#anyways i feel bad about not posting anything for so long so i've tried my best to draw something not-shit (:

[lopsidedtreetrunks]

It's been... 3 months since I last posted some art 😅 have some screenshot redraws but ghostalia'd 👻

[pomefioredove]

Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…

So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse

Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good

Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!

ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3

summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent type of post: short fics characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it

Jamil Viper

Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.

That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.

Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.

It's a bit strange, isn't it?

Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.

He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.

But that sense of unease doesn't go away.

He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.

And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.

"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."

You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.

"Thank you," you mumble.

You can't think of anything else to say.

"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.

"I'm fine,"

Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.

"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.

"I've... had a rough day,"

Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"

He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.

"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"

It.

What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.

"Did something happen?"

You hesitate.

"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"

Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.

He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.

But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.

"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."

He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.

He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.

"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"

Unlike me, he thinks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"

Like me.

You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.

A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Thank you, Jamil,"

He hugs back. "Of course,"

Ruggie Bucchi

It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.

You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.

Ruggie included.

He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.

He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.

And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.

Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?

He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.

Sigh.

"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"

"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."

The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.

"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.

"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"

You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.

You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"

"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."

The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"

"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"

Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.

"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"

"Did you find it?"

"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"

You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.

After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"

"What?"

"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"

You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.

Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"

"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"

"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"

You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.

And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He struggles to respond for a moment.

"That's rough,"

Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.

"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."

"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."

He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"

The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.

"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.

Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...

But that didn't bother him. Not at all.

As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.

That plan lasts about five hours.

"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"

That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.

And it's getting closer.

"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."

Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.

"I'm trying,"

This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.

"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"

Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.

He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.

"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."

"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"

This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.

You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"

"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"

"This is-"

"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.

"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"

Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"

"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?

"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.

"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"

"Your... offer...?"

Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"

"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"

He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."

Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.

"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."

Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"

"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."

"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.

As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"

"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"

"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"

Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.

"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"

You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"

He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"

Floyd Leech

Of course, he can tell something's up right away.

Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.

His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?

Now this catches his attention.

"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.

"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."

"But you're not,"

"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"

Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.

"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"

"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"

Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.

"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"

"Why?"

There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.

"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"

He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"

"FLOYD!"

He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.

When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.

"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."

You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"

"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.

Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"

"Are they ill?"

You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"

"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"

Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"

"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.

Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.

"Now will you tell me?"

"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"

Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"

"Tell me about it,"

"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"

You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"

"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."

"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.

His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"

His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"

"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"

"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"

His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"

"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"

You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"

Rollo Flamme

Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.

The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.

The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?

They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.

He loathed being talked down to.

Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.

And now you're just quiet.

"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug.

"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"

No response at all.

Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.

"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"

"No,"

A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.

"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"

That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"

He struggles for the right words.

How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.

Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.

Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?

He couldn't quite come up with an answer.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."

"It's not your fault,"

"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.

"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.

Another pause.

"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"

[harleywarley18]

God of prophecy, music, and plague 𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I was supposed to post this Sunday but got caught up with stuff so here's a midnight rundown on my relationship to Apollo ;-;

Apollo began showing up around a month after I began my worship to Aphrodite. I was afraid at first. Not of him, but of the idea of worshipping another deity. In the past, I had only ever worshipped one at a time. As a neurodivergent person I was also afraid that my relationship to Aphrodite was just a hyperfixation since I had been playing Hades a lot.

The thought of worshipping Apollo only further worried me. I wanted to assure Aphrodite that she wasn't;t a mere hyperfixation and that she would not be forgotten. The first time I tried to communicate with Apollo via tarot cards, Aphrodite showed up instead and voiced her concerns.

She was afraid that I'd abandon her and forget about her. I knew where this was coming from because I had told her about Hades. Early 2023 I had begun worshipping Hades but after about a month and a half it became too much for me to continue and I kind of just stopped my worship and never went back. I had felt so bad but worship can be so draining sometimes.

Anyways, after reassuring Aphrodite many times I believed I had the okay to begin doing proper research on Apollo before reaching out to him. What interested me about him is his Lo'xias epithet, meaning god of prophecy or messenger of Zeus. I was so drawn to it because throughout my entire life I have always had crazy intuition and predictions.

At first I chalked up to the fact that I'm autistic and can recognize patterns really well. Specifically, I take "data" I've collected about a situation or people and use it to make predictions about what will happen or what they'll do. But, too often did I predict something and it actually happened in a scarily accurate manner. There have been multiple times that it's felt as though I've actually spoken things into existence. For example, while I was ranting to my sister about someone who had talked major shit about me and I said that (for the sake of privacy I will not describe what I said) this specific scenario was going to happen to them. I said it out of anger and in passing but that very weekend exactly the thing that I said would happen to them HAPPENED.

With tarot cards, especially, my readings are always insanely accurate. Even my sister, who is not a believer in anything that I do, is wary about my readings because she knows that whatever the cards say will happen will actually happen. Furthermore, when I first moved to college I had visited a metaphysical store with my cousin and there the owner overheard me say that it had been so long since I had really done tarot that I probably couldn't ever do it again. And she said to me "tarot reading is like riding a bike, you learn once and never forget. She then brought out her own personal oracle cards and had me do a reading on her and her husband. She wanted me to use the cards to tell them who they are. According to them, everything I had said was more than true.

With Apollo, I thought I could use his help to groom and cultivate this proclivity of mine.

After having properly reached out to him, I've come to the realization that I love more than just his prophetic aspect. I stated in my previous post that I had been struggling due to a situation that occurred earlier in the school semester. Even when I was back home, I was struggling with panic attacks and bouts of major anxiety. What always helped, however, was taking my dogs out on their walk and feeling Apollo's rays of sunshine beaming down on me.

Every single time I stepped out of the house-heart racing, hands shaking, ears ringing-suddenly it would all melt away into nothingness the second I felt the sun on my face, enveloping my person, weaving its heat through my curls and over my ears. Even if it had been storming, when the time came to walk the dogs, the sky would magically become clear enough to allow the sun to shine through.

Eventually, I started keeping the tarot cards I dedicated to Apollo under my pillow and asking him to visit me in my dreams. The first night I saw a beautiful, swirling ball of light above my bed, with orange and yellow flares coming out of it. The second night, however, I woke up in a dream. I was in the back of this van sitting next to this man. He looked young with beautiful, black curls. He had his arm wrapped around me and my head rested on his shoulder.

I remember him feeling so warm. He felt like home. He felt like snuggling up under the covers in a cold room. And I just lay there, hands holding his, watching the scenery of the drive we were on. I woke up that morning with the sun shining on my face, clearly attempting to wake me up.

I've heard a lot of people say that Apollo feels like a golden retriever boyfriend or nice frat boy. And while I respect that everyone's experiences with deities is different, Apollo to me feels like some guardian. Maybe an older brother or a father or an uncle. I think people expect Apollo to be boyish and naive because he's always been described as a young thing. We forget that he is just as wise, if not more, as his cousins and aunts and uncles.

Praise Apollo, averter of evil, dark-haired, messenger of zeus!

[hades--baby]

To Die Like This

Summary: Stuck in the Tundra with a bullet in your side, blood in your eye, and the agonizing feeling that your captain was going to throw an absolute fit when your bleeding body walked through the threshold of the safe house.

Note: There's just something about Price being so tender with the girl he loves that makes me go absolutely crazy. Anyway, it's been a long time since I've written anything and an even longer time since I've actually put something out. Hope y'all enjoy :)

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word Count: 7109

You had always loved the serenity of a snowy forest. 

They were typically peaceful and quiet, a drastic contrast to your usual life of gunfire and warfare. 

The only things that ever really made a sound was the light crunch of snow beneath the thick soles of boots, the little animals scurrying from shrubs to burrows that led to their dens, and the winter birds chirping their little songs as they hopped from branch to branch. 

The air was always so crisp with a light scent of fresh pine and bark. It lacked the smell of gunpowder and the musk that filled the tight barracks. 

Honestly, if you could have it your way, you’d die in a forest like this. 

Have your trauma-ridden life end in a place so ethereal. 

The whole military life never really gave you what you wanted though. 

You typically had to take what you could get.  

The orders you were given weren’t to your liking? 

Too bad, you’d have to follow them anyway. 

The mission you were assigned to was in the middle of the fucking Tundra where you knew your fingers would freeze and you’d never be able to keep warm? 

You’re getting on the damn plane and going anyway because you were told to. 

A lead slugger was shot into your side and you were currently bleeding through your gear and you wanted to do nothing more than lay down in the snow and let the cold take you while the little blood you had left in your system melted the snow beneath your limp body? 

Well, too fucking bad. Get the fuck up because your Captain doesn’t take too kindly to any of his soldiers dying on the job. 

Yeah. 

You didn’t really get your way when it came to being a soldier, but today might have been your lucky day. 

That little snowy death wish that had been playing out in the back of your head for the past thirty minutes was starting to look like it might come true. 

There was a small burning bullet set in your side, a nice little slash on your arm from a bowie knife that had once been stuck in another man’s chest, and there was a cheeky little gash somewhere on your head that was pouring enough blood into your left eye to make you shut it and trek around half blind. 

It felt like you were getting too old for this kind of work. 

Then again, if Price could still keep up with this shit and be chipper doing it, then so could you. 

“What’s your ETA, Frost?”

His voice over your comms had startled you. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you snapped in a breathy tone as you slammed against the side of a pine tree to brace yourself before you could fall flat on your face. The fresh powder beneath you was starting to look really enticing. 

You closed your good eye—the one that hadn’t been flooded with blood—and let out a defeated sigh, dipping your head as you tried to catch your breath and not focus on the stinging sensation of all the wounds that riddled your body. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, apologizing to your Captain for your tone. You glanced at the watch on your wrist to check your current coordinates. “I’m a klick out from the safehouse. I should be there in a bit.”

“Copy.”

Price left it at that. 

He sounded tired. 

It was the same tone he spoke in when he was stuck in his office, getting dragged down into the depths with paperwork and mission reports he didn’t even want to think about. The tone that would come out when someone tried to talk to him too soon after a mission when all he wanted to do was relax and work the knots out of his shoulders. The tone that you heard oh so often when you’d pop into his office to keep him company while he dotted his i’s and crossed his t’s and when you’d work your fingers into the knots and sore spots on his back until he nearly fell asleep in his office chair. 

Fuck. 

You needed to get a move on.

After taking a deep breath, you trekked on, using every other tree to keep yourself upright as you staggered on your tired feet. 

Blood was seeping through all of your gear, some of it dripping into the pristine white powder beneath your feet. It was tragic how the deep crimson liquid stained the gorgeous snow. In your line of work, you had seen blood stain an array of surfaces, but snow seemed to be the worst of them. It was something that was meant to be clean and pure, yet here you were, ruining it. 

A grimace fell over your face at the sight. 

After a few minutes passed by, your legs met the threshold of movement and you slammed into another tree trunk. Your temple met the bark, wood scratching against the skin of your face. You closed your eyes as you tried to catch your breath and focus on not passing out while your limbs buzzed in pain. 

You could make it. 

Probably.

All you could really think about was the fact that you were definitely going to be telling Price that you didn’t want to do any more jobs in the Tundra. You enjoyed the cold climate when you weren’t working, which was almost never, but you still had a few days of leave a year where you got to fully relax (if your brain allowed). 

You liked the cold when you could cuddle up next to someone to stay warm, drink some hot cider, and watch stupid Christmas movies that had too many questionable moments that made you really sit and stare, trying to figure out whether or not you should laugh. 

You enjoyed the cold even more when you could hide away in the barracks, keeping warm with Price wrapped around you, hands tracing over your skin, heating you up quicker than a blanket ever could. 

“Frost.”

“Captain.”

He didn’t respond right away, making you wonder if he just wanted to say your callsign for the hell of it. 

“ETA?”

“Couple of minutes,” you answered. 

The eye with blood in it was starting to sting, the foreign liquid now slipping all the way to your jaw and dripping from your chin. 

“Cut it down to a minute.”

Price was starting to catch on that something was wrong. You were taking far too long to get to the safe house from where you had been coming from and your words were becoming too short and strained every time he asked you a question. Something was wrong and it was taking everything in him to not run out of the safehouse in search of you. You’d always been the type to be vocal when something went awry out in the field, so he silently prayed that your absence of issue meant that everything was fine and that you truly were just taking your sweet ass time to get to him. 

“You’re starting to sound like Gaz with all the worrying you’re doing, Pricey,” you teased, adding on the little nickname that you knew peeved him. 

“Shut it and get a damn move on.”

“Yessir.”

You started moving again just as he ordered you to do, finding some sense of motivation after hearing his gruff voice. It was the voice that had welcomed you to the 141 after Laswell had shipped you off to join the task force. The voice that had let you know that you were okay and safe when the boys had finally found you after you had been taken hostage on a mission in your earlier days. The voice that had talked you through every touch that made your body burn as he sunk his fingers into you. 

It was the kind of voice that you’d betray death for. 

A little while later, the safehouse finally came into view. 

You glanced at your watch, checking how much time had passed. 

A minute and twenty-seven seconds.

Price wasn’t going to let you hear the end of it. 

You winced in pain, feeling the skin of your arm pull apart. The soldier that had cut you had grabbed the knife he used from the middle of another man’s chest and you were starting to feel queasy from the thought of your blood mixing with his. You needed to get your gash disinfected soon or you were going to have a problem. Well, technically you already had multiple problems, but you were trying to take on one issue at a time. 

Alright, maybe it was about time you mentioned something to your captain. 

“Hey, Cap’?” you probed as you quietly trudged toward the short porch steps of the cute little cottage. “Is this a bad time to mention that I got hit earlier?”

You failed to mention how badly you were hit.

“What the hell—what do you mean you got hit?”

You stopped a good ten feet from the steps, furrowing your brows. 

There was no sign of Price having entered through the front door. The powder in front of the stairs had been untouched and there weren’t any wet footprints  on the old wood of the porch. The windows were dark and nothing could be seen from the outside. The only thing that gave any sign of someone being inside was the dark smoke slowly wisping from the brick chimney peeking out of the top of the cabin.

