. 

"Well that's cool. I'm sure Geneva is stunning at Christmas," he said, and you nodded in response while stifling a yawn. "Anyway, I'll let you sleep. And I will only wake you up if I have to go if there is a flight for you," he repeated, with a somewhat melancholy expression. 

Carlos didn't want to say goodbye to you, not so soon. He had become captivated by the girl that he had first seen, eyes glued to the board in hopes that her flight might be reinstated or rescheduled to something in the near future. 

He couldn't say why, either. All he knew was your name and that you were heading home to Geneva. Well, that was where your family was. He didn't know where you were from originally. But, he wanted to find out. For the meantime, however, he would let you rest and just hope that another flight wouldn't pop up for either of you. 

He wanted to go home for Christmas, but he'd make it back in time for lunch at least if the flights held out for another few hours. That way, he'd get to spend some time with you and would be able to have ample time with his family at home. 

His texts to them weren't getting through due to how bad the weather was, but he was sure that they had been tracking his flight and would have seen that it was cancelled. They also knew he was at the airport, so they hopefully wouldn't worry too much about his whereabouts. 

About 3 hours had gone by, and Carlos' phone was nearly dead. So was his back. You were still sleeping. Maybe not so peacefully, but you were sleeping nonetheless. He was itching to get a coffee or something, just to wake him up a little. 

Carlos stood up, stretching out his muscles as they groaned in protest. "Hey, hey," he mumbled, gently nudging you awake. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Carlos standing over you, and you had to give yourself a few moments to verify that this wasn't a dream. 

"Are you going? Am I going?" you sleepily murmured, really hoping that neither of you had to leave just yet.

"No, I was just going to get a coffee and I was wondering if you wanted anything from any of the shops? Snacks, drinks, maybe a blanket from somewhere. Whatever you want." he said, taking his hand off of your shoulder and shoving it back into his pocket. 

"Just a coffee, please. Might perk me up," you told him, and he nodded before turning and walking off in the direction of the shops. It would be a miracle if they had any coffee left after hours of people waiting in the airport, but Carlos went knew that he needed to try. 

He went to a few coffee shops, most of them not having anything caffeinated and only soft drinks. Eventually, though, he found a very small cafe tucked away in the corner. Thankfully, they had a few coffees left, so Carlos ended up buying 2 coffees and 2 waters. 

It was harder than expected to locate you in the rows upon rows of seats, since there were many people who looked like you from the back. But, some intuition that he had sent him in the direction of where you were. And there he spotted you. Yes, it was only the back of your head, but he knew it was you. 

"Here you go," he announced, holding the to-go cup out to you. You took it from him with a grateful smile. He also fished out a water from his pocket, handing it out to you.

"Thank you," you said, sipping at the coffee. It was slightly too hot, burning your throat as it went down. The bitterness was welcome however, and you could already feel the caffeine seeping into your bloodstream. "That is perfection,"

"It's funny what something so simple can do, eh? Just a cup of bean water can make all the difference," he chuckled, and the sound was so infectious. It made the hustle and bustle of the stagnant airport seem a little less strange.

Just as Carlos finished his sentence, the chair next to him was vacated. The man who was originally sat in it was on the phone and was not looking pleased. It was probably his wife, asking where the hell he was. Carlos was quick off the mark, sitting down in it quickly before anyone else got any bright ideas after eyeing up the spot. 

"There we go. Now we both have some rock hard plastic to sit on," he laughed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. For a while, the two of you were talking. You had lent him your power bank to charge his phone, and his texts to his family finally went through. 

"Well would you look at the time," you declared, checking your phone and seeing that it was five minutes to midnight. Christmas was right on the horizon, and you weren't going to be seeing your family any time soon. Or opening presents. Or having dinner with them. 

"Huh, looks like we'll be spending the majority of Christmas in this airport. Or we can get a hotel room. Well, I... not we, I meant me and you can have separate ones, I'm not trying to-" he stuttered, and it was strange to see him so rattled after being so composed over the last few hours. 

"I know what you meant, Carlos. Don't worry. But I want to be on the first available flight home, so I will wait it out right here." you said, and he nodded in agreement. What you didn't know was that, if you were getting a hotel room, so was he. If you weren't, he wasn't either. 

"Me too." he agreed, checking his watch to see that there was now only 3 minutes until Christmas day. His family were all asleep in their beds, aware of his turmoil, yet comfortable while you were stuck. 

He felt guilty that he wasn't going to be there like he had promised. He was away all year, and the one time he always promised to be there, he wasn't. If he was being fair to himself, this was the first time that he had never been home for Christmas in his entire career, so his track record was pretty good. 

You were thinking the same thing about your own family. There was nothing you wanted more than to teleport to your room and head downstairs to open presents and celebrate with the people you loved more than anything else in this world.

Checking the time once again, you opened your phone just in time to watch the clock strike midnight. "Merry Christmas, Carlos," you said, sincerely smiling at him. There were much worse ways to be spending Christmas trapped in an airport, that was for sure. You had lucked out with a handsome, kind and likely rich Spanish casanova.

"Feliz Navidad, Y/N." he said, and you couldn't help but feel the butterflies spark at the Spanish. And the blush on your cheeks had totally given you away. He liked seeing you flustered. And this wasn't a bad way to spend Christmas, and neither of you wanted to spend it like this again.

But, the ghost of Christmas future had a better idea. Well, they had a better idea for a few things. The scenario? No. The setting? No way. The person? Hell yes. The future was already setting paths out for both of you, and all you had to do was choose to walk down it.

A/N - Merry Christmas my darlings! I know, I have been dead to the world for a month and a bit, but the inspiration was on a low down. Or a complete zero. Alas, that does not mean that I was going to allow myself to not get a Christmas special out! I might have missed every other holiday, but I will not let myself miss this years! Also, the FIFTH part to the Lando series will be out later today as a little further Christmas present. So, merry Christmas to those who celebrate, have an equally wonderful day to those who don't, and thank you for all of the support this year. I hope I can be more consistent next year, but I am not making any promises.

Want more Christmas fun? Click here and here.

|masterlist|

[pippin-katz]

Voices We Don’t Hear

I was thinking about the scene in the cell down in Hell and wondering why it makes my heart clench so much even after having watched it so many times at this point, and I figured it out! It also led me noticing something in another scene that sticks out when it shows up. It’s the scene in the forest with Edwin and the Cat King.

It’s two lines of dialogue that I’m referring to: “This is all you are. Do you understand?” - Edwin from Ep. 6 “Hey, hey… let’s get you out of here.” - Charles from Ep. 7

These two lines have rare emotional tones for each of them. That sentence is a really bad way to say it, but I'll try to explain it.

