#this does make me 3 for 3 on losing final fests

[calliebrb]

The splatfest results went pretty much how I thought they would, present getting the most votes but team past ultimately winning with team future in third. Didn't expect future to get 18% of the votes and literally no points tho, so a little disappointed there.

On the plus side, I had so much fun with the festival and got loads of cute pictures :)

[mercvry-glow]

Stop making this hurt

parings. jack abbot x doctor!reader

summary. jack knew he didn’t want to go to pitt fest, instead suggesting you take a few of your girl friends on your day off. little does he know that decision leads to you experiencing the worst day of your life without him.

warnings. pitt fest incident, guns/shootings, hospital setting, blood and gore, reader gets hurt, death (not reader), medical inaccuracies and not show accurate but i tried my best, jack and robby are stressed af, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. finally my first pitt fest fic, hopefully this is angsty enough for ya'll and pleases all of my anons who asked for this! I love all of you, thank you for almost 300 followers and as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 3600+

You knew it was a long shot trying to convince Jack to come with you to Pitt-Fest.

Crowds were never his thing, not even before his time as an Army medic. Too loud, too many moving parts, too unpredictable. Add a decade of trauma medicine on top of that, and the thought of shoulder-to-shoulder festival traffic was enough to make him visibly tense. You didn’t blame him — not even a little.

And as much as you loved your husband, you weren’t going to fight him on this one.

“Go have fun,” he’d told you that morning, standing in the doorway in his usual worn t-shirt and sweats, a coffee mug in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist. “Text me when you get there. And text me again when you leave. And maybe don’t lose your phone this time?”

You’d rolled your eyes, kissed him once, then twice — and promised to behave.

Truly, it was better for him to spend his one of his days off actually resting, not galavanting around the venue with you and your friends, half-drunk on overpriced cider and yelling about pierogi trucks.

So you let yourself enjoy it. The chaos, the music, the warm breeze coming off the river. You danced with your friends in the middle of the concert to some college band playing covers too fast. You tasted six different kinds of barbecue and took a picture with a guy dressed like a giant bottle of Heinz ketchup. And every couple hours, your phone buzzed with a little check-in from Jack — usually short, always a little dry since he wasn’t a big texter.

JACKY [1:14 PM] You hydrated today or just vibes?

JACKY [3:06 PM] Hope the pierogi truck is worth the foot traffic.

JACKY [4:11 PM] Home if you need me. 

You were smiling at that last one about to respond around 5pm, standing in line for boozy lemon slushies with Emma and a few others, when it happened.

At first, it was just a sound — one that didn’t register immediately. A sharp crack in the distance. Then another. Then screaming.

The crowd surged before your brain caught up. Someone dropped their drink. Someone else shoved you sideways. Your phone slipped out of your hand and hit the pavement.

“Is that—” Emma started to say, eyes wide.

You grabbed her wrist and pulled. “Run.”

You didn’t know where the shots had come from. You didn’t stop to look. You just moved — through the panicked chaos, toward the edge of the crowd, ducking behind a food truck with a group of strangers just as another round cracked the air like lightning.

Your chest was tight. Ears ringing. People were yelling. Crying. Calling for help. And your phone—your phone was still on the street.

Jack.

You couldn’t call him.

But he’d know. You didn’t know how, you just knew.

And however a mile away, as police scanners lit up and trauma alerts pinged on hospital radios, Jack was already on his feet — keys in hand, work boots half tied—and heart racing faster than he’d felt since he returned to US soil.

He didn’t wait for a callback. Didn’t care that he wasn’t on the schedule. He grabbed his badge and his trauma bag and was in the truck before the next dispatcher finished her second sentence.

Because something had happened at Pitt-Fest.

And you were there.

It really sounded like a firecracker at first — maybe someone messing around near the alley that ran behind the Pitt-Fest booths. But then came the second, then the third. Screaming followed.

You turned your head just in time to see another wave of people running. And then—

“EMMA!!”

She was beside you one second, and the next, she was down.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t think. You just dropped to your knees, catching her head before it hit the pavement, your mind going a mile a minute.

“Hey, hey—Em—look at me,” you said, your voice louder than you realized. “Where were you hit?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her hands were pressed to her stomach, blood already soaking through her shirt and fingers.

“Fuck,” you hissed. “Okay. Okay, pressure. Emmy, stay with me. You’re gonna be okay.”

You barely noticed the searing pain until your legs buckled and you were on your side. A sharp, ripping sensation tore through your ribs like glass.

Shot. 

You had been shot too.

Someone was shouting. A vendor nearby had flipped a table and was screaming for people to duck. A stranger—a kid, maybe barely twenty not much younger than you—ran toward you both through the chaos, eyes wide.

“Are you hurt? I have a truck—”

“Help us—please!” you said, trying to sit up, trying not to black out. “I’m a doctor—ER. Trauma. She needs a hospital now.”

He nodded, panicked, glancing at the blood now pooling on the concrete. “We’re like five blocks from PTMC—I’ll drive!”

You helped haul Emma up with shaking arms, biting back a cry when your chest screamed in protest. She groaned as you dragged her toward the curb, her weight nearly toppling you.

The kid had his pickup pulled up half on the sidewalk within seconds.

“Put her in the bed!” you ordered. “It’ll be faster to lift her in!”

Someone else joined—another panicked bystande —helping you hoist Emma into the truck bed as gently and as quickly as possible. You climbed in after her, teeth gritted, your once cute outfit sticky with blood.

“Go!” you screamed as the tailgate slammed shut behind you.

The engine roared and the truck peeled off, tires screeching. You barely held on, your legs braced against the wheel well, one arm clamped across Emma’s wound, the other pressing against your own side to slow the bleeding.

“You’re okay,” you told her, voice tight, even though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. “Emma, you’re gonna make it. You’re not fucking dying at Pitt-Fest! I won’t let you.”

Her eyes fluttered, and you cursed under your breath, checking her pulse. 

Thready. Too fast.

You knew you had minutes. Maybe less.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew Jack was at the Pitt. On shift or not, he was always there when it mattered.

He had no idea you were on your way. Or that you were bleeding out in the back of a stranger’s truck, racing through downtown Pittsburgh.

But if you made it… if you could just hold on a little longer…

You’d see him again.

The truck rattled like it was going to fall apart with every pothole it hit on Carson Street. The shocks weren’t built for this kind of weight or speed, and the stranger behind the wheel didn’t care. He’d barely said a word since he’d skidded to a stop at the edge of the chaos. Now, you could barely hold your head up.

Emma was curled in on herself across from you, clutching the side of the truck bed like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth. Her glitter jacket was soaked through—Msot of it hers, some of it not—and her ponytail had come loose, curls hanging limp against her face.

You turned your head toward her, everything in you aching.

“Em,” you rasped.

She didn’t answer.

“Emma, look at me.”

She did, finally. Her lip was split, her eyes glassy. She was holding her side with one hand, the other shaking where it pressed against her stomach. Blood oozed through her fingers.

“Hurts,” she whispered.

“I know.” You reached out, hand slick and trembling. You were starting to feel lightheaded, the pain in your side sharp and spreading, warm and wet and endless. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re almost there.”

She nodded—but then her gaze dropped to your side, and her eyes widened. “Babe… you're—”

“Don’t look at me.” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Just breathe, Em. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You weren’t sure if that was true. The blood loss was getting worse. Your top was drenched. The bullet had torn low, near your hip, and every bump in the road sent fresh agony lancing through your whole body. You tried to apply pressure but your arm wouldn’t stop shaking.

The guy driving honked again, swerving around a city bus. Ahead, PTMC’s trauma bay came into view, the red trauma flags flapping against the gray building. Almost there. Almost safe.

Then Emma made a sound that shattered you.

It was small. Wet. A choking breath followed by nothing.

You lurched forward, dragging yourself toward her with everything you had left. 

“Emma—Emmy. Stay awake. Look at me.”

Her head lolled. Her eyes were still open, just barely. “I’m really cold,” she whispered.

“No, baby. No, you’re not.” You gathered her into your lap, tried to shield her with what strength you had left. “We’re here. You’re okay.”

The truck hit the curb at full speed, rocking the bed. The brakes screamed as it slid sideways, stopping half a second before it would’ve crashed into the wall of the trauma bay. And then hands—at least half a dozen of them—were yanking open the tailgate.

Chaos.

“Two critical GSWs in the back—Jesus, they’re both going out!”

“She’s losing consciousness!”

“Someone help me get her—”

“She’s coding!”

You heard all of it like you were underwater. You were vaguely aware of someone pulling Emma from your limp arms. Someone else catching you as your head dropped back, limp, blood seeping down your spine.

A nurse’s voice rang out as she tried to open your airway.

“Who is she—anyone got a name?!”

No one answered.

Inside the trauma bay, Jack was elbow-deep in yet another chest wound, barking orders, adrenaline humming through his veins. He didn’t hear the commotion at the ambulance bay over the noise of suction and a flatline monitor. Didn’t look up when the bay doors slammed open again.

Didn’t know.

Didn’t know that somewhere down the hall, two trauma rooms were opening side by side—one for your best friend who wouldn’t make it, and one for you, his wife, who just might.

Not yet.

But he would.

He always did.

Now rushing inside to the hub, “Her BP’s eighty systolic and dropping—she’s hemorrhaging fast.”

“Pulse is thready. Pupils sluggish.”

“Get Dr. Robby in here, now!”

The trauma bay was already spinning into motion when Michael stepped through the sliding doors, hand dragging down over his messy brown hair. He was halfway into his  new trauma gown as he crossed the room.

“What’ve we got?”

“GSW to the lower abdomen. Entry left, possible exit—can’t tell through the bleeding. She was brought in non-EMS, unknown downtime.”

Robinavitch’s eyes tracked the chaos instantly, sharp and assessing. He reached the foot of the bed and froze just long enough to squint at your face beneath the mask of blood, dirt, and bruises. Something flickered across his expression.

“…Is that—?”

“Yeah,” one of the nurses whispered. “That’s our second Abbot.”

