#Maybe to the public he killed himself in grief or something?

[bugwolfsstuff]

Bug tries to write Randolph Chase without calling him a homosexual challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

[timmydraker]

Tim always has his neck covered.

In photos taken by paparazzi or news articles he’ll be wearing a turtle neck, scarf or the occasional choker.

Around the manor he wears similar things but it’s more often he wears a thick band around his throat. It might be a velvet choker or a sort of sweat and like accessory. Sometimes, if it’s hot or he feels safe and confident, he will wear a thick strip of ribbon that he’ll tie in a bow at the back.

Tim’s Robin suit was altered to make sure his neck was covered after Bruce figured out he was wearing the bands during patrol and began to worry about it being a chance for him to be choked. If it’s not, he has an undershirt that’s thin and goes up to his chin.

He doesn’t eat in public very often and it leads some people to think he had some kind of issue with swallowing or maybe some kind of defect or hole in his throat.

Obviously everyone is curious, from the public to his own parents.

But Tim is a master of getting people to look away.

It’s when Jason comes back to Gotham as Red Hood and attacks Titan Tower than the reason behind is revealed.

Various non-fatal injuries are given to Tim, who of course, figures that is because Red Hood didn’t want to kill him so much as make it so he couldn’t be Robin, but it’s not all that important when other wounds are added and the slice has cut his turtle neck open.

Blood and his hand rushing up to cover his throat is the only cover for what’s under the fabric until he’s in the medical room at the Cave.

Tim is out by the time rescue comes and doesn’t wake for a while.

Which gives his family enough time to go through the grief of witnessing the horror on his neck.

There, between slight tan markings and surrounded by dried blood and a small cut, is a mouth.

It looks like a scar at first, but with some prodding the lines of the ‘scar’ split open and it’s revealed to be two pursed lips that concealed disturbing needle teeth, a nasty forked tongue limp within the unnatural mouth. It’s like something out of a horror movie, as wide as half of Tim’s neck and somehow replacing the usual parts of a throat and neck.

Alfred stands back in shock, same with Leslie, and the two look at each other in confusion.

Wordlessly, Leslie covers up the monstrous mouth with some spare bandages and the two continue to work.

Bruce, who had been nervously watching with a pacing Dick through the window of the makeshift med at in the Cave, feels dread in his stomach at the sight.

Part of it is admittedly because he feels he let a being like Tim be Robin, but it’s more so that the sweet boy with a too quick snark and brain had seemingly been hiding his Meta like ability from everyone. His parents weren’t aware of why Tim hid his throat, which means he wasn’t born with it or it developed later on.

Dick, who loves with his entire heart, can’t help himself from feeling disturbed by his youngers inhuman feature.

Yet they pull it together and with mutual understanding, decide they will find a way to figure this out and adjust to this new reality.

So, when Tim wakes up and immediately checks his throat is covered, Bruce gives him an unused look of being sorry and holds his hand.

“I… we had no choice, your neck was bleeding but-“ he takes a breath and his expression changes to determination, “I understand why you hid your, um…”

Tim in a quiet voice as he forces himself not to freak out mutters, “mutation.”

Bruce smiled at his intellectual son, “Mutation. Dick said you might be worried I would make you leave and I swear to you, Tim, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne, that you will never be made to leave this place. This is your home, that will not change.”

It takes a moment for Tim to fully process what had been said to him and he begins to shake, tears threatening to fall as he brings a hand to cover his throat.

“Are you-are you scared of it?”

Of me?

Bruce feels guilt form in his stomach and moved without thinking, pulling his heavily injured child into his arms and kissing his head, “Never, not now and not ever. I admit I was… unsure of how to react at first, but I know you Tim.”

Tim begins to sob then, clinging to Bruce and forgetting all the pain and panic he woke up with to feel the embrace of his mentor.

It’s enough to make Dick’s penitence snap and he moves into the room and joins their hug, squeezing them both tightly as possible.

When they pull back, Tim sees them both glance at his throat and sucks in a deep breath.

Dick raises a hand to his free one and says, “you don’t have to show us if you don’t want to.” But Tim shakes his head and pulls the bandage off carefully.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, not if I don’t have to.”

There, below his chin, is the mouth.

Now that he is awake, the mouth is more active. Its tongue lolls out for a moment, licking over the sharp teeth before flicking and slinking back inside.

When Tim speaks again the mouth doesn’t move, though it does seemingly smile, “It doesn’t talk, that’s kind of the only reason I still have the one on my face. I need to eat with this one though and it can be anything, organic or not.”

Dick looks on with wonder, pushing away his nerves to support his brother.

Bruce looks like he’s itching to do test or ask questions, and Tim smiles gratefully at him and does his best to supply what he does know, “It started to form when I was three but didn’t open until I was six and by then I found I couldn’t eat with my main mouth. It was when I found myself chewing on my fork and the metal broke and I ate it safely I realised I can eat all material.”

Smiling shyly, Tim searches the back of his head and says, “Steal taste the best.”

When Dick snorts a laugh and Bruce raises a curious eyebrow, Tim looks around and finds a spare pencil beside him on the side table.

The two watch as Tim’s entire head falls backwards for his gaunt mouth to open, looking almost like he’s been half decapitated.

The younger shoots out, wraps around the pencil, and then crushes its with strength and teeth until he swallows it down and his head falls back into place.

Bruce breaks and starts asking questions while Dick pokes at his brothers neck.

[desaturate-worlds]

everyone expected wade to be the overly affectionate one of the two, especially when it came to public interactions. logan was stoic, easily angered, even more easily annoyed. he would probably have a difficult time tolerating wade, much less showing affection towards him.

but everyone who thought this (wade included) did not take into account the fact that the wolverine was safe for the first time in what felt like his entire life. he had spent years burying his grief and loneliness under layer after layer of anger and alcohol - he needed to if he was going to survive it. emotions threatened to eat him alive, he could have gone insane with the grief. he almost did. and the only way he got back to himself (as much as possible, anyway) was to shove it all down as far as he could and cover it with harsh words and whiskey.

he’d never had anybody to share the grief with before. he hadn’t had anyone to make feeling worth while, hadn’t had a family. but here, in wade’s shitty apartment, he was finally home.

logan and althea had gotten along beautifully. sure, in the beginning he still had hard edges and bristled easily, but that wasn’t anything al couldn’t handle. she could hold her own, and each clever insult she hurled at the men had logan grinning privately to himself. as cold as her words could be, he knew she loved wade. and she was letting him stay, too, so he couldn’t be anything but grateful.

althea and logan were quick friends, walking the dog together in the mornings, watching shitty reality tv together, bullying wade together. logan decided very quickly that if anything happened to al, he would kill anyone involved in a way that was particularly painful and torturous.

and then there was the aforementioned dog. mary puppins (AKA dogpool, of course) was the princess of the apartment. logan could only pretend that he was grossed out by her for so long before he caved (you can only get caught kissing her head and calling her an angel so many times before people know that maybe you like her more than you admit). he had become the dad that didn’t want a dog, but was now obsessed. to be fair, everyone obsessed over mary. she got treats, pets, and love every time she walked into a room - with that adorably ugly little face, how could anyone possibly say no?

and finally: wade. wade wade wade. logan would be lying if he said that wade didn’t take up a decent amount of his thoughts at any given time. wade had offered him a home, offered him friendship. and he was quite possibly the only person alive who had the capacity to understand the wolverine. that was something logan didn’t know how badly he needed until he got it.

part two

[eroguron0nsense]

Garp Rant #11543

Because I'm something of a Certified Garp Hater/extremely obsessed with this man, and because Tumblr people seem to like my Garp takes and/or find them extremely pain-inducing, here's another one for funsies! Again, Garp is an incredibly written character and I massively enjoy his moral failings and human shortcomings, hence why I won't shut up about how much he sucks. So we all remember Garp crying in front of Ace during his imprisonment and awaiting his execution, lamenting the fact that his son and grandson could have maybe avoided this horrible horrible fate that awaits them at Marineford if they'd just become good marines like he'd tried to press them into. Every time he says it, he sounds more desperate, sadder, and angrier, like he's experiencing the stages of grief and going through denial, anger bargaining all at once, lashing out at his grandkids for supposedly causing him grief by defying his wishes, or maybe praying or wishing for a world where they could have followed in his footsteps and lived happily ever after. And when Ace hears that again at Impel Down, he says this:

Here's the thing though: Ace is unequivocally correct Garp should, by all rights, know this. He lived through the fallout of Roger's execution. He knew long before that exactly what would happen to Roger's loved ones and anyone the government could get their hands on who'd ever associated with him. Even before they started committing femicides/infanticides in Baterilla trying to end Roger's bloodline, he knew that the Marines were going to target completely innocent people in the name of purging the bloodline and cementing their "victory" over the greatest threat they'd ever faced. He specifically had to smuggle Rouge out of there so she could give birth to Ace, and all the while dozens of families were being brutalized by his peers and having their lives torn apart. That was the cost the Marines were willing to incur to kill a hypothetical infant, and years later, when that very same child is set to be executed, Sengoku goes on a remorseless public tirade about the necessity of killing babies and the horrible trickery and audacity Rouge displayed by dying so that they wouldn't kill her baby too.

