#One of those things where I’m like. Should I post this

[elliesgaymachete]

I think the post delilah conversation was everything I wanted it to be. For now, at least.

It’s heartbreaking that Laudna seems almost suicidal right now, that she’s willing to give up everything, even herself, just to protect Imogen and the world. I’m glad she owned up to her mistakes and apologized, but she did remind everyone that they were all encouraging each other to seek out whatever power they can that might help in this fight. She’s just doing her part of that with Delilah.

Dorian finding out about Delilah, and about Imogen & Laudna was perfect, and also necessary context for the moment. His reactions to catching up on things will never fail to amuse me.

I’m so glad Imogen got a chance to talk to BH without Laudna and tell them what happened, express her own concerns. “I don’t know what Delilah’s plans are but I don’t think they involve Laudna having free will” was definitely good to mention because that’s something Laudna isn’t listening to or caring about right now, but the group should know

I’m glad that Orym owned up to hurting Laudna more than she hurt him, and confessed that he’s been focused, that he hasn’t been himself, but Laudna brought him back. He knows he was planning to use the sword for not the healthiest reasons, and they were able to talk things out.

And FEARNE talking to Laudna. Saying that they would kill Delilah again and again and again for her, but it’s her choice. Giving her that choice is I think what Laudna needed, because if they make that choice for her, I don’t think it would go well.

And Laudna confirming that she wants to use Delilah for the battle ahead, but makes a promise to communicate whenever Delilah is in her head so Bells Hells can keep her grounded, make sure she knows what’s real. Because that’s something they’ve never done before, Delilah’s always whispered at her in secret and only Imogen and Fearne have any idea what those whispers are like. And how Laudna holds to that promise and tells them when she asks for Delilah’s insight in Aeor. If they can keep her accountable she has a better chance at making it through this

It even sounds like she’s open to exploring how to get rid of Delilah after the war, but she also seems to already accept that she might not make it that far. I think the only way she might actually drop Delilah before then is if she manifests more fully and puts Imogen in danger

Regardless, this is like the healthiest most open communication we’ve ever seen from Bells Hells and I for one can’t wait to see where this arc leads

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Minun and Plusle, assuming that you do not separate them. I would assume separately it's a bad idea but the pokemon do seem to do better together...

[While their pokédex entries do differ, I’m going to cover both plusles and minuns in a single post, since you asked about them both in your request!]

Plusles and minuns, perhaps surprisingly compared to many Electric-type pokémon, would make fairly good pets! Of course, you’ll need to take into account that they have a pretty unique set of needs, and could be dangerous in certain circumstances, but all-in-all their not a bad option among their typing and can even provide you with certain health benefits.

Both plusles and minuns are the perfect size to be a house pet. They’d have no difficulty getting around most living spaces, and transporting them without a pokéball would be no problem at all. They have a great temperament to be pets as well, given their incredibly social nature. Both plusles and minuns are natural cheerleaders; both pokémon are known for cheering on their partners and other pokémon by forming pom-poms out of electricity and cheering loudly, so rest assured that a pet plusle or minun would always be by your side, rooting for you whatever you do (Ruby - Plusle, Emerald - Plusle, Ruby - Minun, FireRed/LeafGreen - Minun). You really must keep in mind, however, that you shouldn’t let a minun get too hyped up in these cheering displays. While there’s little indication of this being a problem for plusles, minuns are known to shun their own safety (Ruby - Minun). Their little cheerleading displays are adorable, but make sure to keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t get too riled up and hurt themselves!

Now, like I said at the top, these two species of pokémon have some pretty unusual behaviors and needs, which may make their ease-of-care a little too low for some owners. For one thing, as has been alluded, these little ones are NOISY. They can short out the electricity that they carry in their bodies to make a variety of loud noises and brilliant sparks of light, and are known to do so even more when whoever their cheering for is losing or struggling (Ruby, Sapphire). If you live somewhere where you need to be wary of noise complaints, I’d consider a different pokémon. Additionally, bathing plusles or especially minuns is a whole ordeal: not only is it already pretty hazardous giving any south of bath to an Electric-Type pokémon without the proper equipment, but minuns have a distinct dislike of water, making it a whole lot more difficult to keep them clean (FireRed/LeafGreen - Minun). Finally, feeding either of these pokémon can be a chore. Like a lot of pokémon of their type, plusles and minuns feed off of electricity, which can get pricey. Peculiarly, wild plusles have a particular preference for electricity from telephone poles: using their impressive climbing abilities, these pokémon routinely drain power from their tops (FireRed/LeafGreen - Plusle). Keeping either of these pokémon happy and healthy isn’t going to be as easy as popping over to the pet store for food, which is going to make them too much of a handful for some owners.

Both of these pokémon, naturally, could be pretty dangerous in certain circumstances. Moves like Thunder Wave and Nuzzle can allow them to temporarily paralyze targets with electricity, which could easily prove deadly to those with certain medical conditions. Other Electric-Type moves like Electro-Ball and Thunder are no joke as well. Thankfully, it seems that neither of these pokémon are particularly violent and get along well with humans. That being said, you should always keep these kinds of risks with Electric-Type pokémon in mind when making a decision about adoption.

On the bright side, the passive electricity both plusles and minuns carry within their bodies does not seem to pose much of a threat to humans. In fact, pokémon academics have determined that exposure to the types of electricity each pokémon carries can have really positive health benefits for humans, such as muscle relaxation and an improvement in blood flow (Emerald - Minun, HeartGold/SoulSilver - Minun). These pokémon are surely used in tandem for different kinds of physical therapy for humans, and you could probably see some positive vitality outcomes if you adopt one of each species! There doesn’t seem to be any indication that keeping plusles and minuns apart has any negative impact on their biology or psyche, but the benefits of keeping together make them a great package if you’re willing to adopt two pets at once.

While, due to their typing, both of these species bring certain risks and difficulties to the table, their perfect size and personality, as well as the potential health benefits you may see after exposure to both, these pokémon could make a pretty good pet for the right owner.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hi there!

I had some questions (or statements I wanted to discuss I’m not sure what to call them) because I genuinely don’t know much about the subject. I’m on anon right now but I may comment on my own account later. Also don’t feel obligated to answer if this makes you uncomfortable.

So I was wondering if you could articulate any thoughts on proshipping in the kotlc fandom? I wanted to know your thoughts as from my understanding (and please correct me if I’m wrong) you see it pretty positively, and I wanted to better understand the ‘issue’ (idk what to call it)

Anyways I thought I should include what I already know.

So I understand that when people participate in proshipping it does not reflect their actual worldview.

I understand that it is fictional and really doesn’t affect real life.

