#but i just want this multi to be sort of?? focused??

[starstcff]

okay !! so <3 this is a plot-centric blog, which means i would love to yell back and forth for a while before writing out a dynamic so we can really get a lot of enjoyment from the thread ( and i love to have 15 threads with the same person, and plotting is necessary for that ), so, here is a big plotting call that expresses your interest in building dynamics with me, and authorizes me to ask for your discord!

[thebiggerbear]

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Sequel

Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?

Word Count: 2528

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Tom version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version

You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.

It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.

Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.

“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”

He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”

Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical. 

“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”

You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.

“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.

He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”

You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.

Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.

Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down. 

Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.

Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll. 

“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”

He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.

“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.

You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you. 

Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”

Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”

You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?” 

“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.

“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”    

Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”

Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile. 

“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”

He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”

You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”

Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed. 

You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”

As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”

“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more.

You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[zeroslashsix]

Following my Gambit post, I love love love the way Rogue's powers are handled in X-Men Evolution. Like Gambit, Rogue tends to have a certain set of 'roles' when she's in a show/movie: she's focused on inner torment about her powers, on being a Spicy Southern Belle, or her romantic connections. Which is to say, her stories are usually about emotions and relationships, which is fine, I love those parts of her as much the rest. But if she's not fighting, her powers are only really viewed through a lens of how she feels about them, and how they impact her ability to connect with others.

And here's X-Men Evolution, fully leaning into the fact that Rogue’s power is one of the most dangerous in the entire show. I love the s3 ep "Self-Possessed" so much because it takes the brakes off her, and really commits to the idea that stacking powers is catastrophic when you consider she can wield multiple omega-level powersets at the same time. Her main limitation is that she doesn't want other personalities in her head, she limits her power usage because she just doesn't like it, and yeah, totally fair, but Rogue could absolutely wake up one day, go through the mansion and decide to be an omega squared. X-Men Evolution is about teenagers who are still figuring out their abilities, even at the end of the series when they're a year (two years?) older. By the finale, they have more control and training, but they are absolutely still growing into adulthood and have not reached full potential.

Which is why I think "Self-Possessed" is such a fascinating look at Rogue's powers. Every iteration of Rogue imposes a time limit on her absorption, meaning that any powers she absorbs will only stay with her for a short time. But in that episode, when she's succumbing to all those personalities in her head, her time limit stops existing. She can access powers for months, maybe even years after the initial absorption. Mystique's powers couldn't have given Rogue that ability; the only way Rogue could do such a thing is if that potential already exists inside of her. This implies that when she absorbs a power, that power stays inside her as long as the personality does, and her "time limit" is just a matter of control, or lack thereof.

This seems to be backed up by the s3 finale, where Mesmero and Mystique mind control Rogue to gather powers, and Rogue proceeds to SWEEP the X-Men, Brotherhood, Acolytes, and Magneto in less than 24 hours. By the end of it, she seems fully capable of using any and all their powers at will, ignoring any sort of time limit. Mesmero can mind control others, but he can't enhance them. He cannot give someone powers they don't already possess. The only reason Rogue could do all that is because she was already capable of it, and the fact Mesmero could mind control this out of her seems to imply that Rogue's limitations are entirely self-imposed, mostly mental/emotional, or maybe a lack of experience. (Similar to the season four finale where Rogue seems to use Leech’s power better than he does, probably just because he’s a little kid and she’s an adolescent so has a better grasp on powers in general)

Like, no wonder Mystique and Destiny wanted her powers. No wonder Magneto was so thrilled to have her in the ranks in the first season. No wonder so many people in the world want to use her; she is the all-mutant, the living multi tool that can gather multitudes of power in one place and then combine them. The only reason she isn't considered omega-level is pure technicality; in terms of destruction she could actually lay down, Rogue is absolutely as dangerous as plenty of omegas. The requirements for an omega are 1) infinite power, and 2) limitless power. Rogue has the first one; she can stack an infinite number of powers. But she lacks the second; all her powers must come from the outside, and she cannot generate them herself. But if she has access to multiple omega powersets like she does in Self-Possessed, that technicality kind of stops mattering once the punches actually start flying.

Which all leads into Rogue's main emotional journey through X-Men Evolution, which is perhaps my favorite she's ever had: being used. That's why she was adopted. That's why she was raised being unable to touch, being lied to by both her moms. That's why she was taken into the Brotherhood, and it's why Mystique will never leave her alone. Extra fascinating because after the reveal in season one that Mystique is Kurt's mother, Mystique leaves Kurt completely alone for the rest of the series, while simultaneously stalking and manipulating Rogue. Why the difference? Because Kurt is not a useful tool. Not compared to Rogue. And I think Rogue sees that difference, which makes for such a juicy dynamic when Kurt is so interested in actually loving Mystique, for insisting that Rogue should forgive their mother and 'let hatred go,' because he genuinely thinks that anyone can be saved with enough love. Whereas Rogue, who has seen Mystique's 'love' up close for her whole life, is desperately trying to get away from that, with good reason.

One of the reasons I wish we’d had more seasons, or at least more episodes in the last season, is how seamlessly Rogue’s feelings about her powers flowed into her feelings around being used, her feelings around family, and being dehumanized to the point of mind-wipe by her own mother. Yes she’s sad about the no-touching thing, but that’s nothing compared to being seen as a literal object in the eyes of others, because her powers are utterly perfect—for someone else to use. Which flows into questions of bodily autonomy, of who her powers “belong to” vs. who they “should belong to.” Especially considering that Rogue is only at full power when she loses control/is under someone else’s control, which could lead someone to conclude, “Well of course Rogue should be under someone’s control, preferably mine. She’s so powerful when someone else is controlling her, and so weak when she controls herself. It’s honestly such a waste for Rogue to be her own person when she could be so much more. She needs to be used to reach her full potential.”