Garp knows every single piece of this information in painful, excruciating detail. He's so horrified by it he feels the need to fulfill this wish of Roger's because he knows blameless people will die. He has Ace raised in secret to protect him from Marines who are figuratively and literally out for his blood. And yet, throughout this boy's childhood, he clings to the notion that maybe, just maybe, the people he knows regularly commit atrocities, who have carried out at least 3 genocides that we know of in Garp's lifetime, who were willing to commit mass infanticide for a woman and child they hadn't verified the existence or identity of at the time, would have accepted him within their ranks and turned a blind eye to that information when it eventually, inevitably surfaced. That Ace can find salvation from the people who stole every loved one he ever had before he was even born, who slaughtered his mother's community and pushed her to her death, and were slavering at the opportunity to kill her. That even though Ace was born in direct opposition to them, has had a target trained on him before he was born, these people who tried so goddamn hard to kill him would surely welcome his presence and not murder him the second they found out if he could just be a compliant model soldier and make himself useful. It's hammered home pretty effectively–especially in the manga– and One Piece has never been known to be subtle in its messaging, but I swear to God I see so many people echoing the notion that Garp's attempts to force his grandchildren into serving the Evil Empire was done because he knew was their only shot at safety from the WG, and I fucking despise this take. Ace saying that he could never be a marine here in Impel Down isn't some young man's rationalization for his (beyond valid) desire not to subscribe to the preset path Garp laid out for him; it's literally the only logical conclusion if you know literally anything about the circumstances of his birth and upbringing, and Garp only thinks that the leopards wouldn't eat Ace's face because he's fucking delusional This in and of itself is extremely telling of how horribly warped Garp's perception of the Navy is, and how deeply he's willing to buy into the Marines and their warped propaganda no matter how many glaring examples he sees throughout his life that counter his worldview, but let's not forget that this applies to Luffy too. This is slightly hairier, in that if Luffy was a) the sort of person who could willingly accept a career in the marines and b) managed to cling really, really tightly to his grandfather's coattails and legacy, there might have been a very, infinitesimally small chance that he could have joined the Navy. The higher ups know that Dragon is Garp's son and therefore Luffy is Dragon's by logical inference, but I could see some AU where Luffy is a fundamentally different person and manages to build himself up in the Navy if not for two things I think warrant examination. It's pretty evident, and Dragon explicitly confirms, that Luffy being known as his son would have put him in incredible danger, only feeling comfortable with acknowledging it and the possibility of actually reuniting with his child after Luffy was both publicly recognized due to factors beyond his control, and proved that he was more than capable of holding his own. But I want to draw attention to this one otherwise pretty silly little gag moment between Garp and Sengoku when they learn that Luffy's broken into Impel Down, and present a theory that's kind of a reach but also not really

Now the phrasing here kind of interests me, in that it ties back to earlier demonstrated patterns that the Navy uses repeatedly in collective punishment for the families and loved ones of their primary targets. Rouge and Ace barely escaped the mass murders intended for them because of their connection, but Tom was also originally sentenced to death for having had a connection to Roger, and ultimately chose that as the offence he wanted to be sentenced for at Enies Lobby. Law, as a child survivor of Flevance, has multiple hospitals try and turn him in to the World Government to be killed when Cora tries to find someone to treat him because their policy is to pull out the roots and salt the earth whenever they deem a person or population politically inconvenient. Robin's flashback shows us Akainu blowing up a refugee boat on the off chance that one of those people that they were planning to evacuate might have gotten past their initial screening for archaeologists/poneglyph readers. At Marineford, Akainu specifically targets Luffy not because of his prior offences or even his attempt to rescue Ace, but because he's Dragon's son and his and Roger's bloodlines need to be eradicated. This is not an institution that is in any way reluctant to destroy anyone tangentially affiliated to a designated enemy, and Luffy being the son of the worst criminal in history seems to put him right in line with all of those other cases. In light of this, and Garp's massive blind spots and wishful thinking regarding his peers and employers, it's not that much of a stretch to assume that the only reason Garp's exempt from being targeted like Dragon is because of his popularity/symbolic importance/utility, and that Luffy likely wouldn't have been safe even if he weren't a pirate. Garp's circle of confidantes/friends in high places is powerful, but clearly there are factions (Akainu, Ryokugyu etc) that would be substantially less willing and who are given preferential treatment by the Elders and Celestial Dragons. There might be something to read into based on the fact that Garp is the only known person from a D bloodline who's achieved massive success in service to the World Government and not defected from the Navy after realizing its true nature (props to Saul), and therefore he might project the fact that he's been rewarded by the system despite being a "sworn enemy of the Gods" onto his family, but that still doesn't account for the massive, delusional arrogance he displays in insisting that, despite everything–especially, especially the murders committed in pursuit of Ace, that robbed him of his birth mother and community–the Navy is the best and safest place for either of those boys. TLDR Garp not wanting his grandsons to have a bounties on their heads is one thing, but it says a lot that in spite of everything he knows, he's willing/determined to put Ace and Luffy in an environment that's extremely dangerous for them –and in Ace's case 100%, unquestionably fatal– because he's so convinced that compliance and the platonic ideals of "justice" and military service/hard work being rewarded by the system could supersede all of that.

[ninyard]

how long do you think Kevin took to grieve riko fully ? Did he stop grieving jm public or in front of the foxes because they couldn't understand it or

Oh. Oh I don't think Kevin ever got to fully grieve. I've probably talked about something similar before but no, I don't think so. Not in front of the foxes, anyway. I think there were glimpses, maybe, moments where he broke and couldn't keep it in for just a second or two at a time. But he'd hide it well until he was alone.

Then there's David and Kevin, back in an almost empty hotel bar, black suits on and several drinks deep, and Kevin's been silent for a couple of minutes.

"You can cry," David says, and Kevin just looks at him, breathing like it's the only thing worth focusing on, like if his mind slips for just a millisecond he'll self destruct. "I promise it won't make how he treated you suddenly okay."

Maybe David tells him a story about his parents death - how he struggled with his grief, grief that came in short and intense and incomprehensible bursts. Grief that didn't make sense. Grief that felt shameful, or guilt-filled, or grief that felt like it didn't deserve to be felt. Maybe Kevin doesn't say anything for a little while longer, or maybe he starts to tell a story. It's hard for David not to feel disgusted, knowing what he did to him, listening to a fond memory of two 10 year old boys who just wanted to be famous, as if that was all that Riko was. As if this one memory, these two or three memories, were who Riko really was, as if it was who he could've remained to be. But I think maybe David puts the stories he already knows aside to give Kevin the space to feel these confusing and guilty and shameful feelings of being nostalgic and wistful for the man who almost killed him.

I think Kevin shares his grief in secret for that one night, a closed casket freshly burned into his brain, a rest in peace winning over a rot in hell. Just for one day, at least.

Maybe he shares his grief with Bee - again, that horrible, conflicting feeling of I know how bad he was to me and I know how he treated me. But I miss who he used to be. And maybe I don't think he deserved to die.

But maybe even still, with David, with Bee, he holds himself back. He can't let himself grieve how he needs to grieve because he just can't. He can't let himself think, "I miss him," when he hadn't thought that for a very, very long time, and only feels it now in fleeting moments after his death. He can't let himself believe, "I'm sad that he's dead," when he silently wished it upon him every time his healed hand cramped or hurt, every time the remembered pain flooded his fingers when he moved a certain way.

Kevin's grief with Riko is complicated. That was his brother. His first friend. His first abuser, his worst abuser. That was the person who ruined his life, that was the person who pushed him to be better and better until better became best. That was the person who nearly killed him, the person who held his opinion with such high regard it was deadly. How do you grieve someone that you were scared of, when death makes you think of all the times he swore he was keeping you safe? Or at least, pretended he was. Or at least, did so for his own personal gain. How does he grieve someone who everyones sees as a monster, who he sees as a monster, but who smiled a pre-teen grin his way and said it's you and me against the world.