I think my issue with proshipping has to do specifically with it happening in the kotlc fandom, and this has to do with Keeper of the Lost Cities being a kids series. My problem isn’t specifically with that, but mostly with the amount of “kids” participating in our fandom space (not actual kids like ten year olds but from my understanding we have an array of people from ages 13-16 who I would consider pretty young)

I just worry about when people make posts about, for example, one of the main cast and an adult in the series, because the Keeper casts ages may closely reflect the actual ages of people in the fandom, we’re creating an unsafe environment and these posts may affect what these ‘kids’ think is okay in real life or for themselves.

Anyways, I wanted to share my thoughts but I really mean it when I say I want to hear your thoughts, I don’t think I know enough about the ‘issue’, especially from the other perspective.

(Also, this isn’t really about your call out post about call out posts, I’ve just seen you liking some pro shipper stuff so I thought you might be interested in that sort of thing)

Hi! Thank you for being respectful about this. First, I avoid labels like "anti" or "proship," as they tend to create an unhelpful us vs. them dichotomy. Especially when, like these terms, they have strong associations and generate strong reactions upfront. It's not, in my opinion, conducive to productive conversation

I believe that all fiction, including disgusting, depraved, uncomfortable fiction, should be allowed to exist without restriction. Whether that's incestuous, predatory, or otherwise.

We don't have to read/watch it. We don't have to like it. Or be comfortable with it. But it needs to be allowed to exist.

It's existence does not harm us (the most that happens is we realize, we are uncomfortable, and then we stop watching/reading/etc. and move on), and there is no way to reliably moderate fiction. It will always be arbitrary, and those arbitrary distinctions will always be enforced by the privileged with power, who will use it to create their narrative and silence others.

The issue many people get stuck on, like you, is about children. Now I'm not saying this is what you're doing, but I'd like to bring up the Think Of The Children logical fallacy. It's a more recent one, so it's less known, and I'm just linking the wikipedia.

What it does is switch to emotional thinking, creating this idea of these helpless little things in danger we need to protect. It creates moral panic, because what are you gonna do? Argue against the children? You monster! It can shut things down.

And while children are young and still learning and need guidance, they're also people. They have their own thoughts, reactions, and choices. They use their childhood to practice that, which is aided by fiction. Fiction is a practice run for the real thing; it can be that learning and guidance

Children take what they see in fiction, where no real people are hurt or in these scary situations, and react. They form opinions, determine what they think is right or wrong, and they have more room for error. For example, it is safer for them to misjudge an actually malicious adult in a story, learn what the warning signs were, and be more cautious going forward with no real life consequence than to make that mistake for the first time with a real person.

This is just a general overview. To specifically address this fandom and its ships, I'm going to start with this: when you were 14, did you think it was okay to date an adult? Did you ever see incestuous art/fic and start wondering if it was okay to date your sister?

Yes, consistent, repeated exposure of concepts from influential places can normalize them. Is that a genuine risk here, or what is happening? Have you seen it happen before on a wide enough scale to be generally applicable? I, of course, cannot speak for everyone, but I already knew those weren't okay by the time I joined the fandom at 13. Yes, 13 is young, but 13 year olds are capable of complex thought and reasoning. Their minds aren't going to be changed that easily, and a lot of them would probably resent the implication (even if unintentional, this is nothing against you) they couldn't figure it out for themselves. At least I would've

And more specific to keeper again: we have maybe a handful of these "weird" and "gross" ships/aus/etc. Posted by a number of people I could likely count on one hand, incredibly infrequently. This is a genuine invitation to think it through: what is that going to do?

Is that from enough places with enough power to normalize these ideas? Who is seeing it? How impressionable are they? Have they already formed ideas of right and wrong? Will this change that?

The conclusion I've come to is: 13 years old is young in the grand scheme of things, but at 13 years old you are capable of complex thought. I don't think the limited number of these "objectionable" topics and posters, which/who can be easily avoided, is going to normalize or make people think it's okay irl. It didn't happen with us, did it?

And I think, to some extent, limiting exposure or controlling media access takes away agency and choice, and that young people being able to experience difficult concepts in fiction before seeing them in real life is beneficial. This often then leads to "but what if they read something really icky they hate!" to which I say, kids aren't going to do things they don't want to. They won't watch movies, shows, or read books about things they're uncomfortable with or disinterested in. I simply put the book down and read something else.

And if they're being forced to, that's a different problem, and the solution is not to make sure the media doesn't exist or they can't access it.

This has been long, broad, sometimes specific, and more all in the attempt to be thorough. What it boils down to is: I don't think what you're worried about is going to happen, or is even slightly likely enough to genuinely plan for or worry about (not that you're unreasonable for worrying, though), and I don't think there's any trustworthy course of action that would separate the "good" from the "bad" and reliably, fairly decide who can see it and when.

I hope this helps answer your questions :). I'm happy to talk about it more, though I don't want to devolve into arguing, so if that starts to happen (with you or anyone else), I will likely end the conversation.

[extralively]

Catoru

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character Silliness, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Satoru is turned into a cat, Crack Treated Seriously 3,782 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru gets turned into a cat, and Yura suddenly has to catsit the white furry menace until he turns back. (Normally I use images from the manga or anime for the banner above, but this time yes, I did just sketch out this Catoru doodle myself for this lmao)

.......So. I got a request to write a fic where Satoru gets turned into a cat, and while I didn't think I'd do it at first.... the ideas just came to me lmao. So here we are! This is basically just silliness and with minimal proofreading, and as usual, I ended up writing A Little Too Much of what was supposed to be something quick and stupid lol

This oneshot is part of a series, but it can be read as standalone if you just want to see Satoru being a furry menace. I also wouldn't consider this canon to the main fic (or maybe do if you want lmao), but it takes place *before* Satoru and Yura get together (so around 2014-ish). Enjoy this silly fun!

“...are you being serious right now?” Yura asked, completely incredulous as she stared at the sight in front of her.

Shoko snorted next to her. “It does sound like a joke, doesn’t it?”

“Meow.”

Yura stared.

Satoru got turned into a cat.

Satoru got turned into a cat.

“...Fucking hell,” she let out, rubbing a hand over her face.

“It’s temporary,” Shoko said, leaning against the file cabinet as they both stared at the white-haired, blue-eyed cat on top of her office’s desk. “Should clear up in a day or so. Apparently, the idiot met this guy who said he could ‘make you experience life as a cat’ and didn’t realize he’d meant that literally.”

“Meow.”

Yura let out an aggravated sigh as her gaze met the small blue eyes of a cat who was, undeniably, the idiot known as Gojo Satoru. Even if she found it hard to believe the whole story, she could feel it was him there through their connection, which made the experience all the more surreal. “Now what?” she asked, setting her hands on her hips.

