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berryhobii · 5 months

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Dessert(jhs x reader)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x black!female!reader

Warnings: established relationship, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), exhibitionism, s*x toys(bullet vibe), bathroom s*x, unprotected s*x, oral(f receiving), panty stuffing in mouth, doggyst*le, creamp*e, pet names(kitten), a little aftercare

A/N: Hi friends! I’m back with a little sum sum for all my Hobi stans. I’ve been listening to Hope World lately and it really made me realize how much I miss Hobi🤧🤧I didn’t really explicitly describe reader in this besides them having braids so feel free to imagine anything you want! Hope you enjoy! Criticism is greatly appreciated🩵🩵🩵

“You okay, kitten?” His saccharine voice pondered from the other side of the table.

You squinted your eyes, eyebrows furrowing at that dumb ass question.

“I’m fantastic, sunshine.” You gritted through your teeth, hand curling into a fist on the tabletop. You were gripping your glass at first but you were scared you’d break it from how hard you were holding it.

Hoseok shot you that beaming smile, the same one that warmed your heart and made you fall a little deeper in love with him.

But now you just wanted to slap it off.

“Are you sure? You seem tense.”

Cheeky bastard.

You crossed your legs, immediately regretting it since that made the vibrator press harder against your clit. You sucked in a breath, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from moaning.

How did you even get here?

Oh yeah, you promised Hoseok you’d do whatever he wanted if he went to that haunted house with you. Honestly, you thought he forgot about that since Halloween already passed but then he brought it up today. You thought he was just going to have you do something stupid or simple; like doing his laundry or prank calling someone.

Really, you didn’t expect this from your sweet boyfriend but a promise was a promise and you didn’t break those.

Damn your morals.

Hoseok had brought both of you out for a nice lunch at your favorite restaurant. So far, you almost moaned when giving the hostess your name, almost moaned again while giving the waiter your drink request, and now you were dangerously close to cumming. And oh no…..

Was that the waiter coming back to take your order?!

Hoseok could see how you attempted to straighten yourself up, a diabolical grin spreading across his face. This would be fun.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter asked once he got to your table, taking out his little notepad and a pen.

Your brown eyes pleaded at Hoseok to go first. If you spoke now, you’d definitely moan.

Gratefully, he wasn’t heartless so Hoseok ordered first. “I’ll take your seared salmon with potatoes and brussel sprouts. And a glass of red wine.” The waiter nodded and jotted that down before turning to you.

“And for you, miss?”

You cleared your dry throat. The vibrations weren’t that strong. You could do it!

“I’ll have the a-ahhhh….” You moaned as the vibrators grew even stronger, pleasuring pulsing down your legs all the way to your toes.

Your eyes cut to Hoseok who was innocently smiling. Motherfu—

He had a hand under the table, his thumb moving around the little bar on his phone that controlled the toy. He moved it up, bemused by how your eyes almost crossed. He felt your feet kick at him under the table, your legs always went crazy whenever you were in the throes of pleasure. He loved holding you down and watching you fight against him, it filled him with a wild thrill.

The waiter seemed honestly concerned. “Are you okay?”

Your smile was strained, palms starting to sweat. You were so fucking close but you couldn’t cum. Both you and Hoseok knew you were loud. You were surprised you were staying this quiet and put together. Public shenanigans weren’t really your thing but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exhilarating.

You choked on another moan when Hoseok turned the vibe all the way up. You moved your braids to cover your face, turning your head away and covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle your noises. Foot tapping rapidly against the ground and eyes clenching shut, you tried your best to push down your impending orgasm. Your clit throbbed with need and your belly turned from both nerves and desire.

You were about to lose it.

“Probably a Charlie horse. She gets them sometimes.” Hoseok interjected before the waiter could take a closer look at you.

The waiter took that excuse. “Your order, miss?”

Deciding to take pity on you, Hosoek turned it down a little. You let out a breath, forcing out a “I’ll take the same.” That seemed like the easiest route right now and to be honest, you weren’t really listening to Hoseok’s order so hopefully it was something good.

The waiter nodded and gathered your menus. “I’ll be back with that soon.”

Once the waiter was out of earshot, you let out a moan in your palm.

Hoseok could pick up on all your little tells—you were about to cum.

“About to cum, kitten?”

You clenched your eyes shut, unspilled tears ready to overflow. Frantically nodding your head, you hoped he’d turn it down.

No chance.

Leaning over the table, he murmured, “go to the bathroom.”

There was no way you could walk there like this!

Hoseok must have known that because the vibrator suddenly shut off. You gasped, actually a little flustered at your orgasm fading away but relieved that he wouldn’t make you walk through a slightly busy restaurant like this.

Taking a few deep breaths, you nodded and stood to your feet, wobbling slightly but keeping yourself upright with a hand on the table. You adjusted your skirt, casting your boyfriend a look.

“You better not turn this thing on.”

Reading your expression loud and clear, he shot you a smile.

“Go ahead.”

Huffing, you sped walked over to the corner of the restaurant where the bathrooms were. Your panties stuck uncomfortably to you and the vibrator rubbed against your clit with every step.

Angels must have been smiling down on you because the bathroom was for a single person.

You softly closed the door, turning the lock before leaning against it. Letting out another breath, you moved to pull your skirt up over your hips before slipping your fingers into either side of your panties and pulling them down.

You glared at the little bullet vibrator nestled in the pocket of the garment. How could such a tiny thing cause you to almost lose your mind?

Speaking of things that made you lose your mind…

4 knocks hit the door behind you and you immediately knew it was Hoseok. Shuffling to turn around, you unlocked the door and opened it.

Hoseok grunted as your hand flew out to grip the front of his shirt, yanking him into the bathroom. The door closed and the lock clicked and before he knew it, he was pressed against the wood, lips on his.

He smiled against the kiss, hands moving down to grip at your ass. Spreading one of your cheeks, his other hand rubbed at your slit, groaning at how wet and sticky you were.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so wet. Did this really get you that excited?”

You huffed. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

Never one to disappoint, Hoseok sprang into action. In a blur, you were moved and pushed back into the sink. Hoseok lifted you up on the sink, wrestling your panties off your legs. He paused for a brief second, a thought popping into his head.

You were about to complain when your panties were suddenly shoved into your mouth. You made a noise of surprise around them, eyes widening at your boyfriend who was still smiling.

“Just to keep you quiet. We don’t want anyone hearing you.” He leaned closer, eyes darkening and octave dropping. “Unless you want them to. Dirty girl.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing, a shudder of lust going up your back. You’ve never felt so turned on before. Your boyfriend had taken a sharp turn and god damn, if you didn’t love it.

You whined around the gag to which Hoseok smirked, pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.”

Crouching down, Hoseok pushed your legs up by the backs of your knees to display your dripping cunt, lips latching onto your clit. Your moan was muffled, hands gripping the sink under you.

Hoseok hummed against your clit, the vibrations sending shocks all across your body. You knocked your head back against the mirror, eyes clenching shut as Hoseok slurped at your clit.

He flattened his tongue, bobbing his head up and down in fast movements against your throbbing nub. You kicked your legs out, the heels of your shoes hitting his shoulders. He slid his hands up to your calves, holding your legs in a V position.

You almost fell into the bowl of the sink from how your hips jerked. You were already so close again, all that teasing earlier paired with the thrill of getting caught was pushing you to the brink faster than you thought. Saliva soaked the panties in your mouth, almost as much as your arousal did previously.

Hoseok could feel your calves shaking in his hold, heard how your breath picked up and how you tried to hump against his face.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he hollowed his cheeks, sucking the nub harshly.

You screamed against the gag as your orgasm crashed into you, your toes curling in your shoes and whole body shuddering in pleasure.

Hoseok delivered little kitten licks to your clit, guiding you through your orgasm until you were shaking and curling away from him.

He stood to his feet, hands fumbling with his belt to pull his pants down to his ankles. His hard cock sprang out, the tip wet with precum and those delicious veins pulsing. You wanted it down your throat.

Hoseok noticed your hungry stare, wrapping a hand around himself to pump his cock a few times. You moaned at watching the action, not so secretly loving when he did that.

He rubbed the head of his cock up and down your folds, slapping it against your sensitive clit. “Want it, baby?” He teased.

You frantically nodded, eyes pleading for him to fuck you. You reached out to wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently asking him to pick you up. He obliged, gripping your thighs and hauling you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

He lifted you a little bit higher to be able to grab his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. You took it upon yourself to slide down his cock, groaning as he split you open.

He threw his head back as your slippery walls wrapped around him, the rings on his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, the slight burn only turning you on more.

He didn’t even have a chance to get himself together before you started bouncing up and down on his cock. He grunted out a strained moan.

“Fuck. That desperate, huh?” Taking control, he started moving his hips, meeting your bounces with his own thrusts. The head of his cock brushed past your sweet spot, that pressure building quickly in your belly again. Hoseok moaned as your walls sucked him back in every time he pulled out. “Bout to cum already? I love this greedy cunt. Always so wet and ready for me.” His teeth bit into your shoulder.

Your pussy gushed around him, your arousal dripping down his balls and causing a wet slap to sound off. Anyone walking past would definitely know what was happening behind these doors.

Hoseok could feel his own orgasm approaching. This little experiment had turned him on more than he thought it would. Seeing you so vulnerable, having your pleasure in the palm of his hand. Fuck, he wished he would have thought of this earlier.

He’d brave a thousand haunted houses if he could do this again.

“Fuck.” He cursed, unwrapping your legs from his waist and turning you around. You made a noise of surprise that shifted into a moan as his cock penetrated you again. You bent over, spreading your legs and arching your back. “I’m gonna cum. You want it? Want my cum deep in this tight cunt?”

Your hand slammed against the mirror, throwing your ass back against him, orgasm building higher and higher. You snaked your other hand between your legs, pressing two fingers to your clit to rub it in quick circles.

You moaned his name, muffled by your gag but he could understand it. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Cum on my cock. Cum all over it.” He groaned, pushing his hips into you one, two, three more times before his cock throbbed and his cum spilled into your clenching walls.

You screamed as your second orgasm hit, sending waves of ecstasy all the way down to your toes. Your legs shook, almost buckling but his grip on you kept you from falling.

Moments passed as you two caught your breaths.

You pulled your panties out of your mouth, your tongue feeling dry and heavy.

Hoseok slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping out of your spasming hole and making a little puddle on the floor. He felt his cock jump again but any longer in this bathroom and people would really start getting suspicious.

Hoseok tucked himself back into his pants. “Are you okay?” He asked as he went to grab some paper towels to wipe you down.

You nodded. “That was intense. I came so hard.”

“I felt it. You gripped me tighter than usual. I didn’t think you would like this. I was a little nervous honestly.” He admitted.

You adjusted your skirt, checking yourself in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look too fucked out. Obviously you did but hopefully no one would notice.

Turning around to face your boyfriend, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders again to pull him close. Pressing a loud smooch to his lips, you flashed him a bright smile.

“Let’s just hope we finished before the food got to the table.”

You walked out first. Luckily, no one acknowledged you, everyone still absorbed in their meals and conversation.

Once you got back to the table, you sat down, noticing the food and wine were already there. You sipped on your water, sighing as the refreshing drink wet your dry throat.

Hoseok came to sit down a few seconds later. “I’m starving.”

“I didn’t even hear your order but it looks good.”

You both picked up your forks, digging into the food before you.

Your eyes slowly lifted to meet Hoseok’s before laughter erupted between you two.

“It’s cold.” You giggled.

“Should we just get it to go?”

“Sounds good.”

Hoseok spotted the waiter, motioning for him to come over.

“Can we get the check and some—“ He cut himself off at the feeling of your foot running up the inside of his leg. The table was small enough so that your foot could reach his inner thigh, right where his cock rested in his pants.

He glanced over at you, a teasing grin on your face.

Oh you were gonna get it when you got home.

“Can we at least get dessert?” You fluttered your eyelashes. While that sounded innocent enough, he knew better.

“Of course. Can we get that to go too? I have to go home and feed my kitty.”

#bts #bts smut #bts x black reader #hoseok smut #bts fic #bts imagines #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #seokjin smut

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dixons-sunshine · 1 month

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Shit, I love everything so much??? You’re getting me back into other Norman characters. Scud sounds fun to write… it’d be interesting to see how any of Norman’s characters would react to a reader with a teenage daughter, who suddenly starts calling him Dad. Some cute fluff.

Or a reader who just adores him and can’t get enough of him— random blowjobs or secret sex at work. lol. Any Norman character, really, now that I’m just getting back into not only Daryl Dixon.

Stay Quiet, Pretty Boy | Scud Frohmeyer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Scud loved it whenever you jumped him and pried him away from his work to have him take you over any surface in the workshop. However, with Blade around, the two of you couldn't do much, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral (m receiving), in public? (in the workshop), praise kink, pet names (baby, babe, etc.), almost getting caught, swearing.

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: My first ever smut attempt, folks. I'm so sorry if this sucks. But thank you for the request! I really wanted to do the teen kid one but I feel like I've been writing nothing but Dad!Daryl recently, so I wanted to shake things up a bit. I might still write it, though. Hope you like this, lovely!

—

Scud Frohmeyer was an absolute slut for you. He was always in the mood when it came to you and he had no problems with dropping whatever he was busy with to have his way with you, or let you have his way with him—god, he loved it when you took control. Having you on top was one of his favourite things in the world. Whenever you rode him, he swore that he was in heaven. And whenever you tugged him into a kiss by pulling his choker? He was an instant mess, willing to do anything for the goddess that sat on his lap.

The two of you were like horny teenagers around the workshop whenever Blade wasn't around. All it took was one suggestive comment and the two of you were jumping out of your clothes, pawing at each other. And if you couldn't get out of your clothes fast enough? Scud would help you by "accidentally" tearing it off of you. You had lost way too many shirts to keep track off because of Scud.

Scud couldn't think of one surface in the entire workshop that he hasn't had you leant against or on at some point. Every tabletop, counter, chair and car hood has been used at that point, multiple times. The two of you had probably had more sex in the workshop than you've had in your own shared bed.

However, when Blade returned for a couple of days with new work for the both of you that would take up most of your time and effort, your shenanigans were put on hold. Both you and Scud were too busy to do much. Blade kept giving you new tasks before you were even done with the current one you were working on and he hovered around to make sure that you did it. And when you were done for the night, you and Scud were way too tired to do anything. You'd simply collapse on the bed and the both of you would be out in seconds.

To say you were frustrated would be an understatement. You adored your boyfriend and were always in the mood for him, so you decided to take matters into your own hands—whether your boss was there or not.

—

Scud groaned against your lips as your tongue slipped into his mouth. He backed you up against the wall and put his hands beside your head, caging you against his body so that you couldn't escape—not that you'd want to, anyway. Your hands ran over his chest before moving up, pulling him closer by tugging on his choker.

Scud groaned again and detached his lips from yours, trailing down your neck and sucking on the sweet spot above your collarbone, eliciting a breathless moan from you. You tilted your head back to give Scud more access to your neck, your mind fuzzy at the pleasurable feeling of your boyfriend's lips on your exposed skin.

However, as soon as your hands trailed down his chest and to the big bulge in his jeans, Scud shakily drew back and caught your hand with his. His pupils were blown with lust and you could barely see the beautiful blues of his eyes, so the action caught you off guard.