We don't hear Charles speak in a soft voice often. He whispers down there in Hell and in Esther's kitchen, but I can't think of any other moments where Charles actually whispers. And there's something different about his voice in that line specifically. Because even though he's whispering, his voice is very clear and not breathy. With full whispering, the person's voice gets mostly obscured by that weird static-like/screen-filter that comes from talking that quietly, like Edwin's voice. (I have no idea how to describe what I'm talking about, but hopefully that's enough for you to understand lol)

So, even when Charles is speaking softly, it's not as quietly as he can. That line in particular is right after Edwin tells him what the demon does to him, and it's softer than all the others. And it's obvious why.

This is without a doubt the first time Charles has ever seen him like this: crying, small, scared, and so unlike himself. It's already heartbreaking. Then Edwin tells him about his torture, and he breaks down crying after managing to keep his most of his composure before.

If you look closely, Charles blinks a few times fast before he turns and cups Edwin's face. It's so dark and the lighting is so strange, but his eyes are shinier than they were previously. He forces himself to keep his focus on the task and being strong for Edwin, but he looks like he wants to cry.

Then he says that line so gently, so delicately while looking directly into his eyes while he holds his head between his hands. Charles voice is softer and a tiny bit strained from keeping his emotions in check.

It's the softest, most loving, and gentle moment of Charles in the entire show.

On the flipside, the line Edwin says to the Cat King is similar. Edwin definitely gets angry, frustrated, etc. and shouts and yells. But all of the people he yells at are people he has personal connections with, and the root of his distress comes from himself.

He yells at Crystal because he's having an anxiety attack after all the rapid changes to their routine, and bickers back and forth with her, but it's never truly malicious. He’s angry, but more importantly, he’s hurt. Crystal’s seeming lack of understanding of the weight of the importance is reminding him of how little people care. He snaps at Simon in Hell, but within minutes he calms down, recognizing how genuinely remorseful and ignorant Simon had been. He yells at Charles in a sort of angry-loving way on the staircase in Hell; he's not actually angry with him.

But in the forest, Edwin finds out that the boy he's been seeing and making friends with has been the familiar of the witch who wants to destroy them in disguise, and was pretending for at least some of their relationship. He also learns of all this because the Cat King exposes him rather than Monty confessing. He's hurt and angry, and then the Cat King pulls the "you owe me card" to try and get Edwin to kiss him even after all of the times he's rejected him.

He tells him off and goes to leave, but the comment the Cat King makes about dismissing him makes him turn around immediately. The way Edwin gets close to him, invading his space like he's done to him multiple times, and shoves the bracelet in front of his face.

There's real venom in his voice when he says the line. It's rough, gravelly, and it's obvious that Edwin has truly run out of patience for the Cat King's antics.

It is truly the angriest we see him in the show, at least from a standpoint of genuine anger toward someone he considers an adversary of some kind.

Edwin has no real relationship with the Cat King; he's basically his warden, the person who has trapped him in this town, and then treats him like he owns him. Given that it was a matter of diplomacy and caused by an error he made, he allowed the Cat King to have his fun to some extent, but in that forest, when he's just found out his new friend is actually a crow and there's a massive, ghost-eating mushroom monster threatening his and Charles' existence, he could not give less of a fuck about playing nice. He's frustrated and upset and stressed about so many different things all at once, and then this smug cat guy, who seems to think they're something more than a captor and his captive, has the audacity to say that Edwin owes him? Yeah, bye bitch! He is done.

I want to hear more of both of these versions of the two of them. I want to hear Edwin rip into an enemy, voice dripping with malice. I want to hear Charles comfort and reassure him (or anyone, but preferably Edwin) with that soft voice that is cherishing and gentle, treating him like something delicate that deserves to be handled with care after the universe has quite literally ripped him apart and crushed him.

(ko-fi)

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

✩ : what happens when your best friend decides to play matchmaker at a christmas eve party?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : charles leclerc

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 0.9k

✍︎ : first one-shot of the little christmas series i'm writing. stay tuned!

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The party was in full swing, the warm glow of the flames coming from the fireplace reflecting off the frosted windows, their faint crackle mingling with the cheerful hum of holiday music. You shifted awkwardly, clutching your champagne flute like a lifeline as you scanned the room.

You weren’t the biggest fan of holiday parties—too many people, half of which you didn’t even know—but your best friend had insisted you come. “Come onnn, it’s Christmas Eve!” she'd said, “I promise it’ll be fun! Besides, you might even meet someone cute,” she’d then added with a teasing wink.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath as you leaned against the kitchen island, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

That’s until your gaze betrayed you, the sound of a warm laughter—his warm laughter—immediately drawing your attention to its owner.

Charles Leclerc.

He stood in the middle of the room, his dark green sweater fitting perfectly, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms. He looked effortlessly charming, the grin lighting up his face making his adorable dimples pop out even more and your chest flutter in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You’d met him a handful of times at gatherings like this through mutual friends, which soon brought you to consider him a friend too, but you’d always convinced yourself he was too far out of your league to even try being something else. Still, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him.

As if sensing your stare, Charles turned his head. His eyes found yours across the room, and for a moment, the noise around you faded into the background. You flashed him an awkward smile, mentally facepalming yourself for getting caught red-handed, but before you could look away, he started making his way toward you through the crowd, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” he simply said when he finally reached you, his voice soft just like the expression on his face.

“Hey,” you repeated, your heart pounding as your cheeks immediately heated up—and surely not from the fire.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” His tone was casual as he leaned slightly against the counter beside you, arms crossed over his chest, clearly a lot more relaxed than you were with the way your fingers were practically strangling the poor glass still between them.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Last-minute decision. My best friend dragged me here because she thought I needed some ‘holiday cheer’.” You put the last two words in air quotes as you rolled your eyes, a pathetic attempt to mask how tense you actually were.

“Well, I think she was right,” Charles replied, his grin widening at your visible annoyance. “And I’m glad she did.”

You averted your gaze as a flustered chuckle escaped your lips, your face flushing—probably as red as the terrible Christmas sweater your friend had begged you to wear.

Just as you opened your mouth to save yourself from embarrassment, someone bumped into you from the side, making you stumble forward. Right into Charles’ chest. His hands shot out instinctively, steadying you with a firm grip on your arms, while yours landed on his shoulders to prevent you from falling.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes searching yours with genuine concern.

You were pretty sure you were about to combust on the spot, but you somehow managed to mumble a confused ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ shooting a glance back at whoever put you in that compromising—to say the least—position. Oh, of course it had to be her.

The death stare you gave your best friend didn’t seem to faze her for a moment; instead, she gestured upward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Following her gaze, you looked up and froze.

Mistletoe.