Shoko shrugged. “You take care of him.”

Yura let out a huff, shooting Shoko a look. “I take care of him?”

“You’re the expert Gojo handler,” Shoko said, her fingers fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in her pocket. “Also, I’m a doctor and not a vet.”

“Meow!”

Yura only stared at the cat—Satoru. Satoru as a cat.

Honestly, of all things—

“Oh, and before you go,” Shoko started, moving to pick up something in her desk drawer and then moving in front of Satoru-the-cat. “Here.”

When Shoko stepped back, Yura was hit by the sudden urge to snort at the same time that she wanted to throttle Satoru’s furry little neck, because Shoko had placed tiny, round sunglasses on Satoru-the-cat’s head.

“...Where’d you even get those?” Yura couldn’t help but ask.

Shoko shot her a look. “You don’t wanna know.”

-

So Yura was supposed to take Satoru-as-a-cat home.

“Meow?” Satoru... meowed as she approached the desk, and he tilted his cat head at her.

“Why do you always drag me into your messes?” Yura half-heartedly complained, her hands on her hips again.

Satoru-the-cat got up from his sitting position, walking over—or rather wobbling over—to her. It seemed that he wasn’t exactly used to moving around with four cat legs instead of two human ones.

Yura suddenly had to bite her lip to keep a smile from popping out, because as much as she was completely exasperated at the situation... Satoru-the-cat actually looked really adorable.

“Meow?” he... said, looking up at her. One little paw reached out, pawing at the air to get her attention, and oh God that’s actually really cute.

So Yura reached out with a finger, touching the paw in the air and oh God it’s like a real cat.

“I guess... we just go home,” she eventually said, letting out a small sigh. “So how do I...?”

Her hands hovered above Satoru’s furry body, unsure how to... pick him up. She eventually took a hold of his... torso? Lifting him up off the table as he let out a surprised meow, his paws swinging in the air.

“Calm down, I’m going to need to carry you—” she started, but Satoru suddenly twisted in her hold when she brought him close to her, propelling himself up using her arm and torso as a jumping point to suddenly climb on to her shoulder. Yura had to try to keep him from falling off as he climbed up, but he then simply made himself comfortable there. “Seriously?” she asked as Satoru settled down on her shoulders, letting out a satisfied chirp.

Yura sighed again.

-

“Is that Gojo-san?” Ijichi asked with wide eyes as he stared at the white fur ball around her shoulders. As he recomposed himself, he reached out with a hand. “He’s actually kind of cute—”

“Rawr.” Satoru suddenly swiped at the man, somehow shooting Ijichi the same unimpressed look he’d often give the manager but in this tiny cat body.

“Now, now, be nice,” Yura chided Satoru, as Ijichi jumped back like he’d just remembered this wasn’t just any cat he was actually talking to.

“S-sorry, Gojo-san!” Ijichi stuttered out, rushing to get into the driver’s seat of the car. Yura had to ask Ijichi to drive her back to her place, since she didn’t think taking Satoru through public transit like this would go too well.

Yura climbed into the backseat, Satoru finally jumping down from her shoulders to sit next to her as she buckled up. He seemed restless, though, like he was still getting used to this new body, moving back and forth on the backseat, standing up on his hind legs to peer through the window, jumping down between her legs, and then surprising her by climbing up onto her lap. Yura could only blink down at the white furry mass on top of her thighs, watching him as he turned around in place until Satoru eventually seemed to settle down right there.

“Really?” she asked, amused, staring down at the white-haired cat that was actually Satoru sitting on her lap. Her mind suddenly pictured the human version of him trying to do the same, that tall giant of a man trying to make himself comfortable curled up into a ball on top of her thighs, and she snorted at the mental image.

“Meow?” Satoru asked, tilting his head up at her. But she only shook her head, looking out at the window.

“This is all so ridiculous...” she muttered, snorting again.

-

“Alright, here we are,” she said, letting Satoru jump off her shoulders again to land on her couch. They were finally in the safety of her own home, and all they could do was wait until Satoru went back to normal.

Satoru-the-cat started sniffing around the couch cushions, and she wondered what it was like seeing this familiar place with his new cat eyes. Wait, did his cat self still have the Six Eyes? Limitless? How did this even work?

“Do not scratch any of my furniture,” she suddenly felt the need to tell him. Satoru-the-cat turned his head to her, and even if she couldn’t see his little cat eyes behind the tiny sunglasses, she could tell the expression on his face wasn’t anything good as he menacingly raised a paw towards the arm of the couch. “Satoru,” she warned. But he only wiggled his paw, getting closer, and her eyes narrowed further. “Don’t make me pull out a spray bottle,” she told him, wagging her finger.

Satoru let out a whiny meow, lowering his paw.

Yura sighed, moving into the kitchen. She was a little hungry, and it reminded her that she probably should get Satoru something to eat too, right? But the problem was... what?

Pulling out her phone, she started looking up cat-appropriate foods. Meats, got it. But no sauces or seasonings of any kind. Also don’t give them milk because they’re generally lactose intolerant, and that one took her by surprise—you mean that all those movies and cartoons with cats drinking from saucers of milk had been lying to her this entire time? Oh wow.

Okay, she could probably cook up something simple for him.

Yura started moving around in her kitchen, vaguely noticing Satoru walking around her apartment—scolding him when he knocked something off a shelf—but focusing on getting food ready. And since she would have to wait to get her dinner ready, she decided to hold herself off with a couple of leftover cupcakes she had in her fridge from her last bakery run.

She opened the fridge, fetching the two chocolate pastries, and then placed them up on the counter—

And suddenly Satoru jumped up on it, surprising her.

“Satoru,” she called, watching as cat Satoru headed straight to something with his tiny mouth wide open in glee, something—

The cupcakes.

“No,” she said, picking him up off the counter. His four legs flailed around in the air as he let out an indignant squeak, but she paid him no mind as she placed him on the kitchen island instead.

And he then immediately jumped right back to the counter where the cupcakes were.

“Satoru, no,” she called once more, promptly picking him up again. Cat Satoru let out another frustrated meow, his paws trying to reach her cupcakes as she moved him away. “You can’t eat sweets right now, you are a cat.”

Satoru let out a loud, dramatic meow as she placed him on the kitchen island again. And he instantly tried to jump to the counter once more, but she caught him in mid-air.

“Satoru,” she chided him, holding him against her side. Cat Satoru looked up at her, and if he were human, she was sure he’d be pouting. “I don’t know how biology works right now, but you are a cat. So there’s a big chance that if you eat any sweets as you are, it might just kill you. Stay away.”

Satoru paused for a moment, and they just stared at each other. Then he started wiggling again in her arms, trying to reach the counter, and she let out an aggravated sigh.