“What's wrong?” you whispered breathlessly, your eyes searching his for an answer.

Scud shook his head. “We can't, babe. B might walk in.”

A mischievous thought crossed your mind. You pouted and frowned, faking a sad look. “So you don't want this?”

“Of course I do,” Scud replied instantly. “There's nothing I want more.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“Like I said,” Scud said, brushing your hair out of your face. “B might walk in, and then we can both kiss our jobs goodbye.”

You smirked at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You tugged him into a heated kiss by his collar, which he instantly reciprocated. When you pulled away, you gave him a heated look and let your hands trail down to his belt buckle, beginning to unfasten it.

“When did you become so sensible?” you asked in a mockingly sweet voice. “Where's the dirty Josh I know?”

“Sweetheart...”

“I need you, Josh. I wanna have my mouth around your dick. And I know you want it, too.”

Scud groaned when he felt you begin to unfasten the button of his jeans and pull his zipper down. Any sense of sensibility he possessed was beginning to deteriorate, and he knew he should've stopped you—Blade was somewhere in the building. He could walk in on the two of you at any minute. But the sight of you pulling his pants and boxers down and dropping to your knees in front of him made any sensibility he had fly out the window.

You took Scud's cock in your hand and began to stroke him up and down, maintaining eye contact with the man. A deep, guttural groan resonated from his chest and he threw his head back, enjoying the feeling of your hands on him.

“You gotta stay quiet for me, pretty boy. We don't want Blade hearing anything,” you told him before licking a stripe up to his tip, licking up the precum in the way you knew would drive him insane.

Scud inhaled sharply and his hips jerked, all thoughts instantly leaving his mind. “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, bringing his hands down to grip at your hair.

You continued to tease him like that for a while. You wanted him to be a whining mess, to have him beg for you. Whenever you were in control, you made Scud work for his pleasure.

And it didn't take long.

“Fuck,” Scud whined, gripping your hair tightly. “Please, baby. I need your mouth so bad. Please. Oh god, please.”

Satisfied, you finally took his cock in your mouth. The moan Scud let out was damn near pornographic, his head tilting back as he shut his eyes in pleasure. His grip on your hair only tightened, and you moaned around his cock at the painful yet pleasurable feeling.

“Fuck, baby,” Scud groaned when he felt your head begin to bob, sucking him off and bringing him pleasure in the way only you could. “Shit, feels so good.”

You hummed around his dick, the vibration adding to your boyfriend's growing pleasure. You continued to suck him off, your hands stroking in time with your mouth's movements on the parts of his cock you couldn't fit into your mouth. Every so often you'd pop your mouth off to swirl your tongue around his tip before resuming your previous action.

Scud's mind was fuzzy. The feeling of your mouth around him and the thought of being caught in the act made his body swarm with ecstasy. What the two of you were doing was risky, and Blade could walk in at any minute, but despite his earlier hesitancy, Scud was enjoying himself.

One final swirl of your tongue was all it took for Scud to come undone in your mouth. His cum flooded your mouth and you swallowed every drop you could, and what you couldn't dripped out from the corners of your mouth. When you were sure he was done, you withdrew your mouth with a pop and stood up, wiping your hand over your mouth and licking the cum from your hands.

Scud watched the action with half lidded eyes, his breathing heavy. His heart was pounding against his chest, his mind was still fuzzy and his body was filled with ecstasy. He felt good, all thanks to you.

You smiled at him and drew his boxers and jeans back up his body, fastening the button and redoing the belt buckle before leaning up to kiss him. Scud moaned at the taste of him on your lips, his hands moving up to cup your face as he kissed you deeper.

“Scud! Y/n! I have something you need to do!”

The sound of Blade's voice echoing from the next room drew you and Scud apart. You sighed heavily and took a step back, straightening your clothes and fixing your hair to look presentable.

Before you could walk away, Scud caught your hand and turned you around, pulling you into another kiss. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours.

“I'm taking care of you tonight,” he promised you, before withdrawing and making his way over to the next room.

And boy, did he keep his promise.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#scud blade 2 #scud #scud frohmeyer #scud x reader #scud frohmeyer x reader #josh frohmeyer #joshua fromeyer #josh frohmeyer x reader #joshua frohmeyer x reader #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus #norman reedus x you

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samueldays · 1 year

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Retrospective: D&D 3e class feature advancement and design

Of the editions of D&D that I've played, I think Third Edition is my favorite. It's imbalanced, sure, but part of what differentiates D&D from videogames is that there's a DM on hand to say "let's change that". Much of the general success of 3rd was probably due to the Open Gaming License that you may recall a recent fuss about, and two specific impacts of the OGL were 1) explosion of fan content to add on and change stuff, 2) fanmade polish of the System Reference Document (SRD), such as this hyperlinked and crosslinked version where just about everything is accessible in one click. Much less searching for rules!

I also personally liked it for the unusual way it tried hard to put player characters and monsters in the same mechanical framework using the same scale, unlike far too many games, video or tabletop, where the PC has 138 HP but does 9999 damage. (This was to some extent present in earlier editions, but 2e's Monstrous Manual fails to give a creature's Strength score, only specifying its damage directly.) D&D in general was unusually fair and honest about letting you loot Lord Mega-Evil's Mega-Sword instead of doing "2% drop chance" shenanigans. 3e went a step further to making the bugbear playable out of the box, if you wanted to play a bugbear. Bugbears were now real creatures in a sense, not simply bags of HP you popped for XP.

If you're waiting for me to get to the subject announced in the title, just keep waiting, this is a twenty year old game and I'm a grognard with a pet topic. ;-)

4th edition decided to strip much of this stuff back out again, and I detested it. 4e was super weird. 5e tentatively tried to be the simplified best bits of 1e and 3e (IMO) which is nice for the newbies, but I feel its class system still leaves much to be desired. The whole notion of "classes" in a RPG is a bit of a necessary evil. It doesn't exist in-universe, it's an abstraction because doing full pointbuy is more tiresome for players and far easier to accidentally break the system by neglecting one stat or pushing another too high. At the same time, you don't want to lock characters into a progression at level 1, so designers tend to re-invent various class options and class choices that veer back towards pointbuy, and multiclassing...

Bluntly: The "favored class" rules and multiclassing xp penalties in 3rd were failures. The hypothesis was that it would discourage "5 levels of this, 1 of this, remaining levels of this" cherry-picking and encourage keeping 2-3 classes balanced, with an exception for the favored class. What it actually encouraged was "5 levels of this, 1 level of this prestige class, remaining levels of this prestige class" because prestige classes (PrCs) were exempt. Removing that exemption would have had worse second-order effects because prestige classes had different numbers of levels and conditional advancement permission! A deeper overhaul was needed, but didn't appear. My groups usually ended up ignoring multiclassing xp penalties. Worthless rule, no content, no value. Especially the bit where it's possible to get stuck at -100% XP if you made deliberately bad choices, that's nonsense.

What was also a failure, but less so, and produced the content I want to ramble about today, is how the class system incentivized multiclassing in very different ways for different classes. I'm going to gloss over questions of obscure splatbook availability and optimization level here; if you know enough to have an opinion on them you probably don't need to be reading this.

Fighter: Multiclass out or prestige class ASAP. This because Fighters have no class features that scale specifically with Fighter level - feats, BAB and HP can be gotten anywhere, and stack cleanly from different classes. Fighter 4 / Barb 1 / PrestigeClassA 5 / PrestigeClassB 10 is an example outcome of starting from "Fighter" and keeping the concept without being bound to the classname.

Sorcerer: Prestige out, but only to +1 caster level classes. Sorcerers have 1 scaling class feature, "spellcasting", which is advanced as a whole by several prestige classes. Something like Sorc10 / Loremaster 10 is cool, gets you 20th level casting, and more class features.

Druid: Stay pure. Druids have multiple scaling class features, and very few prestige classes advance other than spellcasting.

(I reiterate: this is what the class system incentivized. Not what you 'should' play.)

This difference was not a matter of party role, but of class feature wording.

Broadly speaking, there's two kinds of class features in 3rd Edition: those that provide a static ability at a fixed level (for example, Paladins become immune to fear at 3rd level) and those that have a progression scaling with each level (for example, Paladins can Smite Evil to add their level to the damage done).

Fighters got almost entirely static abilities, and those with diminishing returns. Spellcasting was almost entirely scaling.

Paladins were closer to the Druid end of the scale due to Smite Evil and Lay on Hands saying "paladin level" (not caster level, nor character level) when calculating what to scale with. A few prestige classes explicitly advanced these features, but there was no standard framework for advancing them the way the Thaumaturgist prestige class had "+1 level of existing spellcasting class" for any of druids, clerics, wizards or sorcerers.

Theoretically, the Thaumaturgist or Mystic Theurge prestige classes also worked for other spellcasting classes such as Paladin, but this was mostly worthless because paladins were tertiary casters who got slower per-level spellcasting progression. +1 level of spellcasting had lower value for paladins or bards than it did for clerics or wizards. This was aggravated by partial progression classes such as Eldritch Knight, which provided less spellcasting advancement - measured in terms of fewer levels. They got community shorthand like 9/10 or 7/10 casting progression.

An intuitive-seeming fix haunted me for years: PrCs that give partial advancement to full casters should give full advancement to partial casters. Perhaps even more than one-for-one when advancing tertiary casters. But it was hard to spell out in rules.

Instead, WotC printed special case ugly hack PrCs like the Sublime Chord, which was blatantly "The Bard Prestige Class For Bards" that gave faster-than-bard spellcasting progression up to 9th level bard spells. (In the core game, wizards get up to 9th level spells, but bards stop at 6th level.) It worked by specifying in detail a new separate spellcasting progression meant to be used at each level from 11 to 20, after using the regular bard progression from level 1 to 10.

Ironically, this special case could then fit back into the standard framework: take 10 Bard levels, take 1 Sublime Chord prestige level, now Sublime Chord has its own spellcasting progression so it can be advanced by other prestige classes such as Loremaster or Thaumaturgist. Sublime Chord was a prestige class that bards took mostly for the spellcasting, and then they didn't need to stay in that class for the spellcasting, because spellcasting was a standard class feature that could be advanced in other ways.

What a mess.

Still, I gotta give Wizards credit for being willing to fuck around and try new stuff to get out of this mess they'd made.

During 3rd edition, some of their later pile-ons to this mess were the Truenaming magic system that worked based on a skill check instead of levels (this was swiftly exploited because Make Single Number Go Up is easy for nerds with a wide variety of options), the Shadowcasting magic system that got to retroactively convert the class levels of a wizard who multiclassed into shadowcaster (I never saw this used in practice), and the Initiating not-a-magic system in the Tome of Battle:

Instead of caster levels you had initiator levels, and instead of casting a spell you initiate a martial maneuver, and the maneuver involved swinging your sword around so expertly that it shot fireballs or healed your friends or added an extra 8d8 damage or froze the enemy's lifeblood with the Five-Shadow Creeping Ice Enervation Strike. It also let you resist poison or block mind control by concentrating really hard on how you are a mall ninja One with the Blade.

(image: a Blade Magic user who has convinced the DM that hitting people with your bare hands counts as a 'blade' if you call it Knife-Hand Strike.)

It was actually pretty good, once you got past the flowery names, the weeaboo aesthetic shift, the increased complexity, the dissociated mechanics, and the fact that Wizards printed three initiator subsystem classes that were different enough to be annoying. Now that I'm done damning it with faint praise: you calculate multiclass initiator level by taking your main initiator class's class level and adding half the levels in other classes, whether or not they are initiator classes. A Swordsage 6/Fighter 6 character counts as Swordsage 9 for purposes of the Swordsage's primary class feature: initiator level and martial maneuvers.

This sort of worked to encourage a moderate amount of multiclassing on occasion by reducing the cost, but not really, because of nonlinear scaling. The low-level Swordsage abilities are on the order of "Fighter but with 1d6+1 fire damage". The high-level Swordsage abilities are like "Enemy has to make a Fortitude save or die. On a successful save, enemy still takes 20d6 extra damage on top of your regular damage" and "Quasi-timestop: you get 10 opportunities in a row to pick up a nearby enemy and throw him. Your choice whether you want to throw 10 guys off a cliff, or bounce 1 guy against the wall until he dies."

This class feature progression was cribbed from the core spellcasting system for Sorcerers and Druids, see above for the multiclass incentives on those.

I don't have a general solution. Here is my sketch of a fix to the spellcasting part, also usable with the cribbed-from-spellcasting class features like initiator progression:

Build a spellcasting progression separately from a class. Each progression goes up to 9th level spells at character level 20, or the system equivalent. The "Wizard" class then gets a class feature which says something like "+1 spellcasting progression at each level". The "Bard" class gets a class feature which says something like "+0.75 spellcasting progression at each level". The Paladin class get a class feature which says something like "+0.4 spellcasting progression at each level". Round up or down with minima to taste.

This replicates the effect of the 3e progression where the Wizard got up to 9th level spells, the Bard got 6th and the Paladin stopped at merely 4th.

But by separating the spellcasting progression, all these base classes get the same amount of benefit from a Prestige Class which provides +X spellcasting progression per level (X probably 0.5-1). In regular 3e, spellcasting progression classes were worth far more to the wizard than to the paladin, because the paladin got 1/20th of a step towards 4th level spells and the wizard got 1/20th of a step towards 9th level spells.

This eliminates the weird special case that is the Sublime Chord, also eliminates certain other kinds of dumb cheese around Ur-Priest, creates space for semi-focused casting prestige classes that provide 0.9 spellcasting that's an improvement for bards but a slowdown for wizards, and makes it easier for Fighter-adjacent and Rogue-adjacent classes and prestige classes like Assassin to dabble in a little bit of spellcasting at a controlled rate. In weird design space, it allows backloading on a class that goes from +0.5 to +1.5 over the course of several levels to "catch up".

A downside is that this "fractional casting" is more granular, more bookkeeping, and closer to pointbuy, but it's a small step and D&D 3.5 was already including the similar Fractional BAB/Saves in optional rules. Maybe someone can be inspired by this to make something easier.

Now I would like to say that D&D Third Edition has come and gone and will probably never be repeated, having been supplanted by two later editions twenty years on, especially 3.5e with all its baroque customization, but that would be a lie because not only did it spawn a great many clones, Pathfinder is out there being a big name 3.5e clone with just enough tweaks to not be a copyright infringement. (Also: just enough tweaks to not quite be backwards compatible.) So I feel I should try to give helpful advice for design of class-based RPG systems, rather than just this historical overview so far. Here's my big suggestion:

Figure out how a class offers value, and why I should keep taking it.

The D&D 3e Fighter fails this test. You should multiclass out. Full BAB, d10 HD, crappy skills, Fortitude save (more chassis than feature) are available elsewhere. Feats (the only real feature) have diminishing returns.

The Pathfinder Fighter still fails this test - it's been given tiny value buffs like the scaling effect of Weapon Training: for every 4 levels get +1 to damage with a weapon group. Meanwhile the wizards are still off getting caster levels that give +1d6 spell damage every single level, and it's easy to get 1 damage every 4 levels from other sources.

Also, the Pathfinder Fighter has been given a Bravery feature: +1 on saves against fear for every 4 levels. Meanwhile the Paladin is still getting outright fear immunity at level 3.

The converse of this suggestion is asking yourself in design: Which of a class's valuable features can I get elsewhere?