In a perfect world, we’d have way more X-Men Evo than we got. More seasons, more episodes, more time to explore whatever the hell Rogue had going on. And if I was allowed to pick, I would have loved to see Rogue with a character arc of self-ownership. In particular, it would be so cool to see her powers develop to the point she can have a “Self-Possessed” crisis and control it, fully aware of herself and all the powers she holds. I’d love to see her use those powers for her own benefit, on purpose, independent of both her mother and the X-Men. I’d love to see a self-serving Rogue in the XMenEvo. Not necessarily evil (though it would be a fascinating villain arc) but a Rogue who chooses selfishness as an act of rebellion. Who can use all those powers simultaneously, consciously, and disobediently. Vengeance, maybe? Or something that heightens humans’ fear of mutants? I’d love to see Rogue become inconvenient to the X-Men, at the very least, either physically or philosophically. Certainly nothing so dire as the Phoenix saga, but something that uses her powers to their fullest extent. (Damn could you imagine Rogue as the Horseman of Death if this went in the opposite direction. How fucking overpowered would Death!Rogue be, how the hell would the X-Men deal with that)

Anyways. Fanfiction is the folklore of the now or whatever. And XMenEvo was already a crazy high school AU anyway.

[allzelemonz]

Dare: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

(Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Javier Esquella)

Fictober Prompt: Day 17, Multi Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘fella’ and ‘man’, heavy masculine implication Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: (have you ever been in a men’s locker room and things got a little weird), smut, background relationships, masturbation, hand jobs, kissing, oral sex, blow jobs, dirty talk, facial, cum swallowing, Micah being an asshole, flirting, casual sex, everyone is gay but especially Bill Summary: Drunk Sean wanting to get off prompts a dare to jerk off and last longer than anyone else at the fire. Gay chaos of a sort ensues.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur nearly shrieks, his head turning away from a much drunker Sean.

“Oh, come on now, Englishman.” Sean giggles. “We’re all men here, ain’t no trouble at all, is it?”

His hand palms at the bulge in his pants. A bulge that has only now been noticed and has the rest of camp’s attention. Bill fixes his eyes for a few seconds before he looks away, shifting his legs nervously. You try to look almost anywhere else.

Sean grins. “Ya know what, fellas, I bet you I can get myself off ‘fore any a’ you.”

Micah scoffs. “We all heard yer whore goin’ off ‘bout how ya can’t last, cowpoke.”

Sean hisses, stilling his hand. “Fine, then I bet I can ‘least outlast a greasy arse of man like you.”

“What?” Javier grimaces. “You want us all to sit here with our dicks out?”

“Embarrassed, Mister Escuella?” Sean laughs, giving him wavy eyebrows.

“We’re not all gonna jerk off in front of each other.” You mutter. “That’s insane.”

Sean sits up, putting a falsely offended hand over his chest. “That ain’t fair, big man.” A grin grows over his face. “What if I dared all a’ ya?”

“A dare?” Charles mutters.

Sean proudly puts his hand over his bulge. “I dare each a ya ta last longer than the legend Sean MacGuire. An’ whoever lasts longest, I’ll give ya my share a’ the job.”

The men around the fire shuffle, some hiding their own erections, others simply uncomfortable. It’s just a handful of the young men here, sent out for a train job. Arthur stares into the fire, as does Charles, Bill glances all around as he tries not to look at anyone at all, Micah and Javier seem more insulted than anyone. A dare is an odd thing, often able to make a man do things he never would, stupid things at that. And one like this, as odd as it is, is almost a challenge to each one of your own masculinity. Everything about dicks is.

You assume that’s why it’s Micah that starts unfastening his pants first. “Fine.” He mutters.

And Javier follows, wordless. Then Bill, fumbling quickly. Sean flicks his eyes between the rest of you as he fishes himself out. You admit, confident in your manhood or not, a dare is a dare so you pull your dick out as well. Arthur grumbles something to himself, doing the same. Charles is the last, seemingly embarrassed and likely thankful that his complexion hides most of the heat in his cheeks unlike most of you.

“Alright.” Sean says proudly. “Everybody gives a good effort, whatever ya like, long as ya don’t stop. Huh?”

Nods follow, each man showing their nerves in little bits and averting their eyes as much as they can. Plenty of you have been naked in front of each other or just caught glimpses during a piss break, but it’s much odder with this context to see each other’s dicks in hand.

“Count a’ three then.” Sean grins. “One! Two…! Three!”

You lick your hand and wrap your fingers around yourself, focusing down on that sight as opposed to anyone else. You flick your wrist loosely, moving slow and trying to ignore how the shivers spread over you. If you were alone it wouldn’t be much stimulation, but knowing you’re surrounded by six other men makes it just a little more exciting.

When you chance a glance up you find shamelessly wandering eyes and slow strokes all around. Arthur’s face is flushed red as his eyes stare around, the most shame anyone has. Sean lets noise spill from him easily, his hand the first to move faster. He doesn’t last long past that, Micah laughing at him as he releases.

“Shit…” Sean sighs, staring down at the mess of his pants.

Some of the other men still, looking at the loser of the little competition.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” Sean says with a smile. “Winner gets my share a’ the job, remember?”

The slow strokes continue.

Sean looks around for a moment before you see a grin spread over his face as he tucks himself away. “‘a course, that don’t mean I can’t play favorites.”

“The hell’s that mean?” Bill mutters.

Sean stands, slowly making his way over to Micah. “Ain’t like ya need the money, do ya?”

Micah eyes the Irishman warrily, but makes no move to stop him from dropping to his knees. Sean shocks everyone around the fire when he takes Micah in his mouth. Micah hisses, moving his hand out of Sean’s way and into his tangled red hair. Bill gasps next to you, his eyes fixed on the sight. You look away, the thought of Sean’s share of money paying for a nicer saddle or something keeping you restrained. Micah caves, gripping Sean’s hair and fucking into his mouth until he releases.

Sean coughs and splutters, swallowing most of the cum before he can pull himself away. “Least…” Sean spits. “Least  you ain’t winnin’, ya lousy arse. When’s the last time ya wash that little thing a’ yours anyway?”

Micah scowls at him, tucking himself away. “You wanna play rough, MacGuire, fine.”

It’s like a cloud of hated lust washes the sense from everyone, both Micah and Sean moving to a target they don’t want winning.