I don't think anyone would understand. Or, he thinks so, anyway. He doesn't think anyone will get it. He doesn't think it makes sense, or that it's okay, or that he's allowed to feel these conflicting feelings about him. I think Kevin grieves on his own, and that makes it worse, in some ways. It makes it a much longer process to work through. It makes it a long time until he is able to come to terms with it all.

[sasheneskywalker]

Weekly Batman/DC Fic Recs (4)

This week I've mostly read fics focused on strong emotions. We have Jason and Tim hatefucking during the Battle for the Cowl and Jason being insecure about his relationship with Slade. There's also a funny Slade and Dick neighbors AU, an outsider's perspective on Jason's return to the land of living, and a Tim and Lois Lane team up. The last one is a fantastic Stephanie-centric oneshot dealing with families, murder, and grief. Hope you enjoy the recs <3

you cut so deep (but i always loved you deeper) by Anonymous Going after Jason was a bad idea. Putting on a Batsuit to go after Jason was an even worse idea. Tim pays the price for it, bloody and trapped under Jason with nowhere to go, and unspoken feelings to confront. He was always going to submit to Jason, sooner or later.

or

Tim confronts Jason during Battle for the Cowl, but their fight ends much differently.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | DCU (Comics) | Tim Drake/Jason Todd

a night of revelations by Tauria Jason knows Slade would rather be with Dick.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics) | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

and i’ll pull your hedge down by wingdingery After Jason’s death, Dick finds himself in Blüdhaven, trying, for just a moment, to take a break from the world.

His new neighbors don’t make that easy for him.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | DCU (Comics) | Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Rose Wilson

the public return of Jason Todd by ArbitraryCategories Various times when someone cared that Jason had come back from the dead (and maybe murdered some people along the way).

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batman - All Media Types | Gotham City & Jason Todd, Gotham City Residents & Jason Todd

A Bat and a Reporter Break Into a Warehouse by HMSLusitania “I know what charismatic megafauna are,” Lois interrupts.

She doesn’t say get to the point, Drake, but Tim’s pretty sure he can feel her thinking it.

“Right, well, fun fact, although there’s been various charitable efforts to replace the pipes in all residential buildings, Gotham sewers have the largest collection of lead infrastructure in the United States still to this day because there are large, angry, violent and occasionally cannibalistic, depending on how much you go along with the line at which something transhuman becomes not human anymore, things down here. And it’s easiest to just…”

“Uncharismatic megafauna, yeah, great,” Lois says, exhaling. “Lead infrastructure?”

“Yep!” Tim says.

Lois sighs, annoyed but not particularly frightened. “Well, I think we’re probably going to be late to dinner.”

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Action Comics (Comics) | Tim Drake & Lois Lane, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Clark Kent/Lois Lane

yeah, dad, maybe no one is perfect by Luvo There’s the sound of a grappling hook hissing and light feet landing on the platform. “Hey, Batman,” Robin says. “What’s—uh. What’s happening?”

Stephanie laughs louder. Above her, Batman looks over her head, face grim. “We’re not taking in the Cluemaster,” he says.

“Yeah, I figured. He’s, um. Dead, and all. What—oh. Did she…”

Stephanie swallows her laughter, taking a breath to steady herself. “Yeah,” she says through a smile, “I pushed him. I killed him.”

“Right,” Robin says. “Okay. So, do we…” He looks helplessly at Batman and asks, “What do we do now?”

It's a story about murder, it's a story about motive, it's a story about mommy issues. Or: Stephanie Brown kills her dad!

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) | Crystal Brown & Stephanie Brown, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne

[jakes3resin]

Modern Reincarnation AU Part 4 ✨️

Part 3

"John?"

Bucky storms past Jack into the townhouse. It's rude, but he'll apologize later. He doesn't know why he came here instead of his apartment. Old habits dying a hard drawn out death, maybe? He hadn't been thinking clearly. Hadn't been thinking at all really until he found himself waved through by his father's security detail.

"Oh, is that John?" He hears his father call out, dress shoes clicking against hardwood as he walks closer, but Bucky stomps up the stairs towards his room before he sees the man. His breaths come out in rushes as tears keep burning his eyes.

Shit, he thought he'd gotten those under control on the train.

Slamming his door, he slides down until he rests against the floor. He tosses his bag to the side wincing at the sound it makes. Hopefully his laptop survives. At some point he does actually have to do the work he went to the library to finish.

The library.

Buck and Curt.

They wouldn't, Bucky tells himself. They wouldn't. Curt was one of his best friends, and Buck loved him. They...

Fuck they were roommates! Why the hell were they talking about that shit in public? In the place Bucky considered his? Why even pretend? Why drag Bucky into this? Why?!

Bucky buries his face into his hands. His chest hitches as he tries not to sob. He doesn't want his father or Jack to worry about him. He doesn't want to talk this through.

He wants...

He wants Buck. He wants the other to pull him into his arms. To kiss him again as if today had never happened. There was something else about being with Buck, something he'd never felt with anyone else be they friend or lover. He made Bucky feel safe and wanted. Wanted not because of his family and connections but because he was himself.

Buck would know how to make him feel better.

He laughs quietly through his tears. Distantly, he can hear Jack briefing his father downstairs, the words faint but he hears his name and tears used together. His laughter is more sob than anything else. Of course, the one good thing he'd found would end up belonging to someone else. Story of his life.

✨️

There's too much work to do. At least that's the excuse Bucky gave himself for not confronting Buck and Curt immediately. There wasn't time for a confrontation and subsequent blowup of his life.

At least that's the lie he tells himself.

Bucky chews on the straw of his iced coffee as he skims yet another chapter. There's a pumpkin muffin in front of him that he swore would be his reward for getting through this fourty page reading. Midterms have come and gone, but Bucky still has deadlines to meet and research to complete. He can't sit in his room forever, as much as his father and Jack would sometimes prefer that. Better protection from whatever sent Bucky crying to his room as his father would argue. Better protection for his father's political career Jack would quip.

Speaking of protection, Bucky glanced to the side of the cafe towards his security detail. At least these guys attempted to blend in. His father must have briefed them on his track record with previous details. Bucky smirked around his straw. They'd be easy to lose come rush hour. A bit of fun even.

Bucky turned back to his reading, squinting down at the words.

"American airmen during World War II had a dismal life expectancy. It was not a matter of if an airman was going to be shot down but when. Once downed, airmen faced an uncertain 'reception committee,' as Second Lieutenant Kenneth C. Reimer noted in a drawing he made as a POW in Stalag Luft I in Barth, Germany... 'for every [ground combat] soldier killed in action, three or four others would be wounded; air combat was completely the opposite. For every man wounded, three were killed.'"

"Bucky?" A hand settles on his shoulder jolting him out of his reading.

Bucky kept his shoulders loose as he turns around. Buck stares down at him, a bright smile on his face that Bucky can't help but match despite his grief. It wasn't even something he could control. Buck smiled at him, so he smiled back. Bucky felt pitiful.

Buck's sky blue eyes are clear and happy as they dart across Bucky's face. There's no sign that he realizes Bucky overheard him yesterday.

Bucky lifts a hand to calm his detail, all alert now after Buck's friendly greeting. He sees the nearest agent settle back into their chair but knows none of them are relaxed. He darts a look up at Buck, peering at the other through his glasses to see if he'd noticed the disturbance.

Buck's gaze, as it always does, doesn't leave Bucky's face. Even when he rounds the table to sit down, his eyes are pinned on Bucky and nothing else.

"Sorry I couldn't meet up yesterday," Buck dumps his bag onto the chair next to him. Bucky's smile twitches. Buck sits down across from him. His legs tangle with Buck's own under the table, Buck's foot gently bumping his ankle.

"It's fine," Bucky chomps down on his straw. "How was your advisor meeting anyway?"

"It was good," Buck smiles at him, not even a hint of guilt on his face. "Real good."

Buck had told Bucky he was called to fill in a shift yesterday and that was why he supposedly hadn't been able to meet up. A lie Buck hadn't even bothered to remember. His advisor meetings were also always in the morning on Thursdays. Today was Tuesday.

Buck was still lying to him, and he wasn't even guilty about it.

✨️

"I went by your place yesterday. You weren't home." Buck swings their clasped hands through the air.