For the Fighter it's "all of them", for the Sorcerer it's "all of them, but fewer places" and for the Druid it's complicated but "one-third" is a first approximation.

Extra corollary: "...and if getting those features elsewhere, what am I giving up or getting on the side?"

#all #dnd #essaying #rpg #tabletop #mechanism design #incentives #longpost #tangential rambling

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3617

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap (18/29), domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, got to the story's masterlist

11. A Public Scene

This Chapter: “What do you think I should do to you, hm? You think I should spank you? Put you over my knee? I wasn't raised to neglect my duties as Headship, Bucky. I've been spending all this time trying to be lenient, trying to be your friend. But maybe that’s not what you need. Maybe you just need to be put in your place.”

Bucky sets his plan into motion the very next day. He asks Steve if they can do something fun that evening. “Something that does not involve high Society,” he stipulates, to which Steve gets a thoughtful look on his face and tells him,

“Yeah. Yeah we can do that. I’ll come up with something.”

What Bucky doesn’t expect is for him to take them out to a genuine tavern. Inside the local Rose and Crown, it’s warm and loud and cheerful. Bucky lets Steve guide him to a booth and they both slide onto the bench, squished in next to each other. “It’s crowded!” Bucky says, voice raised to be heard over the general volume of the place. He's grinning like an idiot, never having been in a place like this. "I've never been in a place like this!"

“Sorry!” Steve says. “I know it’s a little common, but I thought that was what you might’ve wan—"

“I love it!” Bucky says, and he does. The hubbub and cheer of all the patrons is infectious. It makes Bucky wish that he could be a part of it. Society fellows like he and Steve would never be permitted to frequent places like this back home. The anonymity of their trip allows them to pass under the radar for now, and Bucky finds that delightful. The fact that they’ve dressed down for the evening helps them pass unnoticed—although they’re dressed fancier than any of the locals. It isn’t a lewd place or anything, just a social hub for working men and women after a long day, but the mood is boisterous and rowdy, and Bucky is honestly surprised that Steve would bring him here. “It’s neat!” he tells Steve.

Steve smiles and looks enthused at Bucky’s response. He scoots in closer—much closer—to Bucky and puts their faces together so that neither of them has to shout. “Yeah?” he asks, smiling genuinely and meeting Bucky’s gaze with his pretty blue eyes and stupidly earnest, stupidly handsome face. “Good. I wanted to do something you’d enjoy, after the ball last night. I know you didn’t exactly have the greatest time.”

Bucky scoffs. “You can say that again.”

On the tabletop, Steve’s hand slides over top of his, enveloping his fingers in an affectionate squeeze. “I know that wasn’t easy for you, behaving like that, having all those snotty people look down their noses at you. But I appreciate the restraint you showed.” His eyes are kind but his lips quirk the barest bit, as if he’s remembering Bucky’s huffy shenanigans at the ball. “I have to admit, I kind of loved seeing the look on Lady Whatsit’s face when you actually told her to butt out.” When Bucky does nothing but look at their joined hands and grunt, Steve hums and rubs hand soothingly. “I’m sure it’ll get easier to navigate public events in the future, as a Senatorial Spouse. And of course it's not so strict back home, Buck. You know I’ll always try to—”

“Let’s order drinks,” Bucky says, cutting him off and pulling his hand out of Steve’s consoling one. Steve looks a little miffed, but Bucky pretends not to notice and flags down the barkeep.

“Get ye?” the man asks as he arrives at their table, wiping his hands on a towel. Bucky asks what he recommends they order to drink. The barkeep squints at him, as though Bucky’s outed himself as an outsider simply by having to ask. He grunts and says that he’ll bring them over two pints. Bucky’s certain he catches the guy muttering something about “Rich folk” on his way back to the bar.

Two big glasses get clunked onto the table a moment later. “Hope you like Guinness,” Bucky tells Steve as he sits back and pulls his own mug in close. “Or whatever this is.” It’s black, foamy on top, and Bucky lifts the heavy glass to drink from it. The foam gets all over his upper lip. He pulls back and smacks his lips loudly. “Wow. I really hate beer.” He sips again, accumulating more foam. Steve laughs at him and Bucky raises an eyebrow. Deciding to be a shit, he swipes the foam away on a finger, then sucks that finger into his mouth in a purposefully suggestive manner.

“Buck,” Steve scolds, still smiling. “Take it easy.”

Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes. “Oh. So I can’t entice you in public then?”

Steve’s eyebrows rise. “Entice?”

“Mm.” Bucky shrugs. “I mean, you wouldn’t want me doing anything like, say … this?” He scoots so close to Steve that they’re pressed full together from shoulder to hip, then slides his hand onto Steve’s leg. Even from over his trousers, Bucky can feel the firm muscle of his thigh. “Husband?”

Steve’s gone still, and after a moment of what Bucky interprets as shock, his hand finds Bucky’s under the table and removes it. “Yeah. Definitely not that.”

“Oh come on. Don’t be such an old man.”

“I’m hardly old,” Steve drawls. “Just because you’re a child.”

“You’re the one who married me,” Bucky grumbles before he can help it. Steve stiffens though, having heard. He lets go of Bucky’s hand.

“I meant it figuratively, of course,” he snips. “You’re of majority.”

Yeah and you’re a twenty-nine year old Alpha who pity-married your beta first. Who even does that? Bucky can’t bring himself to say it out loud, though he wants to. When he starts to slide his hand back onto Steve’s thigh, the alpha sighs and removes it again. “Honestly, Buck, what do you want me to say: ‘Yes, you can go ahead and grope me in public’?”

“Nobody would’ve seen,” Bucky snipes. “I was just trying to have some fun.”

Steve looks like he doesn’t know what to say to that. Before he can say anything, the sound of a piano chimes, someone having started in on a loud tune across the bar. It’s a drinking song that’s obviously well-known, as many of the patrons laugh and start to sing along. “There,” Steve says, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist and hugging him against his side. He kisses his hair and gives him a playful squeeze. “Stop trying to molest me and just enjoy the atmosphere.”

Bucky grunts, pulls his beer in closer to sip it, and tries not to admit to himself how much he likes the feeling of being held tightly against Steve’s body.

Several beers and many songs later, the pub is in full swing. The man who’d been playing songs at the piano an hour ago has been replaced by a younger—and drunker—woman, and she’s banging out tunes that have far bawdier lyrics, much to Bucky’s delight.

He’s drunk now. He waited until Steve got caught up in conversation with a friendly stranger, then took several shots in rapid succession before he could be caught. Now, Steve has excused himself to the restroom and Bucky’s taken his chance again to order and down another two shots. He goes to the piano’s side with a few other fellows who’re singing along, and stands there drinking his beer and singing loudly along with the current song that he thinks he’s got about half the lyrics down pat—something about a locksmith’s mistress.

The other people have noticed Bucky and that he’s American, and they start cheering for him to take the lead in the chorus. And hey, since Bucky’s drunk and wants to piss Steve off, he figures this is a good way to test the waters. It’s not like he isn’t having fun being stupid in public, anyways. So he gets up on a bench and starts singing the worst of the lewd lyrics with everyone clapping and singing along with him.

Everybody is ruddy-cheeked and howling with laughter and drunkenness, and Bucky is actually starting to crack himself up. Down below, somebody shoves what must be the prettiest girl in the room forward and they hoist her up onto Bucky’s bench, and Bucky takes her into his arms and they sing the lyrics together, him getting the words wrong out of ignorance, and her out of utter drunkenness. The chorus comes ‘round again and they’re all about to sing it, but then Steve comes back from the restroom and sees the situation. And he does not look pleased. His eyes widen in shock, aimed straight at where Bucky has his arm wrapped around the pretty girl’s waist. Then they narrow to slits,

Oh boy.

Bucky grins and lowers the girl back down to the floor. “Sorry Doll,” he says. “I think this is where I leave you.”

“Aww no!!” The crowd moans and protests the ‘Crazy American’ leaving, but Bucky waves them off with a drunken salute. “I love you!” he says. “Goodnight! Godspeed! God save the queen!”

The people roar and cheer even louder at that, and just when Bucky’s about to say he’ll be back tomorrow night, he feels Steve’s big hand wrap around his wrist and give a firm yank. “Let’s go.”

Outside on the street, Bucky has to keep his eyes focused on the sidewalk because everything in London is cobblestoned and therefore a literal deathtrap for any pedestrian who’s had more than two drinks. “Ouch! Oof! Steve, slow down!” Bucky’s giggling and stumbling, holding onto Steve’s arm as they walk and gleefully aware of how unhappy his husband is. The upset, possessive Alpha smell coming off of him is the biggest indicator. Bucky snickers, amused by it as they walk. “You smell mad, Steve.”

Steve grunts.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asks, voice lilting childishly, even to his own ears.

Steve huffs and pulls him along. “Yes, Bucky. I’m mad.”

“But whyyy?” Bucky whines.

“Because. You were behaving like a fool.”

“Pft. So what?”

Steve’s arm muscles stiffen where Bucky’s hanging onto him. “You’re a Senator’s husband!”

Bucky huffs. He knows that. If they were in the States, he’d almost certainly be in the penny papers by morning print. And it would not be good for Steve’s image or his career “Why’d we hafta leave?” he slurs, not paying attention to Steve’s answer at all. He knows he was being completely inappropriate. That’d been the point. He doesn’t admit this to Steve, of course. “I was having fun!”

“Too much fun,” Steve says, voice clipped.

Bucky grumbles unhappily. “No.”

“Come on. We’re here.”

The next thing Bucky knows, they’re in the apartment, and—wow—he must be drunker than he thought, because hadn’t they just been in the street? “Huh,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shrugging his jacket off onto the floor. He hears Steve make a frustrated sound and turns to face him. “What?”

“Pick that up,” Steve says. “You’re not going to make a mess in my home.”

“Your home?” Bucky frowns. “What’s yours is mine, Dear.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah. Hang your things up, or at least put them in the bin where the servants will find them.”

It takes Bucky a few seconds to process that, and when he does, he gets defensive and sneers at Steve. “The ‘bin’? The ‘bin’ is the trashcan, Steve. Don’t you speak British?” He’s being nothing but snotty and difficult, but that’s the whole point. He kicks his jacket across the floor, though it doesn’t move very far—certainly not far enough to be satisfying. “S’fine,” he insists brattily. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Steve clearly doesn’t think this is funny. He stands there looking annoyed, hands on his hips. “Trust me, tomorrow you are not going to be in any shape to tidy this place. Come on Bucky. Pick it up. I’m not playing this game with you.”

Bucky stills, the amusement draining from his face at the rude awakening of Steve's Voice. “‘Game’?” he says lowly. “You think I’m playing a game?”

“Pick up your things and come to bed.” Steve doesn’t spare him another glance as he turns and leaves the room.

Bucky scoffs at the authority in his tone, and at the fact that he's pretty much dismissed Bucky by turning his back and walking away. Bucky scoops up his jacket and follows after him, standing in the doorway to the bedroom and crossing his arms as he watches Steve starting to get undressed.

“Hang your jacket up,” Steve says.

Bucky drops it. “Make me.” He kicks his shoes off one by one, just to add to the insolence.

“Oh.” Steve says. He nods and calmly removes his cufflinks and watch. He sets them aside on the highboy, then takes the time to neatly remove his shirt and drape it over the footboard of the bed. Bucky gets distracted at the sight of Steve’s bared upper body in only an undershirt—his toned back and wide shoulders and tapered waist … But then Steve turns to face him, and the look he gives Bucky is all business. “Is that how it is, then?” he asks quietly.

Bucky nods, though in all honesty he feels a bit nervous to be actively challenging Steve like this. Even for someone like him, it’s bold. Steve is his Headship, after all, and his features are hardening rapidly at Bucky’s behavior. “That’s how it is,” Bucky says.

Steve inhales deeply, looking disappointed. “You’re sloppy-drunk Buck. How many shots did you down while I was away from the table?”

Bucky's face slackens, taken-aback and annoyed that Steve knows about the shots. Digging his heels in, he shrugs and lets a mean little chuckle escape. “I dunno. Who cares? I was having fun.” He gets up in Steve’s face and points at him. “Because that’s what real people do, Steve. They have fun, they get drunk.”

“It’s how alcoholics have fun,” Steve snaps, not backing down from Bucky’s closeness. “Or bratty betas who’re trying to cause a scene.”

Bucky freezes, caught out by Steve’s words. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, weren’t you?” Steve cants his head. “You’re telling me that little display wasn’t you trying to push your boundaries with me?”

Bucky feels his cheeks heat. ��Boundaries?” He scoffs. “What boundaries? You haven’t set any. I’m not a child.” Bitterly, he adds, “Like you have any right to—”

“I have every right to, and you know it,” Steve says tersely. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to make it a formal thing in our marriage. I was hoping you’d just—"

“Just what, Steve? Hm? Just behave? Fall in line? Obey you?”

Steve's lips twist unhappily. “It was in your marriage vows, if you’ll remember correctly.”

That hits Bucky like a slap in the face. Because, shit: it really was, wasn’t it? “Well we both know this was a marriage of convenience,” he counters, flustered and well-aware of the new level of nasty he’s taking this to. “I didn’t get to write the vows, I just had to say them.”

“But you did agree to say them. I gave you ample opportunity to back out,” Steve says. "I left the choice to you."

“And leave my family in ruin?” Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, some choice that was.” He glares at Steve and growls, though it’s nothing like the sort of sound Steve could put out, if he wanted to. “I never wanted this. I never wanted you!” Steve is coming closer, backing him up against the wall and holding him in place with his stare and his pure physicality, their chests only inches apart. Bucky gulps at the proximity and the scent of him. Steve smells …

“You want boundaries?” he says. “You’ll get them.”

Overcome by the unnerving urge to bare his neck to his Alpha, Bucky swallows heavily and forces himself not to. “You gonna hit me?” he asks, genuinely worried that Steve might do it. He certainly looks displeased enough.

For a second, Steve’s eyes go soft, but then they harden again. “You seem to think you can keep asking that, then provoking me, then asking again, and it’ll never happen.” He tips his head down to Bucky's level, leaning in closer—close enough that Bucky would think he was going to kiss him, if they weren’t in their present situation. “What do you think I should do to you, hm? You think I should spank you? Put you over my knee?”

Bucky gulps and shakes his head the barest bit. “No.”

Steve’s eyebrows draw together, mocking him with a sympathetic pout. “No? Hm. Over the bed then? I think that’s how my mother did it with my fathers. Or maybe with your palms against the wall. Or wait, I know; I’ll have you bend right in half and grab your ankles. That’s the most humiliating position of all, isn’t it? Maybe that’s what it’ll take with you. I've been spending all this time trying to be lenient, trying to be your friend. But maybe that’s not what you need.”

Bucky whimpers, overwhelmed by this new side of Steve he’s seeing. “S-steve,”

“Maybe you just need to be put in your place.” Steve physically presses him against the wall, crowding him until their chests are touching and he’s putting his lips to Bucky’s ear to whisper, “You think I don’t know how to assert myself in this marriage, Bucky? Well try me. I didn’t put the capital H in Headship, but we both know it’s there. And I wasn’t raised to neglect my Spouse.” He steps back, giving back those few inches of space, though it hardly makes a difference for how stuck in place Bucky feels. “I’ll discipline you when I feel it’s needed.”