“I mean, I got a nice little slugger in my side and some blood pouring out of me in other places,” you said, keeping your voice low and quiet. You wondered if you were in the right place. You looked down at your watch, checking your coordinates. According to the device, you were. “Are you inside?” 

He ignored your question. 

“Where the hell’s your kit?”

“Somewhere in the forest four klicks back.”

You looked around again, hoping to find some sign of this being the right place. 

“Christ, Frost,” Price muttered. You didn’t need to see him to know that he was shaking his head at you. “How far out are you?”

“Right out front,” you answered. 

You gave in. 

The wood creaked under the thick soles of your boots as you trekked up the stairs. You shoved the door open, stumbled inside, and slammed the door shut as you slumped against the wall. You slowly slid down to the floor. The cold began to set into your bones as the distinctive heat from the fireplace on your left radiated around you. 

Price rushed into the room. 

“Well, aren’t you a right-all mess,” he said as he moved toward you.

“Shut up,” you muttered, shaking your head before tilting it back to rest against the wall. You opened your good eye as he knelt down in front of you.

“Where are you broken, love?” he asked as his eyes scanned over you, clocking every little rip and tear in your gear before you could even say anything. 

He hated seeing you like this. 

It had become one of the toughest parts of his job ever since Laswell had sent you his way to recruit to the taskforce. There was just something about you that made his heart ache whenever he saw you in pain in any way.  

He knew that it was all a part of the job. 

That there were always going to be times where he saw you like this; busted and broken.

And he always fucking hated it.

He knew he’d hate it ever since the first time he had seen you like this. It was way back when you had first joined the team. You’d only been with them for a good six months, but you had already gone on about four missions with them. It had been a busy year for the task force, but you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you were eager to keep getting back out on the field every time you got back to base. 

On their fifth mission all together, when they believed that they had the upper hand, you and Soap had been ambushed. The Scot had been knocked unconscious while you were taken captive, too many soldiers for the two of you to take out on your own without any supporting fire. 

Learning that you had been taken was worrisome on its own, but Price’s heart ached when they finally found you. 

He had sunken to his knees in front of you, using his knife to work away the zip ties that had you bound to an uncomfortable looking metal chair. Your face was bruised and bloody. Gashes from knife wounds worked their way down your arms and legs. Burn marks from what looked like cigarettes were ingrained into your plush skin. 

You looked beyond rough. 

Price had felt furious that he had let any of this happen to you, but the fury was quickly overcome with worry when you had perched your eyes open and groaned in pain. He let out a sigh of relief, finally knowing that you were, at the very least, well enough to be conscious. He had tried to soothe you as best he could and when you were finally free of your bounds, you practically fell into his embrace, your entire body slumping against his.

It was that very moment—when he wrapped his arms around you and held the entirety of you—that was when he knew that seeing you like this would always pull deadly wear on his heart. His old heart wouldn’t be able to take seeing you like this and hoped that it would be a rarity for his tiring eyes. 

Much to his surprise, it had been a rare sight. 

But that didn’t mean it was a non-existent sight. 

“Got shot in my right side, bullet’s still somewhere in there from what I can tell. Slash on my right arm from a gross ass knife that was already stuck in someone else before it got to me. And I got hit in the head and I can’t see out of my fucking right eye because of all the goddamn blood,” you explained, lifting one of your hands to try and wipe the blood away from your eye, but to no avail, the metallic liquid kept flowing. There was no use in trying to see right now anyway.

“Let’s get you fixed up then,” he said, a sense of urgency finally filling his voice. 

He had been attempting to keep his cool this entire time; to not panic so you wouldn’t panic either. But he knew that you were much too tired to even start panicking, so perhaps he was just trying to stay calm for his own sake. He found it funny that out of everyone on the task force, he had been the one to deal with more field injuries, yet here he was with his damned nerves buzzing out of his skull. 

Something like this shouldn’t have worried him as much as it did. 

But it was you. 

He couldn’t help himself when it came to you. 

Whatever was going on between the two of you had always left him in the realm of something being completely unspoken. The relationship that had sprouted was in some sort of limbo, but neither of you seemed to mind since it was easier that way. 

It was easier than having to tell the boys that something was going on between you two. It was easier than telling Laswell that there may be some sort of infringement on the team—not that she’d care unless it really started to affect how the two of you went about your work lives. And it was easier than admitting to each other that there might be something more than a quick casual stress-relief fuck. 

The two of you had shared too many moments together for that to be true. 

There were too many night’s of your bodies being pressed together and entwined, skin to skin to keep each other warm. Too many words of comfort as you soothe the nightmares of war away, finding comfort in each other’s arms. Too many gentle kisses for it to not be real. 

Your eyes were closed. 

He didn’t care much for that. 

“Frost,” he said, bumping your arm without a slash in it to jostle you awake. You opened your good eye and looked up at him, sending him a quick look of aggravation. It would’ve been amusing if you weren’t bleeding out before his very eyes. “Need your good eye open so I know you aren’t dying on me, sweetheart.”

You grunted in response, looking away from him but still keeping your eye open. 

The feeling of disquietude was starting to set in. 

It wasn’t normal for you to get hit during missions—it was actually quite rare. Soap was usually the one to take the podium for taking quite a bit of damage out in the field. Regardless of all that, you still knew what to do in such situations. You wouldn’t have been at this level of infantry if you didn’t know what to do. 

The hard part was the fact that you were in the presence of your captain. 

Moments ago, when you were trekking to the safehouse, you knew that you wouldn’t have to do any of this alone because your captain was waiting less than a klick away from you. 

The thought alone made everything feel easier. 

It was always harder doing it all alone. 

You thought back to the first and only time you had applied a tourniquet on yourself. Damn near gave up and bled out from how painful it was to cinch the band as tight as you could to keep yourself from bleeding out. You had spent years in the service of infantry. Years of wear and tear on the body, but that kind of pain was something you never wanted to feel again in your lifetime or in any lifetime. So when you felt your arm begin to fall numb from the lack of blood circulating through your veins, you knew that you had to get to Price before you would be forced to deal with it on your own. 

When he was around, you knew that you’d never have to face anything alone. 

You had learned to find such comfort in that. 

Price felt sick to his stomach as he started to get some of your heavier gear off. Your weapons were first to go, then your holsters, and then your vest. He was almost afraid to remove your thermal to see the damage the thick white jacket was hiding poorly. 

He couldn’t keep his damn head straight. 

Simon had griped with him about it a while back, saying that he needed to do better about keeping a clear head around you, but Price still managed to get work done on missions, so the younger man could never really get on him about it all that much. Simon didn’t know exactly what was going on between you two behind closed doors, but he had enough of an idea seeing how much Price doted on you even when you told him to fuck off and focus on something else for a while. 

It was the playfulness of your jabs that usually gave it away. 

That and the lingering looks you two sent each other as if you were some love sick teenagers. 

Price knew that you were more than capable of handling yourself in the field, but there was always something whispering in the back of his head that had him wearing a deep sense of worry on his sleeve every time he had to send you out on a mission. He had read your file when Laswell had recruited you. You were beyond skilled in almost everything you did and you rarely ever came back to base having to see a medic, so hearing that you had actually been hit—

“I can’t feel my arm.”

“Shite,” Price cursed, snapping out of his thoughts as he snatched his medkit and opened it up to finally help you. 

The cold had finally set in and all the blood that had seeped from your arm was causing your skin to turn pale. The gash on your arm was still wide open, but blood had stopped spilling from it, which meant he could disinfect it and get it closed without anything (hopefully) going wrong. Your side wasn’t doing all that bad, still bleeding, but not bad. He’d probably have to cauterize the wound just to feel like he could leave it be, but that could wait for after he got the bullet out of you. 

“Arm first, then your side,” he decided, nodding his head before he turned back to his kit. He turned back with a bottle in hand and you grimaced at the sight. “Gonna have to feel more broken before you feel fixed.”

“No shit,” you muttered, eyeing the small bottle of alcohol in his hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be snappy.”

Price set the bottle down, reached for his belt, and took it off. Something deep in you fluttered, but it stopped when he presented it to your face in a folded mess. 

“Bite down,” he said. You eyed him a little more, making him huff. “Bite down on it, Frost.”

You huffed back at him and bit down on the folded belt. You held it between clenched teeth, watching as he picked the bottle of alcohol back up. He sighed and nodded, almost as if he was telling himself that he was ready to do this. He tipped the bottle and poured the liquid over the wound. You squirmed and held back a writhing scream. He quickly clamped your legs between his knees, keeping you from squirming away. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he said, trying to sooth you as he set the bottle down and wiped around the edge of the wound. He grabbed a needle and thread from his kit.

You groaned through the thickness of the belt as he stabbed the needle into your skin, creating even sutures along the wound. Your eyes closed as you tried to not focus on anything specific, but the feeling of Price keeping you in place while he dug a needle kept you from thinking of anything else. 

Price hated this. 

He hated every fucking part of this. 

Digging a needle and thread into your arm while you bit onto a belt. 

He thought back to the last time he had touched you. 

It was the night before the mission that you two were currently on. Price hadn’t expected to see you until the two of you were meant to take off on the tarmac, but he found himself aimlessly wandering the halls of the barracks until he wound up at the door of your private quarters. 

He almost hadn’t knocked. 

It was late, you two had to be up early, and he still didn’t know where the two of you stood when it came to something like this. 

He knew that there was some sort of love there, but he wasn’t too sure about the type. He knew that if he was stressed about all the ridiculous mission reports and papers he had to sign off on late into the night when he should be sleeping instead, you’d be sitting there with him to keep him company. He knew that if he mentioned that something was hurting, you’d use your nimble and calloused fingers to work away the knots and sore spots that came with all the training and missions. He knew that in a moment of weakness, he could count on you to hold the broken pieces of his soul together. 

Everything in his mind told him to leave you alone and let you be for the night, but the Captain was feeling selfish and he rarely ever got to indulge in such things.

His entire life and career, he was meant to be selfless. 

To put everyone else’s needs before his own. 

And ultimately, he had been okay with that… until he met you. 

He found himself tempted to be selfish when it came to you. 

He had knocked and you had answered. 

It was all he needed for the night. 

Maybe for life. 

“Done,” he said, tying off the last stitch and cutting the thread. 

“Thank fuck,” you breathed out, letting the belt drop from your mouth. 

“Still have a few more things to do,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction of your side before glancing at your head. “I’m gonna have to lay you down flat to get the bullet out, alright?”

“M’kay,” you muttered, still feeling hazy. Your nerves were buzzing in all the wrong ways and you just wanted it to stop. 

Price carried you over to the fireplace and laid you out on the floor next to the fire in hopes of warming you up. The flame felt nice against your freezing skin. He worked quickly to strip you of your thermal undershirt. The wound on your side looked small, but the skin around it was stained red with thick blood. 

“Want the belt again?” he asked. You sighed and nodded. He grabbed his belt and folded it up again before placing it back in your mouth. Your teeth dug into the material as you anticipated whatever pain was about to come. “Ready?”

You grunted in response. 

He used a set of dull tweezers to dig into your side, fishing for the little bullet deep in your flesh. You reeled in pain, damn near shooting up on your own, but Price used his free hand to push your chest back down to keep you steady.

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” he tried to soothe, continuing to search for the hunk of lead. You writhed in pain, pressing yourself against the floor as hard as you could as if that would help you escape the pain that was stabbing into it. The ends of the tweezers grazed something hard and he knew that he almost had it. “Almost got it. Almost done.”

After a few moments, he pulled the metal fragment from your body and pulled the tweezers from your aching flesh. You gasped, shaking as you laid limp. Your shoulders slumped against the wood floor as your chest heaved. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you tried to catch your breath. 

“You’re alright,” he said, squeezing your good arm as if that would make everything better. He massaged your bicep for a moment, using it as an excuse to keep his hands on you. He was also trying to calm you down a bit more before he had to move onto the actual hard part. He grimaced and glanced over to the fireplace. “Do you trust me?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, lazily nodding your head as you felt consciousness slipping through your fingers. 

“I need you to close your eyes, sweetheart.”

“Mm-mm,” you said, shaking your head this time around. 

“I need you to trust me on this one, Frost.”

You stared at him for a long while before finally giving in and closing your eyes. You slammed the back of your head against the wood flooring as hard as you could, wishing that the impact had knocked you out because you knew that whatever he was about to do was going to hurt like hell. 

Price had always been the type to make sure that his own were safe and taken care of, but he was also the type to tell his own to buck up and take it. Whenever the boys got injured out in the field, he would always make sure that they were okay, and if they were, he’d tell the lot of them to get back to work then. 

Even with you. 

Every time you had been bruised and battered, if you told him that you were okay, he’d believe you and expect you to be okay and not broken. 

So the fact that he was telling you to close your eyes and to trust him meant that it had to be bad and that scared you.

Price waited for a few moments, making sure that you kept your eyes closed before he proceeded with what he was about to do. He grabbed the hot poker from the fireplace, the one that he had been stoking the fire with before you had made it to the confines of the safehouse and trudged in with all of your broken parts. He took a deep breath, knowing that there was a good chance that he was going to hate this just as much as you. 

“Bite down hard and keep your eyes closed, you hear?” he ordered, heaving one last warning before he pressed the burning poker to your skin. 

You did exactly as he ordered even though you were itching to scream and open your eyes to see what the fuck he was doing, but the smell of your burning flesh was enough to urge you to just squeeze your eyes shut even tighter. 

You were going to pass out. 

Or vomit. 

Or maybe scream at Price for cauterizing your wound without a proper fucking warning. 

Maybe all three. 

You eventually fell limp, no longer having the energy to resist the fiery pain that flooded over your skin. The only part of you that could move was your heaving chest as your lungs begged for some semblance of air. 

Price pulled the poker away, tossing the burning end back into the fire.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he said, disinfecting the area around the cauterized wound to ensure that everything was thoroughly taken care of. He placed a bandage over it and then gently grasped your shoulders, his thumb massaging circles into your skin. “Gonna get you up now, nice and easy.” 

He slowly pulled you into an upright position, but you haphazardly slumped forward into his arms, forehead hitting his chest. He let your full weight fall against him. You still hadn’t said anything, nor had you opened your eyes. All you could really manage were hard, labored breaths that made your entire body quake. 