“So a time out, then,” she said, walking out of the kitchen and to her bedroom. “Since you can’t behave, you’re gonna have to wait right here.”

Yura shot him a stern look as she placed him inside her bedroom, his little head tilting in confusion for a moment before she closed the door and left him inside.

“You stay there until dinner is ready,” she called through the door, snorting again at this absurd situation as she heard the whiny meows coming from the other side.

Because honestly, Satoru would absolutely eat those cupcakes given the chance, and considering they were chocolate—that literally might kill him.

Satoru scratched at the door, meowing in a very dramatic and Satoru-like fashion as she turned away, walking back to the kitchen and—

There he was, sitting on top of the counter, tail swishing behind him.

Hehe, she could practically hear from him.

“...You can still teleport?” she asked, incredulous.

“Meow,” he answered, looking like a very smug cat.

-

Yura was forced to put the cupcakes away again, and she made Satoru promise he wouldn’t try to eat any sweets unless he wanted to die in a cat’s body. That, and the fact that she threatened to make him eat actual cat food got him to actually settle down as she cooked some chicken and eggs for him to have as dinner.

“So,” she started once they were both done eating, letting out a sigh. “Now what?”

“Mrrh?” Satoru chirped, his cat tongue slipping out to lick around his mouth, his ears twitching.

...Okay, he’s very cute.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Yura asked. Might as well, right?

Satoru seemed to chirp in agreement, and he followed her as she moved to the couch, jumping up on it next to her. It was certainly odd, making herself comfortable to watch a movie with Satoru when he was a cat, but she could still feel his presence there next to her, assuring her that this really was Satoru. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was him back in human form, but then she suddenly felt two little paws on top of her thigh, and her eyes opened to peer down at him.

“What?” she asked, a little amused at the sight of cat Satoru half-standing perched up on her thigh, looking up at her.

“Meow,” he responded. She had no idea what that meant.

Satoru seemed to be sniffing at something in the air, his cat head moving around as he focused on something. Then he climbed onto her lap like he’d done in the car, and Yura stared down at him in amusement. “So you’re a lap cat, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“...Meow...” he responded... almost thoughtful.

Yura continued to stare at him, taking in the features of Satoru-as-a-cat. He was actually, truly, really cute, and she bit her lip as she stared at the way his tiny pink nose wiggled around in the air. When Satoru suddenly lifted a paw to swipe at his own head, purposefully knocking the tiny sunglasses off, familiar blue eyes blinked up at her. “Hi... kitty,” she called, and when Satoru’s tiny cat eyes narrowed up at her, she snickered. “Are you a good boy?” she teased.

Satoru let out a small huff, turning his head up. Yura wasn’t holding back the grin that spread across her face, and she ended up also not holding herself back when she got the urge to suddenly touch him.

She lifted a hand, slowly letting a finger touch his cat cheek. The whiskers tickled her skin, but as she finally made contact, the white fur felt extra soft to the touch, softer than when she would brush his hair sometimes. Ah, that’s right—Satoru was actually really fond of having his hair brushed, wasn’t he? So would he enjoy the same thing as a cat, she wondered...

She started to gently scratch at his cheek, watching as Satoru seemed to pause at the feeling... and then suddenly lean into it, his eyes closing as he pushed his head into her hand.

Yura’s smile widened as she started giving him scritches under his jaw, Satoru seemingly enjoying them and encouraging her further.

Then he started purring.

Yura had to bite at her lip—this was too much. “Satoru,” she called, moving her hand to rub at the top of his head. “You’re purring right now,” she told him, but he didn’t respond, his eyes closed as he seemed to enjoy getting petted.

Her grin widened.

Her other hand joined in, her thumbs rubbing at his cat cheeks. He only let out an appreciative meow, the purring never ceasing, and Yura kept indulging him, like she’d often do by brushing her hands through his hair after he’d make her take his blindfold off for him. But then Satoru suddenly moved forward, his front paws stepping on her stomach as he raised himself closer to her face, and she blinked down at the sudden proximity.

“What?” she asked, a little confused but also a little amused. Or a lot.

Satoru, as expected, didn’t say anything, only brought his head closer to her, nose sniffing the air. Yura blinked at him as his chilly little nose touched her chin, sniffing at her... before he suddenly started rubbing his head against her jaw.

She huffed out an amused laugh. “Satoru?” she asked, but Satoru only kept rubbing his cat head against her cheek, his fur and whiskers tickling her. He’d pause for a moment, nose sniffing at her again, before he went right back to rubbing his head against her... almost fiercely determined in his movements. “Honestly...” she huffed out again. Her hands had been hovering in the air, and she let them gently rest against Satoru’s white, furry back.

Was this a cat instinct of his? Well, she could indulge him on this, as long as he didn’t start humping her or anything...

-

If there was one thing she learned during this whole experience, it was that Satoru as a cat was really needy.

After he was done rubbing himself up on her, he settled down on her lap and proceeded to nap there as Yura watched the movie alone, letting her hands gently pet him every now and then. But when she had to get up to go to the bathroom, he did not seem to have appreciated being disturbed, letting out whiny meows as she told him that no, you can’t come with me.

Then after, when she tried getting some work done for the night, scattering a few reports on her bed that needed filling, Satoru said no. Or meowed a no, in this case, promptly sitting on top of the papers and refusing to move.

“Satoru,” she called, staring at him with a look that asked ‘are you serious’.

Satoru’s tail swished back and forth, silently responding with ‘yes, I am’.

She let out a heavy sigh. Honestly, this somehow felt so painfully in-character for him that she had to wonder if turning into a cat was what made him act more like one, or if he’d already had the soul of a cat deep, deep down.

It eventually got late enough that it was time to go to bed, so Yura started her nightly routine. She took a shower (and threatened to give Satoru a shower if he didn’t behave), and went to brush her teeth.

And Satoru refused to leave her alone.

“Meow,” he tried getting her attention, standing up on his hind legs with his front paws pressed against her leg.

“’m busy,” she said, spitting out toothpaste into the sink. “Just let me brush my teeth.”

“Meowww,” he whined.

Yura sighed. Weren’t cats supposed to be more independent or something?

“Do you want to go to the bathroom again?” she asked. At least Satoru was able to use the regular toilet, and she hadn’t needed to get a litterbox for him...

But cat Satoru shook his head, letting out a whine. He ended up jumping up on her washing machine next to her sink, perching himself up there and looking at her expectantly.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, but he shook his head. “What then?”

Satoru nodded his little head at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the artificial light of her bathroom.

Did he... did he want more petting?

Incredulous, Yura raised a hand—surely this wasn’t what he wanted?