He didn’t react. Not outwardly. Just snapped his gloves tighter and stepped in, voice calm but commanding.

“Alright. Let’s move. I need two large-bore IVs, type and cross, four units O-neg hanging yesterday, and someone page trauma surgery—now.”

A nurse slid a face shield over his head as he pulled the curtain closed behind him.

“Pressure dressing’s soaked through.”

“She’s crashing, Dr. Robby.”

Michael leaned in over your body, catching the faintest movement of your chest. He knew your voice, your laugh, the way you snapped off one-liners at Jack and him in the hall. And right now, none of that mattered. You were just another patient bleeding out on his table. And he was going to keep you alive.

“Hang another liter. Let’s get a FAST scan going—we need to find that bleed.”

A tech slid gel across your abdomen. The screen flared to life, the grainy black-and-white image revealing what they were dreading.

“She’s bleeding into her abdomen,” someone said.

“No kidding,” Robby muttered. Then louder: “Alright. We don’t have time. Prep her straight for the OR. I want her there five minutes ago.”

He pressed down on the wound with both hands, hard. Princess to his left winced.

“She should seee Jack,” she whispered.

“No,” he said firmly. “Jack needs her to still be breathing when he finds out.”

He looked down at you, your face pale and growing colder beneath his fingers.

“You hang on,” he said under his breath. “You do not die on me. He will never recover.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes fluttered once, lips barely parted. A sound escaped, too soft to decipher as Mikey leaned closer. 

Not as a doctor now, but as a close friend. 

“What was that?”

Your mouth twitched. “Tell… Jack…”

But then your body jolted under his hands—heart monitor screaming into v-fib.

“Code!” someone shouted.

“Start compressions!” Robinavitch was already moving, calling for paddles. “One of you get Abbot!”

“But he’s still in Pink—”

“I don’t care if he’s in surgery or nott,” he snapped. “Tell him it’s his wife. Tell him she’s coding.”

Across the hospital floor, Jack looked up—something in his chest going cold before he even knew why.

The Pink Zone was chaos, and Red was a shit show. 

Jack had blood smeared to his elbows and the kind of tension in his jaw that only came from running full tilt on no sleep. His short, curls—streaked at the temples with silver—were plastered to his forehead with sweat. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and quick, were laser-focused on the wound in front of him.

“Clamp—now,” he barked, voice low and lethal.

The security guard on the table had been fine for the minute, eventually turning critical. Shrapnel to the chest. He’d already coded once in triage. Jack had cracked him open right there on the gurney, and there was no room in his world for anything else.

Until—

“Dr. Abbot!”

He didn’t look up. “Hold pressure!.”

“Jack!”

That voice. Too familiar.

He finally looked.

One of the new night shift  interns stood just inside the trauma bay doors, Jacob’s own scrubs stained and his expression wrecked. And he never looked wrecked.

Jack straightened, adrenaline still coursing, brow furrowed. “What?”

Jacob’s mouth opened—but nothing came out at first. He took a breath. Another. Then:

“She’s here. Your wife.”

The words didn’t land right at first. Jack blinked, frowning, like he hadn’t heard correctly.

“She what?”

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen. Came in the fourth or fifth wave from Pitt-Fest,” the young man said, voice tight. “They stabilized her. She was hypotensive on arrival. Tachy. Someone named Emma was with her—they were in the back of a civilian truck.”

The name Emma barely registered.

Jack’s pulse went sideways.

“She coded once—Robby sent her to the OR.”

“No,” Jack said, too fast, shaking his head. “No, she wasn’t even—she said she’d text me when—she wasn’t—”

The air felt thick. Too heavy. Too loud. His fingers curled into fists, shaking beneath his gloves.

“Dr. Abbot,” Someone said, stepping closer. “She’s still alive. They got her back. But you can’t leave right now. We need you here.”

Jack didn’t move.

“She asked for you,” Jacobs added quietly.

That broke something open.

Jack’s hazel eyes—usually unreadable—flashed wide. For half a second, pure panic. He turned, looking toward the hall that led to the elevators, toward OR.

But he couldn’t go. He knew it. The man on the table in front of him was dying.

And his wife… his wife was being cut open upstairs.

He squeezed his eyes shut once, breathing like it physically hurt. When he opened them, they were steely again. Grounded by sheer force of will.

“Tell Robinavitch to get me when she’s out,” Jack said. His voice was barely steady. “And tell him if she crashes again—he calls me. Immediately.”

“I will,” Jacob promised.

Jack didn’t answer. He just turned back to his patient like his spine was made of iron. Like his heart wasn’t bleeding under his ribs.

But his hands trembled—just once—before they found the scalpel again.

And he didn’t say another word about it, because what was there to say you could be gone before he even got to see you. 

Eventually the world returned in fragments.

A slow, stuttering beep. The soft rustle of hospital sheets. The sterile hum of fluorescent lighting. Everything hurt—but not sharply. Not like it had. Now it was dull and heavy, like your body was made of stone, barely yours.

You blinked against the overhead light. It took effort. Your limbs felt like they were filled with sand.

A shape moved beside you.

Jack.

He was hunched forward in the chair, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tight. His short, silvery curls were flattened on one side, sticking up in the back like he hadn’t moved in hours. His hazel eyes were fixed on the floor, red-rimmed, dark and distant.

Your heart monitor ticked just a little faster. He looked up immediately.

“Hey,” he breathed, already at your side.

You tried to smile, but your lips barely moved. “Hi.”

Jack let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob and reached for your hand. His touch was careful, reverent. “You scared the absolute hell out of me.”

“Me too,” you rasped.

He gave you a sip of water, helping steady the cup as you drank. When you pulled back, your throat still felt raw—but the words came anyway.

“Emma?”

Jack’s face changed.

The crack in his expression wasn’t obvious, but you’d seen it before—on the battlefiel, in different red zone code blues, in the quiet moments after a loss. He didn’t answer right away.

You already knew.

“…She didn’t make it,” he said softly. “They couldn’t even try. She was gone in the truck.”

Your breath hitched.

“She was getting married,” you whispered, tears already brimming. “She was twenty-eight, Jack...”

“I know.”

“She was going to try out for th-that promotion. She just bought her wedding dress last week—she wanted to show you, and—and she was finally gonna ask David to move in with—”

Jack didn’t try to stop your rambling grief. He just leaned in closer, resting his forehead against yours.

“I know,” he said again, voice thick. “I’m so sorry.”

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. “She died in my arms...”

His hand tightened around yours.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he murmured, guilt and grief bleeding into his voice. “I was a couple zones over. We were shoulder to shoulder with victims. I didn’t know until after they took you up to surge.”

You blinked fast. “Were you there when I came in?”

“Robby got you stable. Barely. Everyone just said it was bad. Said  one of ours went down.” His voice caught. 

“Jack.”

“I couldn’t go up,” he whispered. “They were still bringing bodies in. And you were already in surgery. I had to keep working.”

Your vision blurred again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re the one that got shot.” His hazel eyes were fierce now, even through the exhaustion. “You did everything you could. You kept Emma safe as long as you could. And you lived. That’s all that matters right now.”

You didn’t feel like it should be enough. Not with her gone, and the fate of the rest of your friends unknown. But the way Jack looked at you—like the entire world had stopped spinning until your heart started beating again—it made the pain settle differently.

He reached up and brushed your hair back, his touch gentle. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”

Since the first shots rang out at Pitt-Fest, you let yourself feel the weight of everything that had happened. 

Your fingers twitched under his, slow and aching, but deliberate. Jack noticed immediately, shifting to cradle your hand in both of his, as if he could anchor you there by touch alone.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sure. “Thank you for staying with me…”

Jack’s eyes closed, lashes trembling. His head bowed as his grip on your hand tightened, pulling it gently to his chest.

“I’d stay a thousand times,” he murmured. “I’d go through hell a thousand times if it meant getting you back.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest—because you believed him. There was no part of Jack Abbot that ever did anything halfway, least of all when it came to you.

“I thought I was going to die,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “In that truck. I-I knew Emma  was gone and—I couldn’t feel my legs. Everything hurt. I didn’t know if you’d even know…”

Jack leaned forward again, resting his forehead against your hands, breathing you in like he was trying to convince himself you were real. “I know now,” he said, voice rough. “And I’ve got you.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek, the way his body trembled just slightly with the force of holding himself together.

“I kept thinking—‘he’s gonna be mad,’” you whispered. “Because I went without you. Because I didn’t duck fast enough. Because I let one of the girls get hit.”

“Stop,” he said, voice firm but thick with emotion. “You don’t need to carry that. Not even for a second.”

You nodded faintly, tears sliding into your hair. “She died, Jack. Emma died. And I couldn’t save her.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, then moved to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, like he could pour every unspoken word straight into your skin.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I’ll carry that with you. Every single day.” The monitors continued their slow, steady rhythm. Jack stayed at your bedside like he’d never leave it again.

Outside, the world kept spinning—grief, news headlines, recovery, chaos—but inside that quiet room, wrapped in his presence, you finally let yourself rest. Because you weren’t alone. Not anymore.

And you knew, in the deepest part of yourself, that Jack would keep holding on enough for the both of you—because that’s the type of man he was. 

mercury-glow 2025

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐅*𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

-ˏˋ. 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˊˎ-

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — FWB!matthew tkachuk x f!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 1.7k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — "old habits die hard..." — or, your boyfriend won’t fuck you right, so you run to the one person who always does.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — patrons know the chokehold this toxic sin-fest has on me and probably always will... in all seriousness, this is one of my favorite things i've ever published and i am so insanely proud of it. i hope you love it as much as i do <3

(spoiler — not possible teehee)

18+ MDNI — content warnings under the cut.

𝐜𝐰 — profanity, innuendo, matthew’s filthy mouth and lack of morals, cheating (not on matty or the reader), outdated/incorrect information about having sex for the first time, borderline too much degradation, some objectification to add a little spice, unprotected sex w a cheeky creampie (what did you expect from two morally bankrupt individuals written by me, a retired whore?), matthew being a noncommittal, possessive piece of shit joking about knocking people up for funzies

────────────

“D’you think you’re so addicted to my cock because you know I don’t give a fuck what you think about me? Or care if you think I’m a Nice Guy?”