"Hmm?" Bucky glanced away from the traffic around them. His detail were staying a conspicuous ten feet back, but they were annoyingly keen when Buck offered to walk him back to his apartment.

Bucky would lose them another day.

Buck laughed, deep and airy. Bucky struggled not to lose himself in it. That was what made this so hard. Bucky still loved Buck, and Buck still acted like Bucky was his whole world and then some.

"Oh," Bucky finally processed what Buck had said. "No, I went to my dad's for the night."

"Really?" Buck squeezes his hand. Bucky hates how much comfort Buck's touch gives him.

Does Curt receive the same...? No Bucky doesn't let himself finish the thought.

"How was it?" Concern bleeds into Buck's voice. Bucky hates how genuine it sounds. He's starting to use that word more than any other. The longer he looks at Buck, the more he has to hate to save his heart.

"Fine," Bucky shrugged stepping further away as they came to a stoplight. "The usual."

"The Bucky I know wouldn't give such a short answer," Buck stepped closer eating up the space Bucky had put between them. "Not unless something happened yesterday. Come on, you okay?"

Bucky felt the words bubbling up his throat.

I saw you. I saw him. Why are you here staring at me like I'm the most important thing in the world when you have him? Why are you doing this to me? I love you. I love you so much it feels like my soul hurts. I hate you.

"Spent most of the night avoiding his staffers." Bucky lied. "Barely saw him, Jack either, yet he still asked me to move home at breakfast."

Buck nods, accepting his lies. Was that what they were now? Not a relationship, simply a lie? Bucky wasn't sure anymore. His heart thumped against his rib cage, anger and love in every other beat, but he wasn't sure which would win.

Buck had become his whole world in such a short amount of time. He thought the feeling was mutual, but yesterday showed just how stupid Bucky really was.

"How about this," Buck nudged his hip. "Why don't I stay over tonight? We'll binge a few movies, order something, and have night in. Then,"

Buck paused with a stupid grin that, despite himself, Bucky still found charming. Fuck, he was truly pathetic for this.

"I'll sweep you off your feet and take you to bed. How does that sound?"

"Won't Curt be expecting you?" The question pops out of him without meaning to. Gale furrows his brow, confusion growing in his eyes.

"Curt won't miss me tonight."

Sure, he won't, Bucky thinks bitterly.

✨️

"John," Jack's voice was a surprise. Especially considering it was his father's number calling him.

"You've gotten much better at your Jack impression," Bucky answers just to be annoying. "Does he know you impersonate him on official numbers?"

"You're not as funny as you believe."

"Ooh, you even have his disapproving tone down. I feel like he's in the room with us!" Bucky laughs. He peers around the corner. Buck's still where he left him, buried in his phone texting someone.

Bucky doesn't let himself think about who that person is.

"Your father wants to invite you to a dinner tomorrow. You can even bring that boy that walked you home. The one that hasn't left." Pages flip in the background as Jack talks. Probably governmental reports his father was supposed to read.

"You know you're not his chief of staff anymore?" Bucky leaned his hip against the counter. "You don't have to read reports or wrangle his kid to government dinners to help his image as a family man. You're his husband now, you're the family."

"You're my kid too by that logic, so wrangling you gets to stay on my resume." Bucky snorts out a laugh. "Besides, it's not a state dinner or anything. He just wants to see you."

Guilt gnaws at his heart. Buck pokes his head into the kitchen, phone no longer holding all of his attention.

"Fine," Bucky groans. "But if he brings up the apartment again, I'm walking out with my food on my plate even if it's the good plates."

"See you tomorrow at 7 then. Bring your boy." Jack hangs up without a goodbye.

✨️

It'll be me, and it'll be you, Buck.

Don't count on it.

Bucky jerks awake. His dream flashes through his head too fast for him to remember anything. Scenes superimpose over each other, words jumble together. At least this one wasn't a nightmare. Those always left him shakey and off balance all day.

His dreams have always been vivid, ever since he was a kid. The child psychologists he'd gone to had said it was normal and simply a sign of a well developed imagination.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair groaning when he glances towards his bedside clock. It's nearly an hour until he has to get up, but he knows that he won't be getting back to sleep before then.

Buck lays curled up next to him on the bed. Bucky reaches out to brush a hand through the other's hair. Buck twitches leaning into the feeling for half a second but doesn't stir beyond that.

Bucky sighs. Extricating himself from Buck's long limbs takes time. Somehow in the night, Buck had nearly fused them together as if even asleep the man refused to let him go. Arms layered over arms. Legs tangled together. It's an excellent distraction from his dreams but not from the problems of the waking world. If only he could forget those once he woke up like he did his dreams.

It's only when he's pouring water for his coffee that he realizes he recognizes the voice from his dream. A first for him.

It'd been Buck's.

✨️

(Not a confrontation I know, but it builds my AU lol)

[allzelemonz]

Rebound: Dutch Van der Linde X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 15, Noncon/Rape Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ and holds a generally masculine mindset given the circumstances Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Rape, grief, drinking, mentions of Annabelle’s death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, hints of victim blaming because Dutch is an ass, threats, semi-public sex, hand jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, marking, neck kissing, slight cum fixation, vomiting, crying, Dutch is such a bad person in this one dude, shifting perspective Summary: After losing someone he loves, Dutch drinks to forget and gets an idea in his drunken mind when he spots a man he likes the look of.

The drinks make his head fuzzy. Dutch has long sent Hosea back to camp, wanting nothing more than to drink by himself until the sun comes up. All he could see was her lying dead on the grass, dignity nowhere left. For a while all he could do was hold her, then all he wanted was kill Colm for doing this. But the drinks help. The drinks let him think of other things. Anything but her.

And that’s why his eyes wander to a man he sees on the street when he stumbles out of the saloon.

The bartender had kicked him out for some reason, he doesn’t remember why. But it doesn’t matter now. He doesn’t need drinks when he can have someone like that. Someone to fuck hard between the buildings of the sickening little town to take his mind off of…

So he follows the man, his head still fogged and his steps uneasy, but he lumbers along well enough to turn the corner just a few feet behind the man. A sober Dutch wouldn’t admit that he may have done this before, a drunk Dutch almost craves it. And even with such an unkempt head, Dutch knows a man doesn’t expect this to happen and that’s what makes it easy. As they walk, the other man pays him no mind, likely writing him off as just another drunk. Dutch only just has the sense not to chuckle to himself.

Doesn’t even have a gun on ‘em.

Before the man can get to the end of the alley, Dutch gets his wrist and pulls him back harshly. Even drunk, Dutch is a relatively graceful man, able to shove the other man against the wall before he’s even registered what’s happened. He exclaims, struggling against Dutch’s grip and body now pressed against him, but he stills when Dutch presses his gun into the man’s ribs.

“Best not ta move…” Dutch mutters, his voice with hardly any sense of soberness.

“Mister-”

Dutch twists the man’s arm behind his back, pulling enough to bring pain to the shoulder. The man gets the message, only whimpering a bit from the pain

And it hurts. Fuck, does it hurt. Maybe it’s the hard wood you’re pressed against, maybe it’s the gun barrel pressed into your skin, or maybe it’s the clear feeling of your assailant’s dick rubbing into your ass. Everything makes you feel small and helpless, the shock hardly helps. Getting robbed, you might expect that, but a man pinning you to a wall and…

The gun withdraws, his hand returning to fumble at your pants.

Your breath hitches and fear takes over your mind. This… this isn’t supposed to happen. Not-

“It’ll be over before ya know it, my dear.”

His voice makes you shiver, his breath hot against your neck, and a second later you almost feel the need to scream as his fingers wrap around your dick.

He’ll kill you. He’ll bring that gun back out and shoot you if you scream, maybe if you just fight. All of this is too much, you can’t think…

To your horror, your dick hardens in calloused hands, the feeling overriding the situation. The man lets your arm go in favor of using the hand to shove your pants down. The cool air feels terrible against your thighs and your body feels like it’s betraying you with the desire your hips seem to have in thrusting into the man’s hand.

A yelp escapes when you feel his fingers shove their way inside. His fingers are big, slicked lightly with something wet, and it makes you feel like puking. The movements are fast, desperate in the attempt to stretch your hole open. At least he decided to do it rather than just forcing his…you rest your head against the wall in front of you, not wanting to think about the man’s hands, let alone his dick.

But Dutch has never been more transfixed.