But then he pushed his head into her hand, and Yura started giving him scritches again as she let out a huff.

This fucking cat.

-

At last, it was time to get to bed. But therein lay the problem: where was cat Satoru going to sleep?

Satoru had never really slept over her place, mostly due to the lack of space and he’d never had any need for it anyway. So should she make him sleep out on the living room couch? Yura felt a little guilty at the thought, the image of this tiny bundle of white fur staying all alone by himself out there making him look oddly vulnerable in her mind. And considering that he refused to stay away from her anyway... into her bedroom they went.

“Here,” she said, setting her fluffiest blanket into a small nest for him at the foot of the bed. “You can sleep here.”

“Meow?” Satoru let out, jumping up on her bed and investigating the makeshift cat bed.

It felt a little surreal, going to sleep with Satoru right there next to her, in the same bed... but as a cat. Well, the entire day had felt very surreal, to be fair, so it was finally time to end it and hope that tomorrow this whole thing would eventually fix itself at some point.

Yura settled into her usual spot on the bed, slipping under the covers on her side, her eyes then landing on the white furball next to her.

“You alright in there?” she asked, and Satoru turned his cat head to her.

“Meow,” he replied. That sounded good enough to her.

Yura closed her eyes.

And a few moments later, she felt the bed shift, a warm small weight settling right against her stomach. She cracked an eye open, seeing the white cat that was Satoru curling himself into a ball against her.

“Satoru?” she asked, but he only responded with a quiet chirp, curling further into himself.

Yura let out yet another sigh. She had read somewhere that cats had higher body temperatures and that they liked the heat, so maybe he was just cold.

She lifted a hand, rubbing a knuckle on the top of his head. “Just go to sleep, and maybe you’ll wake up human again tomorrow,” she told him.

“Meow...” he responded, and started purring again.

A smile spread across her face as she closed her eyes.

(When Yura had been halfway to sleep, she felt a warm thing suddenly start to burrow itself under her arm. It felt nice, and soft, so Yura brought it closer to her chest, holding it to her.)

-

Yura eventually started waking up, bit by bit.

And the first thing she noticed was the warm thing that was pressed against her—not unpleasant, just unusual. Her brows furrowed at the feeling, because this thing was warm and heavy against her side, something rubbing itself against her chest and making her feel funny.

So she cracked her eyes open and peered down, her gaze being immediately met by a headful of white hair.

Ah, Satoru, her mind supplied. But hold on—Satoru had been turned into a cat yesterday, she suddenly recalled. But hold on again—this was definitely a person-sized thing that was in bed with her.

“Satoru...” she called, trying to shift back to look at him. But no go, Satoru had a strong arm locked around her torso, keeping her in place as he rubbed his head against her chest.

Was he still purring or was that just her imagination...?

Yura tried pulling back again but Satoru held on tighter, a sudden realization that he was rubbing his face against her breasts making a wave of heat shoot up across her face.

“S-Satoru,” she stammered out, wakefulness finally coming over her as she pushed him back with more force. “You’re human again, get off.”

That seemed to have finally stirred him awake, his head eventually shifting up to blink up at her with blue sleepy eyes—human eyes now. His hold on her loosened, and she took the opportunity to push him away from her. Her eyes scanned his form, trying to check if everything was back in place now, her eyes going lower and lower—

Yura let out a loud squeak, jumping off the bed. “You are naked—”

“Me—ow,” he let out as she pushed him off the bed, ungracefully falling onto the floor with a bedsheet thrown over him. “…This is animal abuse.”

Yura let out a huff, welcoming back Satoru’s familiar voice after all those meows yesterday—at the same time that she wanted to smack his finally human face.

(And she tried very hard to ignore his very human bare chest as he only dignified himself to cover his bottom half with the fallen bedsheet, her face burning because yes, she had also just caught an eyeful of very human privates just a moment before…)

End notes: (Yes, I did not know how to end this lol)

Anyway, this was just some silly side fun as I struggle writing some chapters of the main fic, welp. Turns out it's a lot more fun to picture Satoru as a cat instead! Bonus points if you're familiar with cat behavior and figured out what cat Satoru was doing rubbing himself on Yura lmao. And since they weren't together here yet, Yura doesn't know how clingy and needy Satoru can really get as a human because sis, that is just his real self showing through when he has the excuse of 'being a cat' to hide behind lol.

Thank you for reading this dumb oneshot!

[korpuskristae]

Jasmine and Rose - The Air Tastes Just Like You

Warnings: Severus being a moody grump, reference to cannon death, foreshadowing, set during Philosopher’s Stone but no specific references are made, Religious references and guilt

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader, reader uses she/her pronouns

Word Count: 800+

Summary: Severus brews amortentia with his students only to find the scent has changed.

AN: This is my first time posting fanfiction on this account and to my surprise, I really enjoyed writing this. Ignore any grammar and spelling mistakes, I glanced over this before posting. I wrote this little drabble (it's now much longer than I anticipated and will be split into multiple parts) while listening to Jasmine and Rose by Clan of Xymox so I guess you could consider this a borderline song fic. Here's the song if you’re interested in listening, if you like it you should check out my Sev playlist on Spotify. (Also give me Sev smut ideas, I’m ITCHING to write smth, no teacher-student stuff)

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Read on AO3

Hunched over a cauldron, Severus stood in the middle of his dark classroom, his face illuminated only by a candle he’d lit hours ago which had been reduced to a mere stub at this point.

Grumbling to himself, he meticulously cut up some herbs and threw them into the cauldron with a flourish and a flick of his wand to clear off his workbench. Impatiently waiting for the potion to finish brewing, he attempted to busy himself with something, anything, to get his mind off of his current predicament.

A few moments of contemplation passed before that same scent, that damnable scent, snapped him out of his thoughts.

He had to have been insane.

Perhaps he was losing his touch? Even the most knowledgeable scholars have been known to have days where even the simplest of tasks elude them… it was true he hadn’t slept in a while, maybe he was simply imagining things.

Yes, he was just imagining things.

That was the only logical conclusion. He found comfort in the fact that It wasn’t a problem with him but rather his sleep schedule, for once, just maybe, something wasn’t his fault.

His momentary relief of guilt came crashing down upon smelling the scent, your scent, yet again, only this time much stronger.

Still refusing to believe it, he reasoned it must have been some mistake on his part. Maybe he was daft. Furiously waving his wand, he cleared the cauldron of its contents and extinguished the flame underneath.

“Evanesco,” he muttered bitterly as he dramatically spun on his heel before marching over to the potions storeroom.

He was going to settle this once and for all.

He had to be doing something wrong. Maybe the herbs were stored improperly and therefore lost their potency, maybe he measured out the wrong amount of one of the ingredients, maybe…

It didn’t matter in the end.