Even buried to the hilt—bare with nothing between you and far too fucking close for comfort—Matthew Tkachuk runs his mouth like he’s got nothing to lose and even less to prove. He’s insufferable, his only redeeming quality being the pulsing appendage threatening to split you in half as you buck in his lap.

With your hands braced against his hard chest for leverage, you drown out his grating voice, chasing the white-hot surges, bolts of lightning leading you to the brink of collapse with renewed vigor.

The sooner you come, the sooner he’s gone.

“All I care about, sweetheart, is fucking you good and hard. Giving it to you like the hungry, cockdrunk whore that you are.”

Debonair attitude. Sly confidence. Vulgar demeanor.

Filthy fucking mouth.

You were warned about Matthew Tkachuck. Repeatedly. Warned about him and his complete lack of a filter, about his total disregard for anyone’s feelings but his own. His aversion to commitment, to monogamy, to propriety.

All the things that repulse you about the man lounging on expensive hotel sheets beneath you—as you do all the work—lure you back to him in equal measure. He shouldn’t turn you on, but that’s exactly why he does. He’s all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Which makes him just right.

“I bet if your fiancé walked in right now, you’d just keep riding me. You wouldn’t even notice, would you? After all, you haven’t cum yet. And that’s all you care about, right? Using my cock to get your rocks off because Billy Boyfriend’s too scared to give you what you really need. Lucky for you, I’m not a fuckin’ pussy. I don’t treat you like a fragile doll because I know you’ll take anything I give you—and beg for more. I treat you like what you are, not some chaste little princess.”

You’ve been with Bill for nearly a decade, engaged for more than a year. It’ll be a spring wedding, probably. If the venue pans out, and the caterer finally calls you back with a final quote.

Perfect on paper.

He doesn’t pay attention to you the way he used to. Just throws money at the problem until he can bury himself in work again, undisturbed by you or nagging obligation.

Flowers for being three hours late, a necklace for missing dinner entirely. A trip overseas when he had to go into the office on your anniversary.

But he’s nice, so fucking nice it hurts, and more loyal than the Golden Retriever he wants to adopt after the honeymoon. After you’re settled into a custom-build nestled comfortably in the suburbs and far away from the city. White picket fence, manicured lawn, barely-there speed limits.

It's all so nauseatingly idyllic. So perfectly attuned with what you thought you wanted, what you spent your childhood coveting.

All your single friends are jealous; your committed friends are resentful. Your family loves him, and even though you’ve got a fucked up way of showing it, so do you.

And he loves you too. He’s just busy. It’ll be different once we’re settled, he says. You try to believe him, though not as hard as you should. You tell yourself it's because he doesn’t either.

Bill’s gotten lazy. You’ve gotten bored.

You’re no angel, and never claimed to be. You just want to feel good.

Matthew barks out a dry laugh, almost like he can read your mind.

“You haven’t been since I first got you on your knees at his birthday party. And definitely not after I popped that sweet cherry you were so adamant about saving for him."

Bill doesn’t fuck you. He never has.

He makes love to you. It’s that romance-novel tenderness that got you here in the first place. Slow, sweet, and nearly devoid of passion. It’s so gentle you have to think of him just to come.

How he fucks you.

How tightly he yanks your hair, craning your neck until it aches. How hard he kneads and smacks your ass, bullying the skin until you sob. How deep his cock reaches. And how he takes, takes, takes without forethought. How could you accept a lifetime of only tame rutting in the face of Pavlovian depravity?

It’s awful, and it's so profoundly selfish, but his everything has you in a bind.

Matthew’s everything is ruining your life.

An uncharacteristic wave of guilt and sadness washes over you, and before you can catch yourself, you’re staring down at the engagement ring. The band constricts, digging into your finger like it's out for blood when you glimpse the indentation it left behind on Matthew’s peck. You wince, then choke down the shame lodged in your throat, screwing your eyes shut to will it away.

“If it's bothering you that much, take it off. I’ll keep it safe for you.” —wink— “I can’t imagine the weight of a rock like that, especially one you don’t even deserve. But, if you actually felt as guilty as you claim to, you wouldn’t be this wet on another man’s cock. Don’t play saint now. You’ll ruin the fun.”

You can’t do this right now; you can’t have this worn-out fight. So, you say what you always say even though you’ve long since stopped trying to mean it.

“You keep saying that, sweetheart. We should stop. This is the last time. But no matter what you say, you always come crawling back to me sooner or later because I have what you need. Because I’m not him. Because I fuck you better.”

His words light you on fire. You hate it, but how deeply your body enjoys them is undeniable. How tightly you squeeze and flutter with every degrading line, choking his cock as you use him to satisfy your own perverted needs. How his brutal honesty, his refusal to let you forget your zealous participation in the affair for even a second, arches your back and hardens your nipples.

Even without all that evidence stacked against you, the blitzed-out look on your face says it all. One look at you and everyone would know just how right Matthew is.

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl.

You say it for the sake of saying it. To know, when you curl into Bill's side tonight, that you said something to deny his assessment of you.

But the last thing you want is for him to shut his mouth.

Not right now, not when you’re right there—

“You can’t hide from me, sweetheart, and you can’t lie to me. You can’t fool me, either. I see right fucking through you. It terrifies you—and you love it.”

His raspy voice swims freely through your hollowed-out mind. It unwittingly thumbs through every unforgivable memory, like some sort of pornographic Rolodex.

Matthew’s hips grinding against yours in darkened corners and dive-bar bathroom stalls and poker tables.

His hands fighting against hard-earned sweat in the foggy backseat of his car, battling to find purchase anywhere he can so he can keep rutting with reckless abandon before you’re expected home.

His fingertips burrowing into the sides of your throat, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to silence, hard enough to hurt.

Him spilling inside of you, ropes painting the sacred place white with no remorse or expectation of responsibility.

Matty’s hand over your mouth, urging you to be fucking quiet as he pistons in and out, in and out, keeping you pinned against the bathroom door, against the only thing standing between Bill and the worst discovery of his apple-pie life—

Old habits die hard.

Especially when it’s one that always feels that fucking good. No matter how lecherous or immoral.

Or how badly the betrayal would hurt someone underserving and innocent.

“Even if you walk down that aisle and take his last name, you’ll still belong to me. Wedding or not, this pathetic, weeping cunt belongs to me. But it’s all gonna be okay, though. Don’t you worry that pretty, empty head. I don’t mind sharing my toys. Especially with someone who could never compete.”

You can't compete where you don't compare.

He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend. He isn’t the Relationship Type. He doesn’t even want to be exclusive. That’s part of his appeal, no matter how fervently you deny it. He doesn’t want more than pleasure—primal, deviant pleasure—and that’s all you're looking for.

That's all you need.

“Where do you want my load, dirty girl?”

“Inside. I-Inside me, please, Matty.”

“Right answer.”

The burst of warmth is like getting a perfect grade you didn’t earn. Or feeling the cash your sibling gave you in exchange for not ratting them out sitting in your back pocket. It's hard to feel bad about the wrong you’ve done when the payoff is so deliciously worthwhile.

Matthew twitches, still hugged by your sensitive walls, and you shudder.

This is the high you chase every time you bend your morals until they splinter. The still nothingness that lays beyond the denouement, where everything is glowy and the pit inside you appears not-so-bottomless for once. The lack of expectations and obligations. The sheer freedom that stringless pleasure, that sensual self-indulgence provides.

Matthew doesn’t owe you anything, you don’t owe him anything either, and neither of you pretends otherwise.

And you sure as fuck don’t trip on his dirty laundry every time you walk into the bedroom.

“If that doesn’t take,” Matthew flicks his hips in emphasis, “…let me know when and where you want your wedding present, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer. You push his hands away and roll off of him unceremoniously. But he keeps talking.

Matthew is always talking.

“Oh, and before I forget, would you be a dear and let Billy know I won’t be able to make it for his bachelor party? I don’t know why, but I have the oddest feeling that something desperately needing my attention will come up.”

────────────

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

-

asks, reblogs and comments very welcome and greatly appreciated!!

⤑ to my inbox 💌

⬸ back to the catalog

⬸ back to the main blog

patrons gained access to this piece on may 26, 2023 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

[karma-vvitch]

l'amour de ma vie

Thought I was depressed or losing my mind My stomach upset almost all of the time But after I left, it was obvious why (oh), mm Because for you, you I was the love of your life, mm But you were not mine (but you were not mine)

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Angst

𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:  Hurt/No Comfort, Angst fest lmao, Bucky’s kinda a dick in this one (so for all the ppl who don’t like reading Bucky in a negative light, this isn’t for you babe. *I’m ppl), The reader is implied to be chubby/plus size, slight body insecurity, but I think reader girl bossed in this (maybe it’s just me), AGAIN THERE IS NO FLUFF HERE ABSOLUTELY NONE. 

