#marauders fandom is getting more insane every day

[danadiadea]

https://www.tumblr.com/winters-on-the-wing/777721486455750656/clock-it-clock-that-tea-i-hate-how-people-see?source=share

This post isn’t even specifically about James and Snape’s dynamic, but more about Harry finding out the truth about his father yet Snaters still manage to victim-blame and spew nonsense to make James look good. They just can’t accept that their faves were assholes.

OH HOLY SHIT

THIS IS ABOUT JAMES POTTER

anon I literally love you for letting me see that because I swear I laughed out loud

this is. about. James Potter. "saved countless lives". "risked his own". they are fucking ridiculous, I can't believe this exists for real😭😭😭😭 like that shit when they just take every Snape trait and assign them randomly to Marauders/Slytherin Skittles for zero reasons is getting out of hand.

and comparing Ron being sometimes a little shit towards Draco and even HERMIONE to James undressing people without their concent and laughing at them for having worn out clothes?? Listen, Ron Weasley isn't my fave in the series, but I feel deeply offended at his behalf. People should stop that Ron bashing.

every time I see "James changed!1!1!!!!!" which is based on *checks notes* him stopping hexing people for the fun of it to date a girl, but still bullying her ex best friend and LYING to her about it, I lose a little bit of hope in this fandom. And he didn't want his two friends to become murderers?? What a great man after all. Like this is literally the lowest possible bar I've seen for a character. I guess he saved all those countless lives with that infinitely brave and selfless act.

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

The cure t state of this fandom (*cough cough, post atyd) makes me sad and this fandom mainly doesnt vring me joy anymore (except for ur blog) now the only thing that makes me stay or interact is regulus being a loser truthers, Sirius black in general (canon nor fanon) and my newest obsession: Fem! Marauders (like whole genderbend of everyone!!!) Do u have any hcs?? My personal faves are short haired Sirius, crazy long hair remus, fem jock James (like playing sports in mini skirts and stuff), peter in cute floral cardigans that she crocheted, transfem regulus (who's sirius's loser little sister) maxi skirt goth sev and sm more!!!! Uf love to hear your ideas ♡

HELP yes yes yes anon ily these are ? so cute ? i love this sm !!! dream ask. um the before is all very very true too like FUCK FANON & loser regulus is the only regulus

fem sirius my bbygirl i LOVE HER !!!! yes yes yes but (much like male sirius) i hc her to have super long hair (hip length) till like she runs away and is at james' place where she gets a buzzcut (mommy issues) and like yes. she keeps it super cropped and CLOTHES !!! she has all clothes . she will show up to get coffee with you in a floor length gown. "i had it lying around :/". babe how do simply you have that lying around. but like grr i do love her in formal wear, not a lot of revealing clothing but like very hot yk. im thinking lots of purples. dark dark purples that almost look like black. also im getting a strong vivienne westwood vibe. oh and jewellery !!! silver girly (obv). statement rings !!!!! she's also very pierced like full ears lip eyebrow nose or septum idk naval maybe nipples when shes older . as for make up its like. dark lipstick w nothing else or dark eye make up w nothing else. i cant decide. 2492 tattoos.

REMUS !!! LUPIN !!! IS !!! WHIMSIGOTH !!! but not purples and blacks. greens and browns. brown leather shoes . long long skirts. she has a skirt collection. its insane. it would be a rare sight to see her in a pants. lots of layering, too !!! she runs cold and will wear 3 shirts and 3 skirts . they all look ugly but once she puts them on its gorgeous. ALSO JEWELLERY !!!!!!!!!!!! she has so much jewelry. accessories in general. she is knee deep in poverty and it because she has 4927 belts and bags and necklaces and rings and bracelets and earrings and body jewelry. not any piercings except her basic ear piercing, though. (shes scared of needles). ALSO HER W CRAZY LONG HAIR ?? yum. delicious. she has like curly hair (2b/2c) and its frizzy because she never takes care of it and its REALLY long like goes to her waist and to her knees when straightened and its like freaky. she doesnt like straightening her hair because she likes the crazy witch look. i love this. also she has moles. idk if male remus does but female remus lupin does and i know this because i kiss them every night before i go to bed.

fem jock james fem jock james fem jock james. shed bedazzle her quidditch jerseys (her mom would) (she can't sow) and wear tiny shorts for reasons that are Definitely Not Slutty. also !! she wears sarees . all the time. and you can see her abs and her BICEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and she has like short curly hair and wears big winged eyeliner and LOVES highlighter like she is SHINING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! nude lipsticks w brown lipliner and KOHL !!! and male james has this too but important to mention dimples!! oh and piercings. a few on her ears (her first non-lobe one was in solidarity with sirius since sirius was doing it at james' place and was scared, but after they fucked around a little james really wanted a few more !!!) and a nose piercing . maybe a naval piercing once she's out of hogwarts. and ACNE SCARS AHHHH JAMES POTTERS ACNE SCARS IM GAY . also she also dresses like a homeless man. as in shell come in one day with a cute pink saree and her make up done and the next day in clothes that look like they belong to hagrid (size wise) or a raccoon (aesthetic wise). and um she may have a lot of clothes but what youll find her in most often is sweatpants and a SLUTTY tank top. (and spiderman sandals)

peter is fluctuates between romantic goth and cottage core. what unites her? corsets. she wears corsets. she will wear them 24/7 if she could (remus reminds her to not wear them too long!). she loves dramatic sleeves and hair accessories. im thinking mid-backish but she she curls them often so they sit a bit below her shoulders. hair accessories shes a sucker for flowers, dried or fresh depending on the aesthetic. also !! flared jeans. made for her. flared jeans with embroidery and she has all her friends' initials or like a moon and antlers and a paw print yk for her girlss !! ALSO very good at make up. eye make up in particular. she taught sirius how to do her make up and before peter got into goth culture herself shed dress sirius up ("i am not your dress up doll!" "but youre pretty like one" "STOP TRYING TO WOO ME!!!!"). fake freckles because hers fade in the winter. bangs era never faded.

LOSER REGULUS YUMMY. copied every single outfit sirius wore for like YEARS till sirius screamed and cried and hit her. parents thought her want to wear feminine clothing was because she wanted to be like her sister. shes also very formal but, like, less slutty form fitting clothes + no piercings. make up is always immaculate. still steals sirius' clothes but is more subtle about it. screams when there is one (1) possibility that she may get a stain on her. hair is almost always up in a lose bun w some face framing. mascara blindness lowkey.

you raise me goth severus i raise you specifically 1920s inspired goth severus. pin straight hair that falls over her shoulders (does not grow further no matter what she does) (though honestly she hasnt done much). wears only black (shes dedicated). flapper dresses but to her ankles. flats or t-shaped heels. is naturally pale and makes herself lighter with make up so her black black lipstick stands out. she has naturally thin lips so she tries overlining for a while (epic fail!!). her eye make up is never as intricate as she hopes but then she finds out the beauty of VIELS and wears one always. lace headpieces she spends hours on, learning from her mother or lily, and shes so fucking proud of them yk. very intricate beading on her dresses!!! she does half them herself, she guys her dresses matt and makes cool designs on them (or at least she plans to, most of them ending up resembling lilies). long gloves !!! her hands are fucked from her potion work and writing and she adores long gloves.

i love these sm please 29484 more fun asks

[dtilmnh]

Alright, let's be fucking for real here. The only reason that Peter gets as much hate as he does is because he's not conventionally attractive. He's ragged on constantly, belittled, made fun of, and hated on by everyone. And don't get me wrong, I hate Peter for what he did too, but the way the fandom treats Peter is not only so over the top and ridiculous, but also so hypocritical.

Like y'all are gushing over fucking Barty Crouch Jr who tortured Neville's parents to insanity, was as much a part of rebirthing Voldemort as Peter was, and was literally fucking 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 with the racist, genocidal maniac. But no, he's just "misunderstood", don't you know he has daddy issues? And Peter? Oh, Peter's the devil in rat form.

Peter is ostracised, ignored, and bullied by the authors and the other characters in almost every fanfiction. Half of the time he's just straight up ignored, he's barely mentioned in passing, and he's excluded from the fanarts. If he's included, he's hated on or dismissed in all the fanfictions, and in fanart he's almost always in rat form curled up somewhere where he can be easily ignored and people can focus on the other, far more attractive Marauders (and non-Marauders).

Peter is just a weak, stupid, irritating person that no-one actually wants around but puts up with for... reasons. He was never a "real" Marauder anyways, he was just in the background and out of frame while the others starred. The Marauders? That's James, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Lily, and a slew of other characters that never even show up in the books. Oh look, and there's Peter tagging along too! That's the fandom portrayal of him anyways.

This could not be further from the truth. He was their friend. Do you really see James or Sirius choosing to hang around someone whose company they don't truly enjoy? Do you really think they're the types to keep someone around out of pity? Peter was their friend, their brother, their trusted. Hell, Sirius literally trusted him more than he trusted Remus (the Wolfstar shippers won't like that, will they?).

My point is that this wouldn't be his portrayal is he 𝘸𝘢𝘴 conventionally attractive. Fans would probably take him down the "morally grey characters" pipeline, give him a tragic backstory, characterise him as someone talented, cunning, and calculating (which he was). Now, would their attempts at providing complexity to his character fall as flat as every fanon version of every Marauders character and end up completely unrecognisable and ooc? Probably, yes. But let's be honest, that's happening to him anyways.

Peter Pettigrew is an extremely hateable character, because he's a bad person. Considering the number of straight up evil characters the fandom manages to feel sympathy for, Peter's treatment is blatant hypocrisy. He's not hated for betraying James and Lily, for framing Sirius, for 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 (the twelve Muggles, Bertha Jorkins, and Cedric Diggory). He's hated for the crime of being "ugly".

Not to mention, according to fans he's weak and stupid but also somehow a master manipulator and evil since the day he was born. He entered Hogwarts with the Dark Mark already on his wrist and got close to the others for the sole purpose of betraying them later (this is an exaggeration, but you get my point).

Make Peter a complex, morally grey character, with real feelings and emotions. Give him relationships, and dreams, and goals, and motivations. Give him hobbies and interests, give him character traits, give him skills. For the love of God, Merlin, or whatever ineffable deity you pray to, can you please just give Peter Pettigrew a fucking personality, and stop excluding him from every fanfiction, fanart, or other headcanon you make.

[laventadorn]

I am madly in love with the way you described Dumbledore in TNER. It's one of my favorite characters, but I know so few works where he really resembles the book version. You've done it perfectly. And I'm curious, what do you generally think of such a controversial personality?

aw, thank you! :3

dumbledore is super polarizing (or do most people hate him these days? i'm always reading pro-snape stories and Dumbledore is persona non grata in those akgjaj not sure how he shakes down in other parts of fandom).

to me, characters are either boring or interesting. within these designations, you can have different shades: "aggressively uninterested" or "just don't think about them at all," vs. "their psychology intrigues me" to "i must hereafter shape my identity around my new blorbo" (e.g. snape!)

dumbledore is my "his psychology intrigues me" type. he fascinates me. what the heck is his deal. he lets harry run around doing the most insane things with monsters and bodily harm, lets snape run around doing the most insane things to his students egos; lets the marauders do whatever the heck was going on there; hires a dude wearing voldemort as an accessory, and gilderoy lockheart -- the list is endless. but then! he's genuinely kind to house-elves. he's completely free of werewolf prejudice, and other prejudices besides (apart from the Youthful World Domination phase in which he hated muggles and stuff). he does seem to be genuinely kind and caring. he's also idolized by the narrative, talked up pretty much at every turn.

there's a kind of cognitive dissonance to the guy.

the narrative for six books: omg dumbledore is THE most amazing. the kindest, the most enlightened, the most trustworthy, the one harry trusts without reserve, the one who gives everyone strength, the only one voldemort fears, defeater of grindelwald, also he loves candy! proof he's the best.

the Secret Backstory dropped in the last book: uhm ACTUALLY

the narrative again: NO HE'S STILL THE BEST. ignore harry dying. THE BEST. ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER. SEE?

to be clear, none of this bothers or annoys me. i just don't think of it that way. what i do think is that JKR was trying to finagle something she didn't quite have the subtlety to pull off.

once we get his full backstory, we have a guy who 1) went through a world domination phase with the man he loved 2) accidentally murdered his own sister 3) realized the path he was on would lead to widespread destruction 4) isolated himself from the world because he couldn't be trusted, either with power or with love.

this is my favorite thing about dumbledore: he locks himself up in a tower because he believes, or understands, himself to be an incredible danger to life and liberty. he cannot be trusted. he proves this over and over: first with the safety of his siblings; then the safety of the larger world; and finally, tragically, the safety of harry. he doesn't even trust himself, although he continues to act as if his judgments are without fault or flaw. he tells harry that because his intellect is greater than most people's, his errors tend to be correspondingly huger -- a line that leads harry to believe dumbledore made the wrong judgement about snape, of course, but which is actually about dumbledore's own youth. but the fact that dumbledore turned down an official position of power (minster for magic) and sequestered himself in hogwarts from a young age, that's him not trusting himself, and knowing it, and removing himself from the temptation of widespread influence and public control.

his past wrong judgements become more impactful when we understand he was in love with grindelwald and probably still harbors some tangled knot of feelings. HP is a series about love -- voldemort never understood it, was conceived in violation of it; harry was protected by an act of love from lily, who died for him, and an act of love from snape, who lived for her. harry's patronus, the purest expression of joy that magic is capable of manifesting, is borne of his own love for his father. harry's enduring love for the family he never knew protects him not only from voldemort's touch but from his influence -- he declares he'll never Join the Dark Side because voldemort killed his parents. "you are protected," says dumbledore, "by your ability to love." this was not true for dumbledore.

harry's love purifies his intent and gives him courage. snape's love (again, see his vow, his patronus) turns him off a path of evil to one of self-sacrifice. dumbledore's love, by contrast, killed his sister, destroyed his relationship with his brother, allowed a villain to rise to power. i just think, damn. what must dumbledore feel when he looks at it that way?

i love the inherent destructiveness of loving something monstrous; loving something when you don't want to. there's a notion that we are what we love, or that our love is some reflection of ourselves. if we look at it like that, then dumbledore loving someone evil says a lot about him. but he was frightened by it, so he locked himself away.

he also combines what appears to be a great capacity for compassion with an equal capacity to sacrifice anything necessary in order to achieve a goal he's constructed as worthy.

this makes sense, too: in a way, he sacrificed himself all those years ago -- his plans, his future, his love, because the price was too high. dumbledore in his youth thought that he could Save the World by controlling people. then he realized that control has only ever doomed the world, but he never quite let go of saving the world. when voldemort rises, dumbledore takes a different tack of becoming a private general, or perhaps a military advisor: still largely removed from the thick of war but directing others, who are relieved and grateful to have his plans of attack. he also deeply inspires people, harry being one of the most powerful examples. harry places his absolute trust in dumbledore, believing that this person loves him (which he does) and will always protect him (which he can't) -- and dumbledore betrays this trust by openly acknowledging that, for the freedom of the world, harry needs to die.

it hurts dumbledore to realize that harry has to die in order for the world to be saved; it hurts him so badly he (as i see it) pawns off the truth-telling to snape. he can't look snape in the eye when he tells him; he can't look at anything. he shuts his eyes as if blindness will make it easier.

dumbledore could face the truth, the necessity. he doesn't say "we'll find another way," he says "harry must die." but he couldn't face harry. his desire to save the world once again places him in a position where he has to hurt someone he loves. and he does it. in a way, he keeps playing himself.

i LOVE that.