His heart hurt. 

Probably not as much as you were hurting, but still, it hurt. 

He couldn’t stand to see you like this. 

Body shaking in his arms, lungs gasping for air, kind eyes hidden behind low lids. 

He wanted to take you from this world. 

To take you from the world of hurt.

The world where you were constantly shot at and put at risk every time a new mission was assigned to the taskforce. 

But he knew that he’d never be able to take you from this world of chaos and pain. You’d surely raise hell the day you truly had to leave the force. You had always said that you’d probably die in the military. He really prayed that you wouldn’t. 

He pulled you into his lap, settling you down comfortably as he grabbed a clean wrap. He propped you up a little more so your head was resting against his shoulder, face tucked you into the crook of his neck. He wrapped your midsection, making sure to keep the bandages snug and clean. 

“Almost done,” he promised in a sweet coo. 

You opened your mouth, finally letting the belt drop to the floor. You hadn’t realized that it was still in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out as he tied the bandages off, running his fingers over the material to make sure it all laid flat and clean. 

“Gonna lay you back down,” he said. 

You shook your head, pressing your forehead against his shoulder in hopes that he’d understand that you wanted to stay like that in his arms, face tucked away so he couldn’t see you cry. You just needed a moment to collect yourself. Tears pooled in your eyes, the pain setting in even more as the adrenaline started to wear off. He placed one of his hands on your back, gently rubbing circles over your shoulder blades in an attempt to calm you down.

“I’ve got you, Frost,” he muttered, pulling you in closer. Hot tears rushed faster from your eyes, slipping down, and staining his shirt as they dropped from your face. The diluted mix of salt water and blood didn’t bother him much. “Gotta check that head of yours. Clearly you’ve got a screw loose since you thought hiding all of this from me was okay.” 

“Didn’t want to bother,” you muttered hazily in broken fits.

“Helping you ain’t a bother, love,” he said, shaking his head. He slowly pulled you away from him and cupped your face in his rough hands. “How’s the head feeling?” 

“Amazing. Thanks for asking,” you said, letting the weight of your head sink into the salvation of his hands. He kept you up, calloused fingers running over your cheekbones to wipe away the stray tears still slipping from your eyes. The salty water had started to clear the blood from one of your eyes, but it wasn’t enough to fully see. You squeezed your eyes shut even more, leaning into him, and slumping in his hold. 

“Need you awake, soldier,” he said, jostling you around a bit. You opened your good eye, staring into his focused ones. 

There was so much comfort in his gaze. 

Solace. 

Made you feel warm. 

Too warm. 

Your eyes closed as you fell fully limp in his embrace. 

He scrambled to keep you in an upright position. 

“None of that now. Come on, Frost—”

God, you could die listening to that voice. 

You woke with the scent of musk and cigar smoke lingering around you. 

It was a scent that you had grown accustomed to waking up to.

There was a sense of easement that fell over you whenever the scent lingered on your sheets whenever he found an excuse to stay the night in your private quarters back in the barracks. A scent that you found comfort in whenever you woke from a long flight after a rough mission. And a scent you had learned to completely love when you invited him to stay with you for Christmas when the entire task force inevitably left for their week long holiday leave. 

You attempted to take a deep breath to take the comforting scent in, but it was cut short when you felt your skin pull against the stitches in your side.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

You jolted from the sudden presence of the familiar gruff voice, but Price’s arms cinched around you tighter to keep you from falling from his lap and onto the floor. You were comfortably curled up in his lap, his arms around your body. His brows were furrowed, eyes riddled with stress and worry as he stared at you. 

It was the same look that he always gave when he felt like he failed someone. 

Disappointed them. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

He stared at you for a little longer before pulling you in to hug you tight. You winced slightly, but were happy nonetheless to be close to the worried captain. You sighed and closed your eyes, letting your face rest in the nape of his neck. The smell of musk and thick cigars filled your system again. 

“You can’t scare me like that again, Frost. I don’t think my old heart could take another fright like that,” he said, shaking his head to nuzzle his face into yours. He took a deep breath, taking in the smell of your hair. Even with everything you’d been through, the light scent of your usual shampoo still lingered. “Plus the boys would kill me if I ever came back with you in pieces.”

“They’d live,” you muttered, even though you knew he was right. 

The boys of the 141 would probably wreak havoc if you ever came back from a mission on the brink of death. Though, they’d never blame Price. You knew that much for sure. They’d know that your captain would do anything and everything in his power to get you back in the best shape he could manage. 

You slowly pulled away from him, staying in his lap as you tried to reorientate yourself. You had been stripped down to your base layers, your other gear laid out near the fire to dry the blood and snow that had soaked into the material. He was also down to his base layers, his gear and his silly little hat in a pile on the other side of the room. 

The two of you were comfortably resting on the rundown couch closest to the fireplace, but the sight of the fire brought a memory back to you. 

“I can’t believe you fucking cauterized my wound you bastard—”

“Had to get it shut, sweetheart—”

“And a fire poker was your first and only thought?” 

He grimaced and sat back so he was pressed against the couch cushion. His hands stayed on you, one on your hip and the other on your thigh, fingers tracing gentle circles into your skin. 

“Stitches weren’t gonna cut it,” he said, shaking his head. 

You sighed, knowing he was right. 

“I want a cigarette,” you said, going to slide off his lap in hopes of finding a pack stashed somewhere in the pockets of your gear. He tightened his grip on you, pulling you back into him. 

“Wouldn’t do you any good to have one right now,” he said.

“I want one anyway.”

He sighed and shook his head before grabbing a cigar from the ashtray on the coffee table beside the couch. It wasn’t a cigarette, but it would do. You found it humorous that a safehouse had an ashtray, but knowing the people you worked with, it almost made sense. 

The end of the cigar was already burnt, meaning he had been smoking while you were out in his arms. He placed it in his mouth and grabbed the lighter, burning the end until he was able to take a decent drag. The breath of smoke was held deep in his chest before he slowly blew it out. He made sure to blow the smoke away from your face before holding the cigar out to you. You went to grab it, but he moved his hand just out of your reach. Furrowing your brows, your eyes flicked between him and the cigar. He slowly brought it back to you, but held it right up to your lips. It wasn’t until you wrapped your lips around it did he let it go and the weight of the cigar rested against your lip. 

You took a deep drag, holding it until you felt light headed. You leaned back, only stopping when his hand braced against your lower back to keep you from tipping over. You slowly blew out, letting the smoke wisp above your head. You passed the cigar back to him and he placed it back in his mouth, the tips of his teeth chewing the end a bit. 

It was a nervous habit of his. 

Typically had to swat his thigh to get him to quit. 

He took another drag. 

He tilted his head to the side to blow the smoke away from your face, but before he could, you gently grabbed his face and turned it back to face you. He furrowed his brows in a confused manner, but you slowly leaned forward and he got the idea.

God. 

He could die like this. 

You sitting in his lap, a cigar in hand, and you begging for something that he could only think to do with someone he loved. 

All he was missing was a glass of whiskey to top it all off. 

He cupped your face and urged you closer, but stopped before your lips could touch. You were tempted to lean forward and close the distance, but you stopped yourself. Your mouth was slightly ajar, wondering if he’d actually go through with it.

He did. 

He kissed you hard and blew the smoke right into your mouth. Heat filled your system as you slowly leaned back and exhaled, letting smoke wisp away between the two of you. 

“Fuckin’ minx,” he muttered before taking another drag with a smirk on his face. “Even on the brink of fucking death.”

“You love it,” you teased. He huffed out a gruff laugh. “I’m sorry for almost dying.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” he said. “Boys would kill me in a jealous rage if they found out you died in my lap like this.”

“As if,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“You don’t see the way those boys look at you, love,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Yeah? And how about the way you look at me?” you wondered. 

His gaze met yours and you didn’t dare pull away. 

“Just like this,” he said, his lids low as his eyes flicked down to your lips and then back to your eyes. 

The fingers that had once been drawing circles into your skin had stopped, the pads of them pressing into your plush thighs instead. He had a good grip on you. You weren’t going anywhere. Not that you wanted to go anywhere. 

You could stay like this forever. 

“You gonna keep looking at me like that or are you gonna do something about it?” you asked, wondering how far he’d actually go while the two of you were on a mission. 

Then again, you two were technically done with the mission and you were just waiting for evac so… no harm, no foul. 

He let out a light laugh before bringing a hand up to your face and pulling you in until his lips pressed against yours. You leaned into him, your front pressed against his own. You moved your legs until you straddled him, wincing once from the pain in your side. He pulled back, pressing a hand down to where your wound was, looking over the bandaged area. 

“I’m alright,” you assured him. You cupped his face in your hands and slowly tilted it back up until he was looking at you again. “I’m alright, John.”

He kissed you again, resting his hands on your hips with a light squeeze.

“Evac won’t be here for another six hours,” you said, having caught a glance at the watch on his wrist. “Care to kill some time?” 

“Oh, I’d love to.”

[comingdownwithme]

CW: Mentions and discussions of intrusive thoughts, details of said intrusive thoughts

also not beta read and it's 6 am at the time of posting so–

"Tobes," Jeff said as he exhaled smoke, blue eyes averted to the cigarette fixed between his fingers, "D'ya think I'm a, uh, bad person..?"

"Huh?"

Toby blinked and stopped chewing his nail.

"Uhm, wh- what?"

"D'ya think I'm a bad person," Jeff repeats, louder, clearer this time, as he fidgets with his cigarette.

Toby let his words sink in, processing them, before he turned just slightly to watch the other teen from the corner of his eye. Jeff's hand over his shoulder squeezed faintly at the slight movement, an unconscious reaction under Toby's watchful gaze.

"Whu- Why...?" He asked.

"Jus' gimme a yes or no, Tob–"

"No. N- now t- t- tell me why."

Jeff pressed his lips close.

Neither boy said anything for a long moment. There was only the faint cacophony of the street life below them, melding together with the distant chirp of birds that flew over their small, suburban town.

Twenty minutes. That's all they've got left until the bell signaling the end of their lunch period rang. Then it'll be three or so hours until the two would see each other again with Liu in tow for their commute home.

So, as he brought the cigarette to his lips, Jeff decided it'd be best to just rip the bandaid off now than to let it worsen and fester later.

This isn't the first time he's been this vulnerable to Toby anyways, having felt as if he had pulled his ribcage apart to expose his damned soul under his careful eyes, nor did he think this would be the last.

This is just the first time the thought had actually scared him enough to think that maybe– maybe this was the last straw, the line he'd cross that would lead to the loss of his very lifeline.

Jeff inhaled, warmth filled his lungs.

He held that breath.

Then, he exhaled.

And he smelled smoke.

"I..." Jeff glanced up, meeting his best friend's dark eyes, before his gaze flickered down to his feet. "I've been thinkin'..."

"Damn, di- didn't know you–" Toby cracked his neck, "you c- could."

He couldn't help it, and Jeff let slip a snort. "Shuddup,"

Toby rolled his eyes before he elbowed him.

"Yeah, yeah, gettin' on with it," He huffed. "I've just... Sometimes these... thoughts come up."

"Th- thoughts?" Toby raised a brow.

"Bad ones, yeah..." Jeff explained.

Toby hummed, contemplative. "Like...?"

Jeff stared down at his cigarette, watching as smoke slowly rose from the burning end.

"I- I won't make fu- fun of y- y- you, if that's what you're think- thinking."

"Nah," Jeff blew a heavy breath, the scent of nicotine lingering on his tongue. "That's not what I've thought 'bout..."

"What i- is it then?"

"I've thought about hurtin' you."

Jeff let the confession settle between them, and he occupied his free hand by rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

He doesn't meet Toby's eyes when he continues.

"Hurtin' Liu too," He says, "An' mama, daddy... myself...

"I- I uh,"

Jeff's mouth hung open briefly as he tried to organise his thoughts, formulate his words in a way that won't cause his best friend- his only friend- to run off. He knew it was an uphill battle, but before he knew it, words spilled free from his tongue, desperate to pull the suffocating weight of guilt that's been festering, rotting inside him, off of his chest.

"When daddy took me huntin'– you weren't 'round here then, I was eight– I helped him hunt squirrels, had to hold 'em.

"He gave me one, a- an' I held it's limp lil' body in my lil' hands..."

The long, pale fingers that rested over Toby's shoulder flexed involuntary, squeezing the other boy's shoulder.

"I- It was..." Jeff paused, and he pulled in a shuddering breath. "I... I wanted ta crush it's head, hear it's skull crack open in my palms, feel the shards poke outta it's skin, and–"

"B- But did you do it?"

Jeff blinked.

Slowly, he turned to face the shorter teen, and after what felt like an entire lifetime, blue eyes finally met brown.

"Wha–"

"D- did you do it," He asked again, firmer this time.

"Fuck no! I wouldn't–"

"And w- would you hurt m- m- me? How about Liu? Your mo- mom? Dad?"

Jeff pressed his lips into a thin line.

An eye twitched before Toby simply raised a brow in response.

"I..." Jeff sighed. "N... No,"

"Then there's noth- nothing t- t- to worry abou- about."

"Tobes, I just told you I've thought about hurtin' you."

"And I knew you si- since I was– what? T- t- ten?" Toby broke his gaze and huffed out a laugh. "Jeff, you're not gonna hu- hurt me."

Jeff studied his best friend's face with furrowed brows as Toby's words settled between them. Despite the weight of Jeff's confession and the uneasiness even he felt at the mere thought alone, as the gentle brush of an afternoon wind ruffled brunette locks over his freckled cheeks, Toby met Jeff's gaze from the corner of his eyes and smiled.

"You're..." Jeff's mouth hung open briefly, eyes flickering to the floor. "Toby, you're so fuckin' weird."

"Yeah, yeah, sh- shut up, you've alr– already t- t- told me before." He huffed, leaning back against Jeff's arms over his shoulder, "Now q- quit the sad sh- shit. You're not a– a bad per- person, alright?"

"I'm..." Jeff sucked in a shuddering breath and held it. "I'm not... a bad person."

"See?" Toby's smile split into a full grin this time, revealing bucked teeth. "N- Now c'mon, I've guh- gotta keep telling you about how much o- of a piece of- piece of shit R- Richardson was e- earlier."