“You ruined me” You glared at him “You ruined me, Bucky Barnes” It’s been 2 weeks and 3 days since Bucky broke up with me. The audacity of that man. I don’t know where it went wrong. Was it when he started coming home late? Or when he started sleeping on the couch? There were too many instances to count. I guess the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he left his phone on the counter, Sharon’s contact notification glowed brightly. “We should stop this” God I thought for once I wasn’t an idiot, but once again my ego was shattered. That fucker told me he loved me, all of me. From my smile, to my curves, to my thighs. And yet he still went for miss perfect. “Baby–” The asshole spoke. “Baby? Seriously Barnes? Trying to soften me up? We’re SO past that!” I laugh incredulously. Fighting the tears welling in my eyes. “You promised me! You dick! You promised me! You said you looked past this–” gesturing to my body “I thought you saw me for me, Bucky!” He looked embarrassed. Good. “Baby, can we please not do it here?” He looked around the common room we were standing in. The place occupied by the team who were in awe and disbelief on what’s going on. This bitch “Oh! You’re embarassed? Good, let them see your shame for the lying, cheating piece of shit that you are!” Gasps are echoed throughout the room. The woman in question as well, finally, looking away in shame. Bucky looked helpless. The severity of the situation finally hitting him like a freight train. “Please, it was a mistake. Yes, I’m a huge asshole for hurting you. You have all the right. I love you. What I did will haunt me for the rest of my life and I’m sorry–” tears flowing freely from his eyes at this point “I’m so so sorry” The sight before you could’ve made you fold easily. Bucky on his knees, grovelling. Your Bucky who held you when your friends abandoned you. Your Bucky who drove you to McDonald’s at 3am to get nuggets. Your Bucky who dropped everything just to go home and take care of you at your lowest. For a second you thought that everything happening at the moment was just a bad dream. He would never hurt you… But he did. His cries snapped you back to reality. “I broke up with you because I was a coward, I thought I could fix myself and come back to your life a better man– I should’ve told you sooner” All I could do is stare at him, emotionless and numb. What does one even do in this situation? The (once) love of your life, who has hurt you beyond any comprehension is grovelling at your feet. Should I say something? Should I lash out at him? Should I make him get up? It was all becoming too much In the end, I just turned my heel and left. The echoes of his increasing sobs and pleas following me. Good.

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: This may or may not be based on real-life... Oops. The angst gods were coursing through me ngl. I haven't written in months so this is exciting. The depression is still there and thriving but I'm not gonna let it stop me from doing what I love :>. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. Hopefully, I get to write more Bucky stuff (I promise there will be more fluff. God knows this man deserves it). Anyway, hope y'all have a great day/night! xoxo

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: None yet!

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for November 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Lost and Found by @signofcomfort [T, 33k, Louis/Harry]

Harry, the misfit wolf in the pack, always longed for affection but was too drowned in his own loneliness.

The pack alpha Louis Tomlinson shapes the future of his pack to be more accepting and welcoming, but would Harry ever return?

＊ No More Days Alone by @signofcomfort [M, 6k, Louis/Isaac Anderson]

Isaac finds himself lost amidst the tour but Louis is always there to find him.

＊ I want yesterdays love by edensrose / @holdingthornsandroses [M, 4k, Louis/Dev Patel]

“We’re going on holiday before the term starts again,” Oli announces in their kitchen the day after the art opening.

Louis looks up from his cereal bowl.

“Who is we?”

“I’ve rented us a cottage near the beach. Me, you, Calvin, Rick, and Dev.”

Louis makes a noncommittal noise but can’t deny his heartbeat racing at the mention of Dev.

＊ i tell myself i'm done with wicked games by haveufoundwhaturlookingfor / @sup3rbloom [T, 5k, Louis/Michael Clifford]

Omegaverse: Alpha Louis has never questioned who he is, a strong, loving Alpha who defies stereotypes. When he meets Michael, a beta, he certainly doesn't expect to fall for him (and hard).

＊ To start again by @loretheloner [E, 27k, Louis/Michael Blackwell]

Louis finds himself slowly falling for a bandmate again, despite Oli's warnings against it. Michael finds himself slowly falling for his boss and fighting against the ghost of Louis' past relationship. They find a way to start again.

Or a canon compliant story that follows Michael and Louis from the summer of 2019 to June of 2024. Written for prompt SS of the Louis Rare Pair Fest 2024.

＊ I've drowned and dreamt this moment by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 2k, Zayn/Louis]

There has been a rivalry between them since they were young. Since the very start of their careers. It’s always been Louis and Zayn, the ones to watch. The ones to do battle and ultimately share the podium.

They push each other to be better, is what the world says.

They hate each other, is what Zayn and Louis say.

And it all comes to a head in Val d’Argenton.

＊ Countdown by @allwaswell16 [M, 2k, Louis/Thomas Shelby]

Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, has taken notice of The Garrison Pub’s new barmaid, an omega named Louis. A prequel to One Part 2 of One

＊ if we were butterflies by @blueskiesrry [E, 52k, Harry/Louis]

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice.

or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

＊ Whole Lot of History by Blue_Green28 / @bluegreen28fics [E, 73k, Louis/Harry]

Louis and Harry have a whole lot of history. With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage they are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

What happens when Harry finally gets some money to open the coffee shop he had always dreamed of and they spend more time together to plan everything? Does their love still have a chance?

＊ Flying Over on My Own Tonight by @haztobegood [E, 1k, Louis/Jack Cochrane]

Louis is on his way to Monterrey, Mexico, where he'll headline Tecate P’al Norte music festival for the first time. A text from Jack makes the flight a bit more interesting.

＊ Sisterhood by @haztobegood [M, 2k, OT5]

Liam was thankful to have found sisters like Harry, Louis, Niall, and Zayn after running away from her parents. They opened their door and their hearts, their once-abandoned farmhouse becoming a safe, comforting home. Then one night, an unexpected visitor arrived, revealing the dark secrets of her new family.

＊ The Kiss of Sleep by @haztobegood [NR, 666 words, Louis/Harry]

Louis shook his head. “I’m proper knackered.” Too many nights on the road with the noise of the tyres rolling beneath them kicked Louis’ insomnia into high gear. He’d only been able to nip off for naps between soundcheck and their shows so he’d have enough energy to perform properly. But just barely. Now, with two days off and a plush king size bed calling his name for the first time in weeks, Louis needed to catch up on sleep.

＊ Love's A State Of Mind by @enchantedlandcoffee [T, 3k, Harry/Louis]

“Your omega?” Louis asked softly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “Hmmm.” Harry smushed his face in Louis’ shirt, his hand moving up to mess with one of the buttons. “He’s great, my omega. He’s kind and passionate and funny, even when he makes jokes about me.” “He- He sounds great, button.” “He is. You are.” What?!

OR Childhood friends, Harry and Louis, have been inseparable ever since they met. However, presenting as an alpha and omega drove a wedge in their relationship. One night, after Harry drunkenly confesses one too many things, Louis snaps. He realises that, despite loving his best friend so much, he needs to move on before their love tears them apart. He just needs to get the stubborn alpha on his side. Part 1 of Flower & Button

[silvergarnet12]

Splatoon was the first Nintendo game to push me out of my comfort zone of single player games, and with the closure of it's servers I wanted to draw a tribute to a game that really means a lot to me.

Some long rambles about the game under the cut.

When I first played the Global Testfire I was 15, and the only mutliplayer games I played were with friends in the same room.

Splatoon was also the first shooter I ever picked up, as I always liked bright colours over more realistic graphics in my games, and back then the only shooters I knew about were Halo(and that was only really a name to me!) and the CoD games.

Any worries I had about being bad quickly vanished as the sheer vibe of chaotic fun the game had, particularly when no one had played it before, got rid of any worries, and all I remember is having fun. And choosing to play as the guy instead of the girl for the first time, solely becuase I wanted a ponytail like in real life(I would continue to use the guy through the series as a tradition, a contrast to what I saw most people online doing).

When the game came out I binged the single player, and vividly remember the first time I fought DJ Octavio, and the first time I heard Calamari Inkantation. If ever a game was to convince me that a song could irreversibly change your life, it was Splatoon. Because to teenage me, in that moment, with Calamari Inkantation playing in the background while I fought an octupus DJ, it did.

It gave me terminal brainworms for this series. And here I am, 8 yrs later. Older and more tired, been through some shit, had some good times, tried, succeeded and failed in things throughout the years.

I've always been grateful that they made the decision for the player character from 1 to return, everytime they've shown up it's felt a bit like seeing an old friend, especially since as the games time skips have always had them close to my age(which probably helped my attachement back in the first game). So hi Three, can't believe we both probably pay taxes now.

I have the original two Inkling Amiibos, in a collection that is slowly building, I'm still attached to Marie, and yes I was on her team for the Final Splatfest.

I cried when it was over, just like I did in 2's Final Fest(I was team chaos, two for two baby!) and will probably do so for 3's as well. Something about this series just makes me super attached to it's world and characters.

So booyah Splatoon, my final online game of yours was well and truly years ago, but I replayed story mode to share you with a friend recently, and I think I'll refight Octavio tonight in honour of the good times.

You encouraged me to try out games I wouldn't have otherwise(hello Overwatch and Deep Rock Galactic), and outlasted one of the other major games of my teenage years(...Overwatch 1 I miss you). So thank you for that.

I'll miss Squid Jump, Inkstrike, the og kit for the NZap 89(why does it's new one not vibe with me ;-;), the Squid Sister's broadcasts and the more saturated colours. At least I can always return to the Plaza in 3, and that Spyke isn't dead like I was concerned he was when 3 released, and see the Squid Sisters perform during Splatfests again.

I have so much more to say in my heart about you but no more ways to word it.

You've been a fantastic game, and will always be a treasured experience that I am grateful to have been a apart of from the very beginning.

Now bring back Moray Towers in 3 damn it! It's in 2 but I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY FAVOURITE STAGE IF IT"S NOT IN 4.

[sofasoap]

Love at first sight - life and death

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Life doesn't always play a fair game. Takes place after Epilogue of the main series.

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,Part 5,Part 6,Epilogue

Warning: M Rating. inaccuracies to medical and military related. discussion of injuries. ANGST.

A/N: Thanks @gamergirlbones helping me with Spanish phrases. and to @siilvan for putting up with me for breaking her heart. not beta nor properly proofread. sorry.

Part of RUDY FEST fic. Thank you @glitterypirateduck the wonderful CoD fanfic and fanart curator for organising another festival :D you are awesome. Prompt used: I'm not leaving you, You have to leave, your life's in danger

masterlist

How ironic. 

The rescuer needs to be rescued. 

Your ears are ringing, vision blurred with all the dust in the air. Without looking down, you know you are bleeding out. 

Slowly turning towards your left, you can see two of your fellow medics lying motionless on the ground. 

Are they still alive? If not… 

Who are their next of kin? Oh, you need to retrieve their dog tags. The paper work.. 