Dangling right above your heads.

Charles tilted his head back, noticing it too, the brief confusion on his face replaced by an unreadable expression as he glanced down at you once again.

“Well,” he began, his voice teasing, “you know the tradition.”

You could swear your heart skipped a few beats, the implication of what he’d just said making you feel weak in your knees. “I… uh, we don’t have to–”

“Only if you want to.” His eyes were questioning, waiting for your permission, as your breath caught in your throat at his gentle words. Unable to speak, you just nodded, and a soft, almost relieved smile spread across Charles’ face before his lips found yours.

You breathed in the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies as his mouth brushed against yours, tentative at first, sending a jolt of excitement down your spine. Seeing that you didn’t pull away—and that you weren’t planning on doing so anytime soon—he deepened the kiss, one of his hands sneaking up to the back of your neck while the other one was still holding on to your arm.

You lost yourself in the moment, snuggling yourself into the warmth of his cozy sweater as you savored the kiss like a sip of comforting hot cocoa.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered against your lips, and you could feel the smirk on his even with your eyes closed. Your whispered ‘Merry Christmas’ got muffled by his mouth back on yours, a fleeting thought bringing a smile to your face as well.

Maybe holiday parties are not that bad after all.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 702

The time has finally come for me to talk about my boards for the last season of the Dragon Prince! Wow, time flies!

To be honest season 7 was such a hard season to make. Telling a good story is always a challenge, but ending one, oof! that is an herculean job!

I remeber everyone being super stressed during the production of this season, because time was always in short supply, and it is really hard to produce great art with little time, haha.

Also, I think that after a year and a half working non stop doing boards for the show, most of us where starting to feel exhausted, and you can see it on my boards, they are much less polished than usual.

But, no matter the context and circumstances, we always try to deliver the best we can and tell the ending of this arc in the most satisfactory way possible.

Lets start with my sequences. First one is the one with Ezran's council in the Banther Lodge.

This one starts with the little exchange between Soren and Corvus, I really like these two. I think they grew on me as a duo during my time in the show. Soren was already one of my favorites, but by the end of season 7, Corvus and Soren was a top pair for me, too.

I think that, whatever you think their relationship is, physical touch is a thing between this two, they are always touching each other, there is some vulnerability that they allow with each other that is endearing.

If you read my comments about my boards in season 6, one of the things I was talking about is how sometimes the expressions we draw in boards don't translate that well to the final animation (This happens in a lot of shows, and it's because of limitation on the face rig of the characters, nothing related to the talent of our crew, because they are all super talented) This little shot is another case, I wanted Callum to feel like "Oh boy, shit is hitting the fan!"

I think this scene is mostly about the conflict between points of view, Callum and Rayla wanting for Ezran to free (and forgive) Runaan as soon as possible, while Ezran is struggling with his emotions. It's a hard one.

To be honest I understand Ezran 100% and I know that the right thing for him would be eventually to forgive Runaan, but is not something that could happen inmediatly. Grieve and angry are feelings that can get poisonus really easily, and they need time to heal and allow perspective.

I think Ralyla made the wrong choice bringing Runaan to Katolis.

Anyway, I wanted to play this sequence (and the next one) a little as a power play between the brothers. There are two forces pulling Callum rigth now, and the tension is growing because of it. I like this shot, I think, is cool.

My next sequence is the continuation of the Banther Lodge Council scene. Rayla is out of the building right now, and Callum is deeply distracted.

But we start with a little coment of comedy with Soren "testing" the bread. This shot ended flipped, but the idea is still the same, I am glad the keept the moment of Soren putting the bread on his mouth, haha.

Again this scene mix two trains of though or conflicts together, in one hand you have Ezran trying to figure out how to lead his people in a way that makes sure a tragedy like the burning of Katolis doesn't happen again. And in the other hand the struggle between Callum loyalties, and his inhability to be what Ezran needs him to be right now.

This is not hate to Callum, I think that his desicions are pretty ok taking in consideration that is he still a teeneager. But I feel that he gets tunnel vision when things are related to Rayla, and he failed miserably as a brother and member of the council during this time.

While I think Callum is right, Ezran should forgive Runaan, he should be there to provide love and support to his brother, and advice and perspective to his king. Space for Ezran to come to the conclusion that forgivenes is the right path.

Anyway, I had this gesture boarded with Ezran hitting the air, but they ended adding the cup there for him to toss. I don't know how I feel about it, It's fine (specially if you talke into consideration that the Anya pick up the cup and give it back to Ezran) but feels a little off to me. Not sure why, tho.

I like Anya and Ezran relationship. I think I would appreciate it if she also took the place that Callum was failing to fulfill and gave some space to Ezran to grieve and process his sadness in a more intimate level. Like as friends more than as "heads of state". But anyway, she is cool, I am glad Ezran had someone as his side during this time.

I remember that one of the instructions I got for this sequence was to make sure that Ezran feels like a mob boss. Hahaha. Funny, tho. But besides that, I think that something that I was glad to see and board was Ezran taking more action and having more agency.

Maybe we can disagree with his point of view, but it was great to finally see him taking the reins of the kingdom, being active and assertive with his actions.

My last two sequences in this episode were the talk of Callum and Ezran close to the fireplace. I think this was an instance of Callum trying to be Ezran brother, giving him support and love and helping him to see the erron of his ways.

BUT, and this is a big but, I feel that all of this feels empty and, from Ezran point of view, manipulative; because after this talk Callum right away decides not only to "betray" Ezran but also to leave him alone. And that was not pretty wise of him, imo.

It is always a pleasure to draw any character making a suspicious face, hahaha "I don't trust you":

I think during the first part of the talk, the sibilings are on pretty opposite sides, there is a rift between them, and it is hard to close. But then there is more space for vulnerability and trust.

I think a really significant momen is for Ezran to remove his crown. "I am not talking as the king, but as your brother" kind of moment. Humanizes him a lot and shows the sincerity of his words.

He is confesing here, how he is tired, how this dury felt on his shoulders even when he was not ready for it, and how much he is trying to carry the burden, but oh boy, how heavy is the crown!

And I feel that this is the part when Callum made a mistake. Instead of listen to him, to recognize his pain, to offer his aid and support, some kind of "you don't need to do this alone" kind of thing, he brings the topic back to Runaan.

And then he shots the shot: "You forgave Zubeia" And ouch! I mean, he is right, that is something that Ezran did, but I don't think this is the moment to bring it. But again, the conflict here is that none of them can see the other right now. Callum is too worried about Rayla and Runaan, and Ezran is too hurt and overwheelmed.