Jeff rolled his eyes, and as his own lips curved upwards into a small, unconscious smile, he held the shorter teen just a bit closer to his side, his cigarette forgotten between his own two fingers.

"Alright, what'd he do now?"

It was as if nothing happened. Toby still talked as if Jeff hadn't just admitted to thinking about hurting him. Hell, he shut it down quick and made him admit- accept that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as bad of a person as he had first thought.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Toby's words were only a bandage over an infected wound, that those thoughts aren't going to come up any less or get any better, any less disturbing. But with how he had talked- how he had believed in what he said so easily and with such nonchalance, even Jeff was swayed, willing to forgive even himself for even daring to think about hurting someone good, hurting someone like Toby.

It was just the two of them on that roof that one, cool afternoon, chattering away as the sounds of the surrounding town blurred around them. Jeff had never felt this light, not for as long as he could remember, and as he revelled in the easy flow of their conversation, unburdened by the guilt that would usually taint these small moments, he wanted to hold this one close.

A time where he bore his damned and accursed soul, and how a weird, freckled teen accepted him, all of him.

It was just the two of them on that roof.

Jeff, Toby,

And smoke.

He could still smell it.

It wrapped around his throat, clogging his lungs.

Jeff watched the burning visage of his own home, transfixed from it's front walkway. It illuminated the surrounding streets in a warm glow amidst the dark backdrop of night, and his skin burned with an unrepentant itch, nerves still alight as raw muscle and reddened skin were exposed to the cool evening air.

Whatever dragged itself out of the Woods' home- out of hell, wasn't Jeffery Woods. No, he wouldn't consider himself that, not anymore.

Whatever was left of that troubled teen died in the fires of that house alongside his parents, leaving the charred, burned remains of a deep, primal anger in disfigured, human flesh to watch as the place he once called home steadily burned in it's funeral pyre.

He knew who did this.

And as he pulled himself up, the small movement forcing a sharp gasp from his damaged throat, Jeff knew now for a fact that he wasn't a good person as he moved down the street towards three, distinct houses, fueled by an adrenaline and an anger that burned brighter than the flames he's limping away from.

May God save his soul.

And may his best friend- wherever he is- forgive him for what he's about to do

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Bad Weather LADS Drabbles

Word count; 837

Warnings; fluff, reader is scared of bad weather

Notes; hey guys! I thought I'd just post something small and I've never tried my hand at drabbles before, so I hope they're actually decent enough. I'm also not sure how long they're supposed to be or if this is classified as a scenario instead? Either way, I felt bad for not writing anything new in my one-shots this week, so I hope a random little drabble will suffice!

Either way, I was just a bit inspired since I have a tad bit of bad weather coming my way (mostly just thunderstorms and high winds, a storm surge from the hurricane but it's not going to come anywhere close), and I was inspired to write since I don't particularly like bad weather. Big things in the sky scare me, to be honest.

Anyway, yall be safe out there if there's any bad weather near yall and I hope you have a good day/night!! 🩷

Sylus

“Hmm?” Sylus would wake up in the middle of the night with you in his arms, trembling from the sound of rain harshly hitting the windows. Wind whistling and whipping while your head was buried in his chest. 

“Kitten?” He would chuckle. “You're a mighty and proud Hunter, but this is what scares you?” 

A flash of light illuminates the room and your nails bite into the skin of his shoulder. 

Sylus would count out-loud how long it took for the lightning to follow behind the thunder. The low timber of his voice helps you calm down with your ear against his chest. 

His arms would tighten around you every time you jump from fear. 

“Calm down now, sweetie. Do you want me to have Mephisto fly out there and check the damage? Or should I have Luke and Kieran go out there and stop the storm?” 

A small caw is echoed through the room– a sign that Mephisto clearly did not want to go outside. 

You would laugh and shake your head. The thought of the twins trying to physically fight the storm, and Mephisto being blown around in the high winds, calms you down to where you can finally fall back asleep. 

Rafayel

“Hey…the studio isn't going to flood or anything right?” You would be worried, having heard on the news that Linkon would be hit with the storm surge coming off a hurricane. The hurricane wouldn't hit Linkon, however you were more worried about tsunamis– especially when you were at Rafayel's studio on Whitesand Bay. 

“It better not.” Rafayel would grumble as he tried to quickly put away any paintings he really cared about. “But if it does, you'll be safe by my side.” 

“That's…very reassuring..” you would say, not feeling very reassured because what could Rafayel do? He couldn't very well tell the raging waters to just stop…or could he?

As you excitedly turn around to ask Rafayel this, he puts his hand up in front of him. “I know what you're going to ask and my answer is no.” 

“Aw..” You would sigh before you'd nervously look out the window, keeping a close eye on the distant tide and the clouds in the sky. 

“Cutie..–” Rafayel tugs on your arm to pull you away from the window. “Seriously, don't look outside. You'll just stress yourself out, Miss Hunter.” 

He mischievously smiles, “Come on, let's go paint something together to pass the time or…I could distract you.”

Xavier 

“Xavier, does that cloud look weird to you or is it just me?” You would squint up at the sky, staring at the large bundle of clouds. “Mm…it's called a wall cloud.” Xavier would say from your couch, fingers tapping against his phone. 

“It usually means thunderstorms are on the way, and it can cause tornadoes.” The silvery-blonde haired man would shrug as if this wasn't a big deal, but it was. A big deal, that is. 

“Xavier, this is seriou–” 

A sharp noise would slip from your lips when a loud boom shakes the whole apartment and the lights go out shortly after. 

“Xav..” You would dart back inside from your place on the balcony and quickly shut the doors, trying to search for him in the dark. 

“Right here, starlight.” 

You would notice a tiny speck of light before a dozen others lit up the room. It almost felt romantic, if it wasn't for the rain pelting the windows and the distant sound of thunder. 

“Come here, we can hide out from the storm together in our own little world.” 

Zayne

“We gonna die–” you would blurt out the moment you began to hear sirens. Bundled up in a blanket on Zayne's living room floor, eyes locked in on the weather report coming from the TV. 

“I– Snow angel…” Zayne can't help but laugh as he returns to the living room with two mugs in hand. “Be careful, it's hot.” He would say as he sets your mug on the table in front of you. 

“Are you not worried at all!?” Your gaze would turn to him in a panic and Zayne would sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“If we die, I'll die with the person I love. That doesn't sound too bad, all things considered.” He admits. 

“You…What–” 

“I think we'll be just fine, angel. You fight wanderers daily, so I didn't expect you'd be this scared of bad weather.” Zayne leans forward and rests one arm over his propped up knee. 

“You know, even though I've known you since we were children, I'm still constantly learning new things about you…” A smile tugs at his lips as he reminisces on the past for a moment. “I hope we survive this ordeal so I can continue to learn more about you in the future.” 

“Zayne, you're not helping!” You would hit his shoulder and try to cover up your reddening face. But you do appreciate the way he was trying to get your mind off of the weather outside. 

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown and Crowley not mentioning his living situation in S2*

*till S2E6 when he asks if he can have his apartment back bc he's bored of living in his car but Aziraphale doesn’t hear bc mentally he’s in Alpha Centauri.

Having read the 'Crowley doesn't tell him' Neil Gaiman ask close to when I first listened to Lockdown (I lived under a rock until recently), my initial thought was HAS HE BEEN LIVING IN HIS CAR FOR YEARS?! but I think he was still in his apartment in 2020:

as far as Hell knows, Crowley just had a pool party in holy water (the holiest) so the higher-ups are probably willing to give him some space (plus Beelzebub is busy going on pub dates w Gabriel)

while there should be ~8 months between the end of Season 1 events (The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives on Sunday, Aug 25, 2019) and the Lockdown phonecall (on or near the 30 year anniversary on May 1, 2020), I can't imagine that's a very long time for Hell, especially if you're understaffed and busy dealing with fallout from Almostgeddon / going on pub dates

Shax dropping off mail and asking about the boiler seems like something one does in the first few months of living somewhere, not ~3 years in (if S2 is in 2023)

That said, I think the phone call underlines why Crowley never directly tells Aziraphale that he is living in the Bentley in S2, and it's just a great conversation (all hail Gaiman) sooo I wrote about it:

***Note: This post analyzes the Lockdown phonecall from Crowley's perspective only. Our heroine is feeling quite emotionally vulnerable at this point in time so things are going to hit him harder than they normally would.

I do not think Aziraphale meant to cause him pain (!!) but Crowley can't see that yet and I've written this post in a way that reflects that missing insight. (I explain in more detail in this reblog if you are interested) I am working on a companion post for Aziraphale's side of this conversation and how I think it affects his behavior in S2 because if we know anything about these two, it's that their exactlys are different exactlys.***

Crowley’s habit of sleeping to skip time like an RPG character by a campfire amuses me to no end, but in this context it feels heavy. Crowley already worries about losing time with what he loves and he probably hoped things would be different between him and Aziraphale after the events of S1. But things don’t change much. Then lockdowns start, and Crowley is trapped in his apartment alone, transcendentally bored, and unable to make his brain shut up. Sleeping a month away starts to sound less awful.

But Crowley hasn’t given up yet; he’s still awake when Aziraphale calls, and he’s even giving it two more days. Was he waiting for Aziraphale to call? Is it even possible not to at least kind of wait for someone’s call when you are cut off from everything and the caller has been your only friend and crush for millennia?

Aziraphale asks why Crowley isn't "out and about" tempting people or setting a bad example and he responds:

C: Everyone's so miserable and cooped up right now anyway, and I just… well… don't have the heart for it. A: *glowing audibly* I'm not miserable~ C: Really?

Crowley sounds genuinely surprised at Aziraphale's happiness and quickly assumes it's because the angel has been around people. He's so lonely/depressed/in his own head that he hadn't even considered someone enjoying being 'cooped up'. *sob*

Aziraphale goes No actually I put the closed sign up in the window and I'm having the Time of My Life, never had so few customers, not in 200 years!, etc. Although, he says:

A: …There were a few young lads a couple of nights ago who broke in through the back and tried to steal the cashbox! But they soon saw the error of their ways~ C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth? A: Well I certainly gave them a good talking to, and I sent each of them home with cake~ C: *annoyed, swooning* Cake? A: Quite a lot of cake, actually. C: *physically ill from having such a giant crush on this dumbass baker/security guard* eeeekkkgghhh I'm gonna regret asking but.. ...rrgh.. *30 seconds of Aziraphale joyfully describing his baking while Crowley probably tries very hard not to imagine the angel eating each item in sensual slow motion* I stg you can hear him struggling in the background once or twice

A: …And once I've baked them, I have to eat them all myself, which was why I was so delighted— C: To send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yes, nnyeaayeah I follow…

Crowley interrupts, finishing Aziraphale's sentence in his nervous hurry to say the next bit:

C: *loud inhale* You know, I could.. hunker down at your place. … Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle--a case of… something… drinkable…?

He's trying to sound so casual about it but this is someone who was rejected/abandoned by actual literal God after asking what he thought were welcome, uncontroversial questions. Asking makes him vulnerable. He's supposed to be the rescuer, not a demon in distress. He does not feel casual about asking.

Crowley knows it's unlikely but he's so miserable and desperate for company that he can't help but ask, just in case. Even the smallest chance of spending time trapped indoors with Aziraphale—with nothing to do but drink, watch him eat, and talk about things they'd normally avoid—is too tempting.

A: *panicking* Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over. C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

And just like that, Crowley doesn't need two days to decide. The depression nap doubles in length. He doesn't hear how badly Aziraphale wants to say yes behind the fear, or maybe he does and it hurts worse because why isn't Crowley enough for him? You can almost hear the spiralling:

SHOCKING, asking made it worse. It always does doesn’t it? Why even bother? you just embarrass yourself.. SLITHER over? why did I say that *grumble grumble* of COURSE His Holy Holiness, your only friend in the universe, would rather eat cake by himself while everything goes to shit than ~deign~ to have you in his presence. "AsK aND yE sHaLl ReCeIvE" bugger this for a lark im going to bed

(a bit dramatic but we've all been there)

I imagine sleep doesn't come right away. Maybe his thoughts drift to when he sat beside the angel at a dark Tadfield bus stop after a rather eventful Saturday. Crowley must've felt a tiny bit hopeful when he invited Aziraphale to stay with him: Heaven had withdrawn its favor and the bookshop was gone; Aziraphale was like him now. Didn't that mean things would change?

"I don't think my side would like that." Apparently not.

In the end, Aziraphale did ride the bus back to Crowley's apartment and stayed till the next morning when he caught a cab, but only to sell the illusion. Crowley understood that as far as sides went, the angel was still on Heaven's, even if Heaven wasn't on his.

And now this: the entire world is shut down; there is nothing for Aziraphale to do but stay in and read and bake in his magically reconstituted bookshop and he still won't invite Crowley in. Burglars and un-fallen angels only—nobody who asks questions.

So... of course Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale when he loses his apartment. He already knows what answer he would get; the angel has told him so many times. Aziraphale is a company man first, a companion to one very sad owl when convenient.

If Crowley works up the courage to say 'please take me in, I have nowhere else to go' and Aziraphale goes 'sorry, no, far too political, but I WILL risk being erased from the Book of Life to protect this nude amnesiac former coworker who always hated me,' it's going to be too much. You can't sleep long enough for that type of hurt to go away. Better not to say anything.

"Then nothing has to change, does it?"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

hey y'all, i pretty much know that i'm the asshole big time- but i'm not sure what to do about it. i know i need to shift my perspective, especially because i'm not sure what to do going forward... or how to meaningfully apologize, so I think i need some outside judgement.