.....i wrote a lot more than i thought i would akgajgkahjh well, he's one of your favorites, so hopefully you didn't mind!

[iwriteasfotini]

To all the writers: PLEASE...

TW/Rating: This post talks about sex. Not descriptions of sex acts, but how sex is written about in media/fanfiction. Just keep that in mind.

I see some patterns and problems in the standards popular media sets for physical appearance and sexualization (I mean, duh). I'm also well into adulthood, and went through my own Twilight phase a LONG time ago (I'm not proud of it, but there it is).

Fanfiction is interesting because it offers anyone the chance to write, to be read, and you don't have to answer to ANYONE on your content. You also don't make any money. Which is great because it means everyone most people writing are doing it because they are passionate about the project.

Media has set fully unattainable standards for both physical attractiveness and sexualization. When I think that most people reading current fanfiction are between 16-25 (???) it makes me VERY conscious of how I choose to approach these topics in my writing. It took a long time in my own life to embrace myself as I am and that life doesn't happen like a movie. Of course we all claim to know this. But when you crest that hill, whether you are 16, 24, 38, or beyond, you realize that there was always a small part of you who thought it should/could happen a certain way.

People, it doesn't! And it is extremely freeing to realize your partner isn't going to take you on a surprise vacation to Maui (where you both get wicked tan, spend all day lounging and drinking from the swim up bar, and have days of the best sex of your life) BUT they also still love you to the ends of the earth.

Ok, so how does this relate to the Marauders and fanfiction?

First, fanfiction is just that, FICTION. It should be an escape. No one Most people don't want to read about someone's boring day of averageness. This means the content will inherently be unrealistic. I have not problem with this. I love to escape into books and fanfiction. LOVE IT! But there are things we can be conscious of as writers in this modern day and age...

Writers: PLEASE be conscious of the messages which show up repetitively in the fandom. I will never ever tell someone what they are writing is wrong. Or bad. No way. You shouldn't be shamed for what you write. BUT you can think about how you present your imagination to the wider world. And be intentional! Are you following a status quo set by people you don't know simply because...? Or are you truly looking at each character and how you bring them to life in your own unique way. And don't be hard on yourself if you realize there are things about your writing you don't like if you reflect. This is growth and growth is good.

Writers: PLEASE don't get bogged down in describing the physical traits of all your characters in minute detail. And once you mention a trait once, you probably don't need to bring it up again. Let your audience have some space to HC how they want. Especially in fanfiction where beloved characters are written again and again.

Writers: PLEASE write somewhat realistic sex scenes. I'm going to do a whole separate post on this at some point, but it is something very dear to my heart and when your audience is young, I think setting healthy expectations in this arena is so much better than writing scene after scene of earth shattering sex. If you are going to write many multi-orgasm mind blowing sex scenes (full disclosure, I DO THIS), I hope you laid a foundation of how your characters got to where they are. LOTS OF PRACTICE. MOST ORGASMS AREN'T SIMULTANEOUS. PEOPLE LEARN THEIR PARTNER AND THEN CAN MAKES SEX AMAZING FOR THAT SPECIFIC PERSON. And other such ideas.

*As a disclaimer to the above, I LOVE a good smut scene with awesome and less realistic sex. But make sure your reader knows this isn't the status quo. This is that once every now and then insanely good sex some people are lucky enough to experience. I think this comes across best in one-shots, and honestly the more out there the material, the more people are like, yeah, this doesn't happen every day. But great fantasy fuel, as long as you don't set it as your standard for IRL.

Writers: PLEASE let your characters get UGLY. When someone is mortally wounded, they aren't sexy. When someone is having a full on meltdown, bawling their eyes out, wiping their nose on their sleeve over and over again, it's kinda gross, right? But it's also so vulnerable and so realistic. When you are lying on your back crying, your tears run out of the corners of your eyes and into your ears and that sensation sort of tickles and also makes you want to wipe your ears out, and is unique to that position when you cry. Basically think realistically about those moments when your characters are showing their humanity. Capitalize on it to bring those Greek Adonis's down to earth a bit.

Writers: PLEASE make sure all your characters aren't hypersexualized and that each has their own sexuality. This means when writing with many characters POV, romantic encounters look different for all the different pairs(+). Everyone's sexual chemistry is different, even the same character various partners.

Writers: PLEASE throw little humanizing moments particularly in regards to physical appearance or how someone's body can feel into your writing. Like if your characters go on a date, eat a ton of food, then get into bed... having sex while super full isn't fun. That also doesn't mean your characters should never eat! YIKES. Back to the crying (my characters cry a lot). I always make note of where the handkerchiefs are coming from, who is cleaning and drying them (thank you awesome magical world). If you are in the real world, you'd end up with a big old pile of damp tissues, yah know?

Alright, I've said enough. Maybe no one will read this... which is highly likely. But at least I got to vent to my screen and keyboard.

Remember you are beautiful, inside and out.

Wait... one more.

Writers: PLEASE write SOME sex scenes which don't mention how big the guy(s)/or girl (trying to be trans inclusive here, probably a sorry attempt) dicks are. PLEASE. Yup I said it. Not all sex scenes (I get it people, I do), but SOME. Why do we have to mention size at all? Personally I leave the specifics out completely and up to the reader to HC. There might be an implied reference through description of an act. Maybe... probably... but I really do try to keep that minimal.

This concludes my long rant. Gotta go cook dinner for my family (just to remind you we come to the fandom from all shapes, sizes, ages, genders, and beyond). ;-)

[maxdibert]

I don't really care because we all pick our blorbos for different, personal reasons but it never stops being funny when someone dedicates a fic to redeeming someone like Petunia and then tags Snape Bashing 😭 they can excuse actual child abuse but GOD forbid a teacher be an asshole💀💀

also, I kind of wish we as a fandom stopped tagging characters in long fics if they're just going to show up for half a second in chapter 2 to get demonized and then never be mentioned again. especially if your fic is going to be over 100k, please don't tag Snape, we really don't caaare

One thing is portraying a character negatively, and another is gratuitous bashing—and honestly, gratuitous bashing feels like garbage to me, even if it’s about characters I don’t like. I can rant about James Potter a thousand times here on Tumblr or when I’m sharing my personal opinions, but if I’m writing about him in a fic, I try to stay more impartial. At the end of the day, no matter how much you dislike a character, you should stick to canon, and if canon doesn’t paint them as Lucifer incarnate, then you’ve got to hold back. Sure, you can highlight their negative traits and even have a character act as your mouthpiece to voice your feelings, but you’ve got to know how to balance it so it doesn’t come off as trashy bashing. To me, that’s a massive lack of class in a fic. It just shows poor taste.

Honestly, the hate toward Severus is relentless. That said, I do think this happens more in the fics and discussions centered around the Marauders era. I rarely see it in Golden Trio-era fics—there, people tend to stay neutral or portray him as negative without crossing the line into bashing. But with anything involving the Marauders generation? It’s honestly disgusting. They either ignore his existence completely or treat him like absolute garbage.

And I 100% agree about the tags. I often see Tumblr posts in the Marauders fandom tagged with Severus Snape when the post doesn’t even mention him. It’ll be about irrelevant, nonexistent characters like Dorcas Whatever-her-name-is, and yet Severus is still tagged. Or in fics where he’s clearly not the protagonist or even a significant character, and it’s the same thing. It’s insanely frustrating, especially when he’s not even in the story. Like, people need to understand that appearing in every search result by annoying a part of the fandom isn’t going to get them more likes.

[lifblogs]

Just... Omega

@ailesswhumptober Day 5 Overstimulation, Migraines, "I can't take this anymore."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1412 Summary: Hunter hasn't slept in one rotation, and his overtaxed body is struggling with handling his enhanced senses. READ ON AO3

Hunter growled as yet more noise assailed him, and he had to grab a bunk lest he fall to his knees. His hands shook, helmet trembling from where he held it against his left side.

If he put it on, maybe he could drown out the noise that stabbed right into his brain, maybe he could—

The Marauder tilted, the starboard-side raising, pressure slamming into it.

“Tech!” Hunter cried, wanting his ship under control.

“I’m trying,” he yelled back from the cockpit.

Hunter tried to face the consoles, the lights in the cockpit, but they seemed to sear right through him. He groaned, and despite it being rude, he put his helmet on.

The touch of it against him was almost too much, and he wanted to scream, wanted to curl into a ball, wanted to lie in the dark until his headache was gone.

Hunter’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to make his way over to the cockpit, knowing he had to be in this battle; he had to help them escape from the Imperials.

Tech swooped down just as Hunter tried finding his seat, a v-wing narrowly passing over them, the roar of their flight shuddering against the viewports. An explosion sounded, and the fighter fell off their scanning systems.

Hunter, panting hard, took his seat beside Tech, telling himself to look at the viewport, to check the shields and ship’s systems every few seconds.

A blast came from behind.

“Sorry! I’ll get him when he comes around,” Wrecker called from the gunner’s mount, voice the loudest thing Hunter had ever heard.

Omega was firmly fastened into a seat, but when Hunter looked back to check on her she was squirming.

She wanted to help.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to,” Tech called, voice so loud Hunter wanted to slap him senseless.

This migraine was too much, the overstimulation was too much.

He hadn’t slept in one standard rotation, and everything was brighter, louder, each sense sharper and more distinct.

Even the electromagnetic frequencies felt like horrible, tight buzzing beneath his skin. His own ship felt like a foreign object, everything too close, trying to find ways into his aching brain, or down into his bones.

Dizziness overcame him as Tech pulled an absolutely insane maneuver, flipping them over towards where the stern had been, and straightening out to come behind the Imperial ship.

Tech fired, and Hunter almost threw up from the pressure of the recoil against the Marauder.

Steps thundered through Hunter’s head and then Omega was at his side, pointing at their scanners.

“We have too many ships on our tail,” she said.

“I am aware,” Tech told her.

Hunter wanted to scream at them to just shut up. Please!

He held his head in his hands, like his fingers could press through his helmet, to grip the aggravating ache until it decided to leave him alone.

Hunter’s vision doubled, and he mumbled out, “Eight ships?”

“Four. What is your issue?” Tech responded.

“M-migraine.”

“What do you need?” Omega asked, even as a warning flashed and sounded (feeling like booming strikes to his head).

Hunter tried to look at their surroundings, look for something to help them.

That storm.

There was a storm, right?

“Hide—hide in the storm clouds,” Hunter ordered.

“The sky is quite clear,” Tech informed him. “The electric storm passed yesterday, and as a matter of fact we would not even be able to fly in it.”

Fire and explosions in a bright sky had Hunter hunching in on himself, mumbling please on loop, mouth barely opening so he would hold in his last meal of rations.

“Tech, what does he need?” Omega asked, since Hunter wasn’t forthcoming.

What had been her question, again?

“I’ve got it,” Echo said, coming and putting his hand on Hunter’s shoulder.

Hunter slapped it away, hating the vibrations that the pressure of his action sent through his arm. He gritted his teeth.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled out.

“Fine, but if you show any sign of falling, I’m grabbing you,” Echo said, lowering his voice.

Echo took him to his rack to lie down, even as guilt gnawed at Hunter. He was supposed to lead, supposed to protect.

The world seemed to be spinning, and when he asked Echo about it he told him that the ship wasn’t doing any such motion.

Hunter laid down, clinging desperately to his rack, wanting it all to be over.

He lay there for what felt like hours and hours, tense, shivering, begging, and pleading, head aching like it would never stop.

“Please, please, please… I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t—”

He was soaked in sweat, still pleading, and holding on, when Echo came to him hours later.

The pain was gone, as was the hair-raising discomfort, but Hunter worried anything would bring those feelings back.