As Arthur glares at Micah, Sean smirks. “New rule, boys. Ya get picked by somebody that’s out, ya gotta let ‘em try fer at least a minute.”

“That’s stupid.” Arthur mutters, eyeing Micah as the blond smirks down at him.

“Only fair, Morgan.” Micah says. “I ain’t gonna be the only fool that got out on a technicality.”

Arthur grumbles, but doesn’t stop Micah from gripping him and stroking furiously. Your heart skips when Sean’s eyes meet yours and he takes a few steps forward.

“No hard feelings, big man, Bill said he’d buy me a drink.” Sean snickers as he drops to his knees in front of you.

You shudder when he touches you, your hot skin buzzing at his cool fingers. But before you can blink, his mouth has engulfed your entire length. Sean is far too good at this. He bobs his head and you will yourself not to give in for the minute he has.

Across the fire, Arthur shoves Micah away. “Ya had yer chance, sick bastard.”

Micah grunts, wiping his hand on his pants before turning to Bill and starting his process again. Bill moans at the touch, struggling not to buck up into Micah’s hand. You’ve lost track of Sean’s minute, but he wasn’t far behind Micah so you shove at his shoulder.

“Better luck next time.” You say, your voice shaking a bit as you replace your hand.

Sean grins up at you, whispering. “Hope ya win.”

Likely because he’s losing his promised drink with the way Bill is shutting under Micah’s touch. Just as Sean reaches Javier to tease, Bill releases with a gasp. Micah grins to himself but you catch it, you also notice how he doesn’t stop as Bill shakes but instead strokes him through it.

“Get Morgan.” He mutters.

Bill nods, sweat covering his face. Micah straightens himself and glances between you and Charles, opting for you after a few seconds.

“Sorry, cowpoke.” He mutters. “Just rather touch you than him.”

“Fuck off, Micah.” You say through gritted teeth.

Micah smiles at you as he sits down next to you, leaning close as his arm wraps around your waist and his hand closes on your dick. “That ain’t any way ta talk. I’m ‘bout ta get ya off, ain’t I?”

For as much of an ass as Micah is, he’s good at this. Your mind wanders, picturing all the times you’ve seen Micah by the fire cleaning his guns. His fingers wrapped around the barrel as he drags the cloth over the metal.

“Shit!” You gasp.

Micah’s hand feels better than Sean’s mouth did, fast and furious strokes making you have to stop yourself from squirming. A low groan from Javier takes him out as he fills Sean’s throat, the Irishman not pulling off like he did with Micah and choosing to swallow it all this time. Only a moment later, Arthur mutters a curse as he releases onto Bill’s face and dirties the man’s beard. He mumbles an apology as Bill grumbles about it, both of them blushing deeply.

“Alright, alright.” Sean says. “Let’s give our finalists a chance.”

Micah leans a little closer as he takes his hand back. “Win this, cowpoke.”

You shutter as his breath hits your neck.

Sean grins. “Hands away now, boys! Take a breather.”

Charles pulls his hand back, resting it on his thigh as he eyes the group. You swallow thickly, still feeling all the heat from Sean and Micah’s attempts. Charles hasn’t even been touched once, he has the advantage.

“How should we do this, boys?” Sean asks, turning to the group of losers. “Let ‘em keep at it, help ‘em out?”

“This is stupid.” Arthur grumbles.

Bill is too occupied with trying to get the cum out of his beard to answer.

Javier is still catching his breath from his orgasm.

Micah shrugs.

“Fine.” Sean grins. “I’ll be the judge ‘ere. Javier an’ Bill.” He points to you. “Ya work on ‘em an’ Arthur an’ Micah get Charles.”

No one moves for a moment. You look over and share a sympathetic look with Charles.

Sean groans. “Come on, boys! Have a little fun… I’ll buy a round a’ drinks.”

It’s enough to get Bill at your side, Javier follows as Micah and Arthur go to Chalres.

“Alright, count a’ three.” Sean grins, rubbing his hands together like the schemy little shit he is. “One, two…three!”

Bill goes straight for your dick, wrapping his big hand around it and stroking almost as well as Micah. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on lasting. It becomes infinitely harder when Javier’s hand dips below Bill’s and finds your balls still tucked in your pants. He leans in close, whispering a mix of English and Spanish in your ear and you know well enough that every word is dirty even though you try to tune it out. You can hear Micah snickering in the distance and take it as a good sign, he’d be the type to laugh at Charles getting off and losing. Bill’s other hand wanders up your chest and squeezes at your pecs briefly before he winds it under your shirt and feels at your skin. Javier’s other hand finds your jaw and his fingers trail as he turns your head. Your eyes peek open in time to see him smirk, then he kisses you as his hand squeezes at your balls firmly.

With their hands all over you, you can’t hold it anymore. It’s like a burst. The waves hit you hard and you spasm as you cum over your pants. Bill strokes you through it, his other hand gentle as it settles on your waist. Javier muffles whatever odd little noises you would have made, trailing off in smaller kisses before he stops. You open your eyes to look at him and he kisses your cheek with a wink. The three of you look over at the competition. Micah is stroking furiously, as he did with the others he tried to sabotage while Arthur kisses Charles’s neck and a hand plays with his nipples under his open shirt. Charles won, he hasn’t cum yet.

“Damn it.” Bill grumbles, glancing at you. “Was hopin’ you’d win.”

“Your fault.” You reply, breath still not quite back in your lungs.

Bill blushes. “Sorry, got, uh, caught up…”

“‘s alright…” You slur, head spinning still.

Sean doesn’t say a word to stop anything, holding a finger to his lips to silence any of you from alerting them. It’s only fair. Charles holds strong, though he seems to enjoy it when Arthur kisses him properly as his hand grips the other’s hair and holds him in place. Micah, never one to like losing and still unaware of his sealed fate, takes Charles in his mouth. Javier has to clap a hand over his lips to keep a laugh from alerting them. All of you sit in shock, never expecting Micah to suck off a man he berates on a daily basis even for the sake of winning some silly competition.