The man’s dick is heavy in his hand, hardened and wetted with beads of precum. His hole is so tight and warm, but Dutch works it open with so much ease it’s like his fingers were meant to fuck his man. God, what might this feel like around his dick. The man shivers beneath him, looking smaller than he did, like the actions are making him shrink. And Dutch loves it.

He retracts his fingers to pull himself from his pants, unable to wait much longer. His motions are stumbling as he endeavors to keep pumping the other man’s dick and making sure he’s solidly against the wall. But he gets himself lined up and the feeling when he pushes inside nearly sobers him. It’s so tight, so damn hot, and the man’s efforts to keep quiet run straight to his ears in the form of little whimpers and stifled sobs. So Dutch fucks him as hard as he can, his mind far from all of his trouble as ecstasy and liquor swim through it. The man trembles under Dutch, releasing over Dutch’s furiously pumping hand and whining as Dutch keeps using him. Both hands on the man’s hips now, Dutch presses him flush with the wall and fucks to the whiskey’s content.

And the pleasure that hits him is more than any he’s ever felt. He buries himself into the man, filling him with his release as he bites into the man’s neck to leave marks in his skin. The man breathes heavily, shaking under Dutch’s touch as the bite turns to kisses and Dutch milks himself for every drop as he relishes in the tight heat of the other man. He almost doesn’t want to let him go but he doesn’t have the clear mind to use his silver tongue and charm. Sweet talk and manipulation won’t work now, so he pulls out and tucks himself away.

He only lingers for a moment, looking at the man as he shakes against the wall, seemingly too scared to move. Dutch’s eyes trail down his body to the trickles of cum leaking out and down his legs. Mesmerized, Dutch steps forwards, trails his fingers over the streaks all the way up, and pushes it back inside the man’s hole. The whimper that follows would threaten to make Dutch hard again if not for the liquor stifling him. He fingers the fucked out hole for a while, pushing his cum back inside until he gets bored of it.

Then he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the man’s cheek, and walks away.

You stand still for a while, feeling sick and dizzy and broken. Your hands shake when you reach down for your pants, but before you can fasten them, The feeling of bending over sends shocks to your head and nausea swims. You throw up over the wall. It mixes with the splatter of your cum and you can’t keep your legs steady, falling back on your sore ass in the dirt. You heave for a few breaths, trying to catch up, tears working their way from your eyes in the process.

It’s a long time before you can wiggle your pants up, even longer before you can make yourself stand on shaky legs.

That man… you shiver at the thought.

That man. Dutch smiles.

[gutfaced]

𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐘: 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑

now that sotr's coming up (and you know that i don't care about it,) i thought it'd be as good of time as any to talk about my analysis of haymitch's character from the standpoint of a WW1 buff + understander of what he went through in his own experiences that pairs with the similarities of soldiers from a time so long ago. so here you go, haymitch and the way he fights his own war, even after the games. i compared him to a soldier from ww1 due to the close resemblances and the later treatment of them, rather than any other wars.

𝐏𝐓𝐒𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀

haymitch is affected by a mixture of repeated traumas; the event of the 50th annual hunger games/second quarter quell, it's aftermath and the loss of his mother, brother and girlfriend, and the rise to mentoring 48 tributes in the 25 years of compulsory and consecutive time as a mentor. he bares witness to the degradation of man through the juxtaposingly beautiful arena, which comes to be splattered with gore and mass murder. where others gawk at his beauty, haymitch fends for himself and even manages to take out 2 careers before meeting maysilee donner, one of the 4 total tributes from 12.

their allyship is ‘hard to break,’ defined by katniss in her narration and the two attempt to find a conclusion to the games (‘maybe there's something we can use,’) referring to perhaps a major weapon at the end of the arena if not a clue. when maysilee breaks off the alliance during the final 8, she does this out of sparing the two the pain of killing each other. when she dies suddenly after departure, he's there to hold her hand until death and is likely stricken with that first wave of grief.

his then battle between district 1 career girl and himself leads him to aquire a major injury; near disembowelmemt as he is forced to hold in his intestines, ‘stumbling’ through the forest where hitherto, he had been on the edge of when finding the arena's forcefield. he uses this to his advantage to then kill her with her own axe, which he dodges and it files overhead the cliff and back into her head. this entire interaction and battle sets the tone for what will come post-games, the slaughter of haymitch's family for showing up the capitol in such a public and prominent way.

however way they die, snow's murder of his family is an example; an experiment to later bring up to the future generations of victors after haymitch, and to hold over his head for the rest of his life.

the hunger games, mockingjay

𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

we cannot say for sure if this combination of events is what leads haymitch into a spiral towards the alcoholism we know binds him in the main trilogy, but it is an impactful enough experience to contribute. haymitch goes on to mentor 48 tributes (the same number of tributes that fought in the 50th games,) who all die to our knowledge minus katniss and peeta, the winners of the 74th hunger games, 24 years after his intial win. with 46 deaths to shoulder as a mentor, haymitch is in constant grief of his losses, and is consistently humiliated by his inability to bring any children home to his district due to several factors: the squalor and impoverished nature of 12, the starvation undergone by children of all ages, including those legible for the reaping, and the helpless of a mentor's role. if their tributes aren't deemed attractive by sponsors, then they are already fighting a losing battle.

with years of these failures, it can be assumed that haymitch eventually stops putting effort into his mentoring, accepting the imminent realization that all his children are to die.

the hunger games

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

haymitch's alcoholism is one of the centerpieces first viewed within his character, with its toil harsh on his body and mind. (see: all descriptions of haymitch throughout the trilogy) he remains solitary, confined to his suffering and refusatory to any help unless forced upon him (see: employing hazelle.) he lives in equal squalor like the people in his district despite his riches, with his life centric to the bottle and blotting out his world with drink, yet having the funds to have a better upkeep and is unable to due to the purgatory he forces himself into at the hands of his losses and overall, his sins within the hunger games.

the hunger games, catching fire

𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 & 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐖𝟏

in the 10th anniversary interview with suzanne collins (included in the hunger games special edition,) collins mentions haymitch suffering through a war.

it is both physical and spiritual, with the second quarter quell being damaging enough in nature to gain the description of a war. he is compromised from healing because that war only spreads in other areas, and he is forced to battle endlessly between himself, his PTSD and his addiction.

haymitch's ways of coping (sleeping with a knife, being then provoked into immediate fight rather than flight in waking, sleeping with the light on, becoming solitary and shutting out any other people,) are reminiscent to men after the great war.

men were seen as cannon fodder, and after the horrors experienced, would come home disabled from wounds or reeling from shell-shock. this led to violent outbursts, reoccurring incidents with those they loved (say, soldiers being locked in a survival mindset and being easy to trigger/easy to induce into a mindset that made them feel like as if they were still in the trenches,) along with ostracisation from society when they realized the severity of the men's wounds, both physically and mentally. within war, the level of alcoholism skyrocketed in and out of battle, to combat the horrors pit against them in a falsely patriotic hell. coming home, these men would turn to vices to numb themselves of what they had seen, which would amalgamate them into tortured victims of withdrawal, violence, anger and waste. the devastation of shelling, barrages, explosions were events so cataclysmic it didn't just injure the men physically; it was so deeply psychological to the point where shell-shock could easily skewer the mind's thoughts.

haymitch himself didn't fight in what we define a war — more of a killing game remincent to those in colosseums; had for entertainment rather than for good of land and people (with the games originally being a way of penance for the dark days and rebellion from the district.) however, his rebound from the events of the games were so significant that it aligns with historical definitions and examples of PTSD.

he lives in an agony so poignantl that self-medication is the only way out of his memory, and without it, he's hallucinatory; screaming at the things he tries to escape.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

all this to say that suzanne collins sets up haymitch's character in a way that serves relatablity to historical struggles — and defines him as an allegory of this through his own unique, tumultuous way of coping and dealing. his trauma is such a devastation to him that it actively prohibts him from any betterment, which is only reinforced by his ceaseless mentoring.

[gabessquishytum]

Arranged marriage au in which Prince Dream’s hand is given to King Hob in marriage to seal a peace treaty between their two kingdoms in order to prevent war. However, Dream is secretly meant to use this marriage as an opportunity to assassinate the king and take over the kingdom, all but giving it over to his parents. Dream is fine with this plan (he might keep the kingdom for himself though, he hasn’t decided yet), but then he actually meets King Hob, who ticks all of his boxes and also falls in love with Dream at first sight. Oh dear.