And I wanted to make the shift clear, so Callum literally points fingers at Ezran. He demands action, he expect his brother to do what he wants him to do, not what Ezran needs to do. In an ideal world there would be a trial for Runaan, one where we can hear both parties, where Ezran can express his feelings his doubts and grieve, that could end in him finding forgivenes in his heart.

But it is not an ideal world. Things are falling apart, and the struggles between the needs and wants of characters are in conflict. So, people make bad decisions. That is good writing if you ask me.

Then Zym intervines, he wants Ezran to forgive Runaan, not for the same reasons than Callum, tho.

I think in Zym's mind is more an attempt to get "the old Ezran back". So Callum and Zym try to make their point together. I wanted to paint it as if Zym has this naive approach to the stituation, while Callum is a little more manipulative (I don't think that on porpouse) being like "look, even Zym agrees" failing to see why Zym is agreeing. I think the sin of Callum in all this episode is blindness (or tunel vision as we said before)

And kinda works. Not because Ezran is ready to forgive, but because I feel that there is something inside Ezran that thinks like Zym too. That maybe there is a way to go back to be like he was before.

And that is the thing, pain and grieve change you, and accept that change is part of growing up. Aaravos talk about that a lot this season. So there is a little truce, a moment of "maybe" from Ezran. I really like to draw this two together.

Sadly this moment gets interrupted by Soren asking for help. And from here is downhill. I think Callum's actions after this point did not help at all to Ezran to heal or change his mind.

The fact that Callum decided to leave probably made Ezran wound worst, and any hope that this conversation could bring for the brothes to get back together gets shattered.

Great setting up of their conflict for this season, imo.

Well that was my work for 702. Thanks for reading this brickwall of text! Hope you like this! And feel free to ask if you have questions about the storyboard process!

See you for 705 boards soon!

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 16th-22nd 2024

So close to Christmas guys!!! I can't wait to spend the break reading fic and making recs for you guys!!

(By the time I post this (late), it's gonna be December 24th so Merry Christmas and happy holidays to those who celebrate!)

Complete

i'll be home for christmas by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Post-S8A, Christopher comes home, Christmas | 1,5K | General): Christopher had messaged, two weeks ago, and said he didn’t want to spend Christmas in Texas. He’d said his grandmother doesn’t decorate the house right, that she won’t let him put popcorn garlands on the tree, that she’s trying to tell him snickerdoodles aren’t Christmas cookies. He’d said he wants to come home. Or— What he’d said was, can i come and spend christmas with you?

you gotta walk before you crawl by Wildehack (tyleet) / @wildehacked (Future fic | 1,5K | Teen): “Hey,” Buck says, nudging Eddie with his socked foot, Danny Ocean monologuing on the tv. “Why don’t we ever go to poker night anymore?” 

until we're grey and old by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Established Buddie | 1,5K | Teen): Or—he had been good at it. He had been able to go weeks without questioning Eddie’s presence at his side. And then Eddie had kissed him, soft and out of nowhere in the warm glow of his kitchen. The dishwasher beeped, startling them apart, and on Eddie’s face, a blush and a grin competed for purchase. Buck blinked, and Eddie raised his eyebrows in question, and Buck kissed him again in response. Eddie leaned into him, and Buck— Buck can’t stop thinking about the fact that everyone always leaves.

All I Want For Christmas... by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Christmas, Post-S8A, Eddie goes to Texas, Getting Together | 3K | General): “So…I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for Christmas.” Buck closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting the full impact of Eddie’s words hit him for a second. “Y-yeah, man. Of course. I totally get it.” He swallows, “Your family is there, anyways.”

Last First Kiss by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 3K | General): Buck tries to say goodbye. Eddie isn't ready.

I took a little journey to the unknown by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Hurt Eddie, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Eddie groans, his tongue feels too big for his mouth and his thoughts are moving slowly, like they’re trying to wade through pudding and getting stuck on the way to his mouth. “I-it’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” Buck says and the comforting warmth is back on Eddie’s hand. The only thought that rings clearly through his head is that Buck’s hand is safe. Buck is going to keep him safe. “Just - can you squeeze my hand if you’re awake?” That feels nearly impossible, his body feels like lead, heavy and useless, but for Buck he can try. He focuses and squeezes as tightly as he can - it’s not very tight, but that doesn’t seem to matter when Buck lets out a long breath and then a choked sob.

It's a mystery (that I would pick you 10 out of 9 times) by paleredheadinascifi (Online Dating, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Tex: Can you overshare something to make this less embarrassing? Firehose : Absolutely. I’m telling people I downloaded this app to get over my ex but really I realized I have feelings for my straight best friend Or, Eddie downloads a gay dating app and hits it off with a suspiciously familiar mystery man (it's Buck).

🔥Light, Dark, Light Again by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Getting Together | 5K | Teen): “Anyway, it’s not a big deal; it happens to everyone at some time or another here. Like Ravi with Buck. Or like Bobby with me,” Bobby shrugs his shoulders at the group while Buck gapes at him. “Or Buck with Eddie when he first started,” Chimney nods at the final pair, inhaling another slice of pizza into his huge mouth, unaware that five sets of eyes were now locked onto him. He opens his eyes and pauses. “What?” It takes a moment, but it finally clicks in Chimney’s head. “Oh, fuck,” he flashes his eyes to Buck in terror, wide-eyed, and Buck truly loves the guy, loves him like a brother, but sometimes he wishes Chimney wasn’t his actual brother because Maddie has clearly shared this little Buck fact with Chimney Can’t-Keep-A-Secret-To-Save-His-Life Han, and it’s not like Buck can kill Chimney because he’s Jee’s dad and it’s just – Great. This is great. *** Or Buck fell first, Eddie fell harder, and it makes them both look stupid.

Buck, Bothered and Bewitched by bellabrady (Animal Transformation, Getting Together | 6K | Not Rated): Eddie looks back down at the dog. “Buck?” he asks slowly, feeling slightly insane. Immediately, the dog barks again, more enthusiastically this time, like he’s voicing his agreement to Eddie’s question. The dog — Buck — starts wagging his tail as he tries to walk in Eddie’s direction, but he’s so uncoordinated due to not being used to having four legs that he somehow ends up forgetting to move his front legs and stumbling over them, leading to a very inelegant fall that has him almost faceplanting onto the floor. “Yeah,” Hen says with a small huff. “That dog is Buck, alright.”

emails i can't send by heartbeatdiaz/ @lonelychicago (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): “Jee, what have you done?” Buck groans, trying to unsend the emails that are— used to be in his drafts. The emails that he's written to Eddie and that were never supposed to see the light of day. The emails Jee somehow managed to send while Buck wasn't looking. No, no, no. or; buck should've known better than to let his email account open and then give his computer to a toddler to play with.