Charles’s hips buck and Micah moans when his hair is gripped and his mouth is used. His hands do nothing to stop it, only wandering over Charles’s thighs as he’s used. It only takes a minute after that, Charles’s hips stutter and he holds Micah flush to him as he releases. Arthur continues to kiss him and Micah is held in place despite his squirming until Sean clears his throat.

“Ya won, boys.” He grins. “Unless ya wanna keep goin’.”

Micah shoves himself away, falling back on his ass as he spits and coughs. Charles watches him, smiling for a moment before pulling Arthur closer and continuing.

“Alright then…” Sean turns to you and your saboteurs. “Anybody else all cheeky now?”

Bill grumbles something, standing and going over to Micah. He grips the smaller man by his collar, yanking him to his feet and shoving him towards the little collection of tents.

Sean has his eyebrows raised when he turns back, but he grins. “I ain’t gonna lie, I seen them hidin’ in the trees a couple times.”

“So you made us all get each other off?” Javier smirks, his arm draping around your shoulders. “Lousy move, cabrón.”

“I didn’t make ya do a thing ya didn’t wanna.” Sean crosses his arms. “It ain’t my fault you boys all wanted ta fuck each other.”

You sigh, remembering to tuck yourself away and glancing over to the winning fools. They’re nowhere to be seen. “They sneak off?”

“Suppose they did.” Sean chuckles. “Filthy sods.”

Javier waits a beat before turning to you. “Seems like everyone else is having a good time tonight. You wanna?”

Before you can answer, Sean whines. “Ya gonna leave me out? I’m the one that got ya started!”

“You’re taking then.” Javier mutters.

Sean grins. “Happily.”

You shake your head, sighing. “Fine, I guess.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy me, cariño.” Javier whispers, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

You hang your head, smiling softly. “Shut up, Escuella.”

He tugs at your arm as he stands, pulling you with him.

The fire light dies down over the course of the night. Faint, muffled moans and whimpers can be heard if you really listen, but it’s mostly that distinct sound of skin hitting skin that echoes well into the night. Some of you can’t walk in the morning, very much complicating the robbery and no one knows how you all are going to explain the failure to Dutch.

[rootedinrevisions]

The Tribal Pull: Part 1

SUMMARY: You are a young, ambitious intern who is beginning her six month stint with WWE. Your only focus is making a lasting impression to jumpstart your career - until you catch the eye of Roman Reigns, the dominant and enigmatic Tribal Chief. What starts as professional interactions quickly turns into something more, as Roman's attention becomes impossible to ignore, and the lines between business and personal interactions blur. With each encounter, the tension between you rises, leading to a moment of no return when circumstances force them to confront their undeniable chemistry.

OTHER PARTS: PART 2 I PART 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who sent the request for this one! I hope you enjoy it! I had originally planned on this being a one-shot and then it kind of spiraled so we are going to break it up into a few different parts! The rest of the parts should be coming soon!

WARNINGS: None for this part.

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

The moment you step through the doors of WWE’s headquarters, you feel the weight of the opportunity pressing down on you. This isn’t just another internship—this is your chance to make up for lost time. At twenty-six, you're about four years older than most of your peers, having changed your major twice in college. First, it was marketing, then communications, before finally settling on business management. Every switch has set you back, making you feel like you’re constantly running behind while everyone else sprints toward their futures. 

But this internship could change all that. If you play your cards right, it could be the launchpad for the career you’re dreaming of. No more second-guessing. No more indecision. This internship–if it goes well–with a top multi-billion dollar company like World Wrestling Entertainment could set you up for a career in any company you want.

You remind yourself to stay focused, avoid distractions, and make a lasting impression. WWE is a massive company, and though you’re not particularly familiar with its product, that doesn’t matter. You’re not here for the spectacle—you’re here to work. Blend in, complete your tasks, and show your superiors that you’re someone worth remembering.

The first week is a blur of meetings, paperwork, and learning the ropes. You’re assigned various tasks: running errands for the media team, organizing files, and shadowing a few producers during rehearsals. It’s exactly what you expected—grunt work—but you don’t mind. Everyone starts somewhere, and you’re more than willing to do whatever it takes to prove you belong here.

As you navigate your way through the office halls, you can’t help but overhear snippets of conversations. The name Roman Reigns keeps popping up, accompanied by hushed whispers and the occasional laugh. Whoever this is clearly commands a lot of attention, but the name means nothing to you. You’re not a wrestling fan, and the WWE roster is still a mystery. Between juggling schoolwork and the internship, the last thing on your mind has been catching up on WWE programming.

But there’s something about the way people speak of him–what they call him. The Tribal Chief. There’s a strange reverence in their tone, mixed with awe and maybe a little fear. It piques your curiosity, though you don’t dwell on it long. It’s not your place to get caught up in the backstage drama. You’re an outsider, after all, and you plan to keep it that way.

The rest of the week continues in the same vein. You keep your head down, stay out of everyone’s way, and focus on the tasks at hand. Occasionally, you catch glimpses of the superstars as they pass through the hallways, but none of them stand out to you. They’re just part of the job—nothing more.

It isn’t until Friday that things begin to shift. As you finish sorting through promotional materials in the media room, you overhear two producers discussing Roman Reigns’ next big segment.

“He’s unstoppable right now,” one of them says. “The way he’s taken over as the Tribal Chief... it’s like he’s on another level.”

“I know,” the other replies. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The fans love to hate him, but you can’t deny the guy is magnetic. He’s in control of everything, and you can feel it when he walks into a room.”

You pause, fingers stilling over the stack of flyers. Whoever this Roman Reigns is, it’s clear he isn’t just another wrestler. He’s something more—something bigger.

“Heyman’s got him booked solid for the next few weeks. No one even gets near him without going through his advocate first.”

You file the name away—Paul Heyman. You’re not sure who he is, but it seems like Roman Reigns operates on an entirely different level than anyone else here.

“Yeah, but when Roman sets his sights on something, he always gets it. No questions asked.”

Your fingers hesitate for a moment before continuing to organize the materials in front of you. You’re not sure what all the buzz around Roman Reigns really means, but one thing is clear—this man commands attention. Still, it has nothing to do with you. You remind yourself that you’re here for your career, not to get wrapped up in the WWE’s larger-than-life personas.