On their wedding night, Hob is willing to wait out of respect, but Dream pulls out all the stops to seduce him (all in the name of lowering his guard, and to further cement Dream’s position when he kills him in a few months and takes over), only to be turned into a babbling mess as Hob proceeds to completely take him apart, all with nonstop looks of adoration. It’s the most intense sex in his life, and it nearly weakens his resolve all on its own.

But then, Hob follows this up with day after day of giving Dream both constant attention and complete freedom. He is perfectly content to allow Dream to do absolutely nothing if he chooses, just sit there and look pretty, but the exact moment that Dream decides to speak up and contribute Hob will listen to every word and give it every due consideration. If Dream tries to distract him from his duties by whining and begging for attention, Hob will immediately see to his needs, but will somehow at the same time continue to see to his rule with a gentle and firm hand. Dream becomes more and more genuinely obsessed and loathed to give this up, and soon it stops being an act for him.

(Also, Dream didn’t know this, but Hob’s kingdom is rather hedonistic and very comfortable with public sex. They do their best to hide it from foreign dignitaries so as not to offend their delicate sensibilities, but the first time Dream seduces Hob in front of the court (in an attempt to weaken his position in front of his courtiers and also because he was itching for more sex) they were met with either 1. looks of fond indulgence normally reserved for acts of innocent flirtation, or 2. looks of outright desire and lust, some even taking this as permission to also hook up with their partners. Dream never knew this was something he was interested in, but now that he has it he’s utterly ruined for anything else)

Dream’s parents grow more and more impatient to hear word that their son-in-law is dead, so that they can go “comfort their son in his grief”, and finally are invited to come celebrate their first anniversary. When they get there, to their dismay they see an alive and well King Hob, looking with hearts in his eyes at Prince Consort Dream on his lap. Dream looks like the cat that got the cream, utterly content and satiated, but his parents can read the hidden message in his gaze; they’ve lost their top assassin and the prize kingdom, if they try to kill his husband he will come after them, family be damned.

-🪽anon

(There’s probably room in the middle there for some light drama, as Dream feels guilty over his former plans to kill Hob, maybe Hob knew already or maybe he didn’t, but I’m here to provide smut and fluff and let others do what they will with it 😁)

I love nothing better than a slutty assassin <3

Dream comes from this long and prestigious line of famous assassins/royalty. Super rich, super powerful, always looking for more. (Anime fans, think of the Zoldyck family from hxh. Dream already has the aesthetic!)

Dream is the most ruthless and the most beautiful, and he has quite a reputation... but Hob agrees to the betrothal anyway. He definitely looks at Dream and thinks "aww, I can fix him!!" And he's kind of right? But he also makes Dream immeasurably worse, because the two of them fall in love.

I love to think that Hob knows about Dream’s plan, but he doesn't care - he just gives Dream a pat on his head and tells him that he's such a silly boy, it doesn't matter! Hob has killed dozens of people, he'd be a hypocrit if he got mad at Dream for this. And he knows that the only way Dream will kill him now they're married is through orgasm related cardiac arrest <3

They're fucking so much its actually a bit concerning. Hob loves being railed by his consort, over his own throne is a particular favourite. Dream’s parents hold out a small hope that their son genuinely is trying to fuck his new husband to death, but nooo. He's just channeling his murderous rage into making sure that Hob can't walk properly. More than once Hob has seen to paperwork or matters of state with Dream’s cock pounding him at the other end. If he does extra good with his statecraft then he gets Dream’s cum inside him, and maybe a little break before the next round <3

[felixravinstills]

Ravinstill Extended Family Lore: The Deaths of Gnaeus and Marius

For the uninformed, Marius and Gnaeus Ravinstill are (in my worldbuilding) Felix's two older cousins. Marius is the eldest surviving Ravinstill cousin and the heir presumptive.

I have for the longest time just handwaved their deaths as a part of a confusing mess that happened in the aftermath of Felix's death via Coriolanus orchestrated car crash, but I have recently been privately rotating them in my head:

I have always known that Coriolanus uses Felix's death to try and turn Marius and Gnaeus against each other.

After giving this some thought, I don't think it works against the Ravinstill cousins, but it does work on their supporters.

Marius' position as Ravinstill heir has always been tenuous in that Gnaeus has always been the better pick. There are a lot of people who would support Gnaeus if he wasn't himself supporting Marius.

I don't think it would take much to convince Marius' supporters that Gnaeus is a threat. The ones that are solely loyal to Marius and see Gnaeus as some encroaching relative who's bullying the Ravinstill heir

Maybe, Coriolanus helps them along with rumors and by slipping something into their communications, but there was always going to be suspicion

Marius and Gnaeus are probably dealing with their great-uncle's grief and their own (and an upcoming state funeral), but when a call comes saying that Gnaeus needs to meet with a few advisors about something, well, it doesn't raise that many questions, Gnaeus was always the one with a better head for politics

And it doesn't matter if Marius' supporters decide to call him themselves after the deed is done or if Marius gets impatient waiting to pick out what coffin they're putting their younger cousin in, he shows up to whatever office or home that Gnaeus has been called to either way (although I lean more towards the latter)

Marius is more impulsive than the average Ravinstill, but I think he's stunned into inaction by the dead body of the cousin that he tried to replace two brothers with. EDIT: Marius is presented with the sight of Gnaeus’ severed head

I think he leaves that night and retires home numb, but the next day, he jumps into action

And what does it say, that as the news breaks, he doesn't seem to contact his great-uncle?

I think Marius purges his own followers and then waits. I don't think he really knows what he's waiting for, but well, Gnaeus was always the better schemer. Marius just avenged his cousin, and he knows that Gnaeus had a lot of friends too. Marius has gotten rid of anyone who would want to protect him.

He's not in the right headspace, so I think Marius greets whoever comes for hims with a smile.

...

I wrote Pater Patriae before I fine-tuned this idea, so this isn't entirely intentional, but what does it say that Max doesn't know the exact details of what exactly transpired? He knows the same version of the story that the public hears: after the death of one grandnephews, the other two pointed fingers at one another and died. I hate that man (I love him and show it by destroying his life)

Fun fact: I was thinking that maybe Marius' supporters might bring him Gnaeus' head, but I don't think they're putting that much work in (to cut off a guy's head). This was to further the fact that this thought I've been rotating started off as a reference to Gnaeus' namesake Pompey (Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus) who sought asylum from Julius Caesar in Egypt and was then beheaded because the Egyptians feared him taking control and also sought to win Caesar's favor.

Anyway, I thought the killing someone for someone else's approval was enough of a reference. Beheading didn't fit Capitolites doing a semi-quiet little murder...

EDIT: I changed my mind. Canonically, (in my canon,) Gnaeus Ravinstill’s head gets cut off and presented to Marius.

I should make a death recap for my Ravinstill extended family. I think it would emphasize the tragedy and would be fun for me. Anyway, Marius and Gnaeus get a tag now! I used to just lump them in with the ravinstill extended family lore tag!

[sadnightforus]

THE FATED STARS (PJS) | SMAU

022 - JEALOUSY?

Park Jongseong harbors the biggest crush on one of the most popular girls on the campus, you. You, being dared by your friend group to tweet and made a boyfriend application, initially started out as a joke, thinking that no one would applied it. Upon the tweet going viral and many applications being sent in, he decided that he would shoot his shot, even if he doesn’t know a single shit about what is the sun, moon, rising in astronomy. 

WARNINGS: possessive behavior, bad relationship mentioning

A/N: so close to the end *killing myself*

TAGLIST: @hoondiors @desistay @who-tf-soddhi @erehkinnie30 @vantxx95

PREVIOUS. | BACK TO MASTERLIST. | NEXT.

WRITTEN PART BELOW!

WORD COUNT: 1094

 You have a literature class with him today. And you think that this kind of attention is unnecessary. 

 Shortly after the news broke out (that you’re kissing him), everybody has been curious about you two. No, more like wildly harassing you both by asking intrusive questions and mainly you, just don’t know what’s the answer to that. Yes, you’re popular, he’s also well known and to be kissing in public, it causes a ruckus all over the campus. It’s bound to happen, but it doesn’t mean that you like it. 

 You both haven’t talked about the kiss (which is approximately since 26 hours has passed, you swear you’re not psychotic for counting that at all). You’re too busy being embarrassed and asking yourself why would you really do that, then you suffer through 5 stages of grief all alone, which is all witnessed by Yeji. You remember she took a look at you then sigh, just tell you what you needed to do to survive. 