The Twelve Days of Buckmas by paleredheadinascifi (Post-S8A, Eddie goes to Texas, Christmas | 6K | Teen): 12 days. 12 gifts. 12 letters. 12 times Buck delivers a Christmas miracle all the way to El Paso. Or, two giant boxes turn up at Eddie's new front door. Buck isn't going to let a few states stop him from spoiling his favourite Diazs.

(we tried) we said we'd keep in touch by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S8A, Christmas, Getting Together | 7k | Teen): "Yeah, they were pretty pissed about the Christmas arrangements I made for me and Chris, but it was his idea, so..." And Buck can practically see the smile curving onto Eddie's face, can perfectly conjure up the exact tilt to his mouth, the stretch of his lips, the joy alighting in his eyes, could even pick out the exact HEX code of pink in his cheeks from a colour picker. "That's great, Eddie." A matching smile creeps across his face. As selfish as Buck may be, he answered the phone after every breakthrough with Chris, every blowout with his parents, every time Christopher turned him away. This is why Eddie had to leave. At least, somebody's having a happy Christmas. "What are you up to?" "Nothing much. Missing you," Eddie says, and he says it like it's all they've been doing. Buck almost believes him.

🔥 housed by your warmth by hispolestar (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Buck’s never been wanted, not really. That’s the truth of his existence, at the end of the day. Born as a saviour only to fail. Neglected by his parents, left by his sister, the only person to make life worth it back then. When he finally, finally decided enough was enough and ran away from home, he thought, stupidly, that being the one to do the leaving might mean that he’d stop being doomed. It doesn’t. Because now Eddie’s leaving. And it’s worse. It’s so much worse, infinitely worse, in ways Buck can’t quite comprehend. If Tommy leaving was a blow to his self esteem, Eddie leaving �� it’s nothing short of an atomic bomb, leaving nothing but dead plants, rotting carcasses and devastation in its wake.

🔥 Promising Light by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Time Travel | 20K | Mature): Buck and Eddie fall asleep drunk and in separate rooms after the night of Buck and Tommy's breakup. They wake up seven years later, in an unfamiliar future, only to find out that they're married.

🔥 take what the water gave me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Mermaid Buck, Trans Eddie, S2-3 | 20K | Mature): New transfer to the 118, Eddie Diaz, has a secret. And upon getting to know his coworker, Buck, who is also hiding something, he begins to suspect their secret is the same. He's wrong.

🔥should we talk about the weather by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Drift Compatible Buddie, S5-6 | 20K | Mature): And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

🔥 can’t fight the moonlight by coldbam/ @coldbam (Werewolf Buck, Canon Divergent | 21K | Explicit): “Apparently I stole his very special mug,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “I know you guys keep saying he’s all bark, Buck’s a real sweetheart, but I'm starting to worry you all just have terrible judge of character,” Eddie half-jokes. He sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “What the hell is his problem?” “Full moon tonight,” Chimney says with a smirk, chewing his gum like he’s proud of himself for that joke. * Or, everyone works at a wolf sanctuary and Buck is a werewolf.

🔥Risky Business series by taegyungie (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 2 works | Complete | Explicit):

Cure for Martyrdom (PWP | 4K | Explicit): "Simple pleasures, right?" "Right." Or, Eddie and Buck have a couple beers on the couch.

Lament for the Living (Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Near Death Experience | 23K | Explicit): Eddie's shadow dwarfs him by a long shot, so he swings upward and keeps on boxing. Eggshells, headstones, shipwrecks - Eddie fights for the things he loves.

WIP

🔥 Finding Mr Christmas by JJK/@trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Canon Divergent, Reality TV, Christmas | 7/10 | 40K | Teen): "Welcome to Finding Mr Christmas! You’re all here chasing the same dream, to star in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and over the next few weeks we’re going to be putting you through your paces to see which of you has the most star quality and that ‘it’ factor that makes you shine above the rest." 🎄🎄🎄 An AU where Buck and Eddie meet as contestants on Hallmark's Finding Mr Christmas competition (and fall for each other).

[ghoulangerlee]

Merry Christmas everyone, please have this unedited dewther heat smut 😁

A few things: aether's in heat but dew isn't in a rut and as such, there isn't knotting in the literal sense, but dew does have funky anatomy that emulates a knot outside of his ruts! (As always he's ribbed for aether's pleasure)

aether can be read as trans here though his genitalia are referred to by masculine terms!

Technical double penetration in one hole for a scene but this is all wholly consensual!

But whew this is 4k, and fought me the entire time I wrote it so please enjoy!

-------

There’s a warmth settled across his hips, burning heat in his belly that feels more outward than anything, calling to him, pulling him out of his deep and restless sleep—groggy, he groans and opens his eyes slowly.

“Hey there Starshine,” Dew murmurs with a private little smile, reaching out to cup his warm hand against Aether’s cheek. “What a sight for sore eyes you are,” he continues, knees digging into the bed as he shifts forward, bowing over so he can press a soft kiss to Aether’s lips.

Aether signs into it, gives into the weight of Dew sitting over him, the line of heat he can feel even through the t-shirt he’s wearing.

There is still the low simmer of his own heat, burning just under the surface of his skin, but he ignores it in favor of wrapping his arms around the fire ghoul on top of him, rolling them over into his nest until Dew’s under him and he can press his face into the hollow of his throat, inhaling deeply.

Dew’s scent is there but barely recognizable, covered by the thick and sterile scent of travel and other people and Aether doesn’t realize that he’s growling until Dew’s shushing him.

“Promised I’d wake you with a kiss, didn’t I?” he asks, fingers sinking into Aether’s hair to tug at the strands, using his grip to draw Aether’s attention back to him and not his scent, “The shower would have woken you up and you’d be all pouty about it because you didn’t get a kiss first,” he murmurs, and his tone is only a little condescending, but mostly fond, a teasing sort of glint in his eyes as he speaks to him.

Aether narrows his eyes at him, torn between wanting to bare his teeth at Dew and wanting to admit he’s right, of course he is. He’s always right about Aether’s little quirks, even if he’s a bit mean sometimes.

Instead, he huffs and rolls off of Dew and onto his back—he doesn’t really feel much like talking and Dew seems to get that if the huff of laughter he lets out is anything to go by.

“You’re so cute,” Dew says, seriously and full of love as he sits up and works open the buttons on his shirt, “I’m going to shower and then we’ll see about getting some food in you,” he turns on the bed and leans over, pressing a sweet kiss to Aether’s cheek, “You doing okay right now, though, right big guy?” he murmurs the words against his skin, watching Aether’s eyes flutter closed.

He hums softly, turning his head enough to brush his lips over the corner of Dew’s mouth, he doesn’t speak, but a low sort of purr rumbles in his chest as he pulls away from the kiss and instead nuzzles at Dew’s jaw.