* * * * *

It’s been a whirlwind first week, but by now, you’re starting to settle into the rhythm of things. Your tasks have become routine—picking up paperwork, running production errands, and assisting wherever you’re needed. Today, you’re making your way through the winding corridors backstage, arms full of press materials that need to be delivered to the media team. You’ve learned to navigate the chaos without getting overwhelmed. Talent is everywhere, crew members buzz around, and conversations fill the air. But you keep your focus, reminding yourself that you’re here to make an impression—not get swept up in the spectacle.

You turn a corner, narrowly avoiding a group of production assistants hustling by, and almost run smack into a wall of people. You stumble back, catching your balance just in time, and your eyes quickly scan the group in front of you.

It’s a small crew, only four men—one of them an older man in a sharp suit, who catches your attention first. He looks important. The others are large, athletic guys, no doubt wrestlers. You know the type by now—intimidating at first glance but not as impressive once you’ve seen dozens of them throughout the week.

“I’m so sorry,” you say quickly, stepping aside to let them pass, still balancing the stack of papers in your arms.

The older man in the suit smiles at you—kind of. It’s more of a smirk like he’s amused by your near collision. 

“No harm done,” he says smoothly, his voice carrying a certain gravitas that makes you think he must be someone important. “You look busy.”

“I am,” you admit with a polite smile, shifting your papers in your arms. “Just trying to stay out of everyone’s way.”

Before he can respond, one of the wrestlers steps forward, standing directly in front of you. He’s taller, broad-shouldered, and clearly commands the space around him, even with the casual way he holds himself. You glance up at him briefly, feeling the weight of his presence. But instead of fawning over him like you’ve seen others do when they cross paths with talent, you brush it off. You’re here for work, not to be starstruck.

“Let’s move,” the man says simply, his voice low and authoritative. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, studying you with a curious intensity. But you don’t catch it. You’re too focused on the papers in your arms and the fact that you’re already running behind.

You nod politely and start to step around them when the man in the suit—who you now recognize as Paul Heyman, a name you’d overheard several times this week—gives you another smile. “Quite the dedicated intern we’ve got here. Keep up the hard work.”

“Thank you,” you reply, your voice polite but rushed. You can feel the weight of the stack of papers in your arms pulling at you. “I’ll try not to run anyone over next time.”

Paul chuckles lightly, and the group moves past you. You keep your head down, moving on quickly, not giving the interaction much thought. Just another group of wrestlers, another task on your never-ending list for the day.

But as you continue down the hall, something tugs at the back of your mind. There was something different about that group. The way the crew members in the hall stepped aside for them, the quiet murmur of conversation after they passed, and the way the tallest man in the group carried himself—like he owned the place.

You shake the thought from your head. Whoever they are, they’re just another set of people in this never-ending circus. You’ve got more important things to focus on, like delivering these materials and staying on top of your workload.

But as you head back toward your desk, you catch snippets of conversation from some crew members in the distance. “Did you see him?” one of them whispers.

“Of course I did. Roman Reigns. The Tribal Chief himself.”

You pause mid-step. Roman Reigns?

The name echoes in your head, and suddenly it clicks. The tallest man, the one who barely said anything but still managed to dominate the space without trying—that was him. The Tribal Chief. The one everyone’s been talking about all week. And you... you just brushed him off like he was any other wrestler.

A small pang of embarrassment flickers through you, but you push it down. You didn’t know. And even if you had known, it’s not like you would have acted any differently. You’re here for work, not to get wrapped up in the allure of superstars, no matter how big they are.

Still, as you sit down at your desk and try to focus on your tasks, you can’t help but feel like you’ve missed something. Like maybe—just maybe—Roman Reigns noticed something in you too.

But that’s ridiculous, right?

You shake off the thought, refocusing on your work. For now.

* * * * *

Weeks pass in a blur, and by now, you’ve found your footing in the chaotic world of WWE. Your internship has been nonstop—shuffling between production meetings, running errands, and assisting with anything that needs an extra hand. You’ve gotten to know a few more people along the way, even some of the talent, but you always maintain your focus. You’re not here to make friends; you’re here to build a career.

The days bleed together, marked by long hours and endless tasks, but you don’t mind. Each day brings you one step closer to earning that glowing recommendation from your supervisors. You’ve even heard your name whispered in the halls once or twice, people complimenting how quickly you’ve adapted, how you’re always reliable. It’s rewarding, but you don’t let it get to your head. There’s too much to do, and too much riding on this internship to let your guard down now.

But amidst the hustle, you’ve started to notice something. A shift, small but noticeable if you’re paying attention. Roman Reigns—the name you now know well—has been around more often than before. The Tribal Chief himself, the man everyone is constantly buzzing about, is always nearby.

It started off small, just brief sightings backstage. You’d pass by the hallway, head down, focused on where you needed to be, and catch a glimpse of him with his entourage. He rarely traveled alone. Paul Heyman, his ever-present Advocate, was always by his side, along with a few other towering men who appeared to be related. The aura around him was impossible to ignore—people parted for him like he was royalty, which, considering his status, made sense. 

But to you, he was just another face in the sea of talent.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You brushed it off, assuming his presence around you was a coincidence—after all, this is WWE, and you’re bound to cross paths with the wrestlers eventually. You had no reason to think otherwise. But after the third or fourth time, something clicked. You’d feel his gaze linger on you as you walked by. Not every time, but often enough for it to make you wonder.

One day, you’re in the catering area, grabbing a quick bite between tasks when you catch him looking at you from across the room. His arms are crossed, posture relaxed but still commanding. He’s surrounded by his crew, but his eyes are on you. You glance up, meeting his gaze briefly, but quickly look away, dismissing the moment as nothing more than curiosity on his part. Maybe he’s just bored. Or maybe you’re just imagining things. Either way, it doesn’t matter—you’ve got work to do.

In the days that follow, the pattern repeats. A glance here, a brief look there. You’d be walking through the hall with a clipboard in hand, passing a group of wrestlers, and you’d feel his eyes on you. It’s never anything overt, nothing that disrupts your focus. But it’s there.