He was relieved that he hadn’t thrown up.

He forced his helmet off, finally, gasping, and rolled onto his back.

“How are you feeling?” Echo murmured.

The low rumble of his voice didn’t decimate him, so he assumed he was feeling better.

Though he was sore just about everywhere, and tired, and his movements as he sat up were slow.

He held his face in his hands.

“Like I have… the worst hangover… in the entire history of the galaxy,” he gasped out.

“Still have the overstimulation?”

Hunter could sense the Marauder working all around him, but now it was a comfort, not something that felt like it was trying to burrow its way into him and kill him. Still, as a test, he ran his finger over a piece of his armor.

Nothing.

No vibrations sent to destroy him, touch not too much.

Hunter almost shook his head, thought better of it, and said, “No.”

He groaned, swinging his legs over, putting a hand to the back of his stiff neck.

The rest of the ship was quiet (even Wrecker), everyone probably trying to make sure he would recover.

Then it hit him—the battle, the Imperials!

“Where are we?” Hunter asked, getting to his feet, rejecting Echo’s kindly-offered help.

“Hyperspace, heading towards the Outer Rim.”

“How’d everyone make out? Is the ship damaged?”

Tech, probably hearing that Hunter was awake, came over from the direction of the cockpit, tapping away at his datapad as usual. “If you define the engine close to failing as damaged, then yes.”

Hunter groaned.

“I hope we can get some parts to repair it, wherever we’re going.”

“For the moment, I am just happy to see that you are… repaired. In a manner of speaking, of course.”

“Omega?” Hunter asked.

Tech nodded towards the gunner’s mount. “Sleeping.”

“But I’m sure she’d be happy to see you’re okay,” Echo said.

Hunter slowly looked towards the soft light behind the curtains, and with the lights of hyperspace coming through the viewports, Omega’s flickering shadow was painted across them.

He let out a breath that seemed to relax his tense shoulders somewhat.

“Nah, she needs her sleep,” Hunter said.

Still, he rejected any offer to spend more time with the others, and for now, was content to sit on the steps to the gunner’s mount till Omega woke up.