“Now?!”

He shakes his head. “Tonight was your last freebie.”

Bucky is left gaping, unable to untangle his cowed thoughts from his outraged ones. He’s drunk, so he settles on growling and jerking away from Steve, headed to the bathroom to get away from him. “I hate you!” he snaps, not clever enough to come up with anything more creative to say.

Steve doesn’t reply or follow after him, thank goodness.

Bucky runs himself a bath just so that he can have time to himself. But eventually the bathwater gets cold, and he's forced to concede that his reprieve is over.

He pulls the plug from the drain and dries off using one of the big fluffy towels. Steve’s London apartment really is very luxurious, but he doesn’t have time to appreciate the fine crystal fixtures or the smooth marble floors. He knows he has to go back out to the bedroom and face his husband now, and he so doesn’t want to.

When he gets out there, Steve is sitting up against the headboard, legs under the covers and changed into his night clothes. He’s holding a book, the bedside lamp’s gas flame just barely illuminating the darkness. “Hey,” he says, marking his place in the book and setting it aside. He pats the bed next to him. “Come on over here.”

Bucky frowns, feeling vulnerable with his hair wet and nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes over to the vacant side of the bed. “... You want me to sleep in here?” he asks, audibly unsure. He’d been expecting Steve to tell him to sleep in another of the bedrooms.

“I don’t subscribe to the notion of kicking Spouses out of bed for misbehavior,” Steve says. He nods for Bucky to lie down. “Come here.”

Bucky bites his lip, eyes roving over to where his own nightclothes are stored in the dresser …

“You don’t need them,” Steve says, bringing Bucky’s attention back. He nods at the towel. “You’ve been so eager to drop your clothing all night. You can stay naked.”

That makes Bucky’s guts twist with dread—and okay, maybe the barest twinge of arousal. The dread far outweighs it, though. He hesitates, but eventually listens, dropping the towel and climbing under the covers quickly. He doesn’t want to be naked in front of Steve. “Don’t touch me,” he says when he’s laid down and Steve is moving closer.

Steve pauses, body going stiff where he’d been about to pull Bucky into his arms. "What?"

“I don’t want to have sex,” Bucky mumbles, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Please don’t make me.”

Steve’s scent sours even worse than when he was angry and had Bucky pinned against the wall. It’s a long moment before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is quiet but firm: “I will never force you to have sex with me, Bucky. Do you understand that?” Bucky keeps his eyes down and nods, but Steve doesn’t accept that. “Look at me.”

Bucky inhales at the use of Steve’s Voice. He meets his eyes … and is surprised to see that Steve doesn’t look mad. He does look like he’s waiting for Bucky to listen to something important, though. “What?” Bucky snaps self-consciously.

“I know what I said about being your Headship, Buck. And I meant it. But I promise you: I won’t ever make you do anything sexual that you don’t want.”

He squirms, embarrassed even though he’s glad to hear Steve say this. “Don’t see why not,” he mumbles. “It’s your ‘right’ just like everything else. You’re the Headship, and I’m just the beta Second you pity-married.”

Steve can obviously hear all of the quiet scorn in that, but he doesn’t take the bait. He stares at him for a long moment, his unhappy gaze boring into Bucky from across the bed. “Go to sleep, Buck,” he finally says, sounding sad. “Trust me: I have zero interest in touching you that way tonight. I was just going to hold you while we fall asleep.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“… And you only ever have to say ‘no’ to me, if you don’t want it,” he adds. His scent has turned to something kind of … hollow and forlorn. Bucky doesn’t like it. “Go to sleep,” he says again, then reaches over to turn down the lamp.

They’re left in darkness illuminated only by the faint speck of the lamp's pilot light. Bucky feels the motions as Steve shuffles and lays down on the mattress, firmly on his side of the bed. Bucky lies down too, tucking into himself and scrubbing his cheek into the pillow, facing away from Steve.

He winds up feeling cold and alone, and wishing he’d allowed his alpha to hold him after all.

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drabbles-mc · 6 months

Text

Flying In (1)

Mayans MC & Narcos Crossover

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Cross-Fandom Pollination: create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical shenanigans of both shows

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: The way that this started out as just a silly little idea that me and Anj had. And now I wanna write a whole novel about them all sksksk. I already plan to write another installment of this universe for another day in the challenge, because @garbinge was kind enough to loan me her OC Lara Losa, but here is the first little look behind the curtain! I can't wait to write more with all of them.

Part 2

Flying In Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When Lara walked into the clubhouse, she found Bishop sitting at one of the tables, phone pressed to his ear. The heel of his other hand was pressed into the space between his eyebrows, and even though most of his face was blocked, Lara could still see the annoyed frown on his face. Even if she hadn’t been looking at him, she could’ve guessed that that was the expression on his face, and nine times out of ten she would’ve been right.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone, “sounds good. See you then.” He ended the call and immediately tossed his phone onto the table with a groan. “Fuck me.”

She would’ve felt bad for laughing at his response if he wasn’t like that so often. “Sounded like a fun call,” she said as she pulled out the chair across from him and plopped down.

He tried to give her an annoyed look but it only lasted for a couple seconds before he caved and chuckled. “Not fun for me. Might end up being fun for you, though.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?” She drummed her fingertips against the tabletop. “Color me curious.”

Bishop sighed. “That was your Tío Gilberto. Updating me on his fuckin’ travel plans.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah.”

Lara laughed. “Thought you’d be a little more excited to see your brother.”

He shot her a look. “It’s not like he’s here for a fuckin’ vacation, Lalo.”

She rolled her eyes at him with a smile as she leaned back in her chair. “What, you don’t think that he’s coming to nice, scenic Santo Padre just to unwind?”

“No,” he said flatly, not feeding into the game she was trying to play, “I don’t.”

“Why are you acting like this is the first time he’s come here for business? Just upset that he’s not flying all the way up here just to see you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“So?” Lara pressed. “What’s the problem this time? Old shit or new shit?”

Bishop gave a reply that fell outside both the choices she’d given him. “He’s not traveling alone.”

“Nicolás?”

He huffed. “No.”

Another second of looking at the expression on his face caused all of the pieces to come together for Lara. His annoyance, his hesitation, his assumption that she was going to be excited about the news. It’d been a handful of years since the last time she’d seen him, but she had a good feeling that it was the right guess. “Chepe?” she asked, far more excited and hopeful than she knew she should’ve been given her father’s prevalent annoyance.

“The one and fuckin’ only,” he grumbled.

Lara burst out laughing, excitedly treating the table they were sitting at like a drum as she rapped against it. “Let’s go!”

Bishop shook his head at her. “You’re ridiculous. Two peas in a fuckin’ pod, both of you.”

“That why you only let him visit once every five years?” she asked through her laughter. When Bishop didn’t come back with an answer, she moved onto her next question. “When do they get here?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

If she had been standing, she would’ve been nearly doubled over with laughter. “Finally learned not to give you too much of a heads-up. No excuses this way.” Taking a deep breath to get herself calm again, she said, “I can pick them up from the airport if you—”

“Absolutely not.”

“You think they’re gonna get in the van with the fucking prospect?” she asked with a scoff as she gestured over to the bar where EZ stood. She continued before Bishop could argue. “And I know you don’t wanna make that drive.”

He knew that she was right on both counts. There was no way that either of those men were going to get into a vehicle with some guy they’ve never met before, even if he was wearing the same kutte as Bishop’s. They knew Taza and Hank, but Bishop also didn’t really want to send them on the errand either.

“Fine,” he finally gave in with a grumble. Before Lara could get too excited, he pointed his finger at her accusingly. “But you’re not fuckin’ going alone.”

That was a compromise that Lara could live with. She was going through the roster in her head, people that Bishop would feel somewhat comfortable sending with her versus people she wanted to be trapped in a car with for the drive. There was also the extra layer of who she thought would be able to survive being trapped in the van with her two uncles.

Before she could even ask the question, the answer came striding through the door. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she pointed to who had just walked through the door. “Fine. I’ll take Angel.”

At the sound of his name, his head whipped to look at the table. “Take Angel where?”

“Airport,” she replied. “Finally getting rid of you for good. One way ticket to—”

“You’re helping her with a pick-up,” Bishop cut his daughter’s comedic routine short.

Angel strolled over to the table and rested his hand on the back of Lara’s chair. He looked back and forth between the two of them and tried to figure out what was going on without having to ask. “Pick-up?”

“My brother’s flying in,” Bishop answered.

Angel nodded in understanding, although he couldn’t hide the look of mild surprise on his face. “Shit. Alright.”

“Day after tomorrow you’re going with Lara to pick them up.”

“Them?” Angel asked.

Lara was practically giddy. “Tío Chepe is coming too.”

Angel’s brows knit in confusion. “Do I know him?”

Bishop shook his head. “You’d know if you knew him.” He paused to sigh before looking back at Angel again. “Keep both of them out of trouble.”

“Your brothers?”

Bishop gestured to Lara. “Her and Chepe. And he’s not my fuckin’ brother.”

The comment got a laugh out of both Lara and Angel, who held his hands up in surrender. “Only one brother. Got it.”

The day of their arrival came far too soon for Bishop’s liking. Before he knew it, he was meeting up with Lara and Angel at the clubhouse early in the morning to give her the van and send them on their way. It was the only time Bishop could remember Angel being early for anything.

“Keep me updated,” Bishop said as Lara swiped the keys away from him.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied flippantly as she unlocked the doors.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Bishop said as he turned and looked at Angel. It was a sad state of affairs when he had to trust Angel to be one of the most responsible ones in a group of people, but that’s where they were at. “Got it?”

Angel nodded, knowing that there was only one right answer. “Got it.”

The two of them were a few minutes into their trek when Angel finally ventured to ask, “So what’s the deal with your uncles, then? Them and Bish, I mean.”

Lara glanced over at him for a moment before putting her eyes back on the road. “You’ve met Gilberto before, haven’t you?”

“Not really. Seen him, but Bish usually handles whatever they’ve got going on with him and Galindo. I don’t ask.”

She chuckled. “Smart.”

“What’s Bish’s deal with this Chepe dude?”

Lara laughed. “My dad hates anyone who finds a way to have a good time at all costs.” She paused. “I can’t believe you’ve never met him. Can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“What’s he like?” Angel’s curiosity had been piqued since they previously brought him up, but he didn’t want to ask about him in front of Bishop.

She spared him another brief glance, a mischievous look on her face. “You just have to meet him.”

The response didn’t bring Angel any comfort in the slightest, but he knew better than to try and press her for answers that she had no intention of giving. That was one thing that she and her father had in common. Instead he just settled back into his seat and watched the road, doing his best to not be a backseat driver.

If Chepe and Gilberto hadn’t walked out the door right beside each other and holding a conversation, no one would’ve known that they were traveling together. Gilberto had stepped off the plane in a suit—Lara was fairly certain that the closest she’d ever seen her uncle get to lounge wear was business causal. And even then, that was a rare sight. Chepe on the other hand showed up looking like he was actually on vacation. He had his aviators on as they strolled down the walkway, suitcases in tow, with a casual striped button-down on with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The gold necklace he was wearing standing out against the white t-shirt he had on underneath—he’d even traded in his khakis for jeans.

Both of them broke out into grins when they saw Lara waiting beside the van in the pick-up area. She held her arms out for a hug as she approached them both. She stepped in to give Gilberto a hug first, kissing him on the cheek as she did so.

“Mija,” he said with a laugh. “More grown up every time I see you.”

She stepped back, smiling and shaking her head as his hands remained on the outsides of her arms for a moment longer, like he was updating the image of her that was in his head. “Gotta visit more than once or twice a year, Tío.”

Chepe chimed in before Gilberto even got the chance to. “Take that up with your father,” his tone was serious when he said the statement, but it was immediately followed by a wide grin and a laugh.

Lara immediately beamed and stepped over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Chepe!” She laughed as he swept her up off her feet in a hug.

“Lalita,” he set her down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “mi muñeca. It’s been too long.”

She let out a dramatic sigh as she fixed her hair. “I know—I’ll work on getting my dad to lift the embargo.”

Angel stood back, watching the two of them as they laughed together. It was a lot to take in, seeing her like that. It wasn’t as though she turned into a completely different person around her uncles, but he certainly felt like a different side to her—a side that he had never had the opportunity to see before. This certainly wasn’t how she acted with the only other family he knew of hers, Bishop.

Chepe playfully nudged Lara’s shoulder as he looked Angel up and down. “Quién es este mari—”

Lara elbowed him with a chuckle and a shake of her head. Some things weren’t ever going to change. “This is Angel—he’s in the club with my dad.” Turning, she looked at Angel. “Angel, this is my Tío Gilberto,” she nodded towards the man in question before resting her hand on Chepe’s shoulder, “and my Tío Chepe.”

Lara couldn’t have been more casual about the introduction if she had tried, and yet Angel still found himself standing there feeling like sweat was about to start pooling in his palms. Clearing his throat, he quickly and discreetly wiped his hand against his jeans before holding it out for Giberto to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He repeated the process with Chepe, neither man emoting one way or the other how they felt about him. Angel, based off years of experience, took it to be a bad sign even though he had no real evidence of that.

There wasn’t much more to be said as they started putting Chepe and Gilberto’s luggage into the back of the van. None of them started an actual discussion about who was going to be sitting where, but when Chepe went to reach for the front passenger-side door, Angel didn’t speak up to try and stop him. If he was going to be sitting next to someone besides Lara for the whole drive back, he supposed he was fine with it being Gilberto. Angel felt like sitting next to Gilberto meant there was less likelihood of him being pushed out of the van while it was still moving.

The ride back was uneventful despite Angel’s spiraling internal monologue. He listened to Lara chat with both her uncles. Some of it he could only catch bits and pieces of when they were speaking primarily in Spanish. It was evident that she didn’t speak it as much as her uncles, because why would she have to? But she spoke a lot more than Angel probably ever would. It was enough for him to try to have to use context clues for some of the things that were brought up. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like they were discussing anything too serious.

When they pulled into the lot at the clubhouse, it felt like everything else came to a bit of a standstill. While Gilberto had made a habit over the years of visiting far more frequently than Chepe, it wasn’t as though he spent an awful lot of time at the clubhouse when he did. Most of the members who’d been around for more than a couple years had seen him and knew who he was, but most hadn’t ever really gotten a formal introduction. As far as Bishop was concerned, they didn’t need one. Since Chepe tagged along for the first time in a long time, however, Bishop had the feeling that this stint in the states was going to be just as much social as it was business.

Chepe and Lara were chatting as they got out of the van, not in any great rush to get into the throes of things. Unsure of what else to do, Angel tagged along a couple steps behind Gilberto as he went to greet his brother. Chepe lingered by the back of the van with Lara while she discouraged him from taking their luggage out of the van because she was going to drop them off at whatever hotel they were staying at once they checked in with Bishop.

“I’m sure Tío Gilberto already has the Benz he rented parked in the valet lot there anyway.” She glanced over at him. “Looks like if you wanna go out and have fun you’ll have to either call me or an Uber.”

Chepe laughed and shook his head but didn’t speak up to disagree with her. Regaining his composure just slightly, he gave a small nod in Angel’s direction as he said, “You should be making him drive you around.”

Lara scoffed even though her face warmed at the comment. “Angel? Please. There’s a reason I was behind the wheel going to pick you guys up today.”