AITA for wanting to possibly return to speaking terms with someone i cheated with?

about 1.5 years ago one of my best friends (i'll call him R, we're all 20 now) confessed to me while I had a bf- R said he knew i wasn't into him but asked me to kiss him once. i felt really bad and didn't feel anything for him, so i said yes and we briefly kissed. I didn't think it was going to be a big deal until I told my boyfriend right afterwards and he got really upset in a way i now see i was really understandable. i've come to see the situation as cheating, but I think fundamentally we had a different view of it at first. my bf asked me to not be alone with him anymore or talk to him outside of groupchats (i was in a friend group of 3 people, R me and another guy). I tried really hard to follow through on this but in reality- i just didn't want to cut off one of my best friends- there were times I went against my boyfriend's wishes and slowly I let up and saw him/talked alone more. I would tell my boyfriend about it and he would be hurt by it and I would feel horrible, but I didn't put up a hard boundary. I hated myself for it, but I didn't feel like R was actually a problem, rather that the problem was my lack of respect for my bf. A month or two later, all of us moved away to different colleges. After two months of long distance and continuing to talk to R on the phone sometimes, my boyfriend left me citing that as one of the reasons.

I realized I should have valued my bf more and I stopped talking to R (basically ghosted him), but he contacted me on another platform and asked if I was okay and I realized that he was a true friend in a lot of ways. When we hung out on winter break at home, we were chilling and he kind of made a joke asking me to sleep with him. I said no very loudly because I'm not into him like that and I was still hung up on my bf. Meanwhile, after 2 months of no contact, me and my bf had started to talk again very tentatively (i had tried really hard to instigate it which, sometimes i feel bad about not leaving him in his peace- but I was having a really hard time accepting the breakup). I realized there was something I really needed to do to show him I was serious and I sent R a text saying we couldn't be friends anymore citing some lame reasons and the whole 'sleep together' thing.

After that, R didn't contact me and I felt like it was sad, but kind of a blessing because I got to focus on building trust between my bf and I and we eventually got back together.

Anyways, in the past year, the relationship has been steadily getting more comfortable and I hadn't had any contact with R or cheated since (I kind of believe once a cheater always a cheater, so this is an accomplishment. I really don't want to hurt my bf like that again.)

Okay here's the sucky part though (as if the rest wasn't already sucky of me) i was posting tiktoks for the first time this week and, little did i know, the algorithm was showing them to people who had my number. I got a call from an unknown number and a text that said "can we talk." I realized from the chat history it was R, whose number i deleted. I didn't answer, but a part of me really wanted to.

I missed him and I felt bad for leaving the friendship the way it was, I was also really curious as to why he was contacting me now?? But I knew I needed to tell my bf before I did anything. He said he would feel more comfortable if I didn't respond and I kind of agreed- but I said I was going to think about it and that I would tell him explicitly before I did anything.

Then the next day I got another call from a random number with my hometown area code- I thought there was a possibility it was R and decided to just act in the moment and let fate decide- I answered and it was him. It was kind of scary, but also exciting and didn't feel wrong in my body. He was weirdly casual just saying hi and that he saw my tiktoks and missed me, we ended up talking like old friends- like the time that had passed had healed some of that old stuff. He told me i was the best friend he ever had, and I remembered all kind of good things about our friendship. I also was able to apologize for ghosting him- if not super well. I knew while we were talking that my bf was not going to be comfortable with this and that I was unsure about what to do going forward and I think R kind of knew that was the case too, so it was also very awkward. when we hung up, it was clear I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to be his friend again.

When I told my bf as soon as i got off the phone, he was understandably very upset, even more so when I said I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep talking to R in the future. I feel really bad for hurting him, I was really mainly thinking about my own feelings. Now he and I are trying to resolve things, but I'm ashamed to say I don't know how I can make it better. I've told him that, even though it's not necessarily what I want, I'm willing to block R again, but I don't think it feels satisfying to either of us. my bf and I have been dating for 4 years now (with that break at 3 yrs) and he means so much to me, I don't want to bring us back to a place of distrust, but part of me feels like this was kind of pent up while I had R blocked. i've never ended a friendship with anyone before or blocked someone, so it all feels really weird to me, but I can imagine that my bf must feel really betrayed by my continued unsureness.

also R and my bf used to be friends for like 5 yrs- then R and I were close for 1 yr. my bf has said he felt left out by that and that he felt like R was a jerk to him while they were friends, so that's an element of it as well.

if you've read this far, thanks so much- advice? AITA? I've spent so much time feeling like scum for the way I handled the situation and while I have to love myself through it- I don't want to keep mishandling it- was answering the call all that bad, do I need to totally forget about talking to R?

What are these acronyms?

[sashiavi]

I tried to go through all your post to see if you ever did an animal for Elliot!

Just wondering if you came up for an animal for him. I love all your writings about the sdv hybrids so i would love to see what you come up with.

I’ve been thinking about Elliot as an animal but i think he would be good as a fox (the hair) or maybe even selkie since he lives on the beach

anyways love your work! <3

Hybrid!Elliott - What Suits Him Best?

Ahh it's true I haven't gotten anything for Elliott yet </3 I think I really struggle to capture him/embody the features I want to push within a narrative, but-! For You, my Dearest Anon~ let's try a little deep dive~

I've never truly sat down to appreciate him, and I do feel a little bad, he's so darling and handsome ♡

A Fox would suit him quite nice I think, a little quiet, reserved and out of the way - very intelligent and timid, but definitely opens up with time ♡

Sort of thinking of the characteristics of a fox, he is quite ambitious but I don't particularly see him as a trickster.. But he is so darling and cute, doing his best to keep his nipping fangs to himself, tail swishing behind him as he silently accompanies you back to the farm after a long Friday Night...

There's a glint in his eye, a flick of greeny-bronze shined by the firelight of your living room. Oh how darling you look beneath him, face down, ass up- his clawed hands delicately threatening to peirce into your skin, little fangs grazing your neck, nose scenting the supple spot behind your ear..

I also think a Bunny or a Hare would fit him too! Mostly because of the imagery of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland hehe ~ So proper and well dressed!

With that, I like the idea of him really, really trying to keep himself in check, not letting those silly secondary instincts roll over him and push past his manners.

But it's hard to hide when his tall and fluffy ear twitches, his cotton tail wags behind his coat- his dress shoe tap, tap, taps against the ground in an impatient thump - an action he didn't mean, truly! He can't help the poor ache behind his trouser seam, the sting of his belt buckle digging into his navel~

Bunny stamina is truly no joke! Elliott's hips snap and fuck, humping quick little pushes of his drooly cock into you~ Yoba, he slips out and barely even realises, silly hips still continuing their squirming, pudgy bunny tip knocking lovingly into your clit over and over.

And finally~ I think he could also be a Deer!Hybrid. A mature buck, aged finely, oh so gentle and doting, so caring and especially protective.

He would take such extra special care of his antlers, looking so clean and proper, preened in his appearance, always looking to elegant and put together. He is still quite the weary man, of course, but his efforts help him gain up the courage to approach you.

As timid and shy as deer come, it doesn't stop Elliott from mounting you, using the thick blessing between his legs to sweetly bully into your sweetness. His forearms rest above your head, his neck bared to your face, keeping you nice and caged in, protected from his antlers, from his urge to nip, from the outside of the sweet little space he'd created.

Rest assured his sweet Deer tail wags with joy, spotted back arching as your nails dig sweetly into his skin. It's okay... Of course you can cling on to his burly shoulders, wrap your thighs around his spotted hips, just helps him push his thick Buck cock into your little cunt ♡

Also random? Whenever I think of the SDV Bachelors as monster boys I always picture Elliott as a centaur hehe

Some Elliot Food ♡ I hope I could deliver well!

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Star Stickers

Summary: Buck & Tommy devise a plan to cheer you up since you haven’t been sleeping well due to insomnia. 

TW/CW: Evan Buckley & Tommy Kinard x Platonic!Reader, Fluff, Insomnia, Self Doubt

Requested?: No   

Word Count: 2,941 

A/N: Ngl this was entirely inspired by my desire to have someone in my life who surprises me with gold star stickers, that desire was inspired by a text post on here that says “I’m a gold star bisexual. The gold star has nothing to do with my bisexuality, I’ve just been very good today & I deserve it.” Anyway, hope you enjoy the fluff. Much love to all! Requests are Open! 

P.S. I just want a couple of gay besties that let me be a child every now & then... is that too much to ask?

--- Your POV --- 

     As I hop down out of the fire truck and trudge up the stairs to the coffee maker, Buck lovingly greets his boyfriend Tommy who has stopped by for lunch before they follow me up. In my sleep deprived and pissed at life state, I completely miss any and all other interactions. Truth be told the only reason I even noticed Tommy is here is because he ruffled my hair when I passed them. 

     I'm pouring what feels like my thousandth cup of coffee since breakfast this morning when Buck leans against the counter beside me, "How many cups of coffee is that today? I think you've set a new record." 

     From the table, Eddie looks up and raises his own mug of coffee, "Uh uh, I've got that record set at seven," before going back to his phone. 

     I roll my eyes, "This is number eight, Eddie. Nice try." He only shakes his head and takes another sip. 

     Leaning against the counter across from me, Tommy's eyes nearly pop out of his skull, "(Y/N)... that's way too much coffee for one day."

     I shrug and make my way over to plop down on a couch and drop my head back to rest on the cushions. I am soon joined by Buck beside me and Tommy who takes a seat on the coffee table. I pout at him which makes him chuckle, "What are you pouting about?" 

     I playfully stomp my feet a couple times, "I was gonna put my feet there." 

     Buck nudges me, "Just do what I do," before propping his feet up on Tommy's thigh. I look at Buck's boots and then mine before shrugging and resting mine on Tommy's knee. Tommy simply shakes his head and they strike up a conversation. 

     Before long, Cap is calling us all to the table to eat. As soon as I sit down, I flop my head over onto my forearms. To my right, Eddie sighs, "Why haven't you been sleeping?" 

     Without lifting my head, I shrug, "Between working doubles, insomnia, and noisy neighbors I just can't." 

     To my left, on the other side of Buck, Tommy tuts, "Do I need to dope you up with Benadryl?" 

     I lift my head finally as Buck scoops food onto a plate in front of me, "Please don't. I still owe the hat man money and even with all these doubles I can't pay him yet." Everyone at the table shakes their heads this time. They all know how bad my insomnia gets at times, so they're pretty familiar with my sleep deprived state. What they're not familiar with is the thoughts that keep me awake at night and create a void that should be filled by sleep. I always just blame the insomnia on something less concerning. 

--- Third Person POV --- 

     That evening as Buck and Tommy make their way into their apartment, Buck is concerned, "Do you think there's anything we could do to help (Y/N)?"  

     "Well, she vetoed my suggestion of Benadryl, so not really," Tommy responds as he shuffles through the mail in his hands. 

     Buck wanders off to the bedroom to change, raising his voice a bit so Tommy can hear him, "No, I know we can't really help with the insomnia. Me and Eddie already tried. I mean to like cheer her up." 

     Tommy enters the room as Buck is exiting to make dinner, "I don't know. Did you have something in mind?" 

     Buck is still thinking, tomatoes on the cutting board in front of him, when Tommy joins him in the kitchen. Saying nothing, Tommy grabs a knife from the knife block, holding it out in front of his distracted boyfriend. Buck snaps to and takes the knife to begin cutting up the tomatoes, "I can't really think of anything. I was hoping you had some suggestions." Tommy retrieves two beers from the fridge, cracking them both open before leaning against the counter beside Buck to take a sip of one, placing the other beside the cutting board. He takes a few more sips as he thinks.  

     Tommy has noticed how similar you and Buck are in the somewhat short time he's known you. He's noticed that a lot of the things that spark Buck's interest also spark yours and how you both get excited over similar things. He has an idea of where to start, "What's something that would instantly brighten your mood on a rainy day?" 

     Buck grins, "Seeing my hot pilot boyfriend but I don't think that would cheer (Y/N) up as much as it would me." 

     Tommy chuckles, shaking his head, "No, silly, something someone could give you or do for you," he clarifies, quickly adding, "regardless of who it is and something we could also do for (Y/N)." Buck is quiet for a moment before mumbling something that Tommy can't quite make out, "Baby, speak up please." 

     Buck takes a deep breath and sets the knife down. He turns to Tommy as he picks up his beer and takes a sip before repeating, "Gold stars." 

     Slightly surprised, Tommy tilts his head, "What do you mean?" 

     Buck smiles wide, "When I was little Maddie used to give me little gold star stickers whenever I did well on a homework assignment or test, even for not-so-great grades like Bs and Cs. I always kept the stickers because for some reason they made me feel really happy and proud." 

     Tommy is unsure, "So, you're suggesting we give our friend, who's a grown woman mind you, gold star stickers to cheer her up?" 

     Tomatoes forgotten, Buck sets his beer back down and insists, "Yes! She'd love it, I swear. One time on a callout she was taking care of a little girl while her mom was being bandaged up. The little girl was coloring the whole time and chatting to (Y/N) about what she was coloring and all kinds of other stuff.” Tommy has to dodge as Buck talks with his hands, “When it came time to leave, the little girl ran up to us as we were heading back to the truck. (Y/N) squatted down to see what she needed and the little girl stuck a unicorn sticker to her shirt pocket and then yelled, 'Thank you' as she ran back to her mom. I've never seen (Y/N) smile that big before."  

     Tommy thinks he's done but before he can even open his mouth to respond, Buck gasps, "And remember that time a bunch of us went to the beach? She had been wandering up and down the sand randomly picking stuff up and then when Maddie yelled at her to see if she wanted to go get ice cream, she ran over to us and was super excited to show us all the sea glass and shells she had collected in her shirt." 

     Tommy decides to make sure this time, "You done?" 

     Buck thinks for a second, placing his hands on his hips, "That depends. Are you convinced that we should stop and get gold star stickers before you drop me off at work in the morning?" 

     Tommy laughs as he answers, "Yes, Evan. We can stop and get gold star stickers in the morning."  

     The next morning, Buck directs Tommy to a local craft store where he had recently helped Chris buy stuff for a school art project. The two make their way inside but have to ask for help finding the stickers. Tommy chooses to ignore the judgmental look on the little old lady's face since Buck very clearly misses it, too busy craning his neck to see if he can spot what they came for. She leads them toward the back of the store and points down an aisle full of stickers. Tommy notices her shake her head as she walks away but is quickly distracted by the golden retriever stuck inside his 6' 2", muscular, firefighter boyfriend. 