The possibilities of potential errors were endless. In the art of potioneering, even the smallest of errors could result in entirely different outcomes, perhaps this was one of those cases.

In reality, he didn’t care why or how, he already knew he must’ve, no, definitely, made a mistake somewhere during the brewing process. He had to have…

For the last fifteen years of his miserable life, his Amortentia had smelt like the same thing, lilies. Lilies with a hint of willow bark and the overwhelming smell of vanilla.

Unmistakably Lily’s scent.

Every. year. Every single year he had to teach those insufferable brats how to brew the cursed potion he was tormented by the memory of Lily. Reminded of how he had failed to protect her, reminded of how he had hurt her, and reminded of how one stupid mistake landed him a life sentence of servitude to not one but two wizards. Trapping him right in the middle of a war, ensuring his life would forever be dedicated to finding redemption.

Knowing one day, he’d give his life to atone for his mistake.

He carried with him the burden of his guilt three hundred sixty five days a year, twenty four seven, and he would carry it until the end of his days.

But that day, as if to rub salt in the wound, was his own personal hell, personally delegated to him by God, if there even was one, dedicated to guilt and self hatred.

Severus was God’s very own crowned patron saint of guilt and he felt it necessary for his saint to be subject to his very virtue.

Today was that day, his saintly day if you will, or rather, was supposed to be that day.

While everyone usually tended to give Severus a wide berth, students and staff alike avoided the potions master like the plague whenever the Amortentia lesson drew near. Already known for his intimidating demeanor and hot-headed attitude, the week of the lesson was among the worst for those unfortunate enough to be in his presence.

Even the smallest of provocations would cause Severus to fly off the handle and berate whoever was unlucky enough to be within his general vicinity.

Naturally, Hogwarts’s rumor mill was working overtime to come up with a plausible explanation for the Potions Master’s increased irritability.

But no one rumor stuck around for too long, and eventually, students would grow bored after a week or two, moving on to the next piece of hot gossip, of which there was no shortage.

Nevertheless, Severus never paid any mind to the school’s gossip, at least not since he was a student. He found it endearing how valiantly you defended him in front of students who dared to bad mouth him around you, he’d never admit it, but knowing someone didn’t see him as an emotionless bat of the dungeons made him feel just a little bit better about himself.

(Sorry for abrupt ending, will be a part 2 :p)

[self-spaghettification]

The Mystery of Aaravos The Banter Lodge

So, recently an account called "The Banter Lodge" has popped up. April 30th, to be precise. You've seen it. I've seen it. We've all seen it. On Twitter, posting various images in the TDP official style.

A few nights ago, it debuted on Tumblr as well. "Coming May 2024" all of the promotional images and the website itself say.

Who is this account? Is it fan made, is it official? It's May, when exactly in "May 2024" is it coming?

Well, me and a few friends took some time to try to piece the mystery together, and so -- while it may still be 'coming', only dropping hints, I am here to tell you what I know now!

History

Website Code ( I love computer programming so I took the time to dive into that!)

Purpose

A. History

Who's Running the Banter Lodge?

To know that, first we need to delve into the history of the Twitter account.

Despite these images and site debuting less than a month ago, the account itself was founded way back in 2022, and originally called @BantherLodge, with an H, as it is in the show.

@BantherLodge is no longer available, and while it initially did not seem to be connected to The Banter Lodge, there are several interactions linked to the current one, Banter Lodge without an H.

In fact, here is the same tweets linked to the current (banter) account version.

Now we've established that @'BantherLodge' and @'BanterLodge' the same account with a changed name and identity, here is the most important past interaction:

@‘bantherlodge’ is mentioned here, and they are on this call. that said, WHO IS REALLY BEHIND BANTER LODGE? well based off the tweet, it seems that it’s 6 members of the cast and then 2 guests, @‘thebantherlodge’ and @‘ladytheebug’. But don’t take my word for it. Here, more confirmation:

Another person in the call happened to tweet about it too, this time with labels.

Now let’s take a closer look at these two guests. Sara @‘ladytheebug’ seems to be the one on the right, and by process of elimination, on the left is ‘bantherlodge’. aka:

Max….

Max the Mystery! ‘Sara’ and ‘Max’ isn’t really enough information to know more along with no connection to other socials so it’s hard to pin down who they are or what connections to previous fandom projects or creative projects in general they might have. However, they are still connected.

Besides the partially deleted various back and forths between these two accounts, this tweet about the Bait screensaver in the background is additional confirmation that this is @‘bantherlodge’ and @‘ladytheebug’: (note use of word ‘our’)

FURTHERMORE:

Said TV embodies this duo: A person who loves Bait (evident from so many of their tweets) and a person who loves the Banther Lodge…

Reminds you of something, doesn’t it?

“but hold on, just because there’s all these coincidences doesn’t mean the account could be passed on to someone else to run this.” Ok, but one last thing. If that was the case, why would they still be following Sara? In fact, it’s the Only person that they’re following besides TDPO?

(and their following has even been recently updated within the last few days as before then it didn’t include Eugene and Boone.) So, in conclusion,

Max of @‘BantherLodge’, and possibly Sara, (with or without TDPO but I’ll get to that later) almost certainly are the people behind the curtain of this Banter Lodge mystery.

Now, about said mystery… what exactly is the trail building up to?

well, to find out more about that, let’s glean what we can from the website.

B. Website Secrets

The website itself is very simple- A background, the image of the Banter House, and some text saying "Coming May 2024." But, beneath the deceptively simple surface, there was more to be found.

On May 1st Caprinae got this from the page. She also tweeted about it, after which the site changed to remove much of the css, including the part about the episodes and subscribe button. I was pretty excited about this as someone with a few years of coding experience, I wanted to mess around in VSC and see what I could find out.

After formatting the code the most noticeable thing is this right?

And when I make an element for it to apply to (since all that code is just formatting for stuff on the page like the title, images, etc, in this case- an audio bar) + adding in an image and an audio file:

We get this

AUDIO and an image. It looks exactly like a podcast episode. It turns out there’s actually a bunch of code for formatting that’s not used in elements in the site (elements that exist: the title or image), but it’s there, so I made some elements it would apply to. technically, it’s supposed to have a parchment paper background too, but I just chose some colors that you could see the text on.

Doing so, we get this!

(Here’s a video version.)

Plus, Original Code and Modified Code if you’re curious

Anyway, so the site (at least at the stage the code was taken from) doesn’t appear to be finished and there was no Java script written (or at least, linked) but there is definitely the makings for a website for a podcast— some sort of nav bar with the episodes, on an episode page, the image and audio, and then a subscribe link at the bottom!