More than once, you overhear people mentioning him as you work. Production staff and crew members talk about his rising power, his influence, his utter dominance as the Tribal Chief. You don’t pay too much attention to it—it’s background noise to you, as you’re more concerned with making sure your tasks are done right and on time. Still, his name is everywhere, even when you aren’t directly crossing paths. You’ve caught bits of conversations about his latest storyline, his matches, his undeniable star power.

But you? You’re here to do your job. You’ve worked too hard to let any of this distract you.

You even overhear one conversation backstage between two other interns—both a little too eager to gossip—about how lucky you are. They’d seen him glance your way once or twice too and speculated, voices low but not low enough, about why he seemed to pay attention to you.

“Did you see the way Roman looked at her during that meeting?” one of them whispered.

“I know! She’s so lucky. If that were me, I’d totally play it up,” the other intern replied, laughing. “She probably doesn’t even notice. She’s so busy working.”

You had noticed. But you weren’t playing into anything. You were here for yourself, for your career, for a shot at making it in this industry on your own terms. Roman Reigns might be the biggest name in the company right now, but that doesn’t change your priorities.

Still, the thought of his lingering glances sticks with you more than you’d like to admit. You don’t fawn over him like the others, don’t treat him with the reverence most people seem to reserve for him. In fact, you barely interact with him at all. That one time you spoke to Paul Heyman was the closest you’d come, and even then, it was business as usual.

Yet, there’s something unshakable about the way he looks at you. It’s not predatory, but it’s not dismissive either. It’s like he’s observing, watching, but waiting for something. You shake off the feeling each time, burying yourself in your tasks and ignoring the strange awareness that hums in the back of your mind whenever he’s nearby.

And as the days turn into weeks, you continue to keep your head down, completing your assignments with the same dedication that got you noticed in the first place. Roman may be watching, but you refuse to let it distract you. After all, this internship is your one shot at proving yourself—and nothing, not even the Tribal Chief himself, is going to get in the way of that.

* * * * *

Another week passes, and your workload only seems to grow. As you rush through the hallways, your mind is focused on everything except the gossip around you. There’s a big event coming up, and the production team has ramped up its efforts, pushing everyone to their limits, including you.

You’ve just wrapped up a meeting and are heading backstage, still clutching your notes, when you hear someone call your name. 

You pause, turning slightly to see none other than Roman Reigns standing a few feet away. This time, he’s not surrounded by a crowd of people, it’s just him. Your heart skips for a second, but you steady yourself quickly. He’s just another wrestler, you remind yourself.

Roman steps forward, his stride purposeful, like every movement he makes is calculated. “I thought it was about time I introduced myself properly,” he says, his voice smooth yet authoritative. His eyes are locked on yours, and there’s something in his gaze—an intensity that seems to pin you in place. “Roman Reigns.”

You nod, giving him a polite smile, but keep your tone professional. “I know. Everyone’s been talking about you.” The understatement of the century, but you aren’t about to admit that.

He chuckles softly, clearly used to hearing his own name everywhere. “I figured. But you seem different. Most people around here don’t exactly keep their heads down like you do.”

Before you can respond, Roman gestures to his left where the three men you usually see with him approach. They each give you a nod and a smile, though theirs are a bit more playful, mischievous even. There’s a lightness to them, an ease that contrasts Roman’s more commanding presence.

“These are my cousins, Jimmy and Jey,” he says. “The Usos.”

You nod again, acknowledging them with a polite “Nice to meet you.” They seem friendly enough, but the weight of Roman’s presence keeps your attention locked on him.

“And you’ve met Paul before, right?” Roman adds, turning to his Advocate, who steps forward with that same knowing smile he always seems to wear.

“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths in a few meetings,” you reply, remembering the brief conversations you’ve had with Paul Heyman. He was always polite, sharp, and insightful during meetings. You respected him for his reputation and the way he carried himself in the industry. He gives you a small nod, the same reserved yet thoughtful expression he always carries.

“Yes, we’ve shared some insightful talks,” Paul chimes in, his voice smooth as ever. “I must say, I’m impressed with your work ethic. You’ve been standing out.” There’s a slight gleam in his eyes, like he’s already reading you like an open book.

You shift slightly on your feet, trying to remain focused. Compliments are nice, but they aren’t why you’re here. “Thank you. I’m just trying to do my job.”

Roman’s eyes flicker with something—interest, amusement, maybe both. “You’re doing more than that,” he says, his voice lower, carrying a weight that makes it impossible to brush off. “I’ve noticed.”

You feel the subtle shift in the air between you, but you keep your response calm, professional. “I appreciate that. I’m just here to help where I can.”

He tilts his head slightly, as if studying you. “You don’t get fazed easily, do you?” There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, a hint of admiration in his tone.

You shrug lightly. “I’ve learned to stay focused. This is a big opportunity for me.”

Roman steps a bit closer, his towering presence making it hard to ignore him even if you wanted to. “I can respect that. You’ve been doing good work. People are talking.”

You feel your heart rate pick up slightly, but you keep your composure. Compliments from Roman Reigns may be a big deal to most, but you’re determined to stay grounded. “That’s kind of you to say. But really, I’m just doing what’s expected of me.”

Jimmy chuckles from the side, elbowing Jey. “Man, she’s not like the others, is she?”

Jey smirks, watching the exchange with clear amusement. “Not at all. Got nerves of steel, this one.”

Roman doesn’t break eye contact with you, his smirk softening into something almost approving. “Well, keep doing what you’re doing,” he says, his voice smooth but with an undertone of authority. “You’re making an impression.”

You smile politely, grateful for the acknowledgment but not lingering on it. “Thanks, I’ll do my best.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance between the four men, all of whom seem to be watching you with varying degrees of interest. It’s a little overwhelming, but you maintain your composure. Roman is the last to look away, nodding once before finally stepping back.

“Good to meet you,” he says, and there’s a finality to his tone, like he’s just checked something off his mental list. 

He and his cousins start to walk off, but before he’s out of earshot, you hear him murmur to Paul, something low and quiet, but with a hint of intrigue. You don’t stick around to analyze it. 