“Lalo,” he chided with a shake of his head. “Don’t start treating me like I’m old and senile. Save that for Gilberto.”

She laughed as she tried to divert the conversation for her own sake. “I don’t know—it has been a while since I’ve seen you.”

He was still smiling as he pulled her in, pretending to go for a headlock. “Not that long.” He paused, and when Lara didn’t say anything, he asked, “So he doesn’t know, then?”

Lara followed Chepe’s eyeline and saw that he was looking at her father now. Picking a story and sticking to it, she did her best to sound confident as she said, “There’s nothing for him to know, Tío.”

Chepe hummed, clearly not convinced but deciding that he’d bring it up again at a later date. Maybe he’d bring it up to Angel and see if they both had the same story. He kissed Lara on the side of the head to conclude their conversation before moving on to finally greeting Bishop. He smiled wide, holding his arms out for a hug as he approached him. He called out, “Obispo!” in such a friendly tone that anyone who didn’t know better would’ve thought that they were old friends.

The less than amused look on Bishop’s face was the only thing that gave away the reality of the situation. He didn’t deny Chepe the hug, but he certainly wasn’t as enthusiastic about it. “Chepe,” he said with not nearly as much cheer. “Was starting to think you were gone for good.”

Chepe clapped him on the back once more with another laugh before pulling away. “Life isn’t that easy for you, Obispo. Besides,” he gestured towards Lara, “I know you miss me just as much as my niece does.”

Bishop scoffed. “Just about.”

“Good thing Gilberto and I haven’t bought our return tickets then, hm?” He beamed. “Make up for some lost time.”

Bishop sucked in a deep breath, one that gave a noticeable rise to his chest and shoulders. He managed to fight every impulsive comment that crossed his mind, finally watering them down and settling on, “Can’t fuckin’ wait.”

#narcoctober #narcos #narcos netflix #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #bishop losa #angel reyes #oc lara losa #chepe santacruz #gilberto rodriguez #mayans mc crossover #narcos crossover #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #flying in

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 year

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Hello, again :D

I recently saw an add-on for DnD that included guides on a bunch of domestic activities, such as buying a house or store, getting married and having a family. I really liked the idea of a game where you still go on adventures but with that element of domesticity. I guess my question was, can you think of any ttrpgs (or add-ons) that include domestic pursuits within an adventure game?

THEME: Domestic Games

Hello there! I've got a few games for you to check out that might give you what you're looking for!

Merchants and Monsters, by Andie Sanade.

In a world of magic, monsters, and brave intrepid adventurers, you are a merchant! An ordinary honest, as far as everyone knows, merchant. Life’s hard out there for the Non-Perilous Crowd, but you live in this world just as much as any sellsword or sorcerer. So grab your wares, straighten your clothes, and open up shop because you’re gonna make it big or die trying!

Merchants and Monsters is a roleplaying game that can be played by 2 or more people and uses a set of the following dice: 4-sided, 6-sided, 8-sided, 10-sided, 12-sided, and 20-sided.

This is a stand-alone game that you could probably also insert into another fantasy game of your choice! Because other players have the option of roleplaying customers, they could potentially embody their own characters going shopping, or perhaps this game happens after a long campaign, and you want to role-play a retired character doing their best to make a sale! While much of the art in this book indicates a fantasy world, there’s nothing stopping you from turning those gold pieces into credits, bits of salvage, or whatever currency you use in your game.

MELWAFF - My Exciting Life with a Fantasy Foreigner!, by Julian Kay.

They came from another world, but it's not an invasion, it's an immigration.

Dragons, devils, and druids live among us, just trying to get by. Holy swords are put to use chopping carrots instead of slicing skeletons. The Mystery Integration Bureau oversees the the newcomers' introduction to modern Earth society, while ordinary people acclimate to the strangers. And not everything is going to go smoothly... where does a witch park her walking hut? What's it like having an unicorn for a roommate?

MELWAFF: My Exciting Life With a Fantasy Foreigner is a tabletop storytelling RPG dramedy where everyday people meet fantasy folk and anime-styled hijinks result. Play an Earth native, a fantasy "newcomer", or a M.I.B. agent and tell a story of what happens when the magical and bombastic meets the modern world. Seek your dreams either mystical or mundane, as your friends join in with shenanigans. Enjoy legitimate surprise mechanics as the "Fate Deck" introduces new twists and hopes throughout every episode of play!

This game uses a Tarot Deck, split into three groups, used to establish connections, determine who will become the central character of an episode, introduce twists, and more. Players will take turns occupying the spotlight over a number of episodes, attempting to achieve goals such as getting a job, throwing a party, hiding a pet monster from the landlord, etc.

If you want to combine this game with others, you might bring characters from past games into this world as inter-dimensional travellers struggling to make sense of a modern world. This is a great option if your friends have favourite characters from a bunch of different games! The game itself a beautiful mix of the fantastic and the mundane, and I heavily recommend that you go and check it out!

Lesbians Built This Farm, by che.

LESBIANS BUILT THIS FARM is a gmless table top role-playing game about queer joy and resistance for 2-4 players, written by che for the TRANS JOY JAM.

this is a game about the places we build and the things we need to build them. it uses a simple two-part system which ties a joyful "no dice no masters"-style homelife to the grueling game of odds and effort that is ""being queer in the work place.""

this pdf contains all the rules you need to play this game, including four playbooks. if you'd like, any of the playbooks from stargazersasha's girlfriend of my girlfriend is my friend should also be (mostly) compatible.

This game uses inspiration from Belonging Outside Belonging in that it sets up moves for each playbook that your characters can always do. There are two phases of play. The first is a home phase that allows you to cultivate the home you’ve always wanted. The second is a work phase that uses a deck of cards and d10s to determine what kind of day you had at work, and how much stress it gives you. As you play, you will check boxes attached to your character sheet - fill all of them and you get to decide how your character grows into themself.

If you want to combine this game with a game that carries more adventure and excitement, you might be able to do that with Thirsty Sword Lesbians! I'd recommend picking a playbook from each and adjusting the jobs from Lesbians Built This Farm to match the kinds of jobs your characters might have in-universe. Perhaps those jobs are things your characters pick up in between adventures, perhaps this game works as a prequel to something bigger, or maybe your Thirsty Sword Lesbian campaign happens on in-universe weekends!

The best part is that both of these games are available in the TTRPGs for Trans Rights in Florida bundle, so you can get both of them (and many many more) for only $5! Both games can be used for a multitude of genres so the possibilities are endless!

Games I’ve recommended in the past

(All sci-fi, to make up for the lack of it above!)

Xenopolitan, by Willy Elektrix.

The Long Shift, by Caro Asercion.

Poutine: Deep Dish Nine, by The Kinematic Cafe.

#slice of life #tabletop games #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #dnd #asks #I am a big fan of taking one game and putting it inside another game

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catapparently · 2 months

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A Particular Type of Happily Ever After

AO3 LINK

MASTERLIST

Fandom: OUABH

Ship: Evangeline x Jacks

Word count: ~1.8k

PART 1: Evangeline Fox

Evangeline Fox had always had a particular penchant for little foxes. Perhaps she had a special connection to them because of her last name, or perhaps she simply wasn’t cruel enough to not be head over heels for the adorable fluffy creatures. How could one possibly see a fox all snug and sleepy in its little den and NOT want to cuddle it close and bring it home with them?

On an unusually stormy evening, Evangeline heard the distinct creak of the front door opening. The familiar aroma of sweet apples and newly healed heartbreaks instantly wafted through the air, overwhelming her senses. Jacks. Had she not loved the man so dearly, she would have long since boiled him into a bottle of the perfect perfume for her to use.

She quickly sprang up from her comfortable, sprawled out position on the new soft rug they’d gotten and rushed down to see the not-quite-human boy. He’d been gone all day doing who knows what shenanigans with Castor. Castor, who Jacks still refused to let anywhere near his “precious Little Fox”.

Evangeline came to an abrupt halt the moment she laid her eyes on Jacks. He had gotten, through unknown means (and frankly, she didn’t want to know how), a brand new winter coat. The coat was a pretty shade of blue, an uncommon color for him to wear. He was ever so insistent on wearing red, white, and gold. Then again, his preference around her was rather to wear nothing at all.

It wasn’t the color that surprised her, no. It was the fur lining on the collar. It didn’t look like it came with the coat, rather that it was stitched on separately. The cut of the lining wasn’t quite the same as the collar underneath them. The fine strands of the said fur lining were of a beautiful beige-orange color. Too beautiful, actually. No synthetic fur could be dyed to imitate such a unique and extravagant coloring. In fact, the fur on Jacks’s collar looked exactly like that of a fox. Suspiciously so.

“Jacks… what did you do to that poor fox?!”

He twirled the apple in his hand, sparing a glance back and forth between it and Evangeline’s lips, and finally set it down on a nearby tabletop with an exaggerated flourish. He stepped towards her, a certain freely expressed fondness that Evangeline had yet to get used to gracing the usual playful smile on his flawless face. Despite him becoming somewhat human, he still had an ethereal glow on his skin. Not quite human.

“What, don’t you find it pretty? I thought you’d finally stop berating me for not wearing enough layers in the winter.”

Evangeline touched his collar, inspecting it from every angle, desperately hoping that it wasn’t what she thought it was. Sure, she loved Jacks more than everything, but she knew first-hand how cruel he could be sometimes.

Her heart sank to the lowest pit in her stomach. This had to be real fox fur. There was no other way.

“Jacks, how could you? How could you do that to the poor fox?!” Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, tempted to shake him back and forth like a plum tree until some sense was finally knocked into his thick skull.

Jacks cupped her face with his hands, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “Relax, love, it’s not real fox fur.”

“I don’t believe you.” “It’s fake fur.” “I really don’t believe you.” “I swear on the Hollow that it’s not real.”

She paused, looking at him. “Then what is it?” she demanded. If it was indeed fox fur as she’d thought, she wouldn’t talk to him ever again unless he figured out a way to bring the heartlessly slaughtered fox back to life.

Jacks’s chest heaved with a heavy sigh as he lazily ran a hand through his messy blond hair. It had grown longer ever since he’d finally given up on the blue dye, but Evangeline didn’t let him cut it. No way in hell. It was just the perfect length for her to play with when he was fast asleep with his head resting on her chest, curled up into her like a clingy cat. Sometimes he’d wake up with little braids and ribbons in his hair.

“When we were kids, Aurora taught me and Castor how to change anything’s appearance with certain combinations of her weird ingredients, so I tried to alter some fake fur I conveniently found on an old coat. Then I had LaLa stitch it on for me.”

She exhaled in relief. She’d already been planning the many ways to make Jacks deeply regret his existence had he actually killed an innocent fox. Her favorite that she’d come up with had been to lock him inside the Hollow with a bunch of foxes she’d lure in so that he could see what cuteness he’d dared slaughter.

“You promise?” she tilted her head up to look at him right in the eye. “Promise. Besides, I like having a constant reminder of you or your hands around my neck, Little Fox.”

Her cheeks turned bright red, matching the shiny crystal heart on her ring, identical to the one on Jacks’s ring finger.

Delighted at the adorable reaction, Jacks wrapped his arms around his chosen true love, burying his face in her soft hair. He was always making sure that it was really her, alive and in his arms.

“You really like foxes, don’t you, Little Fox?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Jacks could not argue against that.

PART 2: Jacks of the Hollow

Jacks of the Hollow found himself in a rather peculiar situation. He was in the middle of a very foggy forest, hiding behind a tree. He’d placed a fresh piece of raw meat a few feet away, near a tree. It had been carefully and strategically placed near a poorly concealed hole in the ground that he hoped was indeed a fox hole. He’d roamed around the Cursed Forest for days, looking for foxes like an Archer and his Fox. Now that he’d finally found the spot, he was determined to stay there as long as he had to. Nothing in the world –except maybe his own Fox- could distract him from his mission.

As he waited patiently, he started preparing the cardboard box he had brought with him. Jacks neatly smoothed and rearranged the small pile of his clothes that he’d placed in it to create some sort of animal bed.

He looked back at the piece of meat. Was the lure not working? He’d made sure that it was the juiciest, tastiest, and most expensive meat that he’d found. What a picky, pretentious little fox this was. Jacks had chosen to catch this exact one because it was still a small kit, and it had no family, so it would be starving and lonely. Then why was it not coming to the meat?

It was getting late, and Jacks was growing restless. Finally, as the sun was setting, he spotted a tiny pair of ears peeking out from behind a snow-covered bush. Jacks held his breath as the cutest baby fox in the North came out and began nibbling on a corner of the red meat. Poor little guy must be freezing; its stubby little legs were shaking.

Before the cute creature could react, Jacks stepped over to it and swiftly picked it up, his large hands carefully wrapping around its shivering body and holding it close to his chest. The fox squirmed and trashed a bit, but quickly calmed down, too weak to protest. It curled up in Jacks’s arms and dozed off, content with the warmth emanating from the boy.

Jacks’s heart melted. He didn’t even want to put it down in the comfy box he’d so carefully prepared, so he left it there. He didn’t like those clothes anyway.

He pressed a soft kiss between the loveable animal’s ears. “Eva is absolutely going to love you,” he whispered to it. Jacks walked home, making sure to protect his newest family member from the harsh, icy winds. As he stepped inside their room in the Hollow, he was greeted with silence. Hmm. Evangeline must still be out with LaLa.

While waiting for her to come home, he set the now-awake fox on his shoulder, rummaging through the cupboards to feed it some bread.

As if on cue, he heard the front door open, and, soon after, a certain pink-haired girl bounced over into the kitchen to him, stopping short when she saw what was on his shoulder.

“Jacks… Is that what I think it is?” she exclaimed, the pitch of her voice reaching new heights.

Jacks finally turned and held out the little fox, now warm and fed to her. “Meet your wedding gift. A little fox for my Little Fox.”

She took the creature from him, looking at it with adoration in her eyes as it licked her cheeks.

“He’s so so so cute! Where did you find it?” she smiled, petting its soft fur and rubbing its ears.

Jacks sighed dramatically, collapsing on top of the couch in mock-exhaustion. “I stood day and night in the freezing cold, shivering and slowly dying, waiting for the little guy to one day decide to come out of his hiding place.”

“Well it’s your fault for not having a coat,” she retorted as she sat beside him, the fox curling up on her lap. “What are we going to name it?”

“Red.”

“No.”

“Orange.”

“We’re not naming him a color, Jacks.”

“Foxy.”

Evangeline stared down at the still nameless kit, petting it lovingly as it made a catlike purring noise in her lap. She tried to think of a fitting name since Jacks clearly wouldn’t be of any help.

“Let’s name it… uh, Maximilian? Maximilian of the Hollow. Max for short.”

Jacks stared at her blankly. Maximilian? It worked, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. Why Maximilian?

He must have accidentally talked in her mind, because she soon answered.

“Maximilian was my father’s name. Maximilan Fox.”

“…Oh.”

Part 3: Maximilian of the Hollow

Maximilian of the Hollow was a particularly happy little fox. Once upon a time, he’d been cold and weak and starving, until, one day, a strange not-quite-human boy smelling of apples and healed, forgotten heartbreak came along, saving him and bringing him home.