     Tommy smiles brightly as he watches Buck make his way down the aisle, scanning for and collecting any sticker packs with shiny stars in them. When he returns to Tommy, bouncing with excitement, his hands are full of different sticker packs that he shuffles through to show him, "Which ones do you think she'd like most?" There's all different sizes and colors of stars, some have other sticker shapes mixed in; others are very clearly marketed toward teachers who use them to reward young students.  

     Tommy places his hands over Buck's to stop his indecisive shuffling, "Let's start by eliminating any that aren't just stars." Buck shuffles through and hands the rejected packs to Tommy who quickly puts them back where they belong. When he returns, Buck has tucked a few packs under his arm and is staring back and forth at the three remaining packs in his hands. 

     "Whatcha got?" Tommy asks looking down at the stickers. He finds that Buck is trying to decide between a pack that has only gold stars in varying sizes, a pack that has rainbow-colored stars that are all the same size, and a pack that has different pastel-colored glittery stars in a few different sizes.  

     "Yeah no," he says as he gently removes the glitter stars from Buck's choices and places them back where they belong. He knows you'd kill them for giving you the craft herpes that is glitter and to him you don't really seem like the pastel type. When he turns around to rejoin him, Buck is already heading toward the front.  

     When he finally catches up to Buck, he's handing both the gold and rainbow packs to a younger cashier who smiles brightly when she sees them, "Aw these are cute! Are you getting them for your kid?" 

     Buck laughs softly, "Uh no, just- just trying to brighten up a friend's day." She smiles at him and nods as she rings them up. She gives him the total as Buck taps his card on the pin pad. Once the receipt shoots out and Buck collects the stickers, the two make their way back to the Jeep to head to the 118, deciding that Buck could hang onto the gold stars and Tommy could man the rainbow stars. Somehow, they still make it there before you. 

--- Your POV ---

     After yet another night of tossing and turning, I trudge into the fire house like a zombie looking for brains, except I just want coffee. I make my way to the locker room, change clothes, and head upstairs b-ling straight for the coffee maker. My path is blocked by Buck and Tommy who are both leaning on the counter in front of the wonderful machine of caffeinated goodness with their arms crossed looking like they were expecting me. I join them and attempt to shove them out of my way but they won't budge. Instead, Buck turns his back toward me and pours coffee into a mug before facing me again and holding it out to me. 

     I take it gratefully and enjoy a sip before they both reach up and stick something to my forehead. Bewildered, I look up toward my hairline before deciding I don't have it in me to give a shit right now. I plop into one of the chairs at the table, stickers still on my forehead, and drop my chin into my palm. "Did you get-" Eddie looks up from his phone and grins. His eyes cut behind me where Tommy and Buck are approaching, "Who's idea was that?" he asks pointing at my forehead. 

     Tommy takes a seat beside me, sipping his own cup of coffee, "Let's see, maybe the one who can't sit still," he smiles as he points his thumb behind us at Buck who is bouncing on the balls of his feet, "because he's too excited to see her reaction when she sees them." 

     I look back at Buck whose smile is so big it looks painful. Sighing I pull my phone out and open the camera. There I find two stars on my forehead; one is rainbow and the other is slightly bigger and gold. I can't help but smile so big it probably matches Buck's as I look back at him again. He does a little happy dance before getting very close to Tommy's face, "I told you she'd like them." I quickly snap a photo in which you can clearly see the two stars on my forehead as well as Buck and Tommy, who are still in very close proximity, smiling at each other before putting my phone away. Soon a conversation picks up as Buck sits down on the other side of me.  

     At some point I decide that I need to find some paper to keep my stars on because I can't exactly walk around all day with my face covered in stickers, Buck has added two more since the first two. I also can't bring myself to just throw them away either. Having no luck elsewhere I make my way to Bobby's office and knock softly. He answers and when I open the door, he laughs, "Whatcha got there?" 

     I look up toward the stars and smile, "Gifts from Buck and Tommy. I was wondering if I could have a piece of paper to put them on."  

     Bobby nods, handing me a sheet of printer paper, "Of course," and as I turn to leave, peeling the stars from my forehead and placing them on their new home, he adds, "It's good to see you smiling again (Y/N)." 

     I give him a big smile, "Thanks, Cap." 

     A little while later, Tommy is heading out to go grocery shopping and clean up their apartment. Eddie and I follow as Buck is walking Tommy out. Tommy stops when he notices me. He backtracks to me as he pulls his sticker pack out of his back pocket. After placing a new sticker on the tip of my nose, he hands the pack to Eddie, "Hit her when she least expects it." Eddie nods, watching as I remove the sticker from my nose and add it to my collection with a big smile on my face. Tommy ruffles my hair before rejoining Buck at the door and heading out. 

     Throughout the rest of the day, Buck and Eddie take their sticker duties very seriously. At one point, from upstairs I notice them over by the engine whispering to each other. When they catch me watching, Eddie sassily shoos me away with sticker pack in hand making Buck laugh heartily. Not long after that, I am bombarded by not one, not two but six star stickers. Each one from a different member of the team.  

     After a particularly grueling call out, I sit with my head leaned against the window. In my peripheral, I notice Buck and Eddie make eye contact and nod at each other before both of them reach in their pockets, pick out a sticker, and slap them both on my forehead. Every chance they can, they are stickering me. I walk around the corner coming from the bathroom, sticker. I pour myself a cup of coffee, sticker. I'm helping Hen take inventory in the ambulance, sticker. Every single sticker makes me smile. 

     By the time Tommy arrives to pick Buck up that evening, I'm pretty sure Buck and Eddie are both out of stickers and my printer paper is getting full. As we are walking to our vehicles, Buck rushes over to meet Tommy, who is leaning against the door of his jeep, before we can and whispers something to him. Tommy's face breaks into a big smile. I'm dropping my bag into the passenger seat of my Bronco when Tommy places what feels like a big sticker right in the middle of my forehead, "Buck said he saved the biggest one for me since I wasn't here all day like they were." 

     I grin and look around at my three friends, "Thank you guys. You genuinely made my day," I look down at the paper in my hands as I peel the newest star off my forehead and place it with the others, "I don't think you realize how much this means to me."  

     Tommy ruffles my hair, "Anytime, kiddo. Besides, I don't think you realize how much joy this whole thing has brought Evan." We both look at Buck who is grinning as wide as humanly possible.  

     Buck pulls me into a hug, "If you ever need a star sticker day again, just say the word." I nod as he pulls away. 

     Eddie places his hand on my shoulder, "He's being dead serious." 

     I laugh, "I know. I will." With that, the four of us are parting ways and heading home. On my way home, all I can think about is how happy I am to have such amazing people in my life. Often, the most prominent insomnia inducing thought at night is that of loneliness. I've spent hours lying awake at night wondering if I actually have people who care about me or if they just let me hang around because they pity me. I wonder if I even deserve to have them around. After a day full of stickers, I truly believe that my team genuinely cares about me. Why else would Buck and Tommy get up early to buy star stickers before work? Why would Cap smile so big just because I'm smiling. Why would everyone get such a kick out of getting to put a sticker on my face? They care about me and I care about them. They mean the world to me. They are my stars. 

Masterlist

More 911

[bloodinwine]

Warning: Whiny AF post This is gonna come out all messy and shit and a complete overshare because I'm emotional and I know it's a bad idea to write things and share them when you're emotional. But whatever. Writer. And what the fuck ever. People advise I take breaks all the time, but the thing is all I ever want to do is write. I want to disappear into Effy and Astarion's world. It's supposed to be my happy place but tonight instead I'm literally just staring at this screen trying not to cry like a bitch because FUCKkk after chp17 my brain is being so freaking hideous to me. It's usually like this after a chapter drop, but this has been just the worst. I already have chp18 outline complete and on one hand I'm happy with it right? Like I'm excited to write this chapter. But I also now have this fear of like...putting in what will probably wind up being 2 months of effort only to feel like I've failed. I wish I had tougher skin and I know I've definitely come a long way. My relationship with writing prior to fandom was even more fragile, but then again I never really shared my work. I knew this was going to be hard but I didn't realize how much. I do my best to be my own cheerleader but I can't say things like I don't give a shit or I won't let this get to me, because I do care so so much. This isn't just a hobby to me. Ah man...but I don't want to be like this you know? I want to focus on the good and the positive things. I went back and just spent some time reading so many of the kind words people have left. Read some older things I wrote and tried to just enjoy Effy being dumb lol.

Anyway, all this to say. I think I might need to fade away for a bit or take some steps back from fandom. I should be happy about sharing the chapter but I have to admit I just feel incredibly low right now and I don't think that's right. I promise I was so incredibly happy with it before I hit the post button. I never post anything I'm not happy with. That's why feeling all these ups and downs about it is so confusing and annoying for me. I think a lot about the advise I've gotten from others about building confidence around my writing. It's better, but man I'm just not fucking there yet. I don't know if I'll ever be. I really hope. I'm trying.

But no matter what I will never give up on UY. A piece of my soul is literally in that story. I will never give up on writing. I just can't deal with myself when I feel like this.

[transmascaraa]

I’m submitting another request right after my last one was published, but I have no complaints

Since I found out you write for Danganronpa, I wanted to ask for headcanons where/how different male characters would react if the reader gave them different forms of affection (hugs from behind, kisses, etc.) while [character] and reader are early in a relationship.

The specific characters I am requesting are Rantaro Amami, Shuichi Saihara, Hajime Hinata, Makoto Naegi, and any other characters you feel like writing for!

Thank you, Nyx!! 💖

(I wonder if I’m the first DR headcanon request 👀)

multiple characters headcannons!

affection.

characters: rantaro, shuichi, hajime, makoto x gn!reader

author's note: YUPPPP YOU'RE THE FIRST DGR REQUEST^^(idk how many of you guys will even read it but i hope you like it if you do i suppose) so like i've been busy for the last few days blah blah blah finally done with elementary school therefore sorry for the lack of posts😭 but hopefully i'll finish these reqs asap lol i've kinda missed writing(a bit ig??) either way enjoy lmao(lmk if it's ooc at all btw)

✿ Rantaro

-he LOVES when you're affectionate

-a LOT

-and I MEAN IT.

-he thinks it's adorable when you show him physical affection, especially while you shower him compliments and all

-like literally he adores it all

-if it's kissing, he'll kiss you just as much in return

-if you wanna cuddle, he'll cuddle with you for however long you want

-if it's random hugs, he's gonna hug you when he gets the chance

-he doesn't show it DRASTICALLY or DRAMATICALLY in public or anything he just likes it wholesome

-also i think he's also into quality time probably since he thinks it "strengthens" the relationship

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♡ Shuichi

-alright he's probably my fave from v3(also a huge lover of miu and kaede— and kiibo)

-so he's not into pda at all bffr

-and like at first he's pretty surprised when receiving such affection from you

-both surprised and flustered

-so he's kinda gonna have to get used to it if he wants to be in a relationship with you

-aka someone who is really physically affectionate.

-PLEASE compliment him

-he'll compliment you back dw js let him regain himself after whatever you told him

-deep down he absolutely loves it when you hug him/ask him to cuddle or smthn

-kissing him is his weak spot definitely

-just a small peck on his lips and he's freaking out inside

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧ Hajime

-alright

-i feel like he'd also really like it but not in the same way as rantaro

-yes he'd pay you back for all of it but i still feel like he wouldn't like to show it in public AT ALL

-and if you did he would just kinda get flustered and quietly scold you "what if other people see us??!!?!?!!!??!?!!?"

-tell him to chill cuz his "scolding" won't stop you

-but definitely, when you're home alone, he's almost as affectionate towards you

-he WILL buy you something that you really want cuz he isn't an EXPERT at showing it in the same way

-not saying he's bad at it, he's just not professional in it.

-but definitely, after some time in a relationship with you, he gets used to it and SPECIFICALLY ONLY showers you with affection and compliments AT HOME

-so good luck with him ig (for some reason i can't imagine him being extremely affectionate or smthn)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⑅ Makoto

-ooh okay so likeeee

-he adores it when you're affectionate as well

-because he's affectionate towards you too^^

-unlike the last 2, he's kinda like rantaro when it comes to pda

-sure ofc js nothing too much

-but while at home DEFINITELY be ready to receive the same amount of affection in return

-cuz he's happy when you're happy and all

-has probably tried to rant to byakuya about you but it was the first and last time ever

-anyways, even throughout building the relationship, he's still the same

-he just loves it when you two cuddle or hug, especially kiss

-absolutely loves kisses before either him or you go out somewhere

-recommended imo tbh it's nice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OPINIONS PLS??????

idk it's not too bad if you ask me(don't ask me)

feels nice writing something again(hoping to get his by a truck of motivation these days)

| @run-dennys-is-on-fire | @mariaace <3

[makuyi13]

"The Least They Could Do" (Morpherine / Morph x Wolverine)

by @makuyi13

"The ways they could make him happy if they were Jean. But they weren’t. Logan was the man, the myth, the legend, and Morph was just Morph. And they were just friends.

And they hoped to God that was enough."

-

Author's Note: Alright guys I've gotten over an adequate amount of my fears and written a little one-shot after years and years of not being able to write fan-fiction! So anyways this is a really big step for me and I'm obviously very nervous, so please be nice. If I messed up on Morph's pronouns or grammar or spelling somehow, though, please do tell me so kindly. Anyways fellas enjoy I hope it's good :)

Oh I added some more edits, too. The ending is better now.

Edit: The hell have I been doing not posting this on AO3. Here you go fellas https://archiveofourown.org/works/57571678

-

Logan was upset. Again.

It was like the guy was sentenced to be upset for life. There was always something for him to be frustrated about. There would be a few days, weeks if he was lucky, when there wasn’t, and all was well. But then something would go wrong again.

This time it was about Jean.

Again.

She was to have a baby with Scott.

And of course Logan was upset about it.

Morph felt bad about it, being such good friends with Logan and all, and caring about him and his happiness so much, but there was a part of them that was glad that Jean was with Scott. They didn’t know why, and there was always a bit of them that didn’t want to find out. And even worse (Morph felt horrid about this), there was always that part of them that hoped Logan would never have Jean.

It made them feel evil, wishing that kind of misfortune upon somebody, especially their best friend. And being evil was a wretched thing, they knew, but they couldn’t help it. They couldn’t help it at all.