Instead, you turn back to your task list, pushing aside whatever strange tension had bubbled up in the brief exchange. He might be Roman Reigns, Tribal Chief, leader of the locker room, but to you, he’s just another talent in a long list of people you need to stay professional around.

Even if his eyes lingered just a little too long, or his words seemed to carry more weight than they should, you brush it off. You have bigger things to worry about than what Roman Reigns thinks of you. After all, your career is on the line, and no matter how much attention he pays to you, you refuse to let it pull you away from your goals.

[luvo27]

just so we're clear: the reason i used so many words to describe the steph &/ cass relationship in the fic that does not exist is because the theme of that nonexistent fic is about the wonderfully complex nature of aspec relationships and how language serves and also fails to accurately describe them and the way that the world can try to impose a type of relationship in an attempt to either understand or make more palatable what is not something that can be easily understood, and so boiling it down to steph/cass or queerplatonic steph/cass or steph&cass would go against what i'm trying to do, even if the fic in question literally does not even exist. so why am i still talking about this nonexistent fic?

this is an excuse to talk about my feelings regarding aromantic and asexual representation on ao3. (note that i say on ao3, and not in fandom in general because this is me talking about my specific personal experiences, which mostly take place through ao3)

BIG DISCLAIMER THAT I WENT BACK AND ADDED IN BECUASE THIS WENT OFF THE RAILS: this is based on PERSONAL EXPERIENCE and FILLED WITH MY BIASES and was written IN A HAZE. (that being said this is something i've thought a lot about over months if not years.)

that tiny disclaimer aside, it goes without saying that fandom as a whole is primarily motivated by shipping, and so fanfiction on ao3 is primarily focused on shipping as well. shout out to this one time i was in high school and reading fic and someone asked (with good intentions) what ship i was reading for, and when i answered none, they asked (again, with good intentions,) what the point of doing that was. this, as you might imagine, made me feel weird to say the least! anyways, go on ao3 and the majority of fandoms will have an m/m pairing in the top most written. go into a small number of fandoms, and an f/m or f/f ship will hold the top spot. (femslash in fandom is a completely different topic) how many fandoms have platonic relationships at the top?

anyways i got curious so working off the knowledge that i have i did some quick looks at a handful of different fandom tags. fandoms which had platonic relationships at the most popular that i expected: dream smp and teenage mutant ninja turtles (all media types). honestly i was a little surprised to see that platonic relationships were at the top for both batman (all media types) and batman (comics), and I was expecting umbrella academy to have a platonic relationship at the top, but it was actually Dave/Klaus! in dr who and related fandoms, there aren't any platonic tags that break the top 10. and ohoho, here's where we get into it: dimension 20's top written relationship was fig/ayda, followed by riz/fabian in second place.

luvo, why did you say here's where we get into it? well, i just talked about the way that fandom focuses on shipping over platonic relationships, but i'm here to talk about aro/ace characters! in ao3's advanced search, if you look for fics with 'asexual' in any category, there are as of 1/7/2025 a total of 67,515 works. looking up 'aromantic' in any category whittles it down to 26,845 works. out of the over 14 million works posted on ao3? (number pulled from wikipedia) these are small numbers, but IT GETS BETTER. if you click on the AROMANTIC TAG, the top written relationship in the AROMANTIC TAG is a SLASH SHIP. (Alastor/Vox, Hazbin Hotel at 533 works.) sort fics under the aromantic tag by kudos, and the first fic under the gen category instead of m/m or multi is the 6th work down, and overall, gen works account for 6,950 out of 18,413 works under the aromantic tag.

my point being, only a small number of fics written with platonic relationships add to aro/ace rep in fic, and following that, when aro/ace characters ARE represented, it seems to be...how do i put this...typically with a shipping lens?

let's take a step back. I want to ask the question of how many canonically aromantic and/or characters exist. just. exist. wikipedia has a decently respectable list of asexual characters in fiction, as well as a much shorter list of aromantic characters in fiction. quick disclaimer that some medias are not represented such as podcasts (jon magnus archives?) or ttrpg shows (riz gukgak?)

what i will point your attention to is: how many of these characters are made explicitly aromantic or asexual within the text of their media? answer: not a lot of them. the majority of these characters have their sexualities confirmed in behind the scenes type things, such as Victor's (Arcane) voice actor saying he's asexual in an interview, Lilith (Owl House) confirmed asexual? or aromantic? over a charity livestream and twitter, Max (Miraculous Ladybug) confirmed asexual in a tweet, etc etc. kudos to Todd and Yolanda (Bojack Horseman) for being confirmed asexual in the media they're portrayed in! these all taken from the asexual characters page, the trend follows in the page about aromantic characters: namely, that if characters are aro/ace, typically explicit confirmation of these identities takes place outside of the media they're portrayed in.

why is that important? because without an explicit confirmation, it makes it a lot easier for denial of these identities to occur. yes, maybe it was the intention of the creators, but look. once a story leaves the author's hands, it belongs to the audience and intentions often have little to no bearing. additionally, if you're reading this then you probably understand that people will also deny coding characters as being gay or bisexual without an explicit onscreen kiss or declaration or some such. and why is this important?

putting the pieces together: characters can be confirmed as allo lgbtq+ through physical acts portrayed explicitly in their stories. characters who are aro/ace, well. more often than not, they can't. they're relegated to being coded as such, and confirmation, no matter how strong the coding, can often be easily ignored or possibly never even heard of.

do not get me wrong, I GET IT. Characters exist in settings where they don't have the word aromantic, or maybe it wouldn't be in character for them to say it as such. I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY. one of my most popular fics i've posted is about Riz Gukgak and his struggle with internalized aphobia. the words aromantic or asexual do not appear ONCE in the fic. In the sequel, A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CHARACTER has to say the words, and RIZ NEVER ACTUALLY CONFIRMS HIS IDENTITY. I UNDERSTAND THE STRUGGLE.