 You remember that you called Jimin, your most reliable (girl) friend slash wifey to receive wisdom from her. And her advice is still ringing so loud in your ears that you can barely get any sleep. Your conflicted feelings and overcoming the trust issues that stem from your previous relationship are what are holding you back from fully reciprocating his feelings towards you fully, something Jimin said. You hate that she’s right, but god, your ex boyfriend is just the epitome of those guys who mansplain and try to be smart but would easily fall into scams. That’s why you swear to be more cautious when you enter your next relationship. 

 You’re holding in anger as you sat at the back while Jay sits at the front. You’ve been meaning to talk to him to give him your answer but something stops you as you witness a group of girls sitting behind him. Jay was usually by himself, so the newfound popularity due to the scandalous action (in his argument, that’s a love declaration to the public, even if he has to faced countless questions from others). 

 You can hear their laughters and how he seems to laugh along to their jokes. There are subtle advances of their flirty jokes being thrown at him and you just want to drag him away and perhaps just talk it out. 

 And maybe kiss him again. 

 Uh, oh. You’ve fallen so deep. 

 The lessons start and the laughter dies down a little as most people including the group of girls even go to their own seats to concentrate on their lessons, taught by professors. When the lecture ends, you’re about to grab Jay and talk it out when you suddenly strike with the same group of girls who bother him again. 

 So you have no choice but to walk past them and bolt out of the classroom. 

 You can feel people’s eyes on you as the incident is still fresh. Everybody wants to know whether you make progress with him or not.

 As you get further and further away from the hall, you can hear the prominent footsteps that follow you behind. You turn around, only because you can sense the familiar presence and you were right as it turns out that Jay has been following you for a while. You go to the restroom, where it’s more quiet and gives more privacy to the conversation you’re about to have with him.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t let them flirt with me like that!” His voice trembles in fear of losing you and you can hear the uncomfortability in the way that those girls have been bothering him.

“But we’re not even a thing.” You cross your arm, trying to act sassy. “So you’re welcome to talk with them.” 

“Then what does that kiss mean to you?” He shoots you a painful look as his heart cannot handle this. “Do you go around and ask people if you can kiss them just because you wanted to?”

 He thought he finally had a chance. Two years and a half that he spent just admiring you from afar, never dare to talk to you at all and only steal a glance occasionally. You probably didn’t know who he was before he even gathered up the courage to send that boyfriend application to you, even if you posted it as a joke. 

 Maybe he should listen to his friend when they kept continuously telling him that the crush would most likely go nowhere. 

“I…” You bite your lip, thinking that you should be honest. “Don’t do that..” You suck in your breath, looking for a way to escape. “To just anyone. Yeah.” You nod, whimper out meekly.

“Then why are you so pissed that they talk to me? Is it because you’re jealous?

You widen your eyes, lifting your face up to look at him. And Jay seems to know that he’s right as the look in his eyes change.

 Jealousy?

 Pfft.

 No. No?

 However, as you analyze yourself further, you do realize that the green monster of emotion also possesses you too.

 It’s time you accept good things and tender your love towards it, as the way it is.

 “Maybe…” You become flustered that you doubt his feelings due to your own insecurities.

“Do you like me then?” His eyes beam with a hopeful light as he hears your ominous confession. Even if it’s not that clear, he’ll take it.

“Just.. let me go. I have to work.” You try to escape but his grip on your wrist is stronger.

“I really like you.” He leans in closer to whisper to you. “So don’t ever doubt my feelings.” 

 And he gently lifts up your hand and kisses it, as a promise of some sort. 

“Don’t you have work for today?” He smiles, teasingly questions you as he repeats your lame of an excuse to avoid this conversation from earlier.

“I do.” You widen your eyes. “Maybe I should really go.” You say as he lets you out. 

 He watches you exit the restroom with a huge dopey, idiotic smile on his face as he feels like he has cleared his misunderstanding with you and finally learns that you too, also starts to develop romantic feelings towards him, just like how he did with you.

 For the first time this morning, you don’t wear a sour expression on your face. But there’s a new glow of confidence and a romantic air surrounding you and you don’t quite hate it.

 It’s a good day for love today. 

[randomfoggytiger]

Fail Better Premium: David's Thoughts (Part VI, 2/2)

Creating a breadcrumb trail with David Duchovny's personal growth.

"I wanted to talk about Miss Lonelyhearts-- one of my favorite books by Nathanael West. It's about an advice column guy who, uh, gets too involved with his, um, readers. People that write in with these... horrifyingly sad letters to him. And I wonder how, how a, how a person-- let's say me, not even Dubner-- who is setting himself up as a... confessor, confessor for failure: how do you keep from feeling too much? Or how do you keep from trying to make it 'light'? Because that's one of the things I was trying to draw out, a difference between myself and Stephen, was this, this notion of how painful failure is; and there has to be... hm... grief around it. Not necessarily the business failures... but, but the emotional baggage of failure.

"I also wanted to talk a little about-- and this is a sticky subject, but, um, I noticed it with kids, my kids definitely. If, if you're growing up in a kind of a 'cancel culture' milieu, it inhibits honesty. Because you may have... not even an opinion, you may have a thought that you feel is possibly offensive to someone. Anyone. Um, you're probably not going to say it. But then how do-- how will you be disabused of that notion? How can you then enter into an honest debate where what you're considering in your heart of hearts may be dark, and you're yearning to at least speak that and have someone debate you out of it, or prove you out of it? But you can't even take that risk to say it because you're afraid that you'll be judged. Your character will be judged by an opinion. And I think that's a scary place to be.

"Mostly because the public discourse comes pre-censored-- because we're afraid, that just this one comment... oh, I'm not gonna give an example because I'm afraid. One comment is going to be attached to you; and that's it. You're that thing. You're that thing that said that thing. Rather than, 'Hey, ooh, had this idea-- mm, I don't feel great about it. Gonna throw it out there. Thank you for processing that with me. Thank you for proving me wrong.' That's the way bad ideas get killed, in honest debate. But if you can't speak a bad idea out loud... eh, it's gonna harbor. It's gonna fester. It can't get... it can't get... disproven. You go back to Milton and Areopagitica-- which is a treatise against censorship-- where he basically says, hundreds of years ago, we have to allow bad ideas to be spoken because that's how they're disemboweled, that's how they're banished. Good ideas are strong; they will... they will do well in the light, and they will vanquish bad ideas in the light. And I see this... mostly we see this in politics right now, more than anything.

"Um, yeah. Nothin' funny today. It's raining. ...That doesn't make it not funny, but. Maybe that's my mood." [Sighs] "Um. Wish I had something funnier for you. Hm. I'm hearing my voice; it just doesn't sound like it can get near the country of funny. Stopped at the border. Later."

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV: 1/3, Part IV: 2/3, Part IV: 3/3, Part V: 1/3, Part V: 2/3, Part V: 3/3, Part VI: 1/2, Part VI: 2/2)

[cr1mson5returns]

my fav version of tim drake is similar to the post of yours that made me follow you

my fav tim drake is that time he got an uncle to avoid adoption taken to the extreme. hes never been robin, not a bat, but he does follow them on patrol taking pics and occasionally intervening and they cant quite manage to stop him. hes dick grayson's nemesis because he no matter where he is, all he can think about is finally getting that kid to sit down and eat a proper meal and take a nap. jason comes back from the dead and tim has been deterring batman from violence with a squirt gun instead of a robin and jason almost hates him more for it. damian thinks he is an excellent operative, held in high esteem by his grandfather, and at first tim doesn't know what to make of that but then starts putting him to use for shenanigans. you get the idea

Oh, God, but Tim maintaining a professional relationship with Ra's al Ghul is everything I've ever desired? This weird old undead motherfucker is constantly bugging him about joining up and being his right-hand man and conquering the unruly world together and bringing peace and justice once and for all, blah blah blah, but Tim just isn't interested in that. Sounds like a lot of responsibility to have at his age, frankly. He's good just calling in the occasional favor and redirecting Batman's fury with the League of Assassins.

Also, like...I've officially started tagging these things "morally gray tim drake has my heart" because he does, y'all. He does! I do so very much enjoy the interpretation of Tim Drake as a morally gray character regardless of age (but especially in the Red Robin run) and I do think it's a valid way lens through which to see him.

The thing that makes Tim stand out to me is this undercurrent of tone to everything he does which implies that he views himself as inconsequential to the narrative. I might be in the minority here and that's fine(ish), but I've always thought about what would drive an emotionally abused and neglected 13-year-old child to try everything in his power to save his hero from killing himself and/or becoming public enemy #1. And maybe I'm projecting, but it always seems to come back to: "Well, I don't trust anyone else to be capable of doing it." He tried to talk to Dick, and Dick wouldn't take Robin back up, but Nightwing wasn't what Batman needed. And sure, they could've waffled about and tried to find someone else to be Robin. But Tim was right there and in the absence of anyone else he felt was qualified to do it, he just...did it.