Max was now healthy, warm, and well-fed. He was rather spoiled by the pretty once princess with the golden-pink hair. He was the happiest of foxes, snugly tucked into his soft bed near his owners, who were all tangled up and asleep in their own bed.

Max had yet to understand who the strange little dragon creature who snuck in when nobody was looking was and why it was here, though.

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

Text

I think... She likes Me?

Pairing: College!Willard Hewitt x College!fem!reader

Characters: Willard Hewitt, College!fem!reader, Rusty Rodriguez, Ariel Moore, Ren McCormick, Woody (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Shenanigans, the girls teaming up for Team Willard, the different teasing from the boys and girls, Willard is a sweeheart, mean librarian, Ren gets what he deserves, Willard pulling out all the stops to impress, dancing, Ren tries to help his pal, worried Willard, Rusty and reader being roomies, Willard and Ren being roomies, no one has privacy with this gang around, Willard using Ren’s car so he can save up for his dream car (TGM Bronco), Rusty and Willard felt they were better as friends, the hat being stolen and never returned, Reader makes Willard nervous

Word Count: 3,063

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“You alright?” Ren asks his friend.

Willard doesn’t respond.

“I think he’s broken,” Ariel whispers into her boyfriend’s ear, knowing that the country boy would start some sort of witty banter, but he doesn’t this time and it concerns her.

“Nah,” Rusty disagrees, setting her bag onto the table before sitting down. “The girl who sits beside him is finally partnered up with him.”

“Oh,” Ren says, as if he understands. “I don’t get it.”

Ariel shakes her head. “Remember the girl he was talking about, the one who helped him out at the welcoming party for the freshman.”

Her boyfriend nods, she can tell he kind of understands what she’s saying but isn’t fully there. “She told those boys to back off when we walked over to see what was happening.”

“Oh, the little spitfire who made sure Willie boy was okay while we were forgotten.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So,” he turns back towards Willard. “You gonna ask her out?”

The young man who can’t seem to cut a loss with his hat, gasps. “I couldn’t- I won’t- I don’t think she likes me like that?”

“You may think that now,” Rusty starts. “But I know for a fact that she does.”

“You’re lying.”

She scoffs, “how dare you think I would lie about something so serious.”

He whines and slumps over, forehead resting against the cold wood of the tabletop.

You walk out from behind the isle, smiling when you realize who it is at the table. You take a few steps until your behind Rusty’s chair. “Uh- hi.”

The three turn towards you, the couple with looks of shock present on their faces and the girl who invited you here has the widest smile on her face. “Come on over and take a seat. Here,” she stands out of the chair and gestures for you to sit.

You shake our head. “Oh, I couldn’t take your seat.”

“I insist.”

“But-”

She grabs you by the shoulders and forces you into the chair. “There we go.”

You tilt your head, a slight pout tugging the corner of your lips downward. “Where are you gonna sit?”

Willard just about died there as he doesn’t remove his gaze from you. How can you be so sweet and thoughtful?

Ren kicks him under the table.

He leans down, rubbing his calf as he glares at his friend- or former friend, depending how mean his said friend decides to be.

The one from Boston nudges his head in your direction.

He shakes his head.

Ren purses his lips.

Willard stares at his friend, mentally sending him threats while simultaneously praying that his friend doesn’t embarrass him.

The brunette smiles, grabbing another chair from an unoccupied table, setting it besides her friend. “There, that’s better.”

“I feel like I’m overcrowding your group. I should leave.” You scoot the chair back, getting ready to stand up when he stops you, his hand resting on your forearm.

“Don’t leave. You’re not bothering anyone, and you certainly aren’t crowding us. I could us someone else to talk to,” he jabs his thumb in Ren’s direction. “He ain’t always good with conversations.”

“Hey!”

Willard turns back towards his friend with an innocent smile on his face. The boy doesn’t take his eyes off you as you cover your mouth to hide your amusement. He knows that’s one of the sounds he wants to hear from you again.

Ren shakes his head, turning towards Ariel, who just smiles at him.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any look.”

He hums, “mmhmm, sure.”

“Is there something on my face?”

He hums, hardly paying attention to anything you’re saying.

“I asked if there’s something on my face. You keep staring.”

He slowly removes his hand from your arm and keeps his eyes on the desk after he turns and pretends to work on his homework. He doesn’t realize it but now you feel bad.

Did you say something wrong? Or maybe- you take a moment to study his body language to see if he’s uncomfortable so you can apologize if that’s the case. But the longer you stare, the more you notice.

The way he’s picking at his fingers, his head down so his hat covers his face but not all of it because you can see his flushed cheeks, the same scarlet red that happened during the freshman party.

‘Oh. Ohh.’ You subconsciously bite your bottom lip to suppress your joy.

Had you known he liked you, you definitely would have figured out how to spend more time with him and get him to stop being so quiet. You’ve seen him with his friends around school and he sure as hell ain’t a shy guy.

“Moving on,” you tell yourself. “Do you want to get started on the-”

He can’t take the kicking or Rusty’s note any longer. He turns to face you once more. “Do you like to dance?”

You’re mouth opening and closing as your brain tries to understand what was said to you.

“I think she’s the one that’s broken now,” Ariel whispers to Rusty.

“Uh- dancing?”

He nods, “or we could do something else-”

You tilt your head, “are you asking me out right now? Because not even two seconds ago you were as flushed as a lobster. I definitely wanna go on a date with you, don’t think I don’t because I do. I’m just wondering where this,” you wave your hand around in front of him, “came from.”

“He just needed a little kick is all,” Ren chimes in with a smirk directed towards his friend.

All of a sudden, the one from Boston falls backwards in his chair.

Ariel is quick to check him over and help him up with Rusty’s assistance.

You through your head back and laugh as you clap your hands before realizing that one, you’re in the library and two, the librarian is the meanest woman ever and has no problem banning people even if they need to check out a book for a project.

You turn towards Willard who has the same look as you. You grab your bag and wait till he’s done shoving everything into his bag. Once he’s on his feet you grab his hand and run out.

After you two catch your breath, you turn around and stare up at the building.

“How bad do you think it is?” He asks you.

“Very but, luckily for us she didn’t see us and we’re in the clear.”

He feels his arm swinging back and forth, finding it strange he glances down and sees you’re still holding his hand. “Hey.”

You turn around to face him.

“You never answered my question about dancing.”

“I didn’t?” You ask, knowing full well you didn’t.

He squints, he knows the actions one takes when avoiding the “You want to dance?” question. He deems himself an expert in that and knows the perfect first date. “You know you didn’t.”

You pout. ‘Damn. He knows.’ “But, I think you’re gonna have a lot of fun on our date.”

“Date? When did you ask me out?” He furrows his brows, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, -I”

“I mean, I’m not saying no. I’m just asking.”

“Oh.” That certainly perked him up. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

He narrows his eyes at you, pretending not to like what you’re doing. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“Now that you’ve officially asked me, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to check my calendar and- oh yes. I am free, every day after six. Isn’t that convenient?”

“Very convenient. Is it too soon to ask if I can come by your dorm tonight and take you out?”

You take a step closer, less than foot between you two. “I’d think that be nice. Just know you have your hands full with me, handsome.” You peck his cheek and steal his hat before walking away.

He nervously chuckles until he realizes what you did. “Hey!”

You turn around, a mischievous smile dancing across your lips.

“Gimme my hat back!”

You shake your head, “it gives you more of a reason to stop by.”

“Oh, come on!” He sighs, watching you turn the corner. He starts patting hair down. “I’ve got hat hair,” he mumbles.

You almost bump into Rusty, who smacks your shoulder. You reach for your injured arm and rub the sore spot. “You’re so mean.”

“That is what you get for almost getting us banned from the library.”

“Yeah, well… that’s your problem.”

She shakes her head, “I see things went well.”

“It did. I still didn’t believe you even after I sat down.”

“That boy has had heart eyes for you since the second he stared at your shoes.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Did it- nevermind, looks like it did.”

“Wait- you two knew about this?” Ren asks, pointing between Rusty and Ariel.

“Yep. He needed a push,” Rusty adds.

“And I wasn’t told, why? I’m the guy’s best friend.”

All three of you coo at his confession.

“Knock it off. When did you plan this with these two?”

“Oh,” you try to think back to when this first started. “A couple of weeks after the freshman party.”

“That long?” His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“Kind of. I have English and an elective with them two so when we had to do a group project, we got to know one another, and they put the pieces together.”

“Fine.” He cracks a smile. “So, when’s the date?”

You don’t want to tell them but you’re so excited, you can’t keep it to yourself any longer. “Tonight.”

The girls giggle and pull you in for a hug.

“Alright, alright. Break it up. Now you,” Ren points at you. “Don’t break his heart or else you’ll have me to deal with. Got it?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

He sighs and walks away, “I’m dealing with a child.”

“You can’t focus on him. You’ve got a date to get ready for,” Rusty tells you.

“What time is it?”

“Almost four.”

“Oh my gosh. I’ll see you guys later.” You barrel past them and run towards your dorm.

Luckily you were able to get ready with twenty minutes to spare and rather than being on your phone you figured it would be a good idea to start working on writing down some ideas for your most recent project.

A knock on the door drags you out of your thoughts. Your brain is on overload and not properly functioning because you forgot about tonight, until you open the door.

He brightens up at the sight of you before he reads your expression. “Are you okay?”

You rub your left eye, trying to regain focus. “Yeah.” You’re racking your brain trying to figure out why he’s here and then it hits you. “Oh, shoot,” your eyes widen. “Give me two seconds and then we can go.” You run back to your desk, closing your textbooks and notebooks before reaching for your purse.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks while you push him out the door.

“Yeah, why? Do I not look okay?”

He immediately shakes his head, “no, no. You- you look absolutely amazing. I just- you look tired, and I don’t want you to go out if you’re not feeling up to it.”

You suck in your lips to keep yourself from awing at his sweet behavior. “No,” you shake your head. “I’ve been wanting to go on this date for a while now and we’re doing this.”

You spin around, walking ahead of him.

He follows, tilting his head when he realizes what you said. “You’ve been waiting to go on a date with me?”

You can hear the teasing in his voice followed by his not so innocent teasing smile. “I didn’t say that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what I heard.”

“You’re wrong.”

He shrugs, “okay.”

The closer you two get to the parking lot, the more anxious he gets. “Fair warning, I’m borrowing Ren’s car while I save up for my future car.”

“That’s fine. As long as I can get in and out, I’m good.”

“Even if you couldn’t, I would give you a push.”

You give him a suspicious look, holding onto the door. “A push, huh?”

The smile falls from his face, “not- not- not like that.”

You pinch his chin between your index finger and thumb, “I know.” And you settle into the car.

He shakes his head and closes the before heading around the car. “You’re gonna be trouble for me, aren’t you?”

You chuckle, “it’s always the quiet ones, right?”

“Always the quiet ones,” he mumbles.

He parks the car. “Alright, we’re here.”

“Is this the part where you pretend, we’re on a date but you actually murder me because this place looks sketchy and like a perfect place to murder someone.”

“Clearly you need parental control on, so those thoughts don’t come to mind ever again.”

“You’re so mean.”

“Not mean if I’m caring about you.”

You don’t respond or look in his direction.

He smiles, pulling you with him leading you toward the empty room.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” You ask, finding it weird that the dancing hall is empty.

He shrugs. “I know someone, and they made sure this place was empty for us to use.”

“He says sounding more and more like a serial killer.”

He groans, “I’m not.”

“I know, I’m teasing and it’s certainly working.”

“Working?”

“You’re not as in your head as before.”

“You sneaky little minx.”

“Hey, hey,” you raise your hands, hiding the smile that tries to sneak its way onto your lips. “I’m just going with the flow here.”

“Yeah, well,” he clicks the button on the remote left on the table closest to the wall. “The flow is going to teach you to dance.”

You purse your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

He sighs, “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Ren’s advice.”

“No, no,” you snort. “Ple- ease,” a chuckle interrupts you. “Please use the advice. It’s great.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “I’d like to see you use your sarcasm and put it into your dancing skills.”

All amusement leaves your body after that. “You’re mean.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I... I don’t dance.”

“I know.”

“Well, if you know then why are we here?”

“I’m gonna get you those dancing shoes.”

“My boots are made for walkin’ and nothing else.”

“Keep it up and you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

“That a promise?”

“Keep your clothes on, sweetheart. I know I'm irresistible.” He stands in front of you, holding his hand out.

“Can I politely decline?”

“Not today.”

“Damn.” You slap your hand onto his. “Don’t come crying to me if your feet are sore.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna whine to Ren about how the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen had me teach her how to dance.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls on campus.”

“Just you,” he spins you around, pulling you into his embrace, “sweetheart.”

You blink once, trying to wrap your head around what happened.

“That was new.”

“But fun?” he asks, his voice full of hope.

“No.”

“Are you-” he loosens his grip, “are you serious? We can-”

“I’m just joking,” you turn towards him while checking out his side profile.

“I swear I had fun.” You assure him for the millionth time tonight. Clearly you need to work on your teasing. “I just- I never thought the dancing life was for me but you, you certainly proved me wrong, and I hope that we can do more of that because you’ve started something.”

“Looks like I’m gonna have to take you on more dates in order to keep your dancing itch satisfied.”

“I’m quite sure I liked how you phrase that but yes.”

He smiles, stuffing his hands into his front pant pockets. “So...”

“Goodnight, Willard.” You unlock the door to your dorm room.

“Does this- does this mean we’re uh-” H scratches his neck (his head still bare since you’re not giving him his hat back, although he is not complaining). “We’re gonna go out again?”

“Willard?”

“Yeah?” He stares at you with those big puppy dog eyes of his.

“Would it be too early to ask you to be my boyfriend?”

“You stole my line.”

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Will.” You take a risk and kiss his cheek before rushing inside your room.

The corner of is lips tug upwards as he heads back to his and Ren’s room.

“Look at what the cat dragged,” his buddy teases him. “Is that a smile I see? What happened to “she doesn’t like me”?”

The southern boy scoffs, kicking off the boot he was taking off at his friend. “Hey! We agreed no shoes on the beds.”

“We also agreed we wouldn’t make fun of someone when they got back from their date.”

“So?”

“So what?”

Ren rolls his eyes, “how was the date?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You two didn’t kiss so you can tell.”

“How would you know if I didn’t kiss- they were listening weren’t they?”

The one from Boston shrugs. “This is why I don’t want to tell you anything. Woody would be better than you guys.”

Ren’s silence speaks volumes.

“Seriously?”

“We were curious.”

He shakes his head, grabbing his things for him to be able to finish his nightly routine. “Can’t get any privacy around here.”

“How was it?” Ariel asks, tossing her textbooks off to the side.

You pretend to be casual and shrug, “eh.”

They raise one brow and give you a questioning look.

“We’re going out!”

They shriek and push themselves off the bed, pulling you into a jumping hug.

“Finally,” Rusty says, plopping back down onto her bed.

“Shut up.”

“Did you finally learn how to dance?” Ariel asks.

“How did you know I couldn’t dance?”

“It’s obvious, darlin’. You never want to whenever we go out.”

You mimic her answer while taking off your shoes and setting Willard’s hat on your desk. “Don’t you have a roommate to go back to?”

“Nope.”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Enjoy your sweet dreams of Willard.”

You chuck your pillow at the two and they chuckle, doing what they were doing earlier.