“Like a big ol kitty cat,” Dew mumbles with a little laugh, petting through Aether’s hair for a moment, “I’ll be back,” he promises, finally putting some space between them, watching as Aether settles back into the nest, head lolling back against the pillow with a pleased sort of smile on his face.

He stands from the bed and strips out of his shirt, losing his pants on the way to the bathroom, knowing he’s on borrowed time now, the clock ticking before Aether’s heat settles in for good.

At some point, he returns, though Aether’s not quite sure when or how long he’d spent in the shower, focusing instead, on the warmth of Dew climbing into the nest, shuffling Aether into his arms and pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Rain’s going to bring some food by,” Dew murmurs, pressing a warm palm against his back, “Should be here in about an hour, should have time to nap if you’re tired, big guy.”

Aether hums softly and nuzzles his way up to the hinge of Dew’s jaw, inhales the scent of heat and something entirely too enticing, too Dew for him to ignore—he exhales loudly and drags his tongue over Dew’s skin, shuddering in his arms as the scent of his mate settles something inside him.

Dew tilts his head back against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed as he sinks his fingers into Aether’s hair, petting at his scalp, “You’ve been working too hard, baby,” he murmurs after a few moments, his voice gentle and concerned, “Me and Copia leaving you behind really pulled you into an early heat, didn’t it?” he asks, rhetorical, the hand in his hair slipping down to cup the back of Aether’s neck and squeeze.

Aether groans, melts more into Dew’s arms, snuffling at his throat, and, if he thinks about it, pushes aside Dew’s scent and the heat in his belly, then yeah, all of this started shortly after Copia and Dew had left, after Dew had kissed him and bedded him down for the last time for a while—it hadn’t been anything different from their usual couplings, but Aether remembers feeling despondent when Dew had kissed him one last time, a smile on his lips as he murmured his love into Aether’s mouth and Aether had clung to him just a little bit tighter than normal.

“Cu could smell it,” Dew continues to speak, squeezing the back of his neck again and leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, “Could smell that you were spiraling; it’s so hard for you to be away from your mate when you’re going into your heat, right?” he asks, there’s a kindness there that Aether grabs at, and he makes a noise, in agreement he thinks, and Dew laughs a little, fond and happy, “Poor thing,” he coos, nuzzling his temple, “I didn’t think—” he pauses, “I didn’t realize you were going into heat, baby, otherwise I’d stayed with you, brought you here the right way,” he slides his palm up Aether’s back, slow and gentle, “Instead of letting you get yourself worked up like this.”

Aether shakes his head, lifts his head so he can kiss Dew instead, hopes that the but you’re here now comes across even without him actually saying it and when they break apart, Dew’s smiling up at him.

“Okay, okay,” he says softly, scratching his nails against Aether’s scalp again—something Aether loves only when he’s in heat but loathes most times when he’s not, letting Aether tuck his head into his throat again, “Think you can rest for me, big guy? Nap a bit while we wait for food?”

And well, Aether does feel tired, among other things, the low simmer of heat beneath his skin, the empty feeling in his stomach—beyond all of that, there is a tiredness in his bones, one that has his eyes feeling heavy, he snuffles against Dew’s skin, settles all of his weight in a way that would surely squish anyone else, but Dew revels in.

“That’s it, big guy,” Dew mumbles, slides his other hand under Aether’s shirt, palm settling warm against his lower back, “I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat,” he promises, draws a little heart into cool skin with a warm fingertip, smiling when Aether snuffles again, goes still, resting.

Dew sighs quietly, tipping his head back against the pillow and allowing his own eyes to flutter closed, surrounded by the scent of his mate and their nest.

-

Aether wakes first—to the scent of food and to the fading scent of wetness, pack and a voice in the back of his mind whispering predatorpredatorpredator, when he cracks his eyes open and lifts his head, there’s no one else in the room, but the scent of something makes him whine a little, press his face into Dew’s throat again to block it all out.

Dew’s hands, which had stopped moving sometime when he’d fallen asleep, jolt as Aether moves, nails dig briefly into the sensitive skin of his lower back, drawing a hiss from him before Dew’s moving, shifting under him and grumbling a bit at being woken up.

“Everything alright, big guy?” Dew mumbles, voice low and laced with tiredness as he pats at Aether’s skin, soothing over the ache and it takes him a minute, to wake up, to wheeze out a breath as Aether settles all of his weight on him, as if trying to settle inside him.

“Someone was here,” Aether manages, the words a little rough from disuse, his voice cracking at the end—he doesn’t sound weak, no, but there’s something vulnerable there that he can’t hide. “I know it was probably just Rain, but—” he stops speaking then, feeling somewhat like a fool for thinking ill of his own packmate.

Dew’s hand slips from under his shirt so he can cup the sides of his head instead, drawing him up and out of his throat so he can stare into Aether’s eyes—they're a little droopy, somewhat sad, tired—the weight of a once in a lifetime heat settling heavily in his demeanor. “Hey, Aeth,” he murmurs, gentle and careful, “It’s okay, I should have told Rain to leave the food at the door,” he tips Aether’s head to the side, leans up as much as he can so he can scent the quintessence ghoul, rubbing a cheek against the underside of his jaw. “S’okay, he didn’t come in the nest, he would never,” he promises softly, tips his head and presses a sweet kiss to his skin.

Aether exhales loudly and after a moment, settles down against Dew again, tension seeping from his body as he lets Dew tip his head to the side so he can mouth along his jaw, “Sorry you gotta deal with this whenever my heat comes around,” he mumbles, feeling only a little bit sorry about the way his emotions seem to spark in a way that makes something dark twist in his belly.

Dew smiles against his skin, sinks both his hands in Aether’s fluffy hair before drawing him into a proper kiss, “None of that,” he murmurs fondly, “I love how you are when you’re in heat, baby.” he kisses him again, longer and slower this time, until he feels Aether pawing at his sides, “So sweet for me, aren’t you darling?”

He hums something, low and infernal, tongue too heavy in his mouth to form proper words as he tries to chase Dew’s mouth, the thought of Rain’s scent in the room fading to the back of his mind, pinpoint focus solely on his mate under him now.

“Sweet thing,” Dew coos, kissing Aether on the mouth again, “I want to feed you now, alright? Something easy—” he pauses, glances over at the tray left by the bed, “Looks like there’s some fruit, do you think you could eat that for me?” he asks, cupping the side of Aether’s face, nudging their noses together.

Aether makes a noise, something half agreement, he could eat—there's an emptiness in his stomach that isn’t from his heat, and he tries to think back to when he last ate something substantial, scattered thoughts coming up with nothing after several long moments.