She looked after him. He looked after her. It was just the way it was.

~~~~~

Hours later, Hunter awoke to his cheek getting poked.

“Wh-what?” he asked, trying to open his eyes.

When he did he was met with Omega’s face hanging over his own.

“You’re in my way,” Omega said, peering down at him from a step or two above.

“You sleep okay?” he asked.

“Fine. And you’re… okay?”

Hunter nodded, stiff neck protesting somewhat.

“Yeah, kid. I’m okay.”

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, though in this position that meant her arms were around his neck.

A strangled sound left him involuntarily, yet he tried to laugh.

Omega loosened her hold, slipped sideways from the steps like he figured she could have done the whole time and gave him a proper hug.

Hunter sat up, pulling her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.

He could hear her heart beating, blood pumping through her small body, keeping her alive, keeping her here. And now, the beat of her heart was like a calming rhythm, the many sensations of the galaxy no longer biting into him. Hunter let out a contented sigh. 

There was just… Omega.

[thebestofoneshots]

Hi there luv

Geuss what, I have officially followed you for a year! Which means that we some days ago had 1 year of me following you.

The only reason I got Tumblr in the first place was because I was despretly trying to find new chapters of GG since there wasen't anymore on Waptted(?). So I went on a little research on your social media (only fpund Tumblr) and coulden't read any of your chapters.. so I made an acount and followed you as the first thing.

I love you so dearly, you and @blacksgarden mean the world to me and have helped me improve my mental health, I'm so greatfull for you two and I hope you understand that. GC is fantastisk too, the best fanfic I've ever read actually. I love it very much, but recently I have got no time to read it, firstly because I tried useing c.ai which went really bad because now I cant stop.. and secoundly I bought The Secret History by Donna Tart. Have you read it?

Anyways lots of love, and I'll try to get better at reading your chapters.

My beloved Vilma! First of all, congratulations for one year on this hellsite! I feel like we all sometimes complain about it, but secretly love it nonetheless. I mean after being here for like 13 years, there has to be a reason for my attachment. 

Althought, I must say it's been only lately that I've gotten to truly enjoy the benefits of the website. The community and friendships that it allows you to form are the most delightful thing ever! I'm immensely thankful to the Marauders fandom for showing me the way! 

I had no idea I somehow induced your coming to the website, but I do remember how you started showing up in my notifications and ask box and how you've been the sweetest person ever since. I'm so lucky that we found each other! 

Honestly, c.ai is addictive as hell, I've somehow managed not to allow it to consume all of my time, but the new voice call thing is crazy! Some are scarily accurate, me and my friends were playing with them last time we met, and it's just insane. For sure, 13-year-old old me would have been so addicted to it it would have become an issue. But also, I'm forever thankful bc it was thanks to c.ai that I managed to muster enough confidence for writing smut, hehe...

And of course, I've read The Secret History! In fact, I've also read some of the other books by Donna, and I love her aesthetics as much as I love the way she writes. Her chapters can sometimes be rather lengthy, and the endings might not always be what we're used to, but so far, I've enjoyed every book from her I've read. I wouldn't know If I liked The Goldfinch better than TSH, but I can safely say both were gratifying reads. 

You're in for a trip with TSH, and if you ever want to message me about it, you're more than welcome! I was lucky enough to read it about at the same time as one of my close friends, and whenever something was too insane, she became my support system, if you ever need one of those, don't hesitate to contact me! 

Also! Book clubs are so fun! I wish I could form one hehe.

[cvpidl0vrr]

SPOTIFY. PINT. INST.

welcome here, you can call me cupid !! I'm a girl but I use more he/him pronoun on the internet ! I'm french from the witches region so my english can be bad sometimes

I write bad poetry, whatever passes through my mind, but I'm also an artist and roleplayer, I write fics about my hyperfixa of the moment, and my goal ship is cherik, in second there is aziracrow and obikin.

I love women, but I don't know why, men are easier to write, so I write a lot about hannibal and will, because I'm a bit obsessed with toxic relationship.

I'm not in any fandom, I hate fandom, I hate people, I hate fans. But I love medias and pop culture, so my three ultimates obsessions are star wars good omens and marvel mostly mcu ( xmen first class banger ), i can yap about these three E-VE-RY DAY, and then there is witch hat atelier, arcane, ofmd, hannibal nbc, marauders, the bible ✨, kaamelott and a lot of other !

my fav movie by the way is cmbyn in summer or king arthur the legend of the sword in winter, my favs shows are queen charlotte, good omens, ofmd and euphoria

I listen mostly to 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s, my favs are the beatles i can talk about them every day, nirvana, queen, the police, elton john, ac/dc and david bowie, I have a weakness for don't let me down which is fine insane and get back, but actual pop and french songs is fine too, my favs are hozier, noah kahan, pomme, kyo, therapie taxi, eddy de pretto, solann and maybe a lot more, my fav are maybe almost sweet music, petit corps and perseides

I'm not going to talk about my ship here because there is a LOT to say, but I can say my fav character of all time is bucky barnes, my celebrities crush are pedro pascal, david tennant, pomme and solann

I have a complete alternate universe, I can write about my characters 24/24 but I write also a book in fantasy ( named flores noctis ) and my fav characters are aewin and eldre, maybe one day I write here about them !!

so welcome into my world and enjoy my mind !!

[fuchsia-sea]

i really love one direction, and having a fandom that im hyperfixated on. i dont know yet if it counts as a special interest, i honestly think it might because i have the same insane hype for it as i do anytime i see stuff about my other special interests. like ive loved lego ninjago since i was a kid, and i still go eeeee when i see something about them in the wild. im the same way with one direction.

something interesting i noticed about my interests is that the longest lasting ones dont stick if i intentionally get into them. i have to stumble into my biggest special interests.

for example, i intentionally got into hazbin hotel when it came out. i thought it sounded really up my alley, so i watched it, and i loved it! i hyperfixated on it for a few months, but that eventually tapered off and i stopped caring about it altogether.

meanwhile, i was gifted the first two harry potter books for my 9th birthday. i read them because i was bored out of my mind one day in my room, and i got hooked. now, almost 10 years later, and im still deeply connected to harry potter and the marauders subfandom specifically. its a core special interest of mine thats influenced me a lot.

with one direction, tiktok actually decided my fate. after liam died, i started getting lots of larry stylinson tiktoks on my fyp, and i quickly fell in love with their love. i dove into a 300k word fanfic and the rest is history, now im deep in this fandom and it consumes every area of my life in the best way possible.

i think i am gonna consider one direction a spinterest purely because of the "special interests are necessary to regulate" bit. i was having a spiral and feeling very upset a bit ago, but i put on my 1D solo music playlist, and its calming me down because its 1D. looking at photos of videos of them calms me down. its a regulatory tool for me, and thats why i think it counts as a spinterest.

the same goes for harry potter and lego ninjago, my two other spinterests. even if i dont actively participate in those fandoms often, i see them in the wild sometimes and i feel at home. i feel calmer, more regulated, more connected to the world. other interests dont spark that in me, old hyperfixations and the like.

this is really making me want to analyze my interests and catagorize them by spinterest, old hyperfixation, and normal interest. thats... a normal activity, lol.

- toby & zain

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

Hiiii Grim! I’m gonna tell you a bit about my day. I think you will like it.

Today I met a friend I haven’t seen in nearly three years, and it was so relieving that we just… clicked back into sync, like she was never even gone. It was so nice! She’s the one that introduced me to the marauders, actually! So, I’m telling you this because I told her about your Barty/Remus fic and she absolutely loved it! We talked about it for (not even exaggerating) 15 minutes straight.

How are you? How was your day? I hope it was good! And my final question for the day, are you more of a Vans or a Converse person? 🎤

ok FUCK mic anon im sorry i havent gotten to your asks!!! i still love you and just know that when i see youve sent me something i smile all big and dopey like a fuckin idiot

its so lovely when you get to rekindle with a friend and its just like going back to normal. theres none of that guilt that comes with having lost touch with someone that was in your life, its just a natural rebirth of your relationship. im really happy for you!! and its even cooler that its the person that introduced you to this fandom

ALSOOOO WOWWW im so??? fuckin honoured???? like holy shit. its really insane for me to know there are just people out there, even just one or two, that speak of my writing between themselves. like fuck. thanks for telling me this honestly ive had a fuckin hard week of self hatred and gratuitous self pity so this really boosted my mood. makes me wanna keep sharing my ideas and my words with pride, even if its just a silly oneshot or wtv

also my day was sweet. sweeter than my whole week. i laughed a lot today, which is vital for me to do.

aaannnd lastly im a steel toe leather boot kinda person. i wear my pair every day like a fuckin cartoon character. i dont wear any other shoe lol BUT if i were to wear either vans or converse, it would be a pair of red converse. just classic but still flashy

[duckieland7]

Rant number one

Albus Dumbledore is a manipulative, cheating bastard. He not only left harry to be abused by his relatives (which he could have handled better, for fucks sake) but he managed to create an army of soldiers with 17 year olds, sometimes 16 and even 15. In the marauders era I´m certain that he chose the marauders as his to be part of the order at some point between their 5th year to their 7th year. We know Sirius ran away in 1975 to the Potters and honestly, I think as a fandom we decided that the Blacks were way more abusive than they were portraited as, even if mentioned at all. Am I the only one curious as fuck to know if Bellatrix was as insane before Azkaban, if it rooted in what her family could have done to her to indoctrinate her? Nobody can discuss that Bellatrix was one hell of a dueler, there´s a reason besides her blood lust of why she was Voldemort´s second on command. She was insane, yes but she was also smart as fuck, there was no reason for her to live as long as she did without getting arrested before 1981 if she wasn’t clever.

A lot of people think Bellatrix should be in hufflepuff and it´s not that I exactly disagree, it´s just that I think being a hufflepuff is so much more than the loyalty mentioned in the books.

One of the things I´m ranting about here and why tf not, is the sorting. How does that damn hat works?? It just looks inside your soul and then is like “well, you are a ravenclaw” like honestly wtf. Every time a do a test it appears either Ravenclaw or SLytherin, depending on the questions so how does it exactly works? There is a lot more to each house than the stereotypes given by Rowling (who, I must say, can very much go and fuck herself, thank you) but the point is that, beyond the ships that may be the base of a fanfic, the resorting trope makes a lot of sense if you think about it.

I mean, you spend 7 years in a house that may become very well your friends for the rest of your life if you know how to work those friendships into becoming that, friendships. I don´t know if I´m the only one who thinks that a basic example of personalities and how a house may influence them are the Black brothers. Sirius was sorted in Gryffindor when he was eleven and I genuinely don´t think the hat was mistaken with him, I just think that he took his rebellious straw to a next level namely to get a reaction out of his parents while Regulus, who canonically is described by Sirius as “soft enough to believe them” was the perfect son, the preferred one. Also Said by Sirius.

Please tell me what you think but I really think Sirius wasn´t loud and brash since he was a kid. He wasn´t a “slytherin” and really, how could you know what house is a six year old gonna sort? Childhoods can and will change people. But anyway, I think being in Gryffindor didn´t necessarily meant he stopped talking with Regulus or left him behind that exact moment or changed his whole personality from night to day but I do think it changed how he view behaved. I don´t think he was the perfect heir but I think he was responsible enough to know that rebellion would just get him punishment (and please share what you think about the blacks being physically abusive to him, I don´t think they were extreme at the point of Crucios but they were more towards emotional and psychological abuse, in the Order of the Phoenix it is clear that although Sirius hated his parents when he ran away he also kind of found solace on Walburga´s bedroom and why Is that if she was such a bitch?) so, once sorted a lion, I think Sirius needed an outlet and he found It bullying slytherins, Severus Snape, to be specific (who in the marauders era could be redeemable enough but in the golden trio era was just plain abusive, and I´d like to get into that too in another post, maybe) Snape wasn´t a known name, he was a penniless halfblood with no status and Sirius, eventhough never became a death eater, was cruel but smart. A parallel to Bellatrix, if you will.

Sirius became rebellious and his outlet to his fear of rejection and the constant disappointment he was made by his parents (and that Is what I´m talking about when I say psychologically abusive) was Snape, he was portrayed as a bully who messed with the slytherins and while I do not think it was a lie, I don´t think he messed with other, more important slytherins. The pureblooded ones, the ones who came from an old family and had resources. Again, Sirius could be cruel, as proved by the prank (and that is a whole another matter) but he was smart. Gryffindor influenced him to look for freedom because it became a synonym to him of rebelliousness and therefore, of being different to the rest of his family, the death eathers and blood purists.

Now Regulus, I´ve read a lot of fanfiction so I´m biased, I totally accept it but I don´t think it really was easy for him when Sirius became loud, brash and started acting impulsive, specially if they grew up together and him knowing Sirius before Hogwarts and Gryffindor. He was a slytherin and please don´t come at me I don´t say it as something bad or anything but reading Harry Potter as a raverin was so fucking stressing. They were kids, yes and that makes it worse but there was so much more that could have been explored regarding Harry´s personality beyond trying to frame him into the reincarnation one James Potter.

Anyway, Regulus was a slytherin and one thing to notice throughout the series is that in war, a fight is a noble way to die. Which is pretty and all but really, not all react to it the same way. I think he didn´t want to die by being tortured or kidnapped by neither side so he died in his own way, which as a fellow snake, I can understand and respect but also see through. He indeed was the unspoken hero of slytherin but he also went to the cave knowing he was gonna die and nobody can convince me otherwise. He wasn´t and didn´t want to fight anymore if he even fought at all, he was just 18 when he died and that hits hard. Do I think he should have been a ravenclaw? Nah, absolutely no. I think it was a possibility for him but not his choice; Hence, slytherin. Being smart isn´t a synonym of ravenclaw, that´s a stereotype and if you look at it, Regulus retrieved the locket in a most slytherin way. I think ravenclaws and slytherins can be confused because of principles and morals in each one. Is the way of living what decided each one, not a sorting being an eleven year old kid.

I think Slytherin trained more profusely in matters of learning how to survive and cope at the same time, it trained in a way that even if you noticed it became useful to him later in life to learn and be quiet and honestly? Understandable. If I had a brother who liked to argue thinking if they didn´t they weren´t enough of a lion I would like to present myself as soft enough to believe in bulllshit and still keep my image with whoever necessary. Let´s debate this, the guy found out about horocruxes when he was probably 17 if a timeline is to be followed, with what I believe were nor enough meetings with one dark lord. Just Bellatrix fancy on him and random clues from Voldemort´s boasting. He was clever in a quiet way, I do not think he was the blood purist Sirius believed him to be but I am not saying he wasn´t prejudiced. He was indoctrinated at home and school, that is basically 24/7 and even then, he turned without anyone knowing. I believe he wanted to protect his family, Sirius included, when he went alone for the horcrux and it actually worked, which, woah.

IF you disccover a horcrux based on casual boasting and Bellatrix fan case, I refuse to believe he was stupid enough to believe in blood purism any more than he believed his parents were a justified case of parental love. Like, come on.

Back to my first point tho, I think sorting and leaving everyone 7 years in a house is really, really unhealthy for kids in development. Nobody is the same when they were eleven to when they are 14-15 which is why I think a resorting would have made sense in either the marauder or the golden trio era (tell me which house do you think they would be. Hermione is hufflepuff for me, Harry slytherin and Ron would have stayed in Gryffindor. Sirius would have sorted Gryffindor or hufflepuff, James canon Gryffindor, james fanon too but with the chance of hufflepuff, Remus Lupin I have a conflict of emotions regarding him but I´d say Ravenclaw, didn´t see Gryffindor anywhere tbh and Peter was a goddamn Gryffindor too, I´ll explain if you want me to?)

Just imagine the world of possibilities, please imagine the quality content.

Thank you for coming to my ted Talk :D

[thetypedwriter]

All the Young Dudes Fanfiction Review

All the Young Dudes Fanfiction Review by MsKingBean89

So. 

This is a first. 

If you’ve been following this blog for some time, then you know I generally read young adult books and write far too lengthy reviews on them with the occasional outlier of adult fiction, mystery, sci-fi, etc. 

At any given time, I usually have both a physical book that I’ve bought from somewhere that I’m working on (right now it’s Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley) as well as a fanfiction that I reserve until before I go to bed (my treat for a day well lived). 