#footloose #footloose 2011 imagine #footloose 2011 imagines #footloose imagines #footloose imagine #Willard Hewitt #willard hewitt imagine #willard hewitt imagines #willard hewitt x reader #willard hewitt x you #willard hewitt fanfiction #willard hewitt fanfic #college!willard hewitt #college!willard hewitt x fem!reader #college!willard hewitt x fem reader #college!willard hewitt x college!fem!reader #college!willard hewitt x college!fem reader #crazyk-imagine

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wikagirl · 2 months

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artwork and some cool little stories about skyrim inspired tabletop a friend is hosting for me and my friends below the cut cuz zhis is kinda long

Okay so I have mentioned this thing before a couple times on my blog but now I actually have all the character art done so let me actually tell you something about The Company Of Dragons or TCOD as we called the discord channel for it.

My homie Emmet wanted to once again host a tabletop after not having done one in quite a bit and all of us are reeaaaaaalllllyyyyyy into skyrim, like it wa sliterally my first actual big game title I have ever played and even his friggen stepmom played it after his dad just wouldn't shut up about it after he convinced him to play it so he took the story of the game and modified it into a tabletop cambaing based off of the system of the german The Dark Eye tabletop.

He basicly wrote a skyrim AU where we still more or less play through the game but with quite a lot of changes so it is multi-player friendly and he also made it so the big guild questlines would be shaped into something of a little character questline since we somehow managed to nicely distribute our characters in such a way that we only ever really had one per big guild (like the mages, thieves, dark brotherhood and so on) and I thought it would be a cool idea to draw our characters in their "final form" so to speak at the end of their own arc where they get to be the main story focus and now I'll introduce you to all of them and some notable reappearing npcs that were played by friends and family who liked to listen in on our sessions.

Starting off with Myrkviar Valourheart which is a "written as you hear it" version of Myrkviðr which is the old norse word for darkwood or black forest and he is played by the literal dad of the DM and the metaphorical dad of our friend group, Yuri.

He is our dragonborn and actually did not start out as someone that is supposed to go to the block in helgen. He is a trusted guard from Falkreath and former captain of the helgen guards before the civil war broke out and the Jarl let the impirial soldiers take over the fortress and he basicly stuck around in helgen to serve as joint of communication between the impirials and falkreath itself. He lost his wife and one of his sons to the dragon attack and took it upon himself to slay the beast for the safety of the people he swore to protect when he joined the guards and to avenge his lost family members.

He stems from a long bloodline of werewolves, it doesn't really have much to do with the story we actually play through it's just a running joke that everyone in my friendgroup besides me goes were beast so they also made their characters were beasts in our tabletop.

His final kit is the nordic armor with nordic hammer and he wears the blueish sash that normally comes with the falkreath hold armor over it as a sign of his dedication to his duty and the people of his home.

Raggi Valourheart was originally supposed to be called Ragnar but his mother kept calling him Raggi as a nickname and now he is forever stuck with a name meaning something like "a tuft" or "shagginess" and he is played by our DMs brother Dwoshak.

Like his father he lost part of his family in helgen where he had lived all his life and was working as a smiths apprentice with the dream to forge a sword that could cut mountains.

After helgen he went with his father to whiterun where he would stay for most of the main story (mainly because dowshak didn't have a lot of time to play with us at that time and din't wanna hold us back by making us wait) where he just kind of existed in a state of shock for a while. Even though the wolfblood runs deep in his family (for previously mentioned in-joke reasons) he never managed to turn even after consuming werewolves blood but the trauma eventually broke what ever held the dam, leading to him more or less involunteerily getting dragged into the companions questline through some roundabout shenanigans and helping him past his trauma with the power of found extended family. He only takes on the mantle of Herold of the companions for about a year before passing it on to vilkas and resuming his passion as a smith under eorlung grey mane at the skyforge where he has just kinda been chillin for most of the sotry but he joins in every one in a while for some adventure.

He is wearing the ancient nord armor which usually doesn't come with any under clothing except for the leather bits that the plate is attached to but he is wearing his shirt and pants that he usually wears to work underneath because why the hell not also he has just accepted that his face and hands will never be clean of soot ever again.

Kåre Dahlson is a cousin to the Valourheart clan and likes to cosplay as a priest of mara to cover up his sithis worshipping and man murdering tendencies and just like his player, my friend André, he likes to tell some tall tales about the scars on his face when in reality they are just leftover of some poorly healed infected scratches from when his mothers rooster got to his face as a kid when he annoyed the bird a bit too much.

We haven't gotten around for his time to be the main character yet but he does get some time to shine on our characters first trip to solstheim where he aquires his werebear self and joint the ranks fo the injoke club.

He is wearing standart monk robes over top of the standart dark brotherhood assassins gear together with an amulet of mara. I drew him with allready having astrids dagger because.....reasons and don't let me saying that he "cosplays" as a monk of mara fool ye, he is quite proficient in the more....physical aspects of worshiping the goddess of love and he is very very lucky that our DM is not like me and does not make him flip a cin every time to see if he got an std or not.

last one on the werecreature club is our local thiev and honorary member of the girls club, M'lady who insists his name is pronounced Muh-La-Dee but that would not be funny now would it?

He is actually the one to be carted into helgen at the beginning and b makes it out with just a little bit of furr scorched off the top of his head. He has been a pick pocket for a long time but felt the need to leave the country after getting attacked by sinding when he was unfortunately in the area when the guy went into his murder frenzy which is how he ended up getting caught at the border.

Tumblr doesn't have enough space to actually even just describe this shit this guy gets up to when noone is looking but he does restore the thieves guild to its former glory and he also does do the sinding quest where, instead of accepting the saviours hide or the ring, he strikes a deal with hircine to please just make him a cat in wereform too.

some honorble mentions of the shit he has done are:

sneak into haelgas house to lace her horker tooth that she most definetly uses for kinky stuff with "foreign spice oils" after she got on his nerves too much one time.

Periodicly sneak into the house of maven blackbriar and move certain things just a little bit more to the left every time he does.

And once he got the nightingale armor he would put it on an stand stare at maul from the distance at night or through his window, standing juuuuuuust far enough in the shadows to have his form be obscurred but still have the blue glowing eyes the armor gives you visible because the idiot needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. M'lady did that for over three weeks until maul got paranoid and almost killed someone out of anxiety.

M'lady actually hates the nightingale armor because it tugs and squeeses at his fur so he wears a modified guildmasters armor. The glassdagger is kinda shitty in stats but he likes it because oooohhh shiny and the golden coin in his mane has the face markings of his mother engraved in it.

Also funfact the M' prefix for khajiit means something like "inexperienced" "apprentice" and sometimes also "virgin"

now the last major character is meeeee, and I was very creative because her name is literally just Vika... Vika Aldervel, her mother was a nord which is how she got the pasty bitch look but her father is a darkelf which is how she got the last name and her affinity for magic as well as the short queen genes for nord standart.

The whole point of this character was just to see how crazy the DM would let me get with it and how op he would let me go until he would slap me on the wrist....it was surpsiringly far because he actually used a lot of the chaos I created against me a lot of times.

Vika is the granddaughter of my oblivion character and if you have played the shivering isles dlc you know that your character literally becomes sheogorath, the daedric prince of madness, who you can also meet in skyrim. Vika traveled to skyrim to study the falmer and their ancient magics, the rest of the crew just kinda run into her in a random ass cave at some point while she is looking for anything falmer related and she just kinda tags a long from there on serving as the healer of the group and also money management. As you can tell by the art her plot is mostly the plot of the dawnguard dlc mixed in with sheogorath popping in every one in a while to cause chaos for his little darling granddaughter who is honestly more like a fun object to rotate to him but ey it makes for good plot moments.

Her gear is a modified version of the fur trimmed cloak to have a hood that protects from the sun. Her eye makeup is a direct rip from the swirly pattern of nocturnals robe decoration since, as someone raised by a dark elf, she mostly worships azura who often has nocturnal credited as her sister so she worships them as a duo but msotly still focusin on azura. Due to her amassing great power and devoting herself to azura even after taking the vampire form (which is a Molag Bal thing) the daedric prince of dusk blessed her with keeping her true face even in the normally hideous vampire form so that Vika may show the duskmothers true grace and beauty even when fighting in her most powerfull form (this took a several sessions long quest to beg for azuras forgiveness tho)

and now that we are done with the main squad, on to some lesser reoccuring characters, starting off with the spouses

So first of we have Moira (yes the hagraven you get married to in the sanguine quest) and Elmora.

Moira is an npc played by our DM and becomes part of Vikas quest to redeem herself in the eyes of azura after the whole crew takes a celibratory drink with sanguine after helping Elmora become the new headmaster of the mages college. All the other characters got one part ofn the Sanguine quest and Vika got the getting married to a hagraven part.

Azura promised Vika her favour back if she could turn the hagraven to worship her fully and wholeheartedly, and since azuras worship includes loving not only yourself and the goddess but also those who are around you and close to you fully and with your whole self, Vika got a bit over dedicated and her to her friendy dismay and the daedric princes surprise actually ended up falling in love with the hagraven and in turn turning her to azuras worship. Upon their (proper) marriage under azuras blessing the hagraven had her youthfull breauty given back to her. (your beauty is one of the things you sacrifice when you become a hagraven, also now is probably a good point to mention that azura is not only the dogges of magic, dusk and the stars but also of beauty and vanity and I did not pick those glow ups, the DM decided that that would be an azura thing to do)

Elmora or Elmo for short is played by Yuris IRL wife Anastasia and a high elf with high expectations of herself and those arund her. She initially starts out as a thalmor under Ancano at the college of winterhold, incredibly racist and classist and just generally a stuck up bitch but she recieves a reality check when the she gets sent to observe what ever the mages were up to in the saarthal digsite and gets locked in there, barely making it out alive.

We streched this questlien out over the course of the whole story so she kinda goes through a bit of a behind the scenes arc of actually wanting to learn more about magic and the college and, after finishing off Ancarno, ends up sticking with the group because she fears retaliation from her own former affiliates. Anastasia didn't play with us often but Elmo, mostly through exposure to our stupidity, warms up to the skyrim kind of life and accepts the position of headmaster og the guild after initially turning it down. Since we streched out the whole story from what feels like just a few days in game to the course of over a whole year in game she first develops a one sided infatuation for our dragonborn which eventually becomes equal once the guy gets over his grief and accepts that he needs to move on and is allowed to have good things in life too. They never actually end up getting married but they sure do act like they are.

and lastly Kena and Dra'meri

Kena means "scholar" in the dark elven language and is a name given to the falmer by Vika after finding her locked up in a cage badly bruised in a bandits cave. Falmer are blind and live underground so not knowing what to do in the unfamiliar ouside worls the falmer juds kind of followed the group around and eventually integrated similiar to the folks you can have in camp but not in your parts in bg3. The group eventually manages to help her find her home but she shows up every onve in a while to teach Vika the current falmer languge which is very different from the one of the ancients. She lets her hair grow longer as a sign of sisterhood with all the other women in our party who have longer hair and she is the first falmer since before the nords arrived to brave the valley of winds (the valley where whiterun is located, in the lore the falmer feared the place and the ancient nords didn't know why but since the skyforge was there and the place is associated with kynareth there are theories that it is basicly kynareths domain and she does not like the elves a lot iirc). She is played by our DM

Dra'meri is M'ladys elder sister and a mage. She was part of a one shot fun adventure that our DM wrote for us and she is played by our DMs little sister. The prefix Dra' can mean a lot of things, in this case it means wise woman. Dra'meri came to skyrim to drag her runaway brother back home by the scruff...which doesn't really work when you are only a tenth his size. She's mostly just a joke character who lives in whiterun but we love her a lot and if anything happens to her I will kill everyone in this room and then myself also I designed her outfit myself do you like it?

Anyways that is the main cast of our homebrew The Company Of Dragons....a bunch of idiots who like to travel in the company of dragons...and also fight the ones who don't wanna be their friend and eat their souls sometimes too. hope you had fun and no i did not checkread any of that.

#skyrim #skyrim oc #company of dragons #my fingers hurt #the elder scrolls oc #writing this took me three hours bc I kep re-writing stuff #I gave my character a bit of tummy chub in vampire form bc I have tummy chub #and that gave me so much anxiety when I drew it originally but now I like it a lot #kinda funny how my character worships azura for the magic but just keeps on getting the beauty instead #like emmet seriously let my char have a cool powerfull stick or something the star isn't really that usefull in combat you know #maybe I should try throwing it and have my character invent the elderscrolls equivalent of frizbee

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himbodiaz · 2 years

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April Buddie Fic Wrap-Up

a list of my favourite fics from this past month

[ ✓ complete | ☆ series | ☼ one-shot | ☾ multi-chapter]

>3k

this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair by @tripleaxeldiaz (spinningincircles) [N/R | 1.2k | ✓ | ☼]

He slides the bat out of Eddie’s lax, battered hands, and Eddie makes the mistake of looking him in the eyes again. They’re bright and sad, and the echo of the crack in Buck’s voice when he called out his name has made a home in his head, among the gunshots and shrapnel. He’s hurt someone he loves. Again. Because that’s all he’s good for, it seems.

getting warmer by @rewritetheending (withoutthetiger) [G | 1.4k | ✓ | ☼]

His phone wakes him with a text, and while Eddie can’t deny the instant flare of panic when he fumbles to lift it from the nightstand, he lands somewhere between concerned and far too fond when he reads the message from Buck.

Need nyquil

You need nyquil now? At 2am?

It’s everywhere

Eddie isn’t sure what Buck means by everywhere, though he knows there are drug stores open 24 hours, and he can easily grab a bottle for Buck, especially with Christopher gone for the night.

Okay yeah I can bring some over

i'm not too far (and you're my favourite place) by @hattalove [T | 1.4k | ✓ | ☼]

Buck shakes his head. "Stupid," he tells the tabletop, and then hides his face in his hands with a groan. "Love makes me stupid." "Love?" Hen asks, taking a breath to say something else that's cut off when Chimney jumps in his chair and slaps her on the shoulder, spilling her coffee on the table. "You took that picture for somebody," he says, pointing at Buck. or, the one with the thirst trap shenanigans.

keep it sweet in your memory by hattalove [T | 1.7k | ✓ | ☼]

“I miss her,” Buck sighs. “I mean, I always miss her, but it feels—“ “Different,” Eddie nods. “Her world’s about to get so much bigger, and we’re still just her boring old dads.” “I didn’t even cry when we dropped her off,” Buck says, curling into Eddie’s warmth, hiding his face in the familiar crook of Eddie’s neck. “I thought I had it handled.” a hairbrush, a lasagna, and two dads just trying to make it through the first day of school.

like it's only you and me by @probieravi [T | 1.9k | ✓ | ☼]

Which like—yeah, Buck’s had this dream. Buck’s definitely had this dream, the one where Eddie realizes that he’s head over heels in love with Buck, and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him, but it’s never been more than a dream. It’s never been more than—than Buck nodding off on the station couch with Eddie’s feet in his lap and thinking, right before he drifted off, that he’d be happy doing this for the rest of his life.

It wasn’t supposed to be real. If it’s real, if Eddie’s standing across the dining room table from him, one had wrapped around the stem of the wine glasses they’re cleaning, the other flexing on top of the table like he wants to reach out but isn’t sure he can.