Smart people knew better than to bother Logan when he was upset. But the good thing was that Morph didn’t necessarily consider themself smart. So that was how they found themself opening the front door and stepping outside the mansion to go find Logan.

It happened to be cloudy. All murky skies and chill, although there wasn’t excess moisture or cold. Morph walked down the slight slope, hands behind their back, looking around. Logan was slumped in the distance, staring off. Morph jumped and started, almost running, but caught themselves just in time. As they stepped nearer, they suddenly became painfully aware that they had hands. They tried to drop them by their sides, but they seemed too stiff. Crossing their arms seemed weird and hostile. Keeping them behind their back just seemed awkward and unnatural.

They shook their head forcefully. What was wrong with them? That coffee Jubilee made them must have had something in it. Morph shoved their hands in the pockets of their sweater after whatever fumble just went on. Ignoring it all, Morph opened their mouth to say “hello”.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Morph cringed. Of course what came out instead had to be something dumb. They felt their face burn and suddenly felt a strong desire to dig a hole and die. God Almighty, why would they say that? Just why? Why did they always have to try and fail to be funny?

Logan didn’t look their way, but grumbled something under his breath instead. He didn’t say anything else, and Morph took that as an invitation to sit down next to him. They brushed their long skirt, gathering it as they settled. They began to have second thoughts about this. Maybe Logan didn’t want to see them. Maybe they couldn’t really make Logan feel better. Maybe Logan didn’t care if they were there or not. After all, who were they? They were just a friend. They weren’t even Jean.

But… that didn’t really matter, did it? They didn’t need to be Jean to have the kind of time that they wanted to have with Logan. Did they?

Morph realised they were staring and studying Logan a little too closely. Running their eyes along his brow, down his temple, his mouth… Ugh, they thought to themself. That was really pathetic of them. Ripping their eyes away and trying to shift a little to seem a bit more animated, Morph heard Logan sigh next to them. As if he had been tensing his muscles the entire time he was out here and had relaxed them just now.

“You know you don’t have to follow me around when I ain’t feelin’ well, right, bub?” Logan finally spoke, his voice gruff yet slightly defeated.

“It’s the least I can do,” Morph shrugged.

And yet it kind of was the truth. There wasn’t really anything Morph could do to make Logan feel better but this. They thought all the time about all the things they could be. Thought about the sweet songs they would play for him if they were some kind of musician. The long, heart-warming letters they would write if they were some kind of writer. The ways they could make him happy if they were Jean. But they weren’t. Logan was everything; he was the man, the myth, the legend; and Morph was just Morph. And they were just friends.

And they hoped to God that was enough.

They blinked a few times. Keep it together. Clear the mind. But now they’ve realised that Logan’s shifted his body so that they’re sitting across from each other, facing each other, and now their mind’s a little too clear. Blank, even. And then Logan’s reaching for their leg and their heartbeat’s getting loud and fast, fast and loud, and then that thick, rough hand of his is touching the fabric that’s swimming around Morph’s legs, and all they can think of is damn, all they can hear is the heavy, rapid thump of their heart. 

But all Logan does is touch the hem of the skirt and softly say in his tough, gravelly voice, “This looks good on you.”

And it suddenly means the world to Morph. Their heart squeezes tight and releases. He likes my skirt, he likes my skirt. They dare to look at his face. It's saddened, defeated, creased with age and worry and hardened with pain, and yet they can't find ugliness in it, because there's a sixteenth of a smile lingering on his chapped lips and an unbearably sincere look buried deep in his brown eyes, no matter how much Logan tries to hide it all and shove it under. And that's when Morph knows they would wear that skirt over and over just to see that kind of look in Logan's face again and again. A confusingly, maddeningly good kind of feeling is rushing through their veins, and Morph wants to push it away, tell it to leave them alone, but they can't. Because they do love that feeling, even if they don't know what it is.

"Thank you," Morph breathes, wishing they had more to say.

And then Logan avoids their eyes, turns his body away and it’s over. Morph could kick themself. But instead they silently swear not to say or do anything stupid while they’re with Logan. So they just sit. And so does Logan. Neither says a single word. Neither moves. It’s just Logan and the grey sky and the still air and the lawn and Logan and the silence and the sweater weather and Morph hoping with all their heart that Logan was feeling a little bit better at least. But then again, they didn’t really do much for him. They couldn’t really. All they could do was just come and be there and try their best not to fumble like an idiot (again). Even if Logan said they didn’t have to.

It was the least they could do.

[glutengoblin]

imgoingtogetyouback (Sebastian Sallow X Reader)

A/N: I've been bad and haven't been posting much - BUT I swear I have a lot things coming, I just need to work through writer's block a bit more. Anyway, here is something I wrote tonight, since I feel like it's been so long since I've posted anything. As always, any feedback is appreciating (Especially since this is my first smut that I've written)

Summary: Your and Sebastian's on and off again relationship has been driving you crazy- So, you decide to do something about it. (inspired by imgoingtogetyouback by miss TS)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Minors DNI

Disclaimer: All characters are aged up to 18 in this piece. Also, I am not Taylor Swift and therefore do not own the rights to imgoingtogetyouback

-

You couldn’t believe that you found yourself here again.

You were drunk at the Three Broom Sticks, nearly falling off your stool as you eyed Sebastian Sallow across the room. Though the place was packed, you managed to keep your gaze steady on him. He cast a sly smirk as he studied the brunette Gryffindor student in front of him. While you had to admit that she was beautiful, it didn’t make the situation any less vexatious.

Neither Poppy nor Natty seemed to notice your intense focus on him, as the conversation at the table continued, and, most importantly, the drinking. Your body began to grow warm with anger as Sebastian leaned in to brush a strand of hair away from the Gryffindor’s face. You didn’t know which part was more frustrating - The fact that he was already touching another girl, or the fact that you loved it when he did that it to you.

After a couple more shots of fire whiskey, the world began to blur to the point where you felt like it was a good decision to confront Sebastian. After all, you had only broken up (for the third time) 2 weeks ago. How did he already think it was okay to go snogging yet another girl? You made a move to stand up, nearly falling off your stool before Poppy caught your arm.

“Woah there… What’s up Y/N?” When you didn’t answer, Poppy’s gaze followed your’s until her eyes pooled with worry. “Nuh-uh, you are not going there. Sit your butt back down.” You shook your head, pulling your arm free of Poppy’s grip.

“No Poppy, I have to- I mean, he’s touching another girl. Already.” Poppy stared at you, clearly concerned about your drunken state as she rubbed her temple.

“I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I?” You shot her a slightly lopsided grin, taking a few more steps forward.

“You know me so well!”

You began to make your way across the room, trying to limit the amount you bumped into the various patrons crowding the tables. Through the low light of the establishment, you could see Sebastian full-on kissing the girl at this point- That wouldn’t stand on your watch.

Marching over to his table, you slammed your hands down and tried to look as threatening as possible. Thankfully, the faint ancient magic glow that cast a blue tint around you seemed to do the trick, as the Gryffindor student looked up at you nervously.

“Can… Can I help you?” She asked softly, clearly trying to discern how to best proceed with caution. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked furious. But before he could voice his frustration, you shot the girl a menacing glare and began to draw your wand.

“Well, if you knew what was best for you, you probably would stop snogging another girl’s boyfriend. Specifically, a girl who could hex you into oblivion if she really wanted to.” At that moment, the Gryffindor clearly no longer valued bravery as much as she thought, as she choose to apologize profusely and quickly leave the table.

Sebastian turned to stare at you, wide-mouthed and red in the face, until he was finally able to speak again. “What the FUCK was that Y/N- You broke up with me!”

You simply shrugged, and gripped his arm, dragging him out towards the front doors. “What if I told you I changed my mind?” Sebastian could hardly get any retort out, sputtering words as you dragged him out into the lamp-lit, rainy street.

Sebastian sputtered some more, before finally yanking free of your grip. “And what exactly makes you think you can just decide that Y/N. For fuck’s sake, didn’t I see you snogging Amit just the other week? I thought you had moved on already, and here you come ruining my chances. I had a good thing going there you know. Plus, you broke up with me, remember?” The Slytherin crossed his arms over his chest, clearly fuming at your actions. Honestly, you were kind of glad you still had this effect on him. After all, Sebastian was the most attractive when he was angry.

You let out a soft chuckle, as you drunkenly took a couple more steps towards him, and placed your hand on his cheek. He flushed at the contact, his resolve clearly flattering a bit. “I mean, I did, but I’ve decided to put your last transgression aside, just for tonight… Assuming you’re interested?” You cocked an eyebrow, trying to give him the most seductive smile you could when this wasted. Sebastian studied your face for only a few moments, before making the decision you always knew he would.

As he leaned in to capture your lips with his own, you pulled him closer to you with fistfuls of his shirt, and apparated you to your room of requirement. You both stumbled a bit at the sudden travel, but Sebastian recovered quickly. Pressing you backward with increasingly more desperate kisses, he pressed you into a wall, and gripped your thighs to hoist you up higher.

You your legs wrapped around his waist, you could already feel his erection growing- You loved having this effect on him, almost as much as you loved being railed by him. You pressed your core against him, rubbing until you gained a satisfied groan from his lips.

Sebastian moved his lips away from yours and began to greedily press kisses against your neck, as his hands traveled under your sweater, gracing your skin with his hot touch. Between kisses, he choked out praises, trying his best to earn a reaction. “Fuck, Y/N- I didn’t know how much I missed your body.” He let out another throaty groan and you pressed yourself against his still-clothed erection, and let out a small sigh of your own.

“If you missed my body that much, you sure are not doing a great job of taking my clothes off.” Sebastian let out a chuckle against your neck, before taking the invitation and beginning to practically rip your clothes off of you, throwing your sweater and skirt to the floor, with your tights following close after. You began to work on his buttons and belt, quickly ridding him of his clothes until only his undergarments remained on, his shirt long discarded and his pants pooled around his legs.

Finally letting you down from your pinned position to fully remove his pants, Sebastian pointed to the chaise lounge. “You, on there, now. Strip while you’re at it.”

To his surprise, you were more obedient than usual, as you gave him a mischievous smirk over your shoulder and began to walk towards the lounge, leaving a trail of undergarments as you went. Eventually, you laid down fully bare, and eyed Sebastian’s form as he made his way over. He too had chosen to discard all of his clothing, and now held his length in his hand, rubbing slowly as he greedily eyed your body.

“All submissive and spread out for me- You know, I think I may like you better like this.” He let around a soft chuckle as he knelt in front of you, grabbing the backs of your knees to yank you closer.

The next thing you knew, his mouth had collided with your core, his tongue traveling over your folds. You let out a moan, your head falling back against the lounge as your hands found purchase in his hair, pulling that delicious mouth of his even closer.

Sebastian obliged willing, his tongue probing your entrance before he moved to suck gently on your clit. You looked down to meet his lustful eyes, as he brought his hand up to your opening. While continuing the suction on your clit, he brought his fingers to your folds, stroking a few times to wet them before dipping them in, gaining an elicit reaction from you.

You groaned his name, as your grip on his hair only tightened. You could feel him chuckle against you, as you let out a few lewd moans. “There, there darling.” Sebastian pistoned his fingers in and out of you harder, moving up your body to stare down at your face. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you come until my cock is inside you. You deserve at least that much for putting me through the wringer these past few weeks.”

You could barely contain your excitement as he eventually withdrew his fingers from you, and used your slick to wet the tip of his cock. He then leaned over your body, positioning himself at your entrance. “Have you been a good girl for me, stayed as tight as I like it?”

You let out a stuttered yes, as your eyes traveled down his form and to his cock, which looked as large as ever. Gods, you loved having sex when Sebastian was mad at you.

Sebastian let out a chuckle, before pressing a needy kiss against your lips. “Good.”

Without warning, you felt him penetrating you. Before you could even adjust, he began to thrust in and out, letting out lewd noises of his own. “Fuck Y/N- You don’t know how much I missed this.” He filled you completely before pulling back out again, delightfully stretching your walls with each thrust.

“Gods, Sebastian- I-I missed you too.” You begged for it harder, wrapping your hands around his back and digging your nails in, drawing him in even closer.

Sebastian’s thrusts began to falter a bit, as he left a mark on your neck, slightly regretting the ruthless pace he had chosen to set. His hands moved down to your hips, one holding you down tightly. The other continued onto your core, as his fingers found purchase against your clit and began to rub those circles you loved, ever so dearly.

You groaned uncontrollably, begging for more, as your orgasm drew ever nearer. Sebastian was clearly in the same boat, as his hips began to falter even more. Still, he tried his best to continue, willing your orgasm to come before his. “Tell me Y/N, can Amit make you feel this good?” He looked up to study your expression, trying his best to hide his worry that you may in fact say yes.

“O-Of course not- fuck… No one can make me feel like you do Sebastian.” That gained a grin from the freckled boy, who rubbed with more pressure as if to reward the answer he so desperately needed to hear.

“Good, then cum for me, babe.” It was only a few moments before you obliged him, your body winding tightly before releasing into wonderful waves of pleasure, that took over your form and made you go limp against the lounge.

Sebastian’s attack on your body only continued, until he eventually filled you with hot trails of his seed, his hips gradually slowing down as he lingered in the warm heat of your connection.

Eventually, once you came to a bit more, you found Sebastian lying beside you, his arms wrapped around your frame as he rubbed your back, pressing gentle kissing against your forehead. You eventually looked up, giving him a shy smile, before reaching up to press a soft kiss against his lips.

Sebastian smiled down at you as well, studying your features with quiet intrigue. “Would it be too forward to ask if this means that we’re back together?”

You let out a small chuckle, pressing your lips gently against his cheek. “I suppose it does… Assuming you can provide dick like that every night.”

Sebastian laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face behind your ear, cementing the fact that you were once again his. “I suppose I could try… Tough standard to live up to.”

“Oh don’t worry… I’m sure you will. Besides, I know I’ll always be able to find ways to make you mad. You’re kind of an easy target.”