C. Purpose

Time to speculate on the real identity and purpose of the Banter Lodge. So far, we know it used to be called the Banther Lodge. We know it seems to be run by [insert here.] We know it is almost certainly a podcast of some sort. But what, and why?

Here are some possibilites:

1.Official Content to Tide Over Fans Til S6 As we know, to calm the frustration of fans at Netflix/TDP for the delay of S6, the creators have been putting out content every day for the fans to puzzle over and figure out the season six titles.

Based on the current schedule, it’s set to end on May 13.—although it could be ending either May 13 or May 14 (depending when they do the last hint) after these drop, there will likely be a lull in TDP content, which would be the perfect time for the Banter Lodge to launch.

+ The Banter Lodge teaser campaign has already been perfectly timed for when a bunch of fans would be online on Twitter checking in for clues to begin with.

If this is official content, it would doubly make sense—it’d be timed perfectly to tie the fans over until the actual season six campaign starts (ie, trailer). Considering these two fans also somehow got to have a private panel with the cast, it’s not impossible that they’d be working with TDP on this content, additionally the teaser images put out this far have been somewhat reminiscent of TDP official content—ie, Callum’s lodge notebook->Callum’s sketchbook, Refractions->Reflections, Dear Callum letter from Rayla, design style, etc.

However, there is one big reason I don’t think this is the case: it’s a little too sloppy. For example, if they wanted it to be completely anonymous and unclear what was happening, the tweet mentioning @‘BantherLodge’ in the panel would have been deleted and there wouldn’t have been any hints in the code. Of course, these could still just be honest mistakes. However, it also seems like it is building off of the current world in a more derivative, fan-content fashion, not necessarily adding new material the way TDP Official tends to. It’s copying the official style,—but almost too much if that makes sense.

Like altering a shot from the show for a teaser.

x

Don’t get me wrong. I love the way that they’re building off the world, I’m excited to see where it leads, but for whatever reason, to me, it just doesn’t seem official.

So assuming it’s made by fans, what kind of podcast is it? Second possibility—

2. Fan Made Talk Show

This seems like the most obvious conclusion, considering that The Banter House is a play on a location in TDP, and the word banter, which is synonymous with talking, but specifically back and forth, genial interactions.

Maybe it’s dedicated to analyzing the show or a particular aspect,—maybe centric to the lodge, crystals, Bait and Stella—maybe even interviewing cast/crew!

Well, to get a better idea of what niche it might be filling, let’s take a look at what TDP podcasts are already out there.

Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcast [2019-2023] Hosted by Tamika "Kuno" Williams and Hailey from Cartoon Universe. This podcast [is] full of answering fan questions, interviews, theories and all kinds of discussions on everything Dragon Prince.

News from the Breach [2020-2024] Your hosts Ceilidh and Yana are watching The Dragon Prince from start to finish. Each season of the podcast covers one “Book” (or season) of the Netflix series The Dragon Prince. In each episode we discuss two chapters of the series, except for the season finales.

Calm Chaos Club [2023] Join Kevlar and Lou each week as they discuss topics about animation, design, and all things related to The Dragon Prince on Netflix! With special guests brought on for unique topics and insights into the creative process, these bite-sized episodes will ensure you can get your TDP fix in anywhere and anytime.

There’s no harm in another talk show but as there are a few out there already (and for other reasons) I personally think this is not necessarily the niche the banter Lodge is going to fill. I mean, I do think that it’s still possible I mean, it could be centric to particular aspect around the lodge as mentioned.

However, there’s a possibility that excites me a lot more, that I’m hoping for the most….

3.Fan Made Audio Drama in the Saga Setting I have personally always been a huge fan of audio drama podcasts (TMA,TPP,WTNV) and if there was a dragon Prince audio drama podcast, I think I would just die on the spot honestly from joy. I also think it’s most likely because all of the clues so far have been very story/worldbuilding oriented, as well as writings from familiar characters’ perspectives. It seems as though a story is being crafted here, and I am all for it.

Y’know what? While we’re here on the topic of storytelling podcasts, we might as well throw in D&D/TTRPG or even Tales of Xadia as a possibility because yeah sure. Why not? I mean, tabletop role-play games also involve a lot of talking so it would fit the banter theme. Who knows.

That's all! What do you think? Any other thoughts, additions or other speculation? Feel free to add on!

Thanks to @bycaprinae for Twitter screenshots, html, and general inspiration, and to @parroset for other help with the website part and general support!

[honorthysalad]

Screw the ghost shit, this is the biggest mystery in HGSN. If Chapter 22 doesn’t open with a full telling of Yoshiki’s tragic backstory: the birthday party where he received 11 copies of the same book from 11 different people, then idk if I can continue reading…

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I think someone put the brain of a mouse or maybe a squirrel inside my head at some point because all winter I was like “I crave nuts and seeds” and now that it’s getting warmer and brighter out my brain keeps going “it’s fruit time”

Like, modern transportation has made it possible to move many fruits all over the world (in theory) all the time! But the primal early plesiadapiform part of my brain is like “you must eat what is available this season”

[rosicheeks]

🌸🦖🌿?

-🌸

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

I feel like it had to be something about my personality. Personality compliments are always top tier for me and then singing compliments are probably next 🩷

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

Dinosaurs???? I’m sorry I’m awful lol

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

Right now I don’t think I have a *favorite* outfit. My go to outfit when I want to look cute is usually a skirt and a top that is either a crop top or I crop myself 😂

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

writing dragon age fanfiction is so so so so hard for me because every time i spot another historical inaccuracy that’s like “i don’t care that it’s fantasy they have the same level of technology this is WRONG” i have to have a moment of like. “kaed NO ONE ELSE will EVER care about this. you watch ‘ranking period dramas on corset accuracy both in construction and writing’ videos on youtube for entertainment normal people simply do not give a FUCK about medieval castle layouts!”

and yet this cycle continues, because the dragon age devs so so so so clearly DID research but they did BAD research and it HAUNTS me. like WHYYYYY is there only one courtyard that isn’t even really a courtyard in castle cousland WHY is the “main hall” huge with no furniture while the great hall “dining room” is tiny as fuck and in a horrible to access spot WHY are there no ovens in the kitchens where the FUCK do they bake the breaaaad!! like ok fine cool servants get beds in thedas i’ll bite. that fucks hard, actually! but WHY are there more servant rooms than rooms for visiting nobles do you honestly think anybody in the middle ages fucking had servant rooms???? they slept on the FLOOR in the GREAT HALL! and WHY is there a fucking library and a ‘treasury’ (which what the fuck is THAT there should be a DON-JON in there you locked your valuables in the TOWER at the TOP, not in ONE room centrally located on the first floor with TWO guards!!) like i KNOW it was for level design i KNOW it was but oh my fucking g-d it’s gonna KILL ME to write out creeping through corridors when there WERE NO CORRIDORS! like look at this. look at this.