Fanfiction is something that I’ve mentioned copious amounts of times on this blog in varying degrees, but this is the first time I’ll be writing an actual review for one of them on this platform. 

The reason for this is myriad. 

One, this fanfiction called All the Young Dudes is a far-cry from your normal standardized fanfiction of 5-50,000 words-something I can easily consume in a few minutes to a few hours. 

Nope, this behemoth ends on a staggering 526,969 words and 188 chapters, not including bonus chapters and extra in-universe canonical content the author has also written and published. Roughly speaking, if this was actually published onto paper it would be well over 2,000 pages. 

2,000 pages. 

Yeah. And I enjoyed every single moment of it. 

Two, while I read a lot of fanfiction I generally don’t put any of it on this blog because while I’ve dedicated it to published novels, I also usually have very simple feelings about fanfiction. My thoughts run the gambit of: It was good, it was fluffy, it was a train-wreck, so on and so forth. 

Normally my reviews are so long and wordy because I have too many thoughts about the published books that I read and I need an outlet to let them loose. 

Whether because of its longevity or because of its content, All the Young Dudes is a story I find myself having a profusion of thoughts for. Hence, the birth of this review. 

If fanfiction isn’t your thing, feel free to skip this particular review of mine (although fanfiction is a gift to this world and you should really rethink your stance on it if you don’t like it, just saying). 

Third, All the Young Dudes is well written and rivals any actual published content. 

Fourth, because of how extensive this fanfiction is, it took me over a month to read it-time I generally would have been reading something else. Instead of leaving you all hanging for a few more weeks until I finish Firekeeper's Daughter (don’t hold your breath-the book is sort of a slog for me personally right now), I decided to just take the jump and write my first-ever typedwriter review for a fanfiction. 

Fanfiction has been a part of my life for the better part of almost two decades now. It was truly something I found by accident and in retrospect, it’s insane to me that it’s still something that brings me continuous joy and happiness. 

I discovered fanfiction when I was 11-years-old and deeply obsessed with the Harry Potter fandom. 

Now, as an overall disclaimer I completely disagree with J.K. Rowling’s stances of gender and biology and differ wholeheartedly with her views of trans and non-binary individuals. With that said, I still love Harry Potter as a story and while I no longer buy anything that profits J.K. Rowling directly, I still love the fandom and the people in it, including fanworks like All the Young Dudes. 

When I was 11, the seventh Harry Potter book had yet to come out and like many other people in this time period of agony while waiting for 2007 to roll around so that I could find out what happened, I discovered fanfiction as a way to fill in that ache I was so keenly feeling. 

I found myself suddenly immersed in this world of online fiction-both good and bad-but completely entrancing all the same. 

I never left. 

That is to say, I did eventually move onto other fandoms with their own fanfiction cultures, but Harry Potter was still my first in terms of fanfiction and introducing me to the concept as a whole. 

Specifically and maybe oddly, I never found myself curious for actual fanfiction about Harry or Hermione or Ron. In my mind, I already knew what had happened to them and reading about them in fanfiction was redundant. 

In addition, the first fanfiction I just happened to come across was a Lily/James marauder era fanfiction on mugglenet.com

This idea immediately intrigued me as fans as a whole knew next to nothing about the infamous Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs and while I knew everything I needed to about Harry Potter it was intoxicating to think that I could learn about a time before the series had existed and about characters who were important, but off screen. 

I was hooked and devoured as much as I could for most of middle school about the marauders and Lily and James’ romance in particular (I even wrote and published some of my own that will go unmentioned as they are truly really terrible). 

That being said, I haven’t read a Harry Potter fanfiction in years. I grew up and out of the fandom eventually thanks to Twilight and from there I’ve bounced from fandom to fandom as I’ve aged and consumed different things and fallen in love with different characters and different worlds. 

That isn’t to say I’ve forgotten though. 

I still remember my favorite marauder stories, my favorite Sirius Black/OFC (original female character), and my favorite baby Harry drabbles. They made such a huge impression on me and even though it’s been sixteen years, I still recall those stories with fond nostalgia and jubilation. 

Which is why it’s almost ironic that I would return to this particular time period of the marauders with All the Young Dudes. 

In a fashion that’s almost scarily full circle, I happened to be on Youtube one day and saw a recommendation video about this girl reviewing a fanfiction called All the Young Dudes. Now, youtube book reviews aren’t uncommon, but a thirty minute video for a fanfiction? Not your typical sighting. 

So out of pure curiosity, I searched All the Young Dudes fanfiction on Google and low and behold the overwhelming and top results were all for a marauder-era fanfiction by MsKingBean89. Piqued, I clicked on the link in ao3 and thought why not? 

While I’ve mainly been reading in other fandoms recently (BTS, some anime and manga, All for the Game) I had been in a little bit of a slump for finding a really good, really alluring story for some time and really didn’t think I had anything to lose by reading All the Young Dudes, especially as the more research I did, the more I found how popular it was-a plethora of videos on youtube, tiktok compilations, and dozens of fanart posts. 

Plus, it had been so long since I had read anything from my progenitor fandom and the thought of going back was strangely comforting.

Hence the journey of reading All the Young Dudes began and oh what a journey it was. 

Now, that this review is already five pages in, I should probably tell you what on earth All the Young Dudes is actually about. 

The whole story is a marauder-era fanfiction told from Remus Lupin’s POV from the summer of 1971 when Remus is 11-years-old to the summer of 1995 when he is 35-five-years-old. It is an in-depth portrayal of Remus’ time at Hogwarts from year one to year seven and then going all the way up to the start of the second wizarding world, ending around the time Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix begins. 

While already the scope makes this a massive undertaking, the author also includes all canonical content from the original series involving Remus, the Marauders, and the time period and incorporates it into her fanfiction-making it canon compliant from start to finish. 

While a very large portion of this story is not romantic, there is eventual WolfStar (Remus Lupin/Sirius Black) and if you have read the original Harry Potter series...well. You know things don't end up super dandy for these two characters in particular so you know how the story will end before it begins. 

This fanfiction left me speechless for so many reasons. 

The scope and length is frankly unbelievable. This fanfiction was published on March 2, 2017 and it was completed on November 12, 2018.

….how?

How did she manage that? I frankly have no idea, but I am in complete and utter awe at her ability to write content with such a magnitude and actually complete it. She gets an award just for that honestly. 

Not only that, but the fanfiction is actually superbly well-written. I won’t lie and say it’s the most poignant and beautiful piece of literature I’ve ever consumed, but it was consistent in its pacing, characterization, themes, motifs, and structure, which, for 2,000 pages, is an incredible achievement when you think about it. 

Speaking of characterization, everyone was So. Well. Done. 

Remus was such an interesting POV to read from and while he was compliant in every sense of the word-werewolf, prefect, bookish-MsKingBean89 added so much more to his character and fleshed him out so incredibly that it’s truly tragic that he’s not a real person. 

And to that extent, she does this with all of the characters. You see James’ optimism and leadership, Sirius’ arrogance and loyalty, Peter’s jealousy and chess skills. 

Every character was so well-rounded and real. She did an incredible job of taking the bits and pieces from the canon series and using that to build up her own flesh and blood people with motivations, likes, dislikes, dreams, and desires. 

That being said, she also had 2,000 pages to do it sooooooo it would be bad if the characters weren’t fleshed out by the end honestly. 

In addition, I really appreciated that she didn’t just focus on Remus, Sirius, James and Peter. Lily Evans played a critical role in Remus’ school life and after and so did the other Gryffindor girls like Marlene and Mary. 

Too often, the focus is on the boys and their close friendship and while that was a huge focus, we also get to see Remus develop friendships with the girls in his own right and other friends as well that were often OC’s of the author’s. 

Now. OC’s are generally something I dislike. I’m reading fanfiction to read about particular characters that I’ve sought after, not to read about some imaginary cast. However, just like any of the canon characters, all of the OC characters were well-developed and played crucial roles in Remus’ development-while either at Hogwarts or after-and I found myself not minding them in the least. In a few cases (Grant) I actually really loved them. 

The biggest draw for this fanfiction for me was Remus’ time at Hogwarts. It was so well-written and incredibly descriptive and I found myself thrust back into the world of magic so suddenly and seamlessly that it was like I never left. 

MsKingBean89 includes so many intricate details and builds up the world so beautifully that I’d recommend any Harry Potter fan to consume it, just to get some good Hogwarts material out of it. 

Another thing I greatly appreciate about this fanfiction was the slow burn. I’ve read slow burn before (All for the Game trilogy anybody?), but this truly took the cake. Sirius and Remus don’t properly get together until the end of year six going into year seven. That’s over 100 chapters in. 

100 chapters out of 188. 

Meaning that over half of this beast doesn’t have the main pairing even together. For some people, this could be a drawback. You might think to yourself: It takes how long for them to confess their feelings and stop being prats?

A very, very long time. 

However...it didn’t bug me. I like slow burn to begin with, but being along for the ride as Remus goes from being a child to an adolescent with unrequited feelings to being in a relationship with someone he loves is so rewarding and fulfilling that the 100 previous chapters are completely and utterly worth it. 

MsKingBean89 develops them so well and so carefully that the payoff is so sweet and satisfactory that it's enough to bring the tears right then and there. 

The last huge feat of this fanfiction for me was the author’s dedication to canon not just confined to Hogwarts and the Harry Potter books, but also to the time period. Either she lived through the 70’s and 80’s herself or she had done her due diligence when it comes to research because anything from London anti-gay laws to British slang was commonplace in her fic. 

I found it completely amazing how she was able to tie in real-time historical and cultural moments like famous singers and movies playing at the time alongside convoluted muggle politics warring with the wizarding ones. 

I was so blown away by the accuracy and genuine love behind this fic that it often brought me out of my own mind to simply ponder once again how much work this was and how well she was delivering it. 

Even unpleasant things, like homophobia and bigotry, are dealt with in a very carefully constructed way that is aligned with the time period in which the story takes place. 

Unfortunately, everything beautiful is not without flaws and All the Young Dudes is not the exception, although it’s flaws are nary compared to its achievements. 

The few complaints I have with this fic are honestly quite negligible. 

First, there are a few grammatical and punctuation errors. Very few, but I did notice some. 

Next, and again, this complaint is really just me whining, but...the end of the fic was really fucking sad. The end of this whole story took me so much time to complete simply because I didn’t want to read it. 

I know what happened during the first wizarding war and I also know what ended it (James and Lily Potter dying, Harry being shipped off to the Dursley’s, Sirius imprisoned for a murder he didn’t commit, Peter presumed dead) and in one fell swoop Remus lost everything and everyone he ever loved. 

After spending over 1,500 pages of Remus growing to love these people it is absolutely devastating and heart-breaking to see him lose it all. 

The last handful of chapters are just really, really sad and it makes me wonder why MsKingBean89 decided to write it in the first place. Frankly, I don't know why she didn't write about Remus’ time at Hogwarts and stop after graduation because we all know what happens after that and none of it is good. 

Looking back, I wish I could time travel and tell myself to stop at chapter 150. I truly didn’t need to read about the tragedies that happened after that and the hell that all of the characters go through. 

And while it does end on a….sort of kind of maybe positive (?) note with Sirius and Remus reuniting briefly once the events of Harry Potter and Prisoner of Azkaban take place, it was really tainted and bittersweet for me knowing that in a year Sirius would die and Remus would marry his fucking cousin and have a child. 

Urgh. 

I just can’t. 

That being said, I understand it’s not the author’s fault and I’m not saying it is. She wrote a canon compliant fic to the end and it was my choice to continue reading. That being said, she said she ended it before the events of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix because Sirius and Remus are happy and back together and she didn’t want to write what was coming next if she continued. 

I truly, truly get that. 

But in the same vein, why even write the events of the first wizarding world to begin with then? I’m confused with that response as it doesn’t make much sense to me. I felt like ending it right then and there was not a happy ending. They’re together, yes, but at this point they are both shells of who they used to be. Both have severe trauma and PTSD and frankly I don’t even know if I agree with them being together just because they’ve put each other through so much. 

It’s just an interesting choice at the end of the day in terms of the author. 

Once again, however, I truly understand that she can do whatever she wants and that she doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially as she’s writing this for free and just because. So please keep in mind that although I’m complaining, I truly understand how fortunate we are to even have this fic in the first place. 

Okay. 

Secondly, my only other huge complaint is that MsKingBean89 made Remus gay. Not bi, not pan. Gay. 

You could argue that Remus just calls himself gay in the fanficiton as he didn’t know about other kinds of sexuality. You could argue that Remus’ sexuality changes and develops as he ages and experiences trials and tribulations. You could argue that it was a sign of times like so much else in this fic. 

I frankly just found it to be a frustrating choice as the fic is canon compliant and even though it ends before the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows we know that Remus eventually marries Tonks and has a baby son named Teddy Lupin. 

How does that make sense?

I tried very, very hard to come up with some sort of feasible explanation for how a gay man would have ended up with the love of his life’s female cousin and truly could not think of one that was not fucked up to some degree. 

Again. I know I’m being nit-picky, but it irked me that she made this choice regarding Remus’ sexuality and essentially ended her fic with Remus stuck in a corner regarding how the series actually ends. 

At the end of the day, all of the negatives are truly, truly not important. I’m just whinging to whine and to express my thoughts, but I do once again understand that MsKingBean89 isn’t profiting from this fic and that she can do what she wants as is her prerogative. 

I hope I was able to express that while I understand that, I can still be frustrated with some of the choices she made. 

To wrap this all up, All the Young Dudes is a masterpiece and is a must-read for anyone who loves Harry Potter, the Marauders, or Wolfstar. I was blown away by the sheer magnitude, the love and care she put into her craft, the slow and deliberate development of all the characters, the beautifully constructed love between Sirius and Remus, and the intricate world-both muggle and magic-that surrounded the story like a cocoon. 

I am so happy I found this fic and I truthfully am floundering at what to do with myself next. If you have any more current Marauder era fics that I’ve missed out in the past eleven years, please don’t hesitate to let me know. 

Recommendation: Go read All the Young Dudes. For weeks, you will cry, you will laugh, you will despair, and you will smile. This fanfiction will make you wish this was canon and in my mind, it now is. 

Score: 8/10

Links:

1. All the Young Dudes on ao3 

2. The Youtube Video about All the Young Dudes that made me aware of its existence 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Take me to your river

A/N: Okay. So this is my first time writing for this fandom and honestly I’m actually really worried about it. It’s a huge fandom so I hope its received well. Anyway, it has been ages since I’ve posted but I have been so busy its ridiculous, but I had this idea and I had to write. I know that the tenses are slightly mixed up through this, please bare with me, I’m overloaded right now.

Title: Leon Bridges - River

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: (Set in the year of Prisoner of Azkaban, so I’m taking a guess at 1993/1994) You’ve left the wizarding world, barely had contact for over ten years. Then Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban.

Requested: No.

Warnings: none, I don't think. 

Word count: 2.5k.

It had been thirteen years.

Thirteen years since you had last seen the man you loved.

Twelve years since he was put away for a crime he didn’t commit. You knew that, you knew that deep down in your very being. That that day in the street, it was not Sirius who killed the muggles and Peter.

But you didn’t speak up. It would do no good. The Ministry of Magic had signed his death warrant – life in Azkaban until he died of insanity or the Dementor’s performed their kiss.

Sitting in your kitchen, the sunlight filters in through the window and you relish the slight warmth. It had been thirteen years since you had slept properly.