[celaenaeiln]

C: Hi there! Even if I've been reading dick Grayson(and in turn batfamily) fics for a few weeks now, I've never actually watched/read DC stuff because even if I liked superheroes, I'm not invested enough to read the actual comics. The most I watched was the Teen Titans 2003 cartoon(which I love). I was brought into interest cause I was brought in through crossovers of other fandoms (which may be hated by some/many😅)

To give myself context, I tried to read around for Robin, and imagine my surprise there's more than one? Which, okay mantle thing I guess. But in the end, Dick Grayson caught my attention(not rlly for his looks and design, but more of his heroism and entire personality and affect in the DC world). Which leads to looking at other tumblrs and I love reading yours and when you answer the asks cause it's so much easier for me to understand the kind of person Dick is and how he interacts with the world.

Sorry for this long context, but I just want maybe your opinion, what if your opinion in the combination of how Dick Grayson should be written for him to Thrive

- Should he stay in Gotham, being in with the batfamily more? Soloing in Bludhaven? Staying with the titans? Or others?

- what about his romantic relationships? Who should be is one true one(based on canon gfs), or maybe stay single? (Just gonna be biased, but I've only knew about dickbabs and dickkory (but I heard he has other girlfriends and I've remember reading he was almost married...a few times??) but dickkory had always been for me)

- What about mentally wise? (Of course, I do think Dick needs a long vacation because of all the trauma that he has to go through), but even if I like the idea of Dick being admired for his looks because he deserves it, but I do rmbr posts that he is uncomfy with this(sexualisation, Def only staying true to the person he loves (then there's the whole...Tarantula and more thing)

Tbf, I do think is a little bit of all is what makes Dick, Dick. Haha

Sorry for the long ask, feel free to not answer because i just needed to get this out😅. I know it's actually bad I'm reading fics without canon knowledge for personality, but your posts makes me understand him more that I understand what's real and what's fanon in fics (that makes me..ugh.. but I read anyway for plot cause i don't know better)

But thank you anyway for reading this and I love your content!

(last one for this ask I swear: I've been seeing stuff where Robin name is actually Dick's mom calling Dick that. Then it's passed down as a mantle starting from Jason without Dick consenting. I tried to read at wiki, maybe I missed out but I can't find anything. Is it true? Does the other bats (except Bruce and Alfred?) know the actual meaning? Because as much as I love Dami, the whole bloodson, birthright to take the mantle of Robin beside Batman give me ugh feelings if it's true) :C

First of all, thank you so much!! I'm so happy to hear you like my stuff <333!!

I think it's fine that you started in the fandom since I sort of started out that way too lol. I had only watched Teen Titans Animated show and Young Justice before I got into fanfics and my first comic I ever read was actually Teen Titans (2011) which was Tim's run. It's been a journey.

Dick's personality was also what captivated me so here I am!

"Should he stay in Gotham, being in with the batfamily more? Soloing in Bludhaven? Staying with the titans? Or others?"

That's a really good question and a complex one. Ironically, for being such a people person, Dick seems to be doing best when he's by himself. When he's soloing, he has a sense of freedom and independence that he's been craving for a long time. The whole reason he left Bruce was because he felt like Bruce was suddenly treating him like a kid, like someone to look after, when he had been treating Dick like a partner the whole time. When Dick feels like his independence is being stepped on, it unsettles him. This is another reason why the Tom Taylor run and Dick's relationship pisses me off but that's for another time. As much as he likes Gotham, he loves Bludhaven. He thinks it's a dirty, crime-filled city, sure, but he loves it there.

He's a little crazy like that.

He doesn't have the same attachment to Gotham that Bruce does. Instead he feels that for Bludhaven.

The only reason I'm saying Dick is better off staying alone than with the Titans is because of his leadership mentality. There's a comic that I forgot the name of but Dick teams up with members of the Justice League and they trapeze through a jungle under the orders of this corrupt military general. He teams up with Arthur and automatically starts commanding people to which Aquaman tells him off, saying this isn't the Titans. Dick is genuinely sorry and backs off. For a minute. But immediately goes right back into command mode but Arthur lets it go, realizing that Dick's not conscious of it and that his behaviour is automatic. "Too many leaders" he calls the situation in his head. For Dick, the Titans have become a responsibility now. He loves them like crazy but they look up at him automatically for directions and order and he's gotten so used to leading them that it's his go to mode.

He just likes doing stuff without someone hovering over his shoulder or having to take care of others.

"what about his romantic relationships? Who should be is one true one(based on canon gfs), or maybe stay single? (Just gonna be biased, but I've only knew about dickbabs and dickkory (but I heard he has other girlfriends and I've remember reading he was almost married…a few times??) but dickkory had always been for me)"

Yeah, I've actually loved almost all of his romantic relationships. I hate Dickbabs but every other one has been fantastic. Kori was great for him.

Action Comics (1938) Issue #618

Dick says it again here. He used to envy Roy's freedom. He's also said in another comic that he fell in love with Kori for her freedom.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

You're right, he has gotten almost married a few times

The first time was with Kori

The New Titans (1988) Issue #100

But then

The New Titans (1988) Issue #100

their pastor gets vaporised and body-controlled Raven feeds the soul of one of Trigon's children into Kori and she goes crazy but she recovers but it's a whole ordeal. In the end they don't get a chance to complete their marriage. They were spectacular together though. The only reason their wedding didn't go through is because the Batfam writers wanted Dick back so they took him from the Titans' writers and they needed a big dramatic scene to cut him off from the Titans. Another reason why Barbara was deaged and created as a love interest- to gatekeep him in the family.

He's also gotten married to Barbara before the retcon though.

Batman Family Issue #11

But here they were forced to by Maze and they went along with it and tricked him. At the end though, they just grab a bite to eat.

Ngl I actually would've supported this marriage. I really love this Barbara. Yes the age difference is a bit much but whatever, I still like them.

Dick and Barbara have gotten married in an alternate timeline.

Convergence: Nightwing/Oracle Issue #2

yeah, definitely didn't like this one.

Dick's also gotten fake married to a woman because Batman and Dick thought she was killing her husbands after marrying them so Dick married her to see if it was true.

Nightwing (1996) Annual #1

I liked her. She wasn't the killer and Dick did a fantastic job raising her son but even though she loved him, he didn't love her and they divorced amicably. I wish I could see more of her and her son though.

To be completely honest, my favorites for Dick are Kori and Bea.

Bea was a fantastic partner. She was understanding, loving, caring, and responsible. She was there when he was Ric Grayson and just loved him for who he was.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #53

If Kori's truly out of the picture, then Dick really should've settled down with her.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #57

She and Kori, they don't tell Dick what to do or who to be. They let him be free which is why I loved them an extraordinary amount. I'm a sucker for soft moments and Bea and Dick are couple goals.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #62

They give him the freedom he craves.

"What about mentally wise? (Of course, I do think Dick needs a long vacation because of all the trauma that he has to go through), but even if I like the idea of Dick being admired for his looks because he deserves it, but I do rmbr posts that he is uncomfy with this(sexualisation, Def only staying true to the person he loves (then there's the whole...Tarantula and more thing)"

I think Dick does need a break. His life has been a series of unfortunate events but despite all that, I think he loves it that way. Dick loves the thrill of adventure. It's the heart of who he is and why he became robin. The excitement he gets when fighting or doing crazy stunts - he loves all of it and that is his coping mechanism. I guess in order for him to thrive, Bruce needs to stop dumping all his trauma and stop expecting him to be there for him at all times of the day. Dick keeps getting dragged back to Gotham to take care of Bruce and his problems and he would go in a heartbeat but he's much happier wacking his own goons in Bludhaven. But since Bruce is so codependent on Dick, this pattern's not gonna stop anytime soon.

Truth be told I also like Dick being admired for his looks. I don't like him being called out by it though. First of all why would you comment "hot booty" to someone? It's degrading and humiliating even if you think it's a compliment. Some things are better left untold. But regardless of what people think, Dick will always be pretty and everyone in the DC universe knows this. Heroes, civilians, villains - they're all attracted to him on some level because he's so beautiful. And honestly? I'm all for it! Because that boy is the prettiest human in existence and he deserves that recognition. Just not vocally or physically.

The best thing is that Dick's beauty has no bearing on his mentality toward people. This man will choose one person and stick with them forever. He values intimacy and trust and love in his relationships which is why he's so attached to each one. This plays a massive role in his relationship with Kori. He would never cheat. Actually in all the future comics, after his spouse passes away or leaves, he never remarries. The only one exception was Batman Beyond (2016). The only one and he remarries Barbara after his wife passes away. Aside from that he remains a single parent. That's how dedicated he is.

"I've been seeing stuff where Robin name is actually Dick's mom calling Dick that. Then it's passed down as a mantle starting from Jason without Dick consenting. I tried to read at wiki, maybe I missed out but I can't find anything. Is it true? Does the other bats (except Bruce and Alfred?) know the actual meaning? Because as much as I love Dami, the whole bloodson, birthright to take the mantle of Robin beside Batman give me ugh feelings if it's true)"

Yup Dick's mother called Dick Robin.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #0

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Here's a couple but there are more instances of his mom calling him Robin.

Dick had no idea Bruce passed on the Robin costume. He finds out through the newspaper because Bruce is pissed at Dick. Like he's so mad that when he told Dick to leave, Dick actually left.

You know how there's a saying about not being able to take back words of anger? Bruce is feeling that heavily. He already had suspicions that Dick wanted to leave but before Dick could tell him, he fired him so he wouldn't have to hear those words. But Bruce is super mad that Dick left anyway. So what does he do? He makes the first boy he sees Robin.

And Jason finds out Dick was Robin when he confronts Bruce why Nightwing knows Bruce's identity. And that gets Bruce more mad because he's now feeling guilty which is when Dick comes to confront Bruce.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But instead of meeting anger for anger, Dick expresses his hurt. About how they were partners and then talks about his life after leaving Bruce.

And Bruce loves Dick. His best friend, son, brother, and partner for nearly 11 years. They raised each other and despite his anger, he smiles in pride and love.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Look at his smile!! He's so proud of his son.

And that's when Dick stops pulling his punches.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Bruce looks so wrecked. The guilt and sorrow is tantamount to his pain.

Then Dick asks Bruce why he choose someone new.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

So Bruce tells him. But Dick and Bruce's relationship go way deeper than just friends or family. They know each other. They revolve around each other so Dick calls him out.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

And out comes the truth

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But Dick has always been the bigger man and instead of letting Jason become some sort of spite move, he turns Robin into a legacy.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

He passes it down like it was meant to be passed down. Because let's be honest here. The Robin name and costume is Dick's. If he wanted to, he could've taken it back, Bruce be damned. And that was one of Jason's fears.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But despite Bruce's words to Jason

Batman (1940) Issue #416

He's not sure himself.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But it's only with Dick's approval that he becomes Robin which is what Bruce is thanking at the end.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

And this has been a sort of tradition.

Dick approved of Jason being Robin, he endorsed Tim, and he made Damian Robin. The only exception being Stephanie. This is why Dick feels a heavy sense of responsibility over the robin predicament. He created the tradition. He approved, supported, and mentored every robin that walked in his colors and name. That's why he feels the burden of it.

I don't think any of the other robins know the meaning behind the name. Maybe they do. But ironically, the one who wasn't robin is the one who knows the meaning of it.

Duke.

[wyldblunt]

Hi, it is 6 AM here and I have to sleep but I'm writing to you to let you know that I'm very concerned about what I've been reading in the past day.

I heard of the gwg/Logan incident on the day of it happening, but that's not really what I'm worried about. What concerns me is what seems like a consistent & long term systematic marginalization of POC in GW2 fan spaces. To be honest I'm not that surprised, I've had my suspicions since 2020.

I'm not active on GW2 tumblr or any social media at all, other than posting the Tyria Pride announcements once a year, so I don't have much impact outside of the Tyria Pride discord, but I still want to do something. I have some ideas, and am also always open to suggestions.

I would love to chat at some point (it doesn't have to be now, and I totally get it if you're not interested). The Tyria Pride discord isn't huge but it isn't small either, and maybe I have some influence that I can use for good.

Lelling

Tyria Pride Lead

P.S.: I know this can be a source of exhaustion so please do not worry about tone policing yourself or rewording your reply for ages to be "just right", if you do reply to me. (I just spent an hour doing that so I get it, it is now 7 AM). I'm on your side. I'll meet you where you're at.

hey — i hope you don't mind that i'm posting this publicly, but i want to because waking up to this message was a huge relief to me. and as i've tried to explain in other conversations about this, i KNOW there are LOTS of people who have been really uncomfortable through this entire convo but have not felt willing or able to speak up publicly (bc of open threats of ostracization for "being mean" AND observed behavior towards those of us who have said anything) and i hope that reading this will be a relief to them too.

thank you not only for reaching out but also for GETTING what our actual concerns are, bc one of my biggest frustrations through all of this has been people repeatedly twisting the issue so they can dismiss it as squabbling about fiction and then they don't actually have to address the broader patterns we're talking about here; thank you for the assurance that i won't be tone policed, because that's been repeatedly used against us as well ("okay i guess you guys are making some good points but you're being so ANGRY"); and thank you for acknowledging how tiring this is, because i've been made to feel like if i don't keep showing up and being vocal about this, leaving behind mostly the white allies who have been sticking up for us and using their privilege to make corrections and take some of the brunt of the ridicule and backlash, the whole thing will be dismissed as a non-issue anyway. and frankly i don't fucking want to anymore! i'm tired lol!

but i also wanted to springboard off this really kind and reassuring message from you to say it isn't the only one i've received, and that as angry and exhausted as i am, i want to highlight and acknowledge that i have NOT been alone in this. people have been checking in on me, listening to what i and others have to say about it and boosting our statements, changing their minds if they jumped to conclusions earlier, and offering private support and conversation among those of us who still don't feel comfortable braving the environment out here on tumblr — obviously the bad experiences i've had through this are sticking in my head and are really demoralizing, but honestly in terms of quantity and quality i have had MORE experiences of people supporting me and making sure i'm okay. this fandom has massive problems but it also has more of a solid, positive core than i was willing to hope for in the beginning.

i spoke up initially because it was horrible how isolated i felt when this all kicked off; the wider problem is absolutely not fixed, but i can confidently say i don't feel alone or abandoned anymore, and that gives me a ton of hope for figuring this out.