Ouch. Why does it hurt so much? That’s right.. You are injured. But where?  

“MINI! Stay with me!” 

You know that voice. But where is he? 

“Oh, hello love. There you are.” you replied, blinking your eyes a few times, trying to flush out the blood that is currently blurring your vision. Finally you spotted the owner of the voice.“ You shouldn’t be here.It’s not safe.” Bit of deja vu? Last time this happened, you were the one who was on the other side, trying frantically to save Rudy’s life. How the tables have turned. 

“I am not leaving you.” Rudy replied adamantly, with a hint of panic as his eyes scanned your body, and the surroundings. “You are going to be ok, cariño, I promise. Stay with me. Please.” he pleaded as he started to open his emergency med kit, doing whatever he can to save his love from dying in front of him. 

“Go. Don’t worry about me.” You tried to lift your arm, but you couldn’t. That’s when you notice half of your body and arm are pinned underneath the boulder and debris. 

“Oh.That’s not good.” you try to laugh, but all you could manage was a shuddered breath. “You muppet, of course it’s not good.” A lower, grumpier voice joined in. “How can you still be laughing in this situation?” 

“Oh, hello,Captain.” You slurred. It’s harder and harder to keep your speech and head straight. “You have to leave, your life's in danger. Take that man with you too, while you are there.” you jerked your head towards Rudy, who is currently radioing for medevac, causing a pounding headache. Everything is starting to hurt. It’s getting so hard to breathe. You thought. 

“Tell Soap and the team I love them…” you wheezed as you tried to convey your last messages to Price. “Tell Soap I’m sorry I ate his chocolate cookies….” “Stop giving out your last words. Medevac is on their way.” he reassures you, or is he trying to reassure himself? The sadness you can see through his eyes, you know you are probably not going to get out of this. 

“What.. is.. them…are my teammates ok?” you look at the two bodies again, worrying. “We can’t lose those two.. They are the best we got…” tears start to flow out. They are your brother and sister in arms, three of you have been through countless life and death situations. Is this where the three of you will partway?

“They are still breathing, last time we checked. We don’t want to move them. Worry about yourself first, cariño. Just concentrate on your breathing.” Rudy replied as he caressed your hair, soothing you. You always love his hand, how calming it is, how safe it makes you feel. 

“Oh good.” you slowly close your eyes. At least someone will stay alive today. 

“Come on, keep your eyes open for me, cariño, talk to me.” Rudy’s voice is getting desperate, trying to keep you awake until the medevac arrives. The help just doesn’t seem to come fast enough. He can’t lose you. Not here, not now, not for another long time to come.

“Hey Rudy.” “Yes love.”

“Do you remember the day we first met?”

“Of course cariño. How could I forget?”

“Hey Rudy.”

“Yes mi vida.”

“You love me??”

“Of course.Mi corazón late por ti”.

“....”

“Cariño?”  

The last thing you heard before you sank into the complete darkness was the anguish cry of Rudy, screaming out for you. 

Mi corazón late por ti : My heart beats for you.

NOTE: Sorry it's a short one. I am just so tired from work conferences and travelling. part 2 might not come out in time for end of Rudy fest :(

Tag list :

@jynxmirage, @siilvan

@glitterypirateduck, @homicidal-slvt

@sprout-fics @cumikering @preciouslittlecreature @crazymela

@liyanahelena @abbeyrjm-blog @alypink @devcica @nrdmssgs

@okayyadriana @caramlizedtomatoes @random-thot-generator @random0lover

@iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface

@nightingal3-tales, @deakyspuff

@deadbranch, @roosterr, @gamergirlbones, @b1rds3ye, @writeforfandoms @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @onewattson6529

[goldenprophetwrites]

val || ao3 goldenprophet she/her || ♏︎ || 24 (nsfw, mdni)

twitter || tiktok || instagram icon art credit: wolfstarzahri

my fics below ↓ (will update whenever i post more)

steddie

my four leaf clover eddie pov, post-canon, eddie lives. steve and eddie move into their own apartment and take full advantage of their newfound privacy… Rating: Explicit || Words: 5,174

wolfstar

one day, though it might as well be someday aka the one where wolfstar didn't get together until poa.

When I Loved (The Prettiest Star) remus pov, pre-slash, canon compliant, first wizarding war. Rating: Mature || Words: 4,116

So Tired (it's the sky that makes you feel tried) remus pov, poa canon divergence. Rating: Explicit || Words: 8,823

You and I (will rise up all the way) remus pov, post-poa canon divergence, hea. Rating: Explicit || Words: 12,900

You Will Be (my rest and peace) sirius pov, companion fic following the same timeline as 1-3. Rating: Mature || Words: 23,023

Kink Studies: An Introduction aka professor & baby

sirius black and the joys of being baby sirius pov, one night stand, under-negotiated kink. Rating: Explicit || Words: 10,862

remus lupin and the joys of having baby WIP remus pov, post one night stand, kink negotiation. Rating: Explicit || Words: 5,665 (currently)

goldenprophet does kinktober exactly what the title says. still posting some kinktober inspired fics to the series.

blackstar my favourite child. my pride and joy. the workskin that made me lose my sanity. kinktober prompt: sexting sirius pov, famous transmasc sirius, tumblr mutuals. Rating: Explicit || Words: 12,665

bill weasley’s guide (to wrangling stubborn old men) kinktober prompt: threesome sirius & remus pov, established sirius/bill, polyamory. Rating: Explicit || Words: 11,878

everywhere (i want to be with you) my Padfoot Fest 2024 fic for the prompt: "The summer before their final year at Hogwarts, Remus invites Sirius to come and stay with him in Wales and meet his parents." Rating: Teen And Up Audiences || Words: 9,933

suck and blow card games & virgin remus Rating: Explicit || Words: 4,827

[jmagnabo92]

GGSB Fest 2024 - Day 3 - Saying Goodbye is Hard to Do

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - Jily Graves

Sirius gets freed despite losing Pettigrew, and learns that Harry's never been to Jill's graves. Thus, a goodbye trip is in order.

AO3

***

One of the best things that Sirius ever did was making sure that he was able to take Harry and clear his name, even after losing Pettigrew in the scuffle that night.  It had taken two weeks into the summer, but at least he’s finally free, and allowed to take his kid in for the summer.  Although it was strange pulling up on his bike in front of the Dursleys and riding away with his kid to the house in the country, it was the best feeling in the world to give his kid the dream come true that he’d been dreaming up for years.  Harry had looked at him like he hung the moon, and Sirius was thrilled that he could do that for him.  

Fortunately, their first week, their first month, their first summer together had gone well.  Harry had been thrilled to decorate his own bedroom, get to go on fun adventures, and get to know more about his parents.  They had bonded far faster than Sirius anticipated, but he was thrilled.  They both had a lot to work through, but together, they were making it work and heal together.

Unfortunately, Harry let slip that he’s never been to his parents’ graves, and thus, Sirius made a plan to visit those graves and give them both the chance to move on and say goodbye on Halloween.  He’d gotten permission for Harry to visit home for the weekend, so that he could take him to properly honor his parents instead of ignoring them like everyone else does.  Too busy celebrating the holiday.  

A proper visit, a proper goodbye, just the two of them.

Which is what they’re doing today.

They’re both a little more dressed up despite the fact that they’re both riding the bike on the long ride to Godric’s Hollow, and he could’ve just used magic to get there, but Sirius wanted the drive to think.  To think about where he is right now.  How hard it is to properly say goodbye, even if it is thirteen years too late. 

Sirius, despite knowing that Pettigrew would’ve done it anyway, still ached over his part in what happened.  His husband and wife were killed because he let someone else protect them.  Sure, he had no way of knowing what Pettigrew would go on to do when they’d been so tight knit at Hogwarts and afterward in the Order, but he still could’ve found another way to pull the wool everyone’s eyes. 

Yet, he didn’t.  And his family suffered.

As he pulls into the lot next to the cemetery, that’s all he could think about.  He sits frozen on the bike, even as Harry gets off of it, staring at the cemetery, wondering if they were angry with him.  If they hated him the way he hated himself.  

“Pads?” Harry questions after he sits there far too long.  “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

Sirius shakes his head to clear his thoughts.  “No, no, I am ready, and this will … help, for sure.”  He gets off the bike and gives Harry a side-hug.  “Don’t worry about me, kid.  This is your chance to say goodbye, too.”

Harry gives him a soft smile before they head towards the cemetery.  

Although, he’d never been there before – definitely couldn’t do this on his own – he knew roughly where their graves were.  He leads the way to their graves quite easily.  Finding them in moments and offering his arm to Harry to put around him in a side-hug. 

“Here they are, kid,” Sirius says.  “Do you want to say a few words?”

“Well, I – I’d like to, but I – I am not sure what to say,” Harry states, uncertainly.

“Just speak from your heart.  They love you no matter what.”

Harry coughs and clears his throat.  “Well, er, hi mum, hi dad.  It’s Harry – your, er, son.”

He looks at Sirius for assurance and Sirius nods at him.  “Go on, kid.”

He looks back at the graves and just starts talking about everything – his life before, how he hopes that they’re proud of him, how happy he is to be with Sirius (although he uses Pads), how he’s looking forward to honoring them every day… and then, he tells them that he misses them.  That he didn’t know what he was missing until Sirius came back into his life, but he knows now, and he truly misses them.  

“But I know that you would want Pads and I to be happy, so we’ll honor you and remember you.  We’ll love you, but we’ll also know that it’s okay to – to move on and be happy because I know you’d want us to be.”

“They sure would, kid,” Sirius assures him.  He knows that no matter how difficult it is to say goodbye, to move on, especially given… well, everything… they would want them to be happy.  They wouldn’t want their husband and son suffer.  “They loved us, and they’re watching over us.  They would be telling us that no matter what happened.  I know that, deep down.  They would want us to be happy and move on because they loved us.”

Harry nods, letting Sirius pull him into a proper hug before letting go. 

“And they would be so proud of you.  The young man you’ve become and man you’ll grow into someday,” Sirius states.  