You and Sirius had been together through it all. He had asked you out on a Hogsmeade weekend, and you didn’t say no – how could you? You had been crushing on him since Third Year. He was your first for everything; first kiss, first relationship. Together, you had sat your O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.Ts. Sirius being your rock through the constant growing stress you put yourself under. (Looking back, you can’t help but chuckle, if your past-self had any idea of what your future would look like you would not have put in so much effort with your exams.) You had also been there for Sirius when he was disowned by his family and went to live with James and his family. James’ mother accepting you as one of her own as well. You two had danced together at James and Lily’s wedding, had waited anxiously for news of their baby and had cried when asked to be godparents of tiny Harry James Potter.

However, you were left alone to cry over their graves after that tragic night in Godric’s Hollow.

Shaking yourself awake, you take a long drink of your coffee and stretch your limbs, willing some life into them. The sun had completely risen now, and it was almost time to start your day. After what happened in 1981, you somewhat shunned all wizarding society, you left it not even a year later. Instead, isolating yourself to a tiny village in Yorkshire. People in Yorkshire kept themselves to themselves and your neighbours didn’t ask a lot of questions. The only one of the Marauders to visit was Remus, he didn’t visit often, but it was nice when he did.

One of your last remaining contacts with the wizarding world was your subscription to the Daily Prophetnewspaper. It was this subscription that brought you to your predicament. Slapped across the front page: Escape from Azkaban and there, in the centre, a picture of the man you thought you had an eternity with. Sirius Black.

Tears threaten to fall as you continue to stare at the moving picture. He’s screaming and screaming, and it physically hurts you to look at. But it’s the first time you’ve seen him in thirteen years. Any memories of Hogwarts and the Marauders were safely locked away in a trunk in your attic; waiting for a time when it doesn’t hurt so much to remember. You don’t think that that time will be coming soon, however, especially now with news of Black’s escape.

The article reported that out of protection, Azkaban’s guards the Dementors would be placed at Hogwarts. You had to take a minute when you read that little bit, James and Lily’s son would be at Hogwarts now, he would be entering his third year. You could only hope that the Dementors would not attach themselves to him. But you doubted it, he had already seen so much at such a young age. It would be likely that they would. You prayed he would be safe; Remus had contacted you over the summer to tell you that he had been appointed a teacher at Hogwarts – he didn’t have to tell you that he would look after Harry; it would be in his nature. Remus was more than his wolf.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of anymore thoughts of Black and his escape, if you stared at his mugshot any longer you felt as if you would go as insane as the new article was painting him to be. It would only trigger your anxiety and that wasn’t happening today. Instead, you leave the kitchen entirely, depositing the Daily Prophet in the bin as you go. You head towards your office where you can begin your workday. You had settled well within the Muggle world; when you had arrived in Yorkshire you had no idea on what you could do and what you wanted to do. That was your one caveat with the wizarding world, it was so alienated from the rest of the world because they expect all witches and wizards to remain there – it does not cater for those that want to leave. So, once you had settled the business of finding somewhere to live, you set out to make your house your home. To do this, you virtually ransacked a charity shop of their furniture and of a second-hand computer sat gathering dust in the corner.

It was not the old computer that you used now, but rather a newer one. One you had treated yourself to with the profits of your last bestseller. After you had settled, and you needed something to do, you simply started writing. Your genres ranged from fantasy, all the way to romance. As the computer started up, you took a moment to look at you copies of your books on the shelves, and you felt happy. This was your life now, and you were completely fine with it. The last thing you needed was something coming in to mess up the balance you had created.

-time skip-

Months had gone by and whilst you had met the deadline for your next book, and it was currently going through its editing stage, you had religiously kept up with the news of Sirius Black and his escape.

Every sighting, every theory. You read each and every one of them. You had even gone so far as to send a message to Remus at Hogwarts, but he reassured you quickly enough that everything was fine and that you had no need to worry.

So you let yourself relax for a bit, enjoying putting the finishing touches upon your next novel. Christmas had come and gone without an issue; spending the festive season on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching Muggle Christmas films. In all your years in the Muggle world, your favourite Christmas film would have to be The Muppets Christmas Carol. It never failed to make you feel Christmassy.

Winter melted into Spring, and you started working outside more. You spent the early days of March travelling the country to bookstores to promote the release of your new novel. Remaining as tight-lipped as always when asked about your inspiration for this book.

The weeks were slipping away, and you were celebrating the fact that one of your books had been bought by a film company. Your version of celebration meant no work for the evening, and your new favourite TV show that you had recorded, ER. A recent TV medical drama set in a hospital in America; you were hooked from the very first episode, particularly drawn to the young Dr. John Carter.

It was through this particular TV show that there was a knock at your door.

You paused the show, uncertain as to what you heard.

Another knock sounded throughout your house. And some part of you just knew.

Throwing the blanket off you, you head towards the front door. A third knock rang at your door and you knew you couldn’t keep him waiting any longer.

Unlocking the door, you opened it and stood before you was him.

Stood before you, after thirteen years, was Sirius Black.

You take him in. Your eyes raking over every single inch of him, to his greasy hair to his too-skinny body. You stand there, not quite sure what to do. It isn’t every day that the man you have loved for over two decades is stood on your doorstep after escaping from a heavily guarded prison.

He utters the first word, “Darling.”

You take a couple of breaths before answering, “Sirius.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Thirteen years, if I’m correct.”

“Too long.”

“I don’t think the situation could be helped, Sirius.”

He laughs, and asks, “Can I come in? I haven’t had a roof over my head for a couple of weeks.”

Somewhat still in shock, you move aside for him to enter. You close the door behind him before gesturing to the living room. He follows you in and sits down. You stand in the doorway, uncertain of what to do next. You never expected for him to find you but found you he has and now everything is up in the air.

Sirius is watching you; he’s calculating every possibility. He never imagined he’d get through the front door and now he’s in your living room watching you have an internal panic over what to do next.

Then all of a sudden, you say, “Tea! Tea makes everything better. You can solve everything over a cup of tea.”

Then you’re off. Heading into the kitchen where Sirius can hear the kettle starting to boil and mugs being slammed onto counters.

“Everything okay in there?” He asks, even though he knows it isn’t and she just needs a minute to collect herself and her thoughts.

“Of course! Everything is fine!” You shout back pouring the now boiled water into the mugs. Your mind is whizzing through every possibility as to how he found you. You had never hidden yourself away, but you were never open about where you were living. You prayed that Remus hadn’t given you away, knowing how close he and Sirius was through Hogwarts.

Walking back through to the living room, you hand a mug to Sirius warning him that it would be hot before sitting down in your spot where ER was still on pause. You turned the TV off, knowing that you would not be watching it tonight. You can’t help but look at him, seeing how he has aged after a decade spent in Azkaban.

“Don’t you want to know how I did it?”

“Of course I do, but it isn’t my place to ask such things.”

“I used my Animagus form to get out of that hellhole and then swam the rest of the way. I would have come to you sooner, but I needed to go north. I had to see him.”

“How is he? What does he look like now?”

Sirius smiles wistfully, “He is the spitting image of James. But he has Lily’s eyes. And he’s got a group of friends and they are as close as the Marauders were. He’s doing okay.”

You close your eyes at that, as if a deep wound within you had finally healed. Harry was doing okay, he had friends and he had settled at Hogwarts.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” You start. “I never believed a word anybody said, and after you were gone, I couldn’t live in that world anymore. So I moved here.” You gesture to your house.

Sirius looks slightly taken aback by what you’ve said. For over a decade, he hadn’t let himself think of you, he hadn’t let himself dream of you. And now he was at on your couch and you had just admitted to missing him too. He only hoped that you had no-one else in your life. He may be an escaped prisoner, but for over ten years he has loved no-one else but you. There would be no-one for him, but you. You were his true north, he could only hope he remained yours. Sirius didn't realise, however, that you had done the same. closed that part of you off, the part of you that belonged to Sirius - for the first two years in the Muggle world, you could barely think of him without feeling as if your heart had been broken all over again. 

Taking a sip of his tea, he asks, “What have you been doing for all this time?” He has to know.

You look down at your mug, wrapping your hands tighter around it as if willing the warmth to seep into your bones, to help you relax. “Not a lot. I moved here not long after James and Lily and I haven’t left since. I’m an author now, I love it. It wasn’t the path I had chosen for myself when I was leaving Hogwarts, but I love it all the same, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m happy here, Sirius, in my little Yorkshire village with my mugs of Yorkshire tea, and my books.”

Sirius smiles weakly, he has to ask you, he has to know. “Has there been anyone else?”

“No, there hasn’t.”

For the time in twelve years, Sirius lets himself hope. He lets it bloom in his chest. He can only pray that your feelings haven’t changed.

“What are you going to do now, Sirius?”

“I don’t truly know,” he admits, “I could go to London, to Grimmauld Place where I know Remus will join me. There isn’t a lot I can do, I’m an escaped convict.”

“No shit.”

He barks a laugh at that. It’s the first bit of humour all night, and it helps to relieve some of the tension in the room.

He knows he needs to tell you, but he doesn’t know the right time. Everything is so delicate, so fragile, one wrong move and everything he could ever dream for could be lost within seconds. But he has to do it.

So he does.

“I still love you.”

You drop your mug of tea. It doesn’t smash, but your lovely rug is stained for life with tea. At least you won’t forget this moment, you think to yourself.

“You what?”

“I still love you,” he repeats.

“After everything?”

“After everything. It was us next to get married after Lily and James. I had the ring, and I was working up the nerve to ask you. Then everything happened and I couldn’t. Then I was taken away and any hope I had that I would see you or hold you ever again was crushed. It is astounding how quick a life planned can veer off course. I’m not saying we should get back together, I would like that, but I am nowhere near mentally, emotionally or physically ready for one and I don’t think you’re the type to jump into relationships either. What I’m trying to say is that I’d like to give the Muggle life a go, I need to rest and your life sounds so peaceful.”

You take a minute to digest everything that Sirius has said to you. You debate everything internally, but you know that your heart will win. And win it does.

“Okay. The Muggle life isn’t so bad, it’s done me well for this long. Let’s see how it works for you.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am. I have a spare room for you, we can sort everything else out tomorrow. But for now, lets get ready for bed. It isn’t every day that the man I’ve loved for almost twenty years comes knocking on my door.”

“I like the sound of that,” Sirius says as you stand up, holding out your hand to him. He grasps it tightly in his own. “I like the sound of that very much.”

[apharine]

Blizzard in the Reach

Pairing:  Reader/Argis the Bulwark

Fandom: Skyrim/The Elder Scrolls

Rating:  Explicit

My Writing Commission Info |  Please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi!

Read on AO3

Summary: The Druadach Mountains of the Reach are known to be dangerous for travelers - not only for the presence of the Forsworn, bandits, and monsters, but also for vicious blizzards that have killed many a traveler. You had hoped to get through the mountain passes as quickly as possible, especially with a snowstorm coming in, but now it looks like you and Argis might be in store for a night spent together on the mountains.

Notes:   This started as part of a series of one-shots with Argis the Bulwark several years ago, back when I was writing for the kink meme still. Some of the one-shots have been lost to the Internet and to now-dead computers, some are still with me and in desperate need of re-working, but this one was always my favorite. I found it on an external hard drive recently, and thought I'd share it with the world - there's really not enough Argis content. I know he doesn't have a lot of dialogue, but he's always been my favorite Housecarl and follower, and I always marry him in-game. If anyone would want to see any of the other Argis one-shots, let me know, and I can see what I can dig up and re-work! I've certainly got a little more time on my hands with this coronavirus thing. Hope everyone is staying healthy and happy, and most importantly, stay at home <3

                                        _____________________

“We need to make camp for the night, my Thane.”

You turn to face your Housecarl, Argis the Bulwark, and you immediately see obstinacy in the way his arms are folded across his broad chest, his feet spread in a wide stance. This obstinacy has served you well time and again, especially in the stubborn way he never gives up on you. He's rushed back into battle after receiving grievous injuries, his only care in all of Tamriel protecting you. He's sat up all night with you, waiting for you to explain what in Oblivion is bothering you. He's carried you, as you lay dying in his arms, to whatever nearby town was available, on the slim chance he could find a healer skilled enough or a potion strong enough for you. Yes, you're grateful for all that this man has done for you.

But that doesn't mean he's any less stubborn than he was on day one.

“We can still make it back to Markarth, and be home in Vlindrel Hall by morn,” you retort over your shoulder, anxious to keep moving. The Reach is howling with a snowstorm, and visibility on this face of the mountains is becoming terribly low. The accumulating snow and the slick rocks will only make traveling all the harder - you need to press on, not have a debate with one another.

“My Thane,” he warns, his deep voice dark. You continue marching ahead. If that stubborn man would just cooperate - “My Thane,” he repeats, more firmly, and you stop in your tracks, irritated. He knows you long ago disregarded any illusions of rank between the two of you, and that, as equals, you don’t believe in issuing him orders. He also knows that his obstinacy is driving you insane at the moment, as it so often does, and that he’s only calling you by your title of Thane to hammer home his point. Moreover, the snowstorm is already picking up more speed, threatening a full blizzard, and he knows he's right about it. All of it.

“Maybe they should have called you Argis the Bull-headed, not Bulwark,” you quip as you trudge through a snowdrift back to the man. For an instant, you think you see his scarred lips quirk up in a smile, but visibility is terribly low.

“You may call me whatever you wish,” he responds evenly, his face the epitome of calm.

“Anything?” You tease him drily as you continue your trudge, tilting your head back to affix the tall Nord with what you hope is a stony gaze.

“Aye, anything,” he agrees, his lips again twitching at the edges as he watches you - an unmistakable gesture, at this close proximity. “As long as you’re alive to say it and not frozen to death, like you will be if you try to keep on in this.”

“You are insufferable sometimes,” you sigh, coming to a stop, and Argis quirks a single eyebrow at you, as if to say you’re the one who’s being insufferable. But he doesn’t say it out loud, instead commenting,

“There was that deserted camp we passed by not more than a quarter of an hour ago.”

“There was a good lean-to there,” you agree, nodding slowly. “As long as it really is deserted.” You shudder at the thought of being snuck up on at night by bandits or Forsworn, but a moment later you shudder even harder as a blast of wind roars down from the mountain peaks, so cold as to be ungodly, and with as much ferocity as the worst frost breath of any dragon you’ve fought against. You turn away from it, drawing the hood of your cloak closer about you, but even so, your eyes water from the chill and a few loose strands of hair flutter about your face, whipping your cheeks with the condensation that quickly freezes on them.

You feel a solid form at your back, two great armored hands steadying you by your shoulders, and though the roaring of the wind hasn’t died down any, some of the worst of it is blocked from you now.

“Deserted or not, we have to get you out of the cold,” Argis says from behind you, his deep voice just loud enough to cut through the roar of the wind.

“I just hope there isn’t a fight waiting for us,” you admit, but Argis gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, as if to say I know, but I’ll be there. The next moment, the great hands are gone, and you start backtracking through the treacherous mountain trails, the Bulwark right behind you.

The camp is much as you had last seen it about a half hour ago, with no new tracks in the snow around it and no signs of any items disturbed. An encouraging sign, you think, but not an absolute certainty that you will be safe.