Tim sees Batman (and Nightwing and Robin by extension) as being so incredibly significant to the overarching narrative. He knows that Batman doesn't really reduce crime, not in a city with local politics as corrupt as Gotham. He knows that it doesn't functionally matter if Batman gets this guy and not that guy, because it all shakes out the same. When there's a huge crisis, when Gotham City needs a symbol of everything that's still good here, still worth saving, Batman shows up and saves the day. Batman isn't allowed to succumb to human flaws like grief, despair, and outrage. People need him to mean more than that. Tim will do whatever it takes to secure and maintain that almost otherworldly level of heroism for Batman. If it gets him dirty in the process, he doesn't mind. Tim Drake won't be remembered. Batman will.

Of course, this is also why I think it's so fucking funny that Tim is at a point where he's just throwing death wish ideas at a wall until something sticks and hollering at the universe, "JUST KILL ME ALREADY!!!!"

[aroacettorney]

re: moriarty purposely antagonizing casey and posing himself as a villain as his method to draw public attention.

the more i think about it, the less it makes sense to me.

according to ludger, he wanted to use caseys solid reputation to expose the secret crimes committed by the highups in the kingdom of delica. but if we review his actions, they actually went entirely against his goal since he ended up killing every witness and burning every physical evidence leading back to the real culprits. not to mention, he also decided to take all the blame to himself.

caseys reputation throughout the continent was an independent variable to his villainy. she was already the messenger he needed — who everyone would be forced to believe. there was literally no need for him to become the public enemy if his goal was simply to expose the secrets of delica. he could have worked together with her. heck, he could even have secretly leaked all the clues he had found to her if he preferred them working independently. but of course, we know why that didnt happen.

ludger had another goal: to avenge arte's death. it's unlikely that he could assassinate his targets discreetly, given their important positions and the scale of this operation. casey tracing their murders back to him would only be a matter of time. as there is neither legal nor moral justification for him to commit mass murders even when his only targets are the scum of the earth, there is no universe where he could remain in a positive relationship with casey after becoming a known criminal. perhaps his crimes would have been understood if he at least told her the truth about arte, but why should he? he must not be perceived as a victim by casey. ludger becoming a murderer/criminal was a choice that he had already made without hesitation — there were people who needed to pay for their deeds. but, at the same time, he also understands casey well enough to know how important the value of justice is to her.

how cruel would it be if he were to make her choose between a friend and her own principles? how brutal would it be if he were to put her in a situation where she was forced to stop a friend's revenge instead of consolating him over his grief? how could he live with the knowledge that he might become the one who makes her compromise her sense of justice? her purposes of life?

for that reason, ludger alone must pose himself as an irredeemable evil.

She immediately overcame the sadness of betrayal and ignited her sense of justice as a righteous detective.

She possessed a heart as strong as steel.

"James Moriarty. I will arrest you here and now!"

Contained in her eyes was the sublime determination to definitely exterminate the evil in front of her.

"By all means."

By all means.

James Moriarty finally smiled.

for that reason, casey had better never know the truth.

“Maybe she found out the truth about Mr. Ludger by chance.”

“...What difference does that make?”

“Hmm. But wouldn’t it be better than not knowing?”

“It’s better not to know.”

He doesn't know how Casey found out the truth about the past.

Knowing doesn't change anything.

The past is the past.

It had already happened, and the spilled water could not be collected back on the plate.

“Because knowing doesn’t change anything.”

for that reason, casey should never forgive him even if she finds out about the truth.

“Are you pitying me?”

Casey didn't bother to deny it.

“You’ve changed. Casey Selmore.”

“Everyone changes.”

“But because you are like that, you shouldn’t forgive me even more.”

“……What are you talking about."

“No matter how good one's intentions may be, if it is an evil act, you should not stand by and ignore it.”

“That…”

Casey was about to say something but pursed her lips.

“Don’t forget, Casey Selmore. No matter how much there was a misunderstanding and no matter how good the circumstances were... In the end, I am a villain with blood on my hands. It doesn't matter if your intentions are good. Everything is proven by the results.”

for that reason, nothing will change: in the end, he is a villain that casey must defeat with her sense of justice.

“What are you trying to do, Casey Selmore? What are you here for?”

"Shut...up...”

“Didn’t you say you would bring justice? Didn’t you say you would eradicate evil in the world?”

Casey bit her lip. There was no way to refute his words.

“Stand up.”

Ludger's voice was filled with disappointment or perhaps anger.

"Stand up!"

Casey clenched her fists and strengthened her trembling legs.

The body that seemed like it would stumble and collapse stood tall again.

“I’m still here!”

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 03.01

what I think happened in:

Case 03.01, the case of "Guilt in the Grief Garden" or "Ashes to ashes, meat to roots".

Oh boy, this one's a doozy. Let's go. On 3rd of April 2009 Special Constable Caroline Jennings, 2911, logs a homicide case involving: -Maddie Webber (deceased) -Gerald Andrews (alive ???) -grief counsellor Harriot Manning (hopefully alive) -Dr. Samuel Webber (deceased. Very, very deceased. He is SO dead you guys). -one buried briefcase with its content.

What we know: Dr. Samuel Webber had a wife (Maddie) and his work. He prioritized his work. Maddie was not very happy. Maddie left Samuel (possibly for Gerald), and left some of her things in storage unit when she moved out. Samuel was not very happy. He went to grief counsellor to deal. He got a nice grief-journal, but failed to deal. Obtained medical files of both Maddie and Gerald. Possibly killed Maddie (deceased). Possibly killed or planned to kill Gerald (no status note). Had a panic attack in public, shortly after the (possible) murder. He run away, decided to 'lie low'.

*deep breath* ok, here we go:

Smell of jasmine lures him into a garden that is in full bloom in December (sus) and surrounds 'ruins of bombed-out church' (very sus). He lies down in the wildflowers (as you do) and starts writing in his journal - thoughts, observations and lists. He likes lists. Then he starts hearing, and possibly seeing, Maddie (he seems to be gradually loosing memories, or maybe reliving random phases of his relationship with Maddie.).

And also he starts decomposing (starting from the scratches he got when getting through the bushes). And he's 'pruning' parts of himself. And he writes the whole process down, very clinically but also in a very poetically graphic way.

At some point he tries to leave but can't find a way out and might actually never have tried at all. Oh, and Maddie is definitely with him now, taking care of him and advising on gardening methods, so sweet of her.

Did I mention that at one point Samuel pulls his finger bones out of his left hand and plants them like seeds? He does that. Now you know.

And the more he falls apart, the more cheerful and awed by nature he gets. (Don't pay any attention to the deeply buried part of him that shakes in terror, it's not relevant). It's been night for so long, but now finally there's the sun and Maddie's with him and Samuel is happy. Also probably a tree, or, more likely, a shrub of jasmine.

What we don't know: anything.

Of note: Samuel was not in good mental state when he was writing (duh), and possibly hasn't been for a long time before that. The man is like an avatar of Unreliable Narrator. Any and all of the above might or might not have happened. Maddie left him, and she is dead - but did she leave him for a younger man, or did she leave because he was being both distant and possessive and controlling ("I worry when she is out alone"). (He got paranoid about someone looking at him in subway, he might have been paranoid about his wife talking to another man one time). Did he kill her, or did she die of illness / accident? Was the grief counselling for divorce, or for her death? He had medical files for the (alleged) lover too - did he plan on killing him? Did he succeed? More interestingly:

1). what is up with dates? The police has found and reported the journal in April of 2009, but the date of 'relevant entry' is 07-12-09. Read conventionally, that would be 7th of December 2009, so what's up with that? Was it:

time shenanigans?

Samuel was so out of it he didn't know what year it was

Samuel wrote the date backwards, so it was actually 9th of December 2007 when he got plantified, and his briefcase wasn't found until over a year later.

2). What about Maddie? Samuel kept hearing/seeing her while decomposing in the garden. Was it:

hallucination of his own guilt-ridden mind

Maddie's ghost

something else, using Maddie's voice to trick Samuel into false sense of security?

I don't know, but I see you, loss and regret and longing for loved one's voice. Don't think that I don't. I'm onto you, you little bastards.