“They’d be proud of you, too, Pads,” Harry offers.  “I’m sure of it.  You – you saved me from… and you’ve been so good to me…”

“I’m your Pads, kid,” Sirius states.  “I’m meant to love you and take care of you because I’m your Pads.  Still, I understand the sentiment.  I know I messed up even though we all agreed to the change, but I want to make up for it now.  They know that, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t have to say the words he’s feeling out loud.  He just looks at the graves and thinks to himself: 

I know that you loved me.  I know that the dementors lied.  I know that I screwed up.  I know that I let you down.  Despite this, I know that you’ll forgive me – if you haven’t already.  But I also know that I will always love you and I will spend the rest of my life making things right.  To you both and to our son.  I promise – I won’t screw up, again.  I just hope you believe me.

He can feel the wind through the air and smell the light scent of flowers, and he knows that they do.  His husband and wife watching over him, they know what he feels, and they know that he’ll keep his promise.

Harry nods and turns back to the graves.  “I love you, mum, dad.”

“And I love you, too,” Sirius says.  He turns to Harry, “Are you ready to go?”

Harry nods, again.  “Let’s go home, Pads.”

“Yes, let’s.”

[barbatos-sama]

so the final test in sploon 3 happened a few days ago and it kind of me sad bc i reflected on how little i played the game, which has also made me vow to play the game religiously again like i did with sploon 2 once sploon 4 comes out (it hasn't been announced yet but like. everyone is pretty certain sploon games aren't stopping any time soon)

anyway the teams were past, present, and future. the squid sisters represented team past, off the hook with team present, and deep cut with team future.

here's the thing, team future lost HORRIBLY. like ABSOLUTELY BOMBED horribly. and the thing is, it's entirely because people just don't like deep cut as much as the other idols, myself included. i'm using this post to say what i've always known in my heart of hearts: deep cut is ugly and i don't like them. and deep cut fans are like, "well they were sidelined in their own game!! they gave the other idols more attention than they should have!" and it's like, yeah because they realized how unpopular deep cut was and started including the other idols to compensate 😭

the point really boils down to: frye is unforgivably ugly pug faced, and does not have the personality and charm to make up for that like pearl does. shiver is kind of cute (the lack of eye mask is still offputting) but doesn't have a strong personality. and big man; well he is perfect, but he isn't a cute girl, and waifus sell.

so despite "present" being the most boring option, it didn't lose because it was marina and pearl's team, and they are beloved by the fandom. team past won, and i think it's a combination of how iconic the squid sisters are, plus most veteran sploon 1 fans chose it and they're the best at the game, plus "past" is just the best option for a final fest win, because all final fest wins contribute to the themes or aesthetics of the next game. (callie losing in the callie vs marie final fest and becoming an antagonist in sploon 2's story mode, chaos winning the sploon 2's final fest making the third game's aesthetic very mismashed and crazy plus marina becoming a mind controlled antag in the dlc). so a game based off the principle of "past" has a lot of interesting possibilities.

anyway i would have chosen team present aka marina and pearl if i'd played. they are my little blorbos.

i have no idea if sploon 4 would actually add new idols after the failure that was deep cut... i mean it Would be absolutely wild to have 4 teams during splatfests, but it would probably be chaotic and unbalanced lol. it probably means i'll never have my dream of a cute male idol 😔 but oh well as long as marina and pearl are there i don't care

[weaksspot]

I have been enjoying your live blogs immensely even though i myself don't have enough context for late late seasons. Since you've been going through it recently, I am curious to know how you view early s13 episodes that get called "widower arc" by d/c shippers. They really bring it as the proof that Dean CANNOT live without Cas, while he can move on from Sam but now that I'm reaching there, I'm a bit confused 'cause Dean lost more than just Cas at end of s12? I would love to know your thoughts on this part of the show because I still get a bit of anxiety about watching any further...

hello beloved anon omg i'm so pleased someone is getting something out of my liveblogging <3 haha. sorry it took me a little while to get to this - it feels like actually forever since i watched 12/13 and i'll admit right now that i was not watching them with my full focus. so take that into consideration haha

but okay i would not worry about watching further. the show does not suddenly become a destiel fest in late late seasons - if anything i feel like it's this strange combination of "ah shit we should do something with castiel" and "we can't actually think of anything to do with castiel" so he's THERE, but like, irregularly. and while NOW, in 15 (maybe also late 14? they blur) there is starting to be some "ok they're setting up for cass to have confirmed romantic feelings for dean" it's very much... uh... in the background. genuinely doing my best to be objective and use neither my wincestie goggles OR my destiel-hater goggles but silly domestic brothers are definitely still at the forefront and i assume that will remain the same up to the finale.

as for a widower arc... um, well, again my memories of early s13 are not super crystal clear. i actually had to go back and rewatch a little to remind myself what was going on because i forgot cass even died then lol. you know where my focus is. but like you said anon dean lost so much at the end of 12 and like, in general that whole season was kind of a headwreck. i think he was already in a bad place and then lost yet another person that had been in his life long-term. we KNOW dean doesn't do well losing anything that's been in his life for a while which makes complete sense given, you know, his life. lol. he's cut up about cass because he has lost yet another friend. nothing about it suggests "widower" to me - ESPECIALLY not compared to how he "coped" whenever he lost sam. again, trying my best to be objective but i don't see it, lol. i think it's a fanon interpretation that suits the ship, which is fine if you're into it but if you're not - like, i wouldn't be watching it going "god damn, i wasn't a destiel believer before, but dean is clearly grieving him like a widower! the scales have fallen from my eyes! deancas forever" lmao

also, like, when they ARE reunited the response is kind of tragically one-sided dkfjgh. dean is happy to have him back clearly but their relationship settles down again very fast and dean goes back to like. uh. what i personally can't read as anything other than viewing cass as one or two shades more important than like, the family dog. SORRY i know that's harsh and they are friends. but their interactions are so sparse and dean is so unbothered lately lmao which you cannot convince me is down to repression. he just has other priorities!!!! (sammy)

okay i hope this wasn't too incoherent. don't worry about watching further!! there are tangents like there have been for the last like, 10 seasons but all in all. it's brothers front and centre forever. and there are enough sweet moments imo to keep you going even when the show is not so good (been saying this to myself since like, s7. if i can do it anyone can do it). just think of the 14x12 hug. all things are possible through the power of the 14x12 hug

[sick-ada]

OKAY SO HERE'S THE OVERVIEW:

marie and callie swap, classic. marie still wins the final fest but she's the one who gets kidnapped and hypnoshaded

flora and bola swap. for those who i havent brainrotted about these guys at, flora is my agent 4 and bola is his roomie/squadmate/platonic bestie/whatever who's unassociated with the NSS. the swap in this context means that bola becomes agent 4 and flora is unassociated with the NSS

(flora on the left, bola on the right)

in my normal canon, flora goes along with marie bc he's hard of hearing so he literally doesn't hear her "rescue my cousin from the octarians" explanation, but he's willing to go with the flow when someone hands him a military-grade weapon

bola, on the other hand, is a lot less compliant. callie actually seeks them out, since her approach is to recruit the scariest person she can find rather than recruit the first person she finds.

bola is also less willing to "go with the flow." they dont agree out of the goodness of their heart, they make a deal: they'll help callie with this if callie agrees to help them out after (their goal being to fuck with squidforce as much as physically possible)

also in my canon marie and callie are field agents while agent 3 stays at the back and gives commands, so callie and bola go through the kettles as a two-person team

while bola is an octoling, they're not an octarian, and they react very badly when callie is like "man you sure must be glad you deserted these guys they suck"

cue callie having to beg bola to come back when they storm off for like 4 days

over the course of the campaign, they have to learn to work together and cooperate and shit, and callie is kinda forced to examine the biases she inherited from capn cuttlefish because she's working with an octoling and they're nothing like she expected

this continues post-campaign where bola cashes in their side of the deal and gets callie to help cause problems for squidforce. this means even more self-reflection for callie since now she's hanging with the Leftovers Squad (bola, flora, CB-808 and bubbles (my agent 8s)) and they're so different from what she's used to

especially since CB and bubbles are actually octarian, now that i think abt it. huh. oh and also cause theyre close with marina

meanwhile, marie is feeling abandoned/betrayed, since from her POV callie has ditched her for a group of people that marie absolutely does Not get along with or fit in with

marie does not get along with bola at all. i love bola but God they're such a bitch. callie gets along with them because she was forced to get along with them by circumstance and has spent a lot of time with them, marie has not and so marie feels like she's been abandoned for someone who hates her guts

bola doesnt even hate her they just dont care. they hate agent three though. fuck that guy

the distance between callie and marie grows and grows until the breaking point; when CB and bubbles get all their mem cakes back and are like "hey why did you cause a famine" and callie is like "we did What" and they all confront three who reveals they knew that their actions in splat1 caused a famine but didn't tell either of the others

callie quits the NSS along with bola (the eights were never really in it to begin with, since they met cuttlefish + 3 after pearl and marina in the metro) but marie, who feels like she's already lost callie and not wanting to lose anymore family, refuses to quit

callie can't really forgive that because holy shit we caused a famine how can you just ignore that so then they sort of become estranged! this is usually the bit where pops yells at me /silly

the squid sisters disband, and callie makes a new moniker! "odd1out" cause it's a combination of agent 1 and the leftovers

im so insane about this

do people wanna know abt the odd1out au

[mercvry-glow]

𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 | 𝟣𝟫 | 𝓈𝒽𝑒/𝒽𝑒𝓇 - | masterlist coming soon|

blog rules | about me | tags/anons

requests. open (for now)

asks. open (always)

fics : the pitt busy bee (ja) - you and your son take a visit to the ptmc due to a little bee sting 🐝 love me hard love me soft (ja) - jack abbott is softer than most people think best of wives (fl) - frank loves his wife, but does robby love his little sister more? all that glitters (ja) - jack's spoiled wifey flaunts her phat diamond ring you, me, and the empty space between us (ja) - in which jack finally sees you where we fit (ja) - park day with the abbot family (follow up to busy bee) stay with me (mr) - you experience a traumatic birth with your husband by your side friendly competition (fl) - you and your husband compete for best dr in the langdon household break in the system (ja) - your son comes in with a tbi and you can't help him get your sparkle on (ja) - jack's wife is a cheer coach who takes a little tumble and he becomes the #1 cheer husband! stop making this hurt (ja) - you're hurt at pitt fest and jack couldn't do anything to help you hey lover (ja) - you know most of the ed doesn't like you, but that doesn't matter because jack does a girls guide to shopping (mr) - after fighting with a teen over a pair of panties and losing, you fight with robby in the er it's never over (ja) - after a fight with jack you go clubbing and the worst thing imaginable happens stubborn love (ja) - you take your son to pitt-fest and deal with the consequences of that

fics: animal kingdom back again (apc) - pope makes an unexpected appearance at your house after 3 years in jail in the cool blue (apc) - based off of season 2x6, you're in the house when javi breaks in looking to kill smurf want and need (apc) 18+ - you’re tired of pope staring at you, still thinking you’re a kid

any works of fiction reposted to other platforms have been plagiarized. please do not share my works on other social media (tiktok, instagram, ect.)

mercvry-glow . 2025

[drarryspecificrecs]

25 Days of Draco and Harry (2022) : Masterlist of complete fics

@slythindor100 || official masterpost || AO3 || ∑ = 46 works The Mods : @sassy-cissa & @timothysboxers

1. Blossom the Lovely Stars by @dodgerkedavra [M, 22k]

[...] After three weeks and four days of dating, Draco asks Harry to stay for the holidays. Harry agrees.

2. Everything, Slightly to the Left by @beyondtheclose [M, 22k]

Harry finds out there's multiple universes when his roommate kisses him. Because apparently him and Draco are married in another universe. The universe this Draco claims to have travelled from.

3. Faerie Felicities by @quackquackcey [E, 79k]

Draco dies and wakes up to the emerald drapes of the Slytherin dormitory at the end of 5th year. Thus ensues new possibilities, new choices, a new life, and a new romance(?) Featuring fluffy shenanigans, lots of baking, and a hopefully not-so-bad war (fingers crossed).

4. First Christmas by @orpheous87 [G, 23k]

Sometimes, being floored by a Labrador isn't such a bad thing. Harry and Draco went to the same university and although they each knew who the other was, they weren't close friends. When they bump into one another five years later, in a park in York, one conversation leads to another and they soon become closer than they imagined.

5. i'll give you the world by @panicissharp [T, 23k]

A year after the war Harry's struggling to adjust to life as an Auror, Hermione is determined to change the world, and most importantly, why is Draco Malfoy back? Oh, and there's also a house elf, a cat, and a few more little surprises.

6. If You'd Told Me Then by zeddmarker [T, 14k]

25 Christmases with Harry and Draco as they go from awkward ex-nemeses to much, much more.

7. Irresistible by @burning-up-ao3 [M, 17k]

Professor Potter is just living his life, but Professor Malfoy is always there, tutting and sighing.

8. Searching Our Hearts by @samunderthelights [T, 36k]

When Draco meets Harry, he can feel an instant mutual attraction. Draco would love to give in to these feelings, and to let himself fall in love for the first time, but he fears that the people he loves wouldn't accept it. He fears it would upset them, and after the troubled years his loved ones have just been through, the last thing he wants to do is hurt them. So he decides that the only thing he can do is try and hide his feelings, but that may be easier said than done.

9. Silent Nights by @gnarf [M, 32k, sequel]

Finally back at the Manor, Harry and Draco already have to face the next challenges. Their plan forces them apart – a tough decision during the festive season and even more so during the zombie apocalypse. But sometimes being separated is necessary, especially when it's for a good cause. That is, if the plan works out...

10. Somewhere in My Memory by @maraudersaffair [E, 29k]

After falling victim to a curse, Auror Draco Malfoy loses his memory. It’s Christmastime and Hermione asks Harry to look after him. Draco doesn’t remember much, but he does remember that he has a serious thing for a man with gorgeous green eyes and a stupid scar on his forehead.

11. Waiting for Life to Start by oldenuf2nb [E, 91k]

Sometimes it takes the magic of Christmas to make your dreams come true.

Series

by @digthewriter : 25 short and sweet memories of falling in love. [T, 2k]

by @drarrily-we-row-along : 25 Days of Christmas [20k, 16 works]

by @louis-arssets : 25 Days of Drarry 2022 [E, 20k]

by @mikoakako : Drarry Christmas 2022 [23k+, 3 works]

by @romaine2424 : 25 Holiday Scenes for Eight Days a Week [T, 16k]

—

✔ other fests in 2022 ✔ fests in other years ✔ 25 Days of Draco and Harry : 2021 | 2020 | 2019 | 2018 | 2017 | 2016 | 2015 | 2014 | 2013 | …

[pigeonp0st]

May I request a fic where Wanda Maximoff tries to make the reader who is shy laugh and accidentally discovers that the reader is extremely ticklish and she pins down and tickles the reader? Could you make it around 900 words and fluffy? Thank you! :)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #3

Words: 1,489

Warnings: A vaguely sexual sentence

Notes:

There’s not an ounce of angst in this? Who am I? And I’m uploading again after only 3 days??? I feel reborn! Anyways, thanks for requesting and sorry for spelling mistakes.

————

Supernova’s have nothing on you. That’s what Wanda thinks the first time she sees you smile. She thinks of supernova’s, planets, and comets in the sky and she thinks of how she’d give up them all just to hear you laugh.

She’d give star, on top of star, she’d give galaxies, and wishes that aren’t hers to give, she’d give you anything, if only she could.

Telling you that though, that won’t make you laugh. It isn't funny to her how much she adores you (how much she loves you), and she doesn’t think it will be funny to you either. Honestly, you’d probably cry, and then Wanda would also start crying— and you’d both just be crying.

No, Wanda decides fairly quickly, that isn’t a good decision.

So...instead she tries stupid jokes on the internet, pranks on the others, pranks on HERSELF, stupid faces... everything...but apparently everything is not enough to make you laugh.

It’s infuriating.

Infuriating because sometimes—sometimes, you look so close. So close to laughing that your shoulders shake with the effort to hold it in, and she’s left to wonder why you try so hard to keep her from the one thing she desires more than anything.

You’re her girlfriend, and she’s never heard you laugh. It’s quite possibly her greatest shortcoming in life (she has a lot of them). She’s heard chuckles, and breathy laughs, she’s heard small huffs of laughter, and she’s seen gigantic grins, but she’s never heard you laugh fully, and unapologetically.

Today— today will be the day it happens. She’s more determined than ever.

————-

Today won’t be the day. She’s tried everything and more, and the only thing she’s gotten out of it is you looking at her like she’s crazy.

“I’ll pay you,” Wanda finally says, “please if you just...if you just…” She can’t bring herself to say what she wants because somehow it feels like she’s breaking the rules she’s made up in her head. “Can you just please?”

You watch her for a couple of moments, thinking so hard she can almost see the wheels turning in your head—yes, yes, yes, finally, Wanda thinks— but then you shake your head in exasperation, and continue eating your dinner.

Okay, this is fine; Wanda tells herself.

...tomorrow will be the day.

———-

“Have you...just tried to tickle her?” Sam asks Wanda the next day. “I noticed her holding in her laughter when that stray we kept last week started licking her foot—so she’s probably ticklish.”

She’s been complaining to him about her failures their whole lunch, and it seems to have paid off. Sam is a very smart guy. When she says so though he snorts and shakes his head in amusement.

“No red wizard, this time I think this is more about what you lack than what I have. You’ve been thinking too big.”

Wanda glares at him. “Call me ‘red wizard’ again the next place you’ll be flying is into a volcano.”

…Despite the change in their conversation, and the bickering it turns into, it was a very helpful discussion.

———

Mission ‘Hyena” is a go (she decided to name it Hyena because they are known for their laughs. She thinks it’s pretty creative).

All she has to do, she decides, is ambush you. The best time for it will be right after training—you usually decide to take a quick bath and lounge in bed afterwards, and you’re very sweet and gullible when you’re tired.

For some reason her plans make her feel like a very sneaky and awful person. She feels a bit of guilt…it doesn’t override her excitement, fortunately. She has been waiting for this day too long to feel any significant amount of guilt. Plus, it’s not like her end goal is malicious.

———

You're laying in bed scrolling through your phone when you get pounced on by Wanda….You’re not exactly surprised by the occurrence though.

Wanda’s been looking at you like a panther when she thinks you aren’t looking, but one that’s truly bad at hunting. So you aren’t surprised that she jumps on you, but you are surprised about WHY she jumps on you.

You were expecting something far more scandalous than a tickle fest.

———

Wanda doesn’t start tickling you immediately. She’s so utterly shocked by your expectant raised eyebrow that she just pauses for a moment, lost.

“Is it okay that i’m on top of you?” Wanda asks after a moment, because she realizes that she sort of has you trapped.

You pause, thinking with narrowed eyes. Then say, more amused than disappointed, but still slightly disappointed, “yeah.”

Wanda thinks back on all these past weeks, on all of her efforts to make you laugh—actually laugh— and starts to raise her hands-

“Is this the part where you tickle me?”

Her hands freeze. She freezes. You even freeze.

“Oh,” you say, smirking with a look far too smug, and far too victorious for someone who was supposed to be losing, “did you think I was an idiot?”

And Wanda drops her hands back down, this time not on your wrist but across her chest, and then over her face because she has truly never felt more ashamed. Not for her schemes, but for how she’s failed them.

She doesn’t know when this turned into some sort of competition, but it’s clearly one-sided.

“So...you’re not going to tickle me?” You ask when Wanda gets off of you.

Wanda grits her teeth, feeling more bitter than she ought to feel. “No, you dork, if I tickle you now it’s anticlimactic. You just had to go and talk, didn’t you?”