He’s rewarded with another kiss, chaste and sweet against his mouth, the taste of Dew clinging to his lips even as the fire ghoul pulls away from him.

“I’ll need to get the food, darling,” Dew murmurs, slipping an arm around Aether and rolling them onto their sides until Aether’s sprawled in the nest, half under him. “Stay right there,” he says, nudges Aether’s wandering hands away before he slips off of him, most likely to grab the tray.

Of course, Aether knows this, but that doesn’t stop the disgruntled sound that leaves his mouth, arms flopping uselessly to the bed—he may crave to keep Dew close when the heat itches at his skin, but listening to Dew and staying where he’s told to tend to overpower that need, the want to be good for his mate making him lay moodily in the bed while Dew slips out of it to grab food.

“I can feel your ire from here, babe,” Dew says with a little laugh, fond and full of love, “I’m just grabbing some fruit,” he turns away from the bed and that’s when Aether notices that he’s naked still.

Dew’s pale on the best of days, something left over from being born into the world a water ghoul, but he’s got some color to his skin now in his half-shifted state—lines of scales clustered in his lower back and along the length of his shoulders that should have scabbed over once the transformation had completed instead shifted with his temperament, now an iridescent burgundy color that seemed to sparkle in the low light of Aether’s bedroom.

His shoulders not broad, but wide and comforting, telling of the hidden strength beneath his skin, muscle coiled tightly, rippling with his movement as he reaches out to grab a few of the bowls from the tray.

Something happy settles deep in Aether’s belly at the sight of his mate, of the subtle power beneath his skin, his firm touch, the way he knows exactly what Aether needs before he even has to say it.

When Dew turns back around, his eyebrow is raised—there's another cluster of scales above his left eye, fading up into his temple and hairline and Aether’s gaze is drawn there for a moment—not that it matters, because Dew knows him, could probably guess what he was thinking about just now.

It brings a flush of color to his cheeks and as much as he wants to bring his hands in and cover his face, he doesn’t because there’s nothing more satisfying that having Dew’s dark gaze on him, taking in his body—the way his shirt’s rucked itself half up his chest and his underwear sit now just below the heft of his stomach, it’d taken him a bit to get used to it, get used to the honest gaze from the fire ghoul, the way it made him feel desired in every single way possible.

“Good boy,” Dew says, voice a little rough as he steps back closer to the bed, cradling two bowls against his chest, but Aether’s gaze is drawn downwards, where his cock is starting to chub up now. “Hey,” the fire ghoul says, a bit sharp, drawing Aether’s gaze back up to his face immediately, “None of that yet, food first.”

There’s a voice in the back of his mind, dark and demanding that whispers you are my food, the words wanting to slip out, but he bites his tongue and nods, shifts his weight back up against the pillows he’d been left on.

He rolls over onto his belly, buries his face into the pillow to breathe in Dew’s scent—somewhere behind him he hears the fire ghoul laugh and the bed dip as he climbs back up onto it.

“C’mon big guy,” Dew says, resting a warm hand on the small of Aether’s back, “Let me see your pretty face, feed you some fruit, yeah?”

Aether huffs and rolls onto his side, shifting until he can rest his cheek on Dew’s bare thigh, eyes fluttering closed at the feel of warm skin against his own slightly cooler skin, a pleased noise leaving his mouth when he curls a hand around Dew’s ankle.

Dew smiles down at him and places the bowls down by his thigh, “There you are,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Aether’s hair, scratching his nails gently against his scalp, “Just like a big cat,” he coos, feeling Aether lean into the touch, “Are you going to be a good boy and eat for me now?”

It’s an innocent question but oh, it makes the heat stir in Aether’s belly, makes him press his legs together tightly, eyes fluttering back open to stare up at Dew. He licks his lips and nods, turns his head to press a barely there kiss against his bare thigh before he tips his chin up and opens his mouth, tongue lolling out, patient and waiting.

Dew’s fingers clench in Aether’s hair, just for a moment, before he composes himself again, his cock chubbing up more where it’s resting against his inner thigh, “Good boy,” he says, voice a little rough as he gently places a cut strawberry on Aether’s tongue.

He makes eye contact with Dew as he pulls it into his mouth, chewing it slowly before swallowing it—when he opens his mouth again, his tongue is a bit pinker than before.

“Seven hells, Aeth,” Dew mutters, mostly to himself, feeding him another bite of strawberry, “Such a good boy for me.”

Aether makes a happy sound in his throat, graciously accepts the fruit that Dew continues to offer him, until he’s polished off the strawberries and eaten half of the pineapple chunks, his lips sticky and tacky with fruit juice, heat burning bright as his mate continues to care for him.

Dew’s mostly hard now, his determination to make sure Aether’s fed and well cared for waning away now that there’s less fruit in the bowl—Aether's scent growing sweeter the more content he gets.

Aether squeezes Dew’s ankle, turns his head away when Dew goes to offer him another bite of fruit and instead, mouths at Dew’s thigh, panting wetly against warm skin.

“Alright darling,” Dew murmurs, moving the bowls off of the bed, stretching his body as much as he can to get them placed somewhere stable—on the table or the floor, he’s not really focused, loses the last bit of pineapple in the bowl to the floor as he feels Aether tug at his leg. “I’ve got you,” he promises as he clamps a hand around the back of Aether’s neck, squeezes tight. “Let me take care of you, Aeth.”

A noise looses its way from Aether’s throat as he goes limp over his lap, the firm hand on the back of his neck keeping him in place. He wants to beg, plead for something, but Dew’s words, his promise to take care of him keep the words inside him.

“Good boy,” Dew murmurs again, presses his thumb against the side of Aether’s neck, where he can feel his pulse hammering away, “You’re so good, doing so well for me,” he continues, hissing a little as he gets a hand around himself. “Tongue out, big guy.”

Aether’s eager, tongue lolling out once more, the silver of his eyes swallowed up by the constellation of his iris as he tries to get closer—impatient, but Dew shushes him, squeezes the back of his neck in warning and Aether backs off, waits, patient and good.

“Good boy,” Dew repeats again, angles his cock to press against the flat of Aether’s tongue, cool and wet against his heated skin, “Shit, you’re such a good boy,” he murmurs with a moan, eyes fluttering closed.

He whines, the noise lodged low in his throat as Dew’s cock slides over his tongue, as one of Dew’s hands comes to gently cup his cheek, he doesn’t move—he waits, just like he’s supposed to, the salty, musky taste of precome heavy in his senses.

“Good boy,” Dew whispers in awe, looking down at the constellation flush across Aether’s dark cheeks, the way his lashes seem extra-long as they fan across the apples of his cheeks, eyes closed and content as he waits for Dew to tell him what to do next.