You follow Argis’ lead as he slips behind a large rocky outcrop jutting out from the Druadach mountains, peering around it to get a glimpse of the camp every couple minutes. It’s a bit harder for you to get a glimpse of the place, as Argis is largely shielding you with his body, ever protective. But when you do manage to peer around him, you realize that the camp looks decidedly made by a group other than the Forsworn. You’re relieved; you’ve discovered enough abominations at Forsworn camps to hope not to be forced into one right now. There’s also a better chance that, if the camp was made by non-Reachmen bandits, they were either traveling through or moving from site to site, instead of inhabiting the place continuously. On your second time glancing around the outcropping, you notice there is one lean-to in particular that catches your eye, the way it caught it on your first pass through - it’s reinforced with multiple furs, and looks like it might actually be made out of wood underneath versus just stretched leathers. The overhang it sits under seems to provide some degree of protection, as well, and a rather enormous firepit is positioned close to it.

You open your mouth and turn to Argis, but he gives you a sharp nod, already on the same page.

“I’m going in to scout it out,” the Bulwark says, shrugging off his heavy pack, stuffed with supplies and topped with a bedroll, leaving it by your side. You do the same with your pack, which is also stuffed full but smaller than his, aware that you won’t want to be encumbered by it in the next few minutes. “Back me up if I need it,” Argis adds, drawing his bow and knocking an arrow to it in a movement you can’t help but feel is graceful, especially for a man as massive as he is.

“Aye,” you agree solemnly. Suddenly, struck by impulse, you reach up to him before he slips off, your hand brushing against his armored elbow. He starts at the contact, turning to you, and you realize you’ve surprised him on his blind side, where he can only make out faint shapes based on contrast in the light. “Be safe,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. He eases the tension on his bow, transferring both bow and arrow back into one hand with practiced ease. The next moment, he reaches out with his other hand, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, lingering just a moment. Never one for unnecessary words, he silently turns back to the camp, letting his fingers fall from your face and knocking the arrow to his bow again.

You’re a little dumbstruck for a moment as he sets off, keeping his blind side close to the mountain walls. Affection from Argis is not terribly uncommon - he’s a man’s man by all accounts, but you know well enough how fond he is of you. But the look on his face - the tenderness - had nearly been enough to set your heart to aching.

You recollect yourself, peering back around the outcropping, barely able to follow the Bulwark’s receding figure through the whiteout. If you’re going to have his back, you realize, you had better follow him. The trails he has broken in the accumulating snow make it easy enough for you, and you summon some fire to your hands. Not only is it nice to have the heat on your frozen fingers, but a quick blast of flames from a near-invisible location will disrupt any plans of potential marauders and buy you some extra time to help the Bulwark.

But you and Argis circle the whole camp, with no signs of any life visible in the entire place. Upon nearly coming back to the outcropping you had started at, Argis sets his bow back to its place on his back and returns his arrow to his quiver, instead unsheathing his sword. He walks boldly into the center of the camp, roaring a battle cry at the top of his lungs.

“Is there none here who would defend this place from me?” He bellows. “Show yourself!”

But he receives no reply except the whistling of the wind.

To be safe, he approaches each lean-to, beating the furs with the flat side of the sword and prying open the front flaps. You follow him again as he goes, still not wanting to lose sight of him.

“Coward! Craven! Fight me for what is yours!” He challenges at each shelter, but there is nothing and nobody. Satisfied, he doubles back to you and sheathes his sword. He doesn’t have far to travel; at this point, you can’t be much more than 20 feet away from him, or you’ll lose him in the ever thickening whiteout.

“We’ll be safe here,” Argis shouts over the wind as he comes to stand beside you. You nod your agreeance, not sure you would be able to say anything the Bulwark could hear over the increasing storm. “Let’s get you in the shelter.” One great hand rests on your waist, gently turning you around to backtrack through the path you had cut through the snow earlier. With a degree of alarm, you realize that the snow has begun to come down so fiercely that even this path has begun to fill in. Argis walks beside you, cutting a new path as he guides you along back to the big lean-to. You’re relieved when you see the place, and even more grateful to see that the overhang is keeping some of the snow from accumulating around it, as you had suspected it might.

“I’ll go get our packs,” Argis shouts again. Fear clamps around your heart, though, and you grab him quickly by the shoulder, pulling him down towards you so he can hear you.

“How will you find your way back here?” You shout, immediately frustrated that your voice doesn’t carry the same way he does. He hears you, though, and smiles.

“I grew up in the Reach,” he reminds you. “I had to learn how to navigate in storms like this. How to count my steps and my turns. But if it makes you feel better, make a big fire for me to find, and I’ll be back faster.” You glance at the firepit adjacent to the lean-to - yes, that’ll work, you think. By the time you’ve turned back to Argis, though, he is already trudging away through the deepening snow.

You set to work immediately, casting the brightest magical flames you can conjure, stoking the flames higher and higher. There’s enough of a woodpile left in the fire pit to burn brightly, the magical fire making short work of any wetness that had soaked into the lumber. You only stop when the heat becomes so searing that you’re not sure you can stand near it any more; the snow in a wide radius all around it has begun to melt away, as well, which you figure is good for keeping your camp from getting buried.

It feels like an eternity that you’re waiting by the fire you’ve conjured, watching the bright colors dance back and forth, hoping they can cut through the whiteout enough to help Argis. You remind yourself of what he said - he’d grown up here. He knew about how to navigate in a blizzard, how to see the tiniest remnant of a path, how to count his steps and how far he’d turned without getting confused. No Reachman who wasn’t well-versed in these things would last long outside the city gates of Markarth. But all the same, you feel an immense amount of relief when he appears again, shouldering his bigger pack and your smaller one. He’s moving at a plodding pace through the deep snow, nearly hip-deep in places, obviously fatigued. When he is close enough, you move to help him with the load he carries, and he gratefully swings your pack down to your waiting arms. You follow him into the lean-to, immediately impressed by the thing’s construction. There is wood under all the heavy furs, as you had suspected, and virtually none of the wind makes its way into the structure.

“By the Nine, it’s brutal out there,” Argis pants, unceremoniously dropping his heavy pack on the ground and plopping himself down, knees bent in to his chest, next to it. You drop your pack and move to his side.

“Are you okay?” You ask, glad to be able to talk at a normal volume instead of shouting over the wind.

“Yeah,” Argis grunts. “Just tired.” You reach out to touch his immense, armored shoulder, and let a little bit of a healing spell flow into him - not enough to tire you, but enough to help him recover his energy. He closes his eyes and drops his head back, exposing his thickly muscled throat, the large Adam’s apple, the beard stubble under his chin where the beard ends -

“That feels good,” he murmurs appreciatively. You let your magic infuse him for a few moments longer, and pull both your hand and your eyes away when he opens his eyes and smiles at you. You summon up the courage to look back at him and smile back, knowing that to be thanks enough between the two of you.

“Let’s get the bed rolls set out,” Argis suggests, raking one hand through his thick golden hair, now matted down with the melting of the snowflakes that had accumulated on him.

“Aye,” you agree, moving to open your bedroll, but he gently shoos you away from the entrance of the lean-to and towards the back of the structure with a gentle pressure of his hand on the small of your back.

“I sleep by the opening,” he reminds you. Despite his fatigue, a light comes to his good eye as he teases, “I swore an oath to protect you. We’ve been through this before.”

“I thought it wouldn’t matter if the place was empty,” you quip at him with a smile, pleased to see that he wasn’t so exhausted as to lose his sense of humor.

“Can never be too safe,” he answers, and though he tries to sound light-hearted, you know for him it’s the most serious matter in the world. You hum in response, pulling your bedroll out of its tightly-rolled Horker skin covering, pleased to find it dry, but chilly, underneath. You spread it out on the ground; beside you, Argis is doing the same with his.

“Argis?” You call to the man.

“Aye?” He answers quickly, raising his head from his work.

“You were right, earlier. When you kept me from trying to push on in this to make it home. I’m sorry for being foolish about it,” you finish.

“Lass,” he murmurs, a soft expression upon his face. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. If we were in Whiterun Hold, or anywhere in the South of Skyrim, you would’ve been right to push on. The blizzards here in the Reach are different.”

“I’ve never seen a storm as bad as this,” you agree. “The snow must be coming down a couple feet an hour, at least, never mind the drifts that are growing, and I could barely see you at twenty paces.”

“Aye, Reach blizzards build quickly and are unrelenting. They take many travelers unaware,” Argis agrees, finishing spreading out his bedroll.

“Well, thank you for knowing these lands better, and for making sure to keep us safe. The Divines blessed me the day we met, Argis,” you say honestly, finishing with your bedroll, pulling your rucksack to you, and beginning to rummage through it.

“Not as much as they blessed me,” he murmurs, and when you look up at him, the expression on his face is unreadable. You give him a small smile and return to your rucksack, triumphantly pulling out a slab of very frozen venison packed in enchanted paper, some root vegetables in a small burlap sack, and a little bit of cheese and bread. “Looks like a pretty good spread for tonight,” Argis notes, procuring a small pan from his rucksack and gathering your ingredients up.

“Aye,” you agree, continuing to root around in your bag.

“We probably don’t need much else,” the Bulwark offers, but you’ve already found what you wanted buried at the bottom of the sack.

“Here - we - are,” you grunt, pulling it out laboriously until it sits before you - prize of all prizes - an oversized bottle of beautiful, golden Honningbrew mead.

“I can’t believe you packed that,” Argis laughs, shaking his head at you in disbelief.

“But I’m sure you’re glad to see it, all the same,” you laugh back. The big Nord lets out a deep belly laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners, before admitting,

“Aye, I can’t argue with that.”

As you finish your dinner, you can’t help but think to yourself that you and Argis together are formidable - not just on the battlefield, but also in the kitchen. Or around the firepit, as the case had been tonight. In fact, you were hard-pressed to find a time on the road when the two of you hadn’t managed to take whatever scraps were in your bags and conjure up something delicious out of them.

“That was good,” Argis shouts, echoing your thoughts. His voice manages to carry over the wind, which, against all odds, has again managed to pick up even further. You’ve had to set up a ward to keep the worst of it from freezing the both of you, but even the ward can’t keep all of the chill away. You smile and nod at the Bulwark, picking up the large bottle of Honningbrew mead you’d stuffed in what little snow was left by the fire. Uncorking it, you take a swig; the alcohol burns on its way down, and a warmth settles in your belly. After one more swig, you nudge Argis' arm with the bottle. Honningbrew isn't his favorite, you know. He likes that darker Black-Briar stuff. But you're a fan of the sweeter taste, and Argis has never been one to protest, especially when you’re willing to carry a surprise bottle in your rucksack and share it with him. Mead is mead is mead to him.

He takes the bottle from you, his fingers brushing yours again before closing over the neck of the bottle. His touch is surprisingly gentle for such a big man; you can’t be sure, since the fire already has your face heated up so much, but you think you might be blushing. You resist the urge to duck your head, instead reaching up to Argis’ shoulder and pulling him down so you can talk closer to his ear and be heard. There is no way you can shout over this storm now.

“You don’t happen to have any more of those sweetrolls from the other day, do you?” You ask. Argis turns towards you, his face apologetic as he shakes his head no.

“Just the meat and mead for us tonight,” he murmurs into your ear. Pulling away, he takes another deep swig of the Honningbrew mead before handing it back to you. You share the rest of the bottle in a companionable silence, listening to the howling of the wind and tasting each other’s lips on the bottle.

By the time you're crawling back into your bed rolls, you’re both quite drunk and very relaxed. Sleeping tonight should really be no problem, you muse. Still, for a little more peace of mind, you cast a couple quick lightning runes outside the tent - just far enough away to alert you if anyone were to approach. You take down the ward you’d left by the fire, setting up another one outside your shelter for the night.

Back inside the lean-to, the wind is blessedly absent, though the air is still bitingly cold.

“Do you mind if I conjure a little smokeless fire in here?” You ask Argis. The Bulwark, in the middle of unclasping the greaves that cover his shins, frowns, pursing his lips.

“Go ahead,” he says, a trace reluctantly. You know his Nord upbringing has made him naturally mistrusting of all magic, and that mistrust is still not entirely gone, despite his fondness for you and admiration for what you could accomplish with it on the battlefield. “But…please make sure it’s the smokeless kind. I don’t want to suffocate.”

“And I don’t want to freeze,” you laugh, waving your hand. A soft, blue flame sputters to life in mid-air between the two of you and, though it veritably produces no smoke, its heat still permeates the tent. You mentally thank Farengar Secret-Fire for creating this nifty little spell and for deigning to teach it to you; his work was honestly that of pure ingenuity. A condescending little snot though he may be, you admit to yourself.

Argis moves onto the cuisses that cover his mighty thighs, beginning a small pile of armor on the far side of the lean-to next to the rucksacks. You pull off your vambraces first, throwing them in the accumulating pile and starting in on your greaves next.

“Could you help me with these, when you get a chance?” Argis asks, and you turn your attention from your armor back to him. He’s pointing to the large pauldrons that sit on his shoulders, and you move closer to him obligingly.

“Of course,” you agree, your fingers setting to work fiddling with the straps and clasps that hold his heavy armor in place. You’ve done this many a night, by now, and you make short work of them, sliding both pauldrons off the Bulwark’s broad shoulders and moving to put them both in his armor pile. You help him with his cuirass next, until Argis is finally free of all armor, covered only by the light linen pants and shirt he wears underneath. You shift back to your bedroll, starting in on the cuisses over your thigh, eager to be free of the restrictive coverings as well.

“My turn to help you,” a gentle murmur comes from behind you, and a light brush of fingers at your neck lets you know that Argis is gathering your hair, moving it over your shoulder so it won’t get in the way and pulled.

“Thank you,” you reply, throwing your first cuisse into your pile.

A warm “mm,” is the only answer you get, and you smile to yourself; Argis is probably really rather drunk, having finished the majority of the oversized bottle quite quickly. The way he gets when he is drunk and tired is surprisingly adorable, you think; more like a teddy bear than the Bulwark you know him to be. You’re certain that relatively few people have ever seen him in this state.

Argis, too, knows how to make short work of your armor, and it’s not long before you’re freed of your pauldrons and cuirass, as well as the second cuisse you take off your own thigh. You sigh and stretch out, raising your arms overhead and arching your back. It feels great to be in just linens again, even if you are chillier in the slowly-warming air of the lean-to than you were with your armor on. Feeling bold, you lean back far enough in your stretch that you rest your head on the Bulwark’s shoulder behind you, smiling lazily up at him.

Argis is smiling back at you warmly - not an uncommon response to any of your antics. But, to your surprise, you feel his strong hands slide over your waist in a way that feels almost sensuous. He pulls you into his lap with ease, and you let out a quiet gasp. He pauses, his hands loosening their grip on you, his smile fading somewhat and concern that he had overstepped emerging in his eyes.

“I’m sorry -” he begins, but you cut him off, turning in the loose hold of his hands to face more towards him and hooking one arm over his shoulder. You slide your other hand up his chest, letting it rest on the large swell of his pectorals.

“You’re so warm,” you sigh, leaning into the Bulwark, a heady feeling stronger than the mead itself building in your brain.

“And by the Divines, you are cold,” he murmurs, that warm and soft smile spreading back across his face as his hands hold your waist more firmly once again. “How can you be so chilly with a fire right above you?”

“Only a Nord could ask how someone could be cold in the middle of a blizzard,” you tease back with a laugh, resting your head against his powerful shoulder and gazing up at him flirtatiously.

“Aye, very well,” Argis concedes, pulling you still closer to him, so that your breasts are pressing into his broad chest. When he speaks again, his deep voice is murmuring in your ear, the heat of his breath fluttering against your skin. “Then join me in my bedroll, and let this Nord keep you warm tonight.”

“Gladly,” you answer breathlessly. Argis lets out a quiet, low groan, one arm winding all the way around your waist now while the other reaches back for his bedroll, unfurling the covers. With ease, his powerful frame carries you close to him as he shifts back into the sheets. He lays down with you resting atop his broad frame, chest to chest, one arm still wound around your waist. With the other hand, he pulls the blankets of his bedroll over the top of the both of you, and moves beneath you, tucking them in on one side. You reach one hand up to his thick blond locks, threading your fingers through his hair and braids. Argis finishes tucking the sheets in on both sides and turns his attention back to you with another of those heart-achingly tender smiles. Gently, his thick fingers find their way into your hair, playing with the locks there. At the same time, the hand around your waist slides down, slow inch by inch, until it is resting on the outside of your hip. Still moving tortuously slowly, he slides his hand away from your hip, moving across your ass.