castle cousland: stupid, awful design, honestly they kinda asked to be coup’ed with their garbage unsurvivable castle that supposedly nobody sieges regularly even though it’s literally a death trap. there is ONE main exit, no way to trap your enemies, and only one official guard post that i can see. fuck awful.

harlech castle in wales: it took 115 years for someone to successfully take this castle, and it’s withstood COUNTLESS sieges, you can go visit it right the hell now if you go to wales (not at all getting into the evilness of the english building castles in wales, that’s not the point i’m trying to make.) see how the outside makes it so that even if your enemies breach the walls, to actually reach anyone important they have to survive the volleys of arrows from the ramparts? and then presumably kill everyone ON the ramparts, or the minute you go to open a door or try to drag someone out, you’re going to get shot full of arrows. that’s after breaching TWO heavy doors (which would require a battering ram both times) which would wake up the entire castle LONG before they got anywhere NEAR the heir to the castle’s wife and child.

and before somebody says “oh well kaed maybe you just don’t know your castle building periods very well” think again. i know my castle building periods. that style above is concentric (harlech castle’s initial construction was finished in 1289 and was one of the first finished castles in england in this style,) which came after the keep and bailey style, which came after the motte-and-bailey style, which came after the burh (which arguably WASN’T a castle but whatever,) etc. there are no fortified castles in english history that look like castle cousland, because it’s fucking indefensible. now, this does lead to the question of “oh, well, what is the timeline for the game, maybe there’s something you missed!” so let’s examine the time period of origins:

at the very, very latest, origins could be based off of the BEGINNING of the british “wars of the roses” (the civil wars between the various members of the house plantagenet) which began in the 1450s— this is personally what /i/ think origins is based off of, for a couple reasons. 1) trevelyan was a real person— g.m. trevelyan was a british historian who wrote about the wars of the roses, and in one instance there’s a quote of his the devs almost verbatim used for the design of the free marches: “the Wars of the Roses were to a large extent a quarrel between Welsh Marcher Lords, who were also great English nobles, closely related to the English throne…” they ixnayed the part about the marcher lords being ferelden nobles, i imagine because it was too complicated, but trevelyan? marcher lords? a close relationship with this country? (i.e. like somewhere that might take in their refugees after a catastrophe?) cmon. 2) because ferelden is fucking huge and the histories are kinda weird, because they aren’t 1 for 1, i’m gonna say that we have to use the norman conquest of england as our unification date. in other contexts i wouldn’t try to argue this, but in this one, i’m saying 1066 is the unification date of the anglo-saxon kingdoms into england. calenhad gives us a hard unification date for ferelden— the first landsmeet was in 5:42 exalted, ergo origins is 388 years later. the wars of the roses started in 1455, 389 years after the norman conquest ended. 3) the wars of the roses happened because of a succession crisis— admittedly, these two succession crises are very, very different, but there are definitely parallels between loghain and henry vi and alistair and edward iv. henry vi was crowned at a young age (loghain largely ruled for maric at various points in his life, starting when he was very young,) and was very ineffectual— he suffered from an unknown mental illness which made him extremely unstable and unable to rule for large periods of time. loghain, on the other hand, ruled when the /theirins/ weren’t stable, so you argue he had the opposite— meanwhile, his policies WEREN’T sustainable, whatever you might think of him. loghain is too shaped by his own experiences to be a truly good leader, and by the time his rule/anora’s rule is threatened by cailan, he’s sacrificed enough of his principles that he’s willing to commit atrocities (notably, margaret of anjou ruled during the worst parts of her husband’s mental instability, which again could apply to loghain OR anora, as they ruled fairly jointly after a certain point.) edward iv was the son of richard of york, who was eligible for the throne at a very young age (18 to alistair’s 19) because his father was dead. he was coaxed and led into battle by his cousin, the earl of warwick (also known as the kingmaker— sound like a protagonist you might know?) that’s about where the similarities end, but that’s largely because alistair is a grey warden— if he weren’t, he’d probably be able to have kids and end the question of succession. but he can’t, which, assuming the devs eventually remember, WILL lead to another civil war. hence why i say this is at the BEGINNING of the wars of the roses.

another option that could be argued but makes much less sense and i have no evidence for is that alistair has similarities to edward ii (second son who only became king because his brother died, married a more powerful woman to consolidate power, not very good at ruling, no offense to alistair,) but that still puts origins at like 1307-1327. in either case, they would have been using concentric castles— and given what time period castle cousland was originally built in, it would have been built as a motte-and-bailey, which would NOT have lasted four hundred years. so the castle had to have been rebuilt, and bryce cousland would have had to update that rebuilt castle, because no one lived in it during the orlesian occupation. so where the hell does this winding, weird multi-level design come from?

i GUESS— and this is SO charitable— they could have designed castle cousland based off of a country house design from the mid 1500s, but none of them look like that, either. they’re exclusively rectangular, for one thing, and one of the huge bragging rights of owning one was that they weren’t fortified— they came into fashion during a period of relative stability under the tudor rule, when it was considered guache and maybe even treasonous to build a fortified castle. ferelden is NOWHERE NEAR a period of stability, if anything at the end of origins they’re entering their greatest period of INstability, given what happens in inquisition, and that no matter who ends up on the throne, there’s no way for them to have children. so there’s NO way this castle is a country house, or inspired by one.

leaving us with the final conclusion that a) the game devs definitely did do research into the time period because i can fairly directly trace a line between the event i think inspired origins and the plot, but they didn’t do enough research to figure out what the everloving fuck the BUILDINGS looked like. so these castles make no fucking sense and can’t possibly be called historically accurate even with the fantasy defense, and b) i care WAAAY too much about this for somebody who isn’t even a medieval historian. my area of expertise is the paleolithic, i have no clue why this bugs me so bad i spent four fucking hours writing this post.

[jenny-dreadful]

yk when someone confidently slides on their socks into a complex ongoing discourse to be like “um actually. [term] means [thing] 💅” all smug, and expect to be taken seriously, not realizing they completely lack a concept of a specific and contextually-applicable usage which everybody else here already understands. <<<<<<<<<

[rosesradio]

🧍

[likedbyuarmyhope]

rn my queue is full of all the posts that were left in my likes and drafts but as soon as that runs out i’m gonna start being normal and just reblog stuff as i see it. you know. like a normal person

[thelostboys87]

also waking up realising I posted an excerpt that I didn’t really want to post in hindsight but it’s okay bc this sites algorithm is so fucking bad barely anyone saw it 👍

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”