You actually have the decency to look guilty for a second, but then you realize what the two of you are talking about and just snort. “What is this, some badly written fic on tumblr by some overwhelmed gay author? At least try. Come on, it will be amusing for me. You might even get me to laugh at your struggles.”

Wanda doesn’t really stop to muse about how oddly specific you were, she just rolls her eyes and turns to leave...only to get stopped by you tugging on the back of her shirt.

When she looks over her shoulder to look at you your eyes are hard and determined, and she knows what’s about to happen now too. Just like you had.

She knows, because the determined set to your eyes turns soft the second Wanda meets her eyes to yours, and you're sitting back down now, letting go of Wanda’s shirt.

“You really gonna give up that easily?” You ask quietly, eyes shifting to the ground. And Wanda is just melting, melting because she loves you and you’re the sweetest person she’s ever met, melting because you're willing—you want— to give her what she wants.

Wanda lets out a small breathless laugh, turns around completely, bops you on the nose with a soft smile gracing her lips, and only hopes that it communicates ‘I love you’ effectively enough.

You smile back, unable not to, waiting for Wanda to look for what she wants. “Who cares if it’s anti-climatic, right?”

To your surprise, Wanda grins, kissing the top of your head, and says; “I wanna surprise you. It’s more fun that way.”

So you grumble and pull her into a hug, because if she isn’t going to tickle you, you expect her to hold you anyways.

She does.

———

Mission Hyena fails. She’s not too mad about it.

She can’t be, when just the next morning she wakes you up with kisses, and tickles, and you wake up grumpy and laughing all at once.

She can’t be when your laughter fills her sun kissed room with even more light, and she can’t be when this moment feels like it’s more than worth the wait.

As Wanda watches you laugh, watches as you throw your head back and force out breathless, soft pleads, she thinks that she would have waited eternity for this moment.

Supernova’s, galaxies, comets, wishes, and an endless amount of stars, they all would have been worth it, but none of them would have been a payment high enough. ‘Anything’ is not even sufficient enough.

You just look and sound so happy, and it’s all Wanda has ever wanted to give you. It warms her heart more than anything else ever could, warms it so much she wishes she could bottle this moment and keep it with her forever, because memories aren’t good enough either.

Still, when you ask afterwards, grinning and exhausted with your arm still clutching your torso and your voice still raspy; “was it worth it all?”

Wanda smiles, fulfilled and happy too, and doesn’t mention the price she was willing so pay. She just nods her head, and says; “Yeah. Yeah, I think it was.”

Like she wasn’t just considering if next time the universe would be enough.

[h50europe]

Why the myth about Steve's PTSD doesn't add up and other inconsistencies

In the last few episodes of H50, PL tried to sell us a mentally broken Steve suffering from PTSD. Only the whole thing came a bit too late. The clip you see is from season 4 and ended up - no, not in the series - but somewhere on the floor of PL's editing room. And why? after Kurtzman and Orci departed, along with their writers, PL took the helm and started turning Steve into a super-soldier. He stylized him into something that wasn't meant to be. Instead of developing the characters, PL began to incorporate more and more hair-raising action sequences into the series and then let Steve fight on the front lines. There was no mention of Steve's mental state, and a lot was explained by PL with: it just happened "offscreen." Yeah, sure. PL can't create a decent character. He can only produce stereotypes and one-dimensional beings. Like Adam. What potential would that character have had had he been turned into Five-0's antagonist? But no. So his role remained diffuse and monotonous. Sometimes even tragicomical.

Back to Steve. When SEAL Team started on CBS, PL also lapsed into SEAL mania. If someone who writes fanfiction were to produce as much garbage as this man did, he would be chased away from every writers' platform in disgrace. PL's Super SEAL also had to rescue his team members from a blazing inferno. Not man by man, no, he flew a helicopter right into the danger zone and lifted a whole cabin out of the burning jungle. If lunacy had a name, it would be PL. While the action became more and more exaggerated and unrealistic, the same happened to the protagonists. After the departure of Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park, PL completely lost his mind. And please, don't blame the writers for the nonsense that was thrown at you. A series stands and falls with the showrunner. He dictates what he wants and passes it on to his staff.

And so, lovable Steve became a soulless robot who only showed feelings here and there. Danny diminished more and more into a sidekick. McDanno became a ship that drifted anchorless through a stormy sea and threatened to capsize again and again. From season 8, it became a reboot of the reboot. PL tried an ensemble show and failed more than miserably. Often the actors just stood around bored. At least that was the impression. The only highlight was episode 8.10. A feast for all McDanno fans. But even here, the outcome of "who shot Danny" was more than insubstantial.

Wait, there was something about SEALs... Oh, yes. Junior appeared on the scene and became Steve's lapdog. I really wondered when there was going to be an episode where he would fetch sticks for Steve. Luckily we had Eddie for that. And because he thought he was so clever, PL invented the episode speed dating. How many subplots can you squeeze into one episode at the same time? In some episodes, you couldn't even take a look at the bag of potato chips without losing the thread.

The case of the week became the yawn of the week. There were so many loose ends that PL then came up with something called retconning. That's what you do when you're no longer satisfied with what was once established in the series years ago, or it no longer fits. But PL went one step further and did the same with the characters. The more the series was dragged out, the more the characters deteriorated and became OOC. It means, often, they were not recognizable at all. And that's where we come to Steve. Because PL, in his desperation, didn't know what else he could do to Steve, and so he killed Joe White. He did it in such a cheesy way with a fake sunset that it made you sick.

Of course, one episode later, there had to be another gig of PL's favorite Barbie. He stuck a fake beard on poor Steve/Alex, so he couldn't even hug Danny/Scott properly. The episode also raised more questions than it answered any. And Steve? He still didn't suffer from PTSD, even though he had now lost Joe White and a fellow SEAL. Everyone is dropping like flies, except for Steve, who is standing like a rock. No matter what. He doesn't need in-depth talks with Danny, nor psychological care, nor any sleeping pills. No, he's doing great. He also opens a restaurant with Danny because apparently, the carguments are already getting on PL's nerves. Unfortunately, this plot device leads into nirvana. The idea was nice, but nobody thought it through to the end. And the merry-go-round continues. Until we get to season 10, where it gets even more absurd. Now PL is almost bombarding us with McDanno episodes, or at least it should seem that way. Oh well, he's already planning for season 11, so a new character has to come on board quickly. While in the beginning, Steve's mother, Doris, dies.

Alex was allowed to take on the subject. Of course, only under the strict eyes of PL. He then nullifies Alex's idea that Steve kills his mother. Because a good soldier and Super SEAL won't do that. Little does PL know. THAT could have been the opening of a PTSD scenario for Steve. However, apart from that, this episode would have had any potential for a multi-arc. Just imagine Steve chasing his mother across multiple episodes. Again, PL stepped in and butchered Alex's episode. You can really feel sorry for the guy. PL at his best or worse? He just can't help it. And then, on the very last meters of the series, he brings someone new, who is allowed to cruise around with Steve most of the time. Because Danny was kidnapped by Wo Fat's widow, PL also invented quite late to have some villain at his disposal. This wannabe mastermind must really have been living under a rock somewhere if she wasn't even mentioned by her husband or appeared earlier.

Because towards the end, PL obviously ran out not only of steam but also of ideas, everything culminated in a wildly illogical scenario. Steve has to live through a dramatic day with Eddie, who stands as a metaphor for Steve (as I said, PTSD was never a thing for Super SEAL), Danny bangs his brains out in a ladies' room with a complete stranger, who dies shortly after that in an accident with Danny's rental car. Apparently, there was no budget to turn the Camaro into scrap metal. Danny then also goes home alone, ignoring the incoming emergency vehicles. Everything remains open at the end of the episode. While Steve expresses his gratitude to Tani and Quinn and says, he would be just as lost as poor Eddie without the dog and all of them. The strange thing is that you never notice anything until that sentence. A few forced dialogues are supposed to make the drama visible, but they all happen way too late or are so poorly written that you miss them.

PL had decided early on to make Steve a Teflon hero. That also means he didn't need to put much substance into the character. Which you can clearly see if you compare the first three seasons to the rest of the series. But towards the end, PL wanted to turn the tide and forcefully rewrote Steve's past. There is a huge difference if you compare Steve from seasons 1 to 3 with Steve from season 10. It is only a sparse remnant of what made this character so great. This change in Steve's personality also affects his relationship with Danny. The witty, affectionate banter degenerates into a snappy, humorless bitch-fest that takes all the joy out of it.

The final two episodes could have been written for any other crime show. As mentioned, we have Cole, who even gets a book'em Cole from Steve, which can only be described as out of line. And it begs the question, was that what Lenkov originally had in mind? Danny out of the show and Cole in? Was the last episode, which mainly featured McCole, something of a test run? Did all the McDanno moments happen only to tear the two apart eventually? Was the real final scene the one where Steve and Catherine take Danny's coffin back to Jersey? Was Danny not supposed to survive? Was that the real reason Steve wanted to get out of Hawaii because he wanted to pay his respects to Danny? And would he really have returned to Hawaii later? Or would he have turned his back on Hawaii? To me, this ending is more plausible than what PL served us. Then, Steve handed over his credentials to Cole instead of Danny, his second in command. Honestly, you can't make the end of a series any more sloppy and dumber than that. And I won't even lose a word about the last 1:30 minutes because I think everything has already been said.

No PL, mission absolutely not accomplished. You created Teflon-Steve. You never wanted him to show any weakness. You turned him into a superhuman who can survive anything. Only to pull the rug out from under him on the last few meters to the finish line and spit on his legacy. How can you dismantle such a great series and its characters like you did? How much do you have to hate something to do that? In the final interviews, the showrunner didn't exactly cover himself in glory either. Everyone who grew up with the series from day one knows that its end was wrong on all the possible levels and that the showrunner is solely to blame for that. It takes a fair amount of egoism and carelessness to drive 10 years at full throttle against the wall. Not many people can do that. Whether you can be proud of that, however, I doubt.

My respect if you have made it this far. Each of you gets 10 extra brownie points for it.