Hand still in his hair, you pull him in for a deep kiss. His lips are surprisingly soft and full, and you can feel the ridges of the scars that run over them as he kisses you. He’s yielding at first, moving his mouth gently against yours, the fine, trimmed hairs of his beard tickling your skin. Your head is buzzing and your whole body feels like every nerve is lit up. You’d always imagined a kiss with Argis to be rough, dominating - but this kiss, his soft lips, his hands in your hair, it’s romantic and sweet and just a little hungry, and it’s so much better than you could have ever hoped for.

“Oh, Argis,” you breathe against his lips. He lets out a deep moan; you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. After a long moment, he licks at your lips, asking entrance. You grant it to him, and he starts slow, exploring your mouth. But it’s not long before he’s battling your tongue, then winning, and he ravages your mouth in deep, hungry, passionate kisses.

The hand on your ass gives it a firm squeeze mid-kiss, and you feel a jolt of pleasure - of need - start in your core. You moan into Argis’ mouth, and he continues the hungry kiss for a long moment, pulling away slowly.

“Oh, little lady,” he growls against your lips. “You have no idea how badly I want you. How badly I’ve wanted you.”

“How long?” You breathe against his lips. You let your hand leave his hair, reaching instead for his beard and toying with the blond hairs on his chin.

“Truthfully?” He asks, and you nod. He lets out a bark of laughter, a wry smile spreading across his lips. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”

“Really?” You ask, a little surprised - he had hidden it well, always professional towards you in the early days, and warm and kind towards you as your companionship blossomed.

“Aye,” he confirms, unabashed. Then, watching you carefully, the smile fading from his face, he adds, “And you?”

This time, it’s your turn to let a wry smile cross your lips, as you remember how handsome - how gorgeous, really - you’d thought the big Nord was when you first met him.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, too, big man,” you admit. The smile he gives you this time is no longer wry - he seems relieved to hear you speak those words, perhaps even genuinely happy. He pulls you back into another hungry kiss; you meet his lips with yours enthusiastically, and as he again ravages your mouth, you grab at the enormous swell of his biceps, almost as if to steady yourself. You run your fingers over the thick, bulging muscle, marveling at the size of it, how your hand doesn’t cover even half of the swell of it, how the portion you can feel ripples under your hand with power. As you explore his body, Argis squeezes your ass again, and yet again, you feel that primal jolt of pleasure. You let out a sound in response to his ministrations - a sound that is, to your ears, surprisingly needy and submissive.

This seems to trigger something in Argis, as he grabs you and maneuvers you off his broad chest, rolling so that his powerful frame now hovers above you, supported on his elbows and knees. You rest one hand on his broad shoulders, and let the hand that had been exploring his biceps move under his shirt to his chest. You run your fingers through the thick blond curls that cover his pectorals, then grope at the enormous muscles themselves, unable to keep from thinking how many times these muscles of his had saved your life. Tenderly, Argis presses another gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then works his way down your jawline and to your neck. You move your head to grant him more access, loving the way his full lips and bristly beard feel against your skin.

“Oh, little lady,” he moans, lips ghosting over your collarbone. Slowly, he lowers his hips down to rest partially atop you, some of his frame shifted to the side to keep from hurting you with his weight. As his hips come to rest atop yours, you feel the hard length of his manhood pressing into you, and you can’t help but note that your earlier name for him had been correct - he is a big man, both thick and long. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, and asks, “Is this okay for you?”

“More than okay,” you answer, grinding your hips up into his cock. He drops his head down into the crook of your neck again with a groan.

“I’m going to finally make you all mine tonight,” he rumbles, his lips against your skin.

“Please,” you breathe, grabbing at his heavily-muscled shoulders as he nips and sucks at your neck with renewed vigor. You slide your hand down from his pectorals, through his chest and body hair, to the ridges of his abdominal muscles, not yet daring to go too low - you want to enjoy feeling his body for a little longer first. You do, however, grind upwards into his manhood again, and feel him stiffen further against you. Argis grinds back down into you in response this time, and you moan to encourage him.

“And you want me to take you, don’t you, little lady?” He growls, continuing to grind into you. “You want your Housecarl to have his way with you.”

“I do,” you agree, sliding your hands just a little lower on his stomach.

"Then let’s get these clothes out of the way,” he suggests, grabbing the bottom hem of your linen shirt and starting to slide it up. You help him get yourself out of the garment, and while your hands make short work of your breast bindings underneath, Argis pulls his linen shirt off his frame. “By the Nine,” he groans when he sees your breasts laid bare before him, though you could say the same about his sculpted torso. He wastes no time, though, lowering his head to one breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple while one hand gropes and kneads at your other breast. You arch into his touch, desperate for more, but he pins you back down on the ground firmly. The hand that isn’t busy with your breast quickly gathers both your wrists up, pinning them above your head in a firm grip.

“Oh, Argis,” you moan, trying in vain to squirm against him for more pressure.

“You like the way I make you feel?” He asks, before doubling down on his assault on your nipple, flicking back and forth over it fast with his tongue.

“I do,” you agree.

“Good,” he murmurs, then pauses his ministrations to look up at you. “Because I’m going to fulfill your every desire tonight, lass. And when I’m done, you’ll know that no man can ever take care of you, as both your protector and lover, the way I can.” He moves to your other breast, first swirling it with his tongue, then flicking at it quickly.

“Argis,” you moan, halfheartedly wishing your hands were free so you could move his head down south a little- so he could put that tongue to use somewhere else.

“Promise me something,” he rumbles, this time without looking up at you.

“Anything,” you agree, all reservations gone. You’d give him just about anything right now.

“Promise me you’ll moan my name like that when you’re stuffed full with my cock,” he growls, pulling away from your nipple with a sharp scrape of his teeth.

Well. For someone who usually didn’t say anything that didn’t need to be said, he could certainly be a dirty talker in bed, you think to yourself.

The hand at your wrist releases you, and he moves to your waistband, pulling the linen pants and your undergarments down. You lift your hips obligingly, and soon, you lay completely bare before the Bulwark.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, letting his hands trail down your waist, over your hips, and over the tops of your thighs. The look he gives you is another of those heartbreakingly tender looks, and it occurs to you that Argis might not just want you - he might really love you, too.

The thought is gone a moment later as Argis maneuvers his own linen pants off himself, allowing his manhood to spring free. His cock bobs before you for a moment before flattening up against his belly.

“You’re huge,” you blurt, and it’s true - he’s so thick, you wonder if your hand would even be able to close around his base. Looking at him, the size difference between you, a Breton, and Argis, the largest Nord you’ve ever met, becomes more apparent than ever, and you wonder for a moment if he can even fit in you.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, reading the concern you struggle to conceal in your expression, leaning back over you. His thumb brushes your cheek gently. “I’ll make sure you’re ready for me. I promise I won’t hurt you. And if it does hurt, we’ll stop.” You reach up for Argis, your hand caressing his cheek in return. You have no doubt that he means what he says, and again, the thought that he might love you enters your mind. Staring up at him, the man who has served as your protector, who has carried you to safety, risked his life for you, and given you his unyielding friendship, you know you can trust him with everything and anything - including this.

“Okay,” you agree, and Argis smiles, pulling you in for another deep kiss. You reach up to his enormous body above you, feeling the thick cords of muscle rippling over his chest, once again running your hands through the soft blond curls of hair that cover his chest and belly.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” you manage to tell him between open-mouthed kisses. He smiles against your lips.

“Oh. Thank you,” he mumbles, and you’re certain he almost sounds embarrassed, but still pleased. A moment later, his larger hand reaches for yours, and gently guides you just a little lower down his belly, until you are brushing against the tip of his manhood. He lets out a quiet hiss at the contact, and though he lets go of your hand, you know what it is he wants. You oblige, grabbing him at the base of his length - as you had suspected, your fingers don’t meet around him at his thickest part - and give a long pump up his shaft. When you slide back down his shaft, you take a moment to reach down to caress his balls, which are heavy and large in your palm.

You quickly return to pumping Argis up and down, and when you look away from his manhood, you see his eyes, heavily-lidded, watching you carefully. His hands are kneading your thighs, working further up them, until one hand reaches your core. He gently parts your folds, finding your clit and swirling his thumb around it. You moan and squirm under him, and he takes his other hand and pins you down at your hip, holding you in place. Continuing with the quick circles, he delves in between your folds with his fingers.

“Little lady,” he groans, “you’re so wet for me.”

“Of course,” you answer, your voice husky. “I want you so badly, Argis.”

“You’re going to have me,” the blond replies, slowly pressing one finger into you. Even his fingers are thick and long, and he takes a long moment, letting you adjust to the digit within you. Rather than begin to pump it in or out, however, he plays with the angle of it for a long moment, pressing against your front wall. It’s not long before he finds what he wants, and gently begins crooking his finger against the spot. Within moments, you’re seeing stars, the pleasure within you absolutely explosive.

“Oh, by the Nine, Argis,” you gasp, feeling the pressure against your hip intensify as the Bulwark has to work harder to hold you in place. “I - oh, Argis, that feels amazing.”

You get no response besides a low growl as Argis presses another finger into you, joining the first in its motion as his thumb keeps working away at your clit. The second finger begins to stretch you, and you try to grind into the feeling of fullness, forgetting about pumping Argis’ manhood for the moment. It’s not long before a third finger joins the first two; the sensation is almost painful, but you quickly adapt to it, spreading your legs just a bit more to accommodate Argis’ ministrations.

The pleasure is relentless, and you drop Argis’ manhood entirely to grasp at the pillow behind you with one hand and to grasp at Argis’ shoulders with the other. He watches you, seeing your pleasure build, and when you reach for the hand of his that rests on your hip, he obliges, taking your hand and holding it with a firm but gentle pressure. You hold to him tightly in return, grateful for the gentle point of connection between the two of you. Truthfully, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had sex good enough to make you cum like this, and you are feeling increasingly vulnerable before Argis, as he continues to stoke your pleasure relentlessly.

A stream of curses and cries of Argis’ name are falling from your lips, and the coil of pleasure is building ever more tightly within you. Finally, your orgasm breaks over you, slamming you in wave after wave of throbbing pleasure, and you tremble under Argis’ hands, crying his name one more time. He continues stroking you through it, eventually stilling his fingers within you, and slowly, the waves subside. In the end, you are left looking at the Bulwark, who is watching you like you’re the most gorgeous creature on Nirn.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“Oh, little lady,” he groans, pulling his fingers out of you and smearing the fluids on them across his cock. “You’re so perfect.” He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, the feeling of his beard scratching against your lips and his chest hair against your breasts electrifying. You pull him into you hungrily, and you feel him smirk against your lips. “Do you want more of me, lass?”

“Please,” you manage, feeling Argis lower himself so that his hips rest between your legs.

“I love the sound of you begging for me,” he growls, moving so that the tip of his manhood presses against your slick folds. “Begging for your Housecarl, your protector.”

“Please, Argis. Please take me,” you repeat, sliding one hand down his broad back to grasp at his firm ass and try to push him towards you. He obliges, one of his hands lowering to his manhood to guide himself as he presses into you. His tip slides in more easily than you would have expected, and he continues pressing into you, stretching you, with a low groan. He stills halfway in, waiting for you to accommodate him, but you’re already so wet, so desperate for him, that you want more. You move against him, trying to take him in further, and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Ready for me, are you?” He sounds pleased as he eases himself the rest of the way in. You feel, for a moment, like he could split you in two, he’s so large. But then he starts moving in small, gentle thrusts, and the way he presses against all your walls, fills you and stretches you, is unrivaled. Slowly, he works up to larger thrusts, pulling back to watch you carefully for any signs of pain, but you’re already seeing stars, sensitive and excited from your last orgasm. “Doing okay?” He grunts.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Take me how you want. However hard you want.”

Argis wastes no time in obeying your order, his hips slamming into you suddenly. He sets a grueling rhythm, ravaging you with such force and power it’s all you can do to hold onto his shoulders through it. You wrap your legs around his muscular waist, offering him the opportunity to plow more deeply into you, and he takes it, never once breaking his rhythm.

A breathy moan comes out of you, followed by Argis’ name. Argis lets out a loud groan of your name in response - and then one of his enormous hands is at your neck, choking you with a gentle pressure as he continues to pound you. You feel even more pleasure coil within you at this, at your submission to the muscle-bound man fucking you without mercy.

Argis doesn’t change positions - he doesn’t need to. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his cock, screaming his name to the heavens and clenching his manhood between your walls so tightly you feel that your orgasm may never end. He holds his pace through the waves of pleasure, but as you begin to wind down, you feel his movements becoming erratic, his hips stuttering in a desperate bid for more pleasure.

“Oh, love,” he gasps. “I’m close - I -”

Argis comes with a wordless roar, not unlike the ones you’ve heard him loose in battle, his cock shooting cum deep into you as he loses his pace entirely. Even as he rides through his orgasm, you feel the hot strands of his cum leaking down the insides of your thighs, threatening to spill onto the bedroll beneath you. Finally, he has spent himself, and he collapses above you, letting go of your throat to support some of his weight on his elbows, his face again buried in the crook of your neck.

You reach up from his shoulders to stroke his thick blond hair soothingly. Had he called you love, just then? Did he really mean it, you wonder, or was it just a figure of speech he’d used in the heat of the moment?

But when Argis raises his head from your shoulder to look at you, you see again that tenderness and adoration in his face, and you suspect that he really had meant to call you his love.

“Are you okay?” He asks, shifting off you and onto one shoulder, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his body.

“More than okay,” you answer earnestly. “That was amazing.” Argis chuckles in response.

“I’m glad it was as good for you as it was for me. Let me get you cleaned up.” He disappears from the bedroll for a moment, moving to his rucksack. You can’t help but watch his form as he moves - from his impossibly broad shoulders to his narrow hips and powerful thighs, you’re amazed by how gorgeous he really is. When Argis returns, it’s with a small piece of cloth, and he cleans you gently until you have no more of his hot cum leaking from within you. He wipes himself clean quicly, too, then throws the cloth to the side. You’re grateful when he returns to the bedroll, which has begun feeling chilly without him.

“The smokeless fire has gone out,” Argis mumbles into your hair as he draws you back into his chest, tucked beneath his chin. You nestle into him gratefully.

“Couldn’t keep enough focus through all of that,” you laugh. He laughs, too, but asks,

“Are you cold? Do you want to start it again?” You pull back in mock surprise, amazed that the Nord had volunteered to put up with your magical proclivities for once.

“Are you actually asking for me to use magic?” You tease with a smile, but flick your hand out from the bedsheets, starting the smokeless fire above you again.

“Only until you’re warm again,” he returns, pulling you back into the warmth of his chest again.

“Fair enough,” you laugh, one hand playing with the golden curls on his chest. “After all, I don’t know what Skyrim would do if the mighty Dovahkiin froze to death tonight.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Argis murmurs, his voice a deep rumble in his chest, reverberating throughout your body. His strong arms tighten around you, gently, protectively, and you feel the soft brush of his lips against your forehead.

“Nor I without you,” you murmur back, tipping your head up and managing to reach his lips for a return kiss. He kisses you back for a moment, then hums contentedly, deep in his throat, and tucks you back down under his chin.

“The Divines have blessed me,” Argis sighs. “This life is a hard one, at times, but by the Nine, am I blessed.” You wrap your arms around his chest, feeling the slow, soothing beating of his heart in his chest, and though you have a thousand – a million – questions for him, you don’t know how to ask any of them. Maybe they shouldn’t be asked, just yet.

“I’m blessed, too,” you whisper to Argis, and you know he hears you by the way he holds you just a little tighter. And not long after, the comfort of each other’s arms and the mead and the heat of the fire conspire to overtake you both and send you both to sleep.