“You can suck,” Dew mumbles, traces the pad of his thumb over the corner of Aether’s mouth as the quintessence ghoul hollows his cheeks and sucks, moaning around his mouthful, already so far down. “Shit,” he whispers, cradles his cheek with a shaky hand as Aether drags his tongue against the ridge along the underside of his cock.

The heat in his veins burns brightly, urging him to take more, the promise of Dew’s come spilling inside him has him hungry for more, for keeping his mouth here, around Dew as long as he can, until the fire ghoul can’t take it anymore—he drifts, doubling his efforts as the hand on his cheek guides him to take more, to bob his head along the length in his mouth, until the lines blue together, until he’s no longer sure where Dew begins and he ends.

Aether’s scent blossoms into something sweet, swelling inside the room as he all but chokes himself on Dew’s cock, cheeks hollowed as he sucks him off enthusiastically and Dew feels a pull to it—he’s not rutting, but Satan Below, if anything could pull him head first into a rut, it would be Aether’s scent, cloying his senses until he can taste it.

“Babe, baby, babe,” Dew says, breathless, voice rough as he squeezes the back of Aether’s neck, uses his grip to ease him off of his cock after what feels like hours, shushes the quintessence ghoul when he whines for it. “Hey, hey, big guy, it’s alright, you’re stinkin’ up the place with need and I wanna make you feel good too,” he murmurs, placating, thumb brushing over Aether’s thundering pulse, “Lay on your back for me, sweetheart, let me get my mouth on you, my fingers in you.”

Aether makes a wild noise then, surges up despite Dew’s grip and tackles him to the bed, settling all of his weight over the fire ghoul, underwear sticky and wet as he grinds down against the curve of Dew’s cock—it pulls pleasantly, sates something animalistic and dirty he can’t quite name as he dips down and kisses Dew, his mate, firmly on the mouth.

Dew’s hands grapple at Aether’s waist, gripping his hips tight enough to leave indents behind as he guides his hips, making wounded little noises into the kiss, moaning as Aether bullies his mouth open, sucks on his tongue like he’s sucking cock all the while he’s getting wetter and wetter until he’s dripping through his underwear, slicking up Dew’s cock, getting his pubes saturated and wet—something that makes Aether purr, the animal inside him pleased at how he’s making his mate smell like him, how their scents are so intertwined it’s hard to tell whose is who’s.

Dew sucks in a sharp breath when Aether finally pulls away from the kiss, dives down and instead mouths along his neck and throat, tasting his skin and sweat and Dew feels an impatience bubble up in him, a need to provide that feels almost like rut but isn’t quite there.

His nails are sharp before he can think about it too long, easily slicing through the thin material of Aether’s underwear—he doesn’t dare move the ghoul on top of him as he pulls away shredded, soaked cotton until Aether’s blissfully bare.

His scent stronger now, no longer muted by cloth and Dew wastes no time slipping his hand between their bodies, nails dull and human as he sinks two fingers into Aether’s wet, clutching heat.

Aether moans wetly against Dew’s throat, shifts his knees further apart and sinks back onto his fingers, burning from the inside out—he can’t find the words, can’t help the way he all but rides Dew’s hand, wanting, needing everything that the fire ghoul is willing to give.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Dew manages to murmurs, curls his fingers and presses against the spot inside him that has his toes curling, “Just need to get you ready, baby, babe, just gotta make sure it’s good for you.”

He tolerates it for a bit, sucks a bruise into Dew’s clavicle, grinding down on the fingers inside him, mindless with pleasure, but the heat builds, grows exponentially until it feels like an inferno, he thinks he makes a noise, something pained, but he fights his own body’s faculties to get a hand down between his legs, to get it around Dew’s cock, babbling something as he guides the head of it where he’s already split open around Dew’s fingers.

A whine catches in his throat, and Dew doesn’t stop fingering him, even as the head of his cock pops inside, stretching him to nearly beyond what he can handle.

Dew shushes him, cards fingers through his hair as the fingers inside him press insistently against the spot inside him that has him shaking, “You can take it, baby, you just need it so much you can’t wait, I know, but I’ve still got to stretch you, even if you’ve already got me inside.”

Aether makes a pitiful sound, grinds against the fingers and cock inside him until Dew slips into him a bit more, fingers buried knuckle deep, the ridge on his cock pressing teasingly against his hole, almost inside him.

He sobs then, when Dew’s fingers crook up and he gets a thumb against his dick, rubbing circles against the sensitive head where he’s sticky and hard—his body clenching up right around fingers and cock alike as he comes, a gushing flood of slick covering them, a pitchy moan leaving his mouth when the fingers slip out of Dew’s cock slides into him fully.

He's being shifted around, thighs wide over Dew’s hips, shaky knees digging into the bed as he sits fully on Dew’s cock, clenching rhythmically around it—the hard ridge satiates a dirty desire in him to be knotted full—Dew’s cock pressing up inside him in all the right places, keeping him full and happy.

He grinds his hips down, small little circles and Dew hisses, digs heady bruises into his skin as he holds him, guides him—he’s babbling, calling him a good boy all the while the slick mess between them grows.

"Good boy, good boy, good boy,” Dew whispers through clenched teeth as Aether milks his cock, coaxing him closer and closer to his orgasm, he gets his hand on Aether’s cock again, circling slick fingers around it and rubbing, rubbing oh so carefully as he guides Aether into another orgasm, the quintessence ghoul shouting as he undulates on top of him, in his lap.

Dew guides him down into a kiss, hand on the back of his neck as he fucks up into him, Aether’s body sated and limp, happy—he feels Aether’s teeth, sharp, on his bottom lip and that’s all it really takes for him to drive up into Aether a few more times, coming with a harsh cry into the kiss, nails digging into the back of Aether’s neck.

He whines, pulls away from the kiss and shoves his face into Dew’s throat, shaking a little as he settles, as the flood of come inside him stops that voice in the back of his mind, the begging, begging, begging that’d been itching beneath his skin for days.

Finally quiet.

Dew’s arm slides around Aether’s lower back, settles there, warm and steady as he rolls them, until Aether’s on his back and Dew’s laying between his splayed legs, still hard enough to stay inside, to keep him plugged and full—there’s an itch of oversensitivity in the back of his mind but he pushes it out of his mind as Aether’s content purr rumbles beneath him, vibrates his chest, his own answering sound coming from somewhere deep within.

They’ll have to move, at some point, when Aether’s a little more aware, when the ache in his legs and thighs call for a change in position, when he’s able to form a coherent word once more, but for now, Dew is content to pepper kisses against Aether’s forehead and listen to him purr as the first round of heat settles.