And Buck—Buck is standing in a pile of broken glass, and he feels like his heart is beating out of his chest, because Eddie just looked up from his polishing cloth and said I think we should get married.

Buck thinks, absently, that breaking the glass was a pretty valid reaction. or, eddie proposes. too bad him and buck aren't even dating yet.

the warmest bed i've ever known by @clusterbuck (lecornergirl) [T | 1.9k | ✓ | ☼]

He slips in carefully, quietly, but the shifting in the bed tells him Buck wakes up anyway. “Baby?” Buck murmurs, and in the dim light Eddie can see him blinking, his curly hair rumpled and pillow creases etched into his cheek. “Yeah, it’s me,” Eddie whispers. As if it would be anyone else quietly entering their house at just gone five on a Sunday morning. “C’mere,” Buck says, voice still thick with sleep as he holds up a corner of the blanket. Eddie slips in and Buck reaches for him, immediately, tugging him closer and wrapping his arm around him. “I missed you,” he says, voice half-obscured by the fact that his lips are pressed against Eddie’s shoulder.

it's just goodnight not goodbye by lecornergirl [G | 2.0k | ✓ | ☼]

In the end it’s simple. In the end it comes down to the fact that he’s had one beer, just enough to loosen his tongue, and Eddie keeps looking at him like he knows something, and every time he shifts like he’s about to leave Eddie puts a hand on his arm to keep him in his seat. “I mean—unless you want to leave,” Eddie finally says, the fourth or fifth time this happens. Buck stopped counting after two. “I don’t—I’m not trying to keep you here against your will or anything.” Buck sighs, tipping his head against the back of the couch, and the words pour out before he even knows he’s saying them. “Every time I leave, it carves out a little piece of me.”

all of my secrets releasing pieces of me alone by @capseycartwright (wafflesofdoom) [G | 2.1k | ✓ | ☼]

Buck liked to think that he was good in a crisis. His whole career - it hinged on him being cool, and calm, and collected in a crisis. He had to be able to think on his feet, and react, and be there for people in the worst moment of their life, and he prided himself on being good at it. But it was different, he supposed, when it was someone you loved.

In the aftermath of Eddie's breakdown, Buck begins to pick up the pieces and find a way to help his best friend heal.

next to your heartbeat (where i should be) by lecornergirl [T | 2.2k | ✓ | ☼]

“You always look at Buck like that.” Eddie swallows. “Like what?” “The same way you look at me,” Christopher says and flips to the next photo like it’s nothing. Only it’s not nothing, because the next photo is from the aquarium, Eddie reading the sign and Buck next to him, and Buck is— Buck is looking at Eddie the way Eddie was looking at Buck. “Yeah, he does it too,” Christopher says and flips to the next one. And the next one, and the next one, and in every single one it’s the same.

...i was following you by @queerpanikkar (archerincombat) [G | 2.2k | ✓ | ☼]

Buck thinks he could kiss this man. But the only thing that comes out is, “Are you a libertarian?”

Eddie’s face changes to one of abject horror. “Why would you even ask me that?” he demands. “Oh my God, Buck. What about me—please tell me what made you think I was a libertarian so that I can never do it again.”

i watched it begin again by wafflesofdoom [G | 2.4k | ✓ | ☼]

Eddie deserved to be happy too. He didn’t believe that, every day, but he told himself that every day in the hopes that one day, believing it would come more easily. He wanted to believe he would be deserving of Buck's love, too, one day, but he wasn't quite there yet either. One day, he knew, he would be - but that day wasn't today. - or, Buck and Eddie share a dance at a wedding, and begin to address the elephant in the room that is their feelings for each other.

just like that, take me back (to the places we used to go) by tearsricochets [T | 2.5k | ✓ | ☆ | ☼]

It’s the one and only picture Buck has of Eddie. He’d taken it with the last piece of film in his polaroid camera on some random morning. Buck had just woken up, turning over to look at Eddie. Eddie, completely golden, wrapped up in white sheets with the morning sun washing down on him. His hands were lost under the pillow, and his face was looking in Buck’s direction, but his eyes were completely shut. Buck remembers the feeling of needing to capture that moment. Remembers knowing it was love, and never wanting to lose it. He had picked the camera up off the bedside table and took the picture without even thinking about it. The click had woken Eddie up, but the end result was worth it. (Especially when Eddie just smiled and grabbed a sharpie, signing the bottom ‘for mi amor’.”) OR: the one in which they were in love, and even after Buck left, the feelings never did.

3k-10k

sun is coming up ahead by @markofalover [T | 3.4k | ✓ | ☼]

One piece of paper slides towards him. Eddie stops it with his hand, lips tilting when he sees one of Christopher’s famous cat drawings surrounded by hearts. I love you, Dad. You are doing so good and you’re so brave. We will always be here for you no matter what. Like you said, you will feel better soon. You are my hero. …or, the drawings keep coming.

doing the things that animals do by @trippedandfell [T | 3.8k | ✓ | ☼]

“Hey,” Buck says, reaching out to grab Eddie's hand. “How do you feel about red carpets?” “Tacky in a bedroom, decent in a living room,” Eddie deadpans, because he likes to think he’s funny. or: Buck's still a zoologist. Eddie's definitely in love.

hate to say i spent it all on masquerades by hattalove [M | 4.2k | ✓ | ☼]

“It’s also that I like sex,” is what he says instead, and hates how pathetic it sounds. “And it’s fun, but it’s like—unless it’s with someone really important, it’s kind of the same level as going to the movies?” Eddie smiles at him. Somehow, impossibly, it’s even softer than the last time, sweet at the edges. “What if it is with someone really important?” he asks, and squeezes, his fingers pressing into the hollows between the bones of Buck’s hand. or: buck picks up a pamphlet, has an existential crisis, and shows up at eddie's door, in that order.

my sense of wonder's just a little tired by @mellaithwen [T | 4.9k | ✓ | ☼]

“You stayed,” is all Eddie says a little dumbly, a little in awe, and Buck’s quiet soft rambling comes to a sudden stop.

“Yeah, I was just—” he starts to explain about the mail again, gesturing to the door, when he seems to get the gist of what Eddie’s really saying, and his shoulders slump down a little then with a release of tension; “Eddie, of course I stayed.”

Of course.

Of course, because his son called him. Christopher called Buck, and Buck came running. Buck busted down the door. Buck got Eddie on his feet. He got Christopher settled, and reassured, and then he led Eddie out of the rubble of his room and over to the dining table.

help me piece it all together, darling by probieravi [T | 5.1k | ✓ | ☼]

He pulls himself from Christopher’s doorway and pads into the kitchen. Buck knows that sleep will evade him, because the exhaustion he felt when he left the station after they got back from the scene of the accident left him as soon as he got home. Something vibrates under his skin, buzzing next to the blood in his veins. He can’t sleep, but he can cook. (or, buck spends the day with the diazes.)

hold on, let go by @kitkatpancakestack [M | 6.0k | ✓ | ☼]

“You love each other,” his therapist had told him, “That will be enough.” He never asked her the thing picking at the back of his mind: what do they do if it isn’t? He should have asked. He always runs away from the hard questions. in the aftermath of his breakup with Eddie, Buck explores the repercussions of holding on and letting go.

it was you, love by @henswilsons (hammersmiths) [T | 6.7k | ✓ | ☼]

Eddie doesn’t realise the pattern until Karen says, “You’re collecting us like Pokémon.”

“What, Wilsons?” Eddie says. He’s mostly distracted by Christopher on the couch, who is with Denny showing Miles, Hen and Karen’s newest foster, how to play Animal Crossing on his Switch. Miles is already developing the same starry-eyed look in his eyes Christopher himself gets around Buck. “You certainly don’t make it hard.”

“Not Wilsons, dummy,” Karen says. “Lesbians.”

Which is—not what Eddie was expecting her to say. “Uh. What?”

or, Eddie befriends May and Linda at dispatch. Then realises some stuff.

all we can do by @adamsparirsh (catching_paper_moons) [M | 7.2k | ✓ | ☼]

Buck holds an arm out, and Christopher takes it, stepping toward him. “Why aren’t you asleep?” “Can’t.” Christopher sighs heavily, and Buck pulls him close, and Christopher clings to him, like he’s done so many times before. “Is Dad…is he asleep? He’s okay?” “He’s not hurt,” Buck settles on. “Not physically.” (or, the aftermath of the breakdown.)

10k+

in you, darling i trust by hammersmiths [T | 10.1k | ✓ | ☆ | ☼]

“Oh my God,” the girl says. It’s not the oddest exclamation Eddie’s heard from a person who’s just crashed their car into a telephone pole, but more the way it’s said: something dizzied and a little resigned, as though she is both concussed and mostly just inconvenienced by it. It’s enough for Eddie to peer into the window as Buck heaves at the car door with the jaws of life, armed with a penlight. “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” “You’ve got to be kidding me,” the girl says, which doesn’t quite sound like a name to Eddie. He’s just about to tell her as much until she goes, “You’re LAFD Updates man.” or, five times someone recognises Eddie as the LAFD Updates man.

life is just the way you hold me by @littlespoonevan (allyasavedtheday) [T | 10.1k | ✓ | ☼]

The combination of recently moving house, finally truly living as a single parent – who hasn’t managed to set up appropriate childcare yet – and beginning a new job as a firefighter has meant the walls he’s so steadfastly built up around himself to hold himself together since he first came home are starting to crumble. And of course, because the universe is always looking for new ways to fuck with Eddie, all of this stress and anxiety has decided to take the form of the worst possible symptom a single father who works 24 hour shifts could experience: Insomnia. It’s past 3am and Eddie is scrolling mindlessly on his phone when he first stumbles across the ad. Some people, when they go online shopping at night, buy things they don’t need. Like a Fitbit or a novelty t-shirt. Eddie… Eddie buys a professional cuddler. Eddie needs a hug and some sleep. Buck, quite literally, offers his services.

by act of grace by hattalove [T | 10.4k | ✓ | ☼]

“Oh,” Greg says, his face falling, “that’s Lucifer.” Buck lets out something between a laugh and a cough. “Lucifer,” he repeats. “It's a long story,” Greg says, tugging on the collar of his polo, his name tag clinking. “He's—not exactly well socialized, and he really, really hates—“ he starts, except he’s interrupted by Eddie’s voice, the first words Buck has heard him say since they dropped Chris off at Hen and Karen's. “Hi,” Eddie says, crouching right under the bright red sign – which, now that Buck’s close enough to read it, says DO NOT PET – and reaching his fingers toward the bars. “—men,” Greg finishes, his voice weak, frozen mid-step like he’s not sure if he should be hauling Eddie away while there’s still time. “He hates men. Usually.” or the one in which healing looks a little like ten pounds of dog with a mean streak.

by the cracks of skin by hammersmiths [T | 10.9k | ✓ | ☼]

Buck moves out of his apartment in the spring, and into Eddie's place on a Saturday. or, Buck and Eddie fix up the house. And in it, each other.

give me five more minutes, baby (i'm not finished loving you) by lecornergirl [T | 12.7k | ✓ | ☼]

This is a mistake. Buck has made a giant fucking mistake, because he’s kind of catastrophically in love with his best friend—who, apparently, wants someone else—and now he’s about to spend an entire day with him looking like that and pretending to be his boyfriend. He barely survived Eddie calling him hot, patronising and obviously joking as it was. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the wedding ceremony, and the reception, and another night in the same bed lying so close yet so far away. He’d woken this morning with his arm draped across Eddie’s waist, nose pressed against Eddie’s shoulder—they’d fallen asleep facing away from each other but come together in the night regardless, and there’s something poetic about it that Buck can’t think about too hard or the words stuck in his throat might spill out.

forever is the sweetest con by stayeven [T | 12.9k | ✓ | ☼]

After multiple failed employment attempts, Eddie and Christopher are living in LA with barely any income and measly insurance. When Eddie is introduced to the world of swindling Southern California’s elite, he knows his life has been changed. He just doesn’t know if it was for better or worse. Or, a conman/cowboy like me AU

book to tax (the difference is timing) by maybeamystery [M | 15.1k | ✓ | ☼]

“I wasn’t kidding,” Buck insists. “I’m coming back tomorrow, and we’re going to do your damn taxes. I don’t care how much you complain or how hard you struggle. We will at least get through the income section, mark my words.”

Eddie sighs. “This is going to be a weeklong saga, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Buck says with an infuriatingly smug smile. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

maybe love won't let you down by @sibylsleaves [M | 15.6k | ✓ | ☼]

Buck tells Eddie he’s in love with him. Eddie pines. or, five times eddie watches buck leave, and the one time he goes after him

a thousand words (and then some) by @tawaifeddiediaz (tkreyesevandiaz) [E | 25.3k | ✓ | ☼]

When Buck and Eddie get roped into a photoshoot for the friend of a friend, neither of them expect what they'll have to do.

Or what it'll cost for their relationship.

Or, the photoshoot fic that got a little angsty, then a little sexy.

if i told you all my secrets (if you knew the truth) by withoutthetiger [E | 28.0k | ✓ | ☾]

"He’d once reminded Chim that tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, and while the past couple of years have only proven him correct time and time again, Eddie’s spent a lifetime running from his own good advice, and he’s barely learned how to slow down long enough for it to catch up to him now. And arguing with Frank about it – Chim and Maddie were actually dating, Buck and I are very much not – had only earned him a tired stare in response, one lasting long enough for Eddie to admit that his heart hadn’t bothered with that same distinction. So, yeah, he knows he’d been right to encourage Chim then, and thinks maybe Frank’s right to do the same for Eddie now, but however much progress he’s made in the past several weeks of therapy, whatever trauma he’s begun to untangle, being honest with Buck about this might be the only thing more overwhelming than being honest with himself." When Eddie tells Buck how he feels, it's only the beginning, both of them having work to do before they're finally ready for happily ever after. Still, they're never very far apart while they wait. Set at the end of (shortly after?) 5b.

so throw away your baggage and go forward by unintentionalgenius [T | 31.3k | ✓ | ☼]

“Hey, dude, you’re not supposed to be back here. Yeah, you, c'mon, this area’s employees only.” “Wait… you can see me?” The guy’s hands come up, defensive, and he rushes, “It’s just - mostly the people who see me look sicker.” And something passes over his face that Eddie’s not quick enough to discern, but it leaves a tension around his eyes and mouth that never quite goes away. “What do you mean, the people who see you? Is that not everyone?” “Usually they’re - sick. Nearer to the veil than those who are healthy. More able to perceive - the other side.” Great, now he’s talking like a county fair psychic. Eddie furrows his brow, not sure he’s tracking. Does this guy seriously think he’s a - “I’m a ghost,” he says, like he’s bracing for a reaction. That answers that question, then.

Thank you so much to all the authors who are on this list! I loved reading your works, and I'm always grateful for the time and effort you put in to writing these fics. MWAH!!!

Also, this wrap-up is shorter than normal, just because I had exams, and then I had to move, so I didn't have time to read as much as I would have liked. I think the next few might be about this length (or shorter), just because I'm coaching two teams this year and I've got a full-time job and I just joined a new board. So I am #busy.

Anyway! Thanks to everyone for checking this out, I know there's a few of you that find it useful, and I'm always happy to do them <3 (also, if the links/tags don't work please don't tell me tonight i Will cry because the post editor was a giving me SUCH a problem)

#fic wrap up #mywrapup #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction

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