let's continue down the riz gukgak train. here are the facts: a sizable number of fans of dimension 20's fantasy high would say that riz gukgak is heavily aro/ace coded, with scenes such as:

making up a fake partner ("Clearly you haven't been kissed yet." ... "Actually, I'm dating somebody in the Baronies." Fantasy High Sophomore Year, Sophomore Start, 1:26:55)

being told that he is afraid of his friends leaving him for romantic relationships, (“The years will go by, and everyone will find someone that matters more to them than you do.” - Fantasy High Sophomore Year: Fearful Symmetry, 46:24)

telling his dad that he doesn't want to have sex ("yeah, I don't know... it just isn't happening yet? Like, not even just the act is not happening yet, like me wanting to do it." "It's not happening?" "It's not happening yet. And my friends are all like, [whispered] super horny." - Fantasy High Sophomore year, My Green Heaven, taken from a conversation around the 33 minute arc)

additionally, in an adventuring party episode of a spinoff series, the seven, Brennan Lee Mulligan says that Riz is asexual. ("...in a scene, Murph's character lies about having a partner, like a romantic partner, because Riz is ace, is asexual." - Adventuring party, season six episode eleven at 31:22 )

with all the love to my friends over in the d20 fic server for hunting these quotes down for me. truly my life is made all the better by the d20 fic community in a way that i will never know how to describe

here are some more facts! late march of 2024, with the release of the episode Baron's Game, I was lurking around the fhjy tag on tumblr. given the nature of the internet, there was discourse about riz and his identity, or his lack thereof. apologies to my d20 friends reading this who i love a lot, my rendition of a summary of said discourse follows below:

"if he's only coded to be aro/ace, that doesn't make him actually so. Brennan Lee Mulligan isn't the person who plays Riz, and him saying that he's ace is in behind the scenes content for a different show. Additionally, he only says that Riz is asexual, not aromantic. And even if Riz is aroace, aroace people can still be in romantic and sexual relationships, or a queerplatonic one!"

"why does it seem like everyone is ignoring the fact that riz is aroace? Kristen Applebee's sexuality (lesbian) would never be erased to ship her with a guy, so why are so many people doing it to Riz? Writing Riz in queerplatonic relationships is inaccurate because he's shown to be uninterested in relationships resembling anything like romantic ones, it seems like people are only interested in writing queerplatonic relationships as an excuse to write aromantic characters in the ship dynamic they want to," etc, etc. you get the gist.

let's get something straight about my stance on what people can and can't do with fictional characters: you can do literally whatever you want forever. ship riz in a romantic and sexual relationship. don't. whatever. i do not care. i do not care. he's not real. he's a fake character. he is a character. he exists for the audience to do literally whatever they want with him forever. i'll argue for someone's right to ship this character in whatever way they want. if they go down i go down with them-

ahem. sorry. my overall stance on fan creation crept into this thing that's supposed to be about how aro/ace characters are represented in fandom. whoops.

no, but let's talk about that. so, my personal interpretation of riz gukgak is that he's aroace and both romantically and sexually repulsed. i'm fairly confident in saying that my interpretation is supported by canon. some of my friends interpret riz and fabian seacaster's relationship as a queerplatonic one and they write fic about it, and i've read some it it, and i enjoyed it a lot!! and their interpretation is also supported by canon!! some people will interpret riz as simply being a late bloomer! or demi! or whatever! and guess what!!!! this will also have basis in canon!!!! gasp. shock. it's almost like stories exist for a wide variety of people to interpret them however they want to and i'm back to my philosophy on how we interpret stories in general stay on task luvo this is already too long.

so. recap. there aren't a lot of aro/ace characters who exist. often, their sexualities are reliant on coding due to the nature of the identity, and confirmation if it exists is often found behind the scenes instead of in the media. relatively, there isn't a lot of aro/ace fic on ao3. within that aro/ace fic, there's often relationships tagged with the typically romantic and/or sexual slash.

let's talk about aro/ace characters written in relationships of the romantic, sexual, and queerplatonic variety. mostly the queerplatonic variety. look, the thing is that sometimes it's easier to write a good story explicitly about being aro/ace if it's also a story about finding a queerplatonic relationship. sometimes it's easier to write a good story about being aro/ace if it's a story about finding a romantic and/or sexual relationship. writing the story comes down to the same reason so many aro/ace people struggle to find their identities in the first place: how do you find something that isn't there? sometimes, you do that by focusing on what is there.

let's keep going down this train. there aren't a lot of aro/ace characters. there are a hundred million different unique and complicated ways to have a romantic, sexual, queerplatonic, or straight up platonic relationship. Every single story written about aro/ace characters in relationships of any kind will resonate with someone, whether that's the person who wrote it, or someone who will read it. people write fic about characters in queerplatonic relationships that are exactly like what would generally be considered a conventional romantic relationship, and the only difference is that the characters refer to it as a queerplatonic relationship. thinking ungenerously, maybe this fic was written by an allo writer who just wanted to write a ship. The thing about fanfiction and its growing popularity, is that i would put money on the fact that this has happened, and at least one aspec reader stumbled upon it and their mind was blown and they felt seen.

the first fic i ever wrote with an aroace character tag was 1.8k words, posted over a year ago, and quite honestly i don't think it's very good. i wrote a second fic with the same character tagged as aroace again almost half a year ago, and again, not one of my personal favorites. but I got comments on those fics where someone felt seen, and were happy that they got to see this character be aroace, and were happy to see that this character got a happy ending, if a nontraditional one.

and remember when i brought up the slash fic under the aromantic tag? if you look under the tag Queerplatonic relationships, at the time i'm writing this there are 14,400 works. 5,941 of those are gen, the rest fall into m/m, f/f, m/f, multi, and other. the thing is, there isn't a signifier for queerplatonic relationships. a lot of the time to indicate one, authors on ao3 will use &, /, or a combination, or whatever. the fact of the matter is that the words romantic, platonic, and queerplatonic are doing so much work to carry such a wide variety of how a relationship is expressed, and even if there was a symbol to indicate queerplatonic relationships, (which there are in some places. the comic fan fiction author archive uses ~ to indicate qprs,) there are a hundred thousand different ways for qprs to look like.

um so. i started writing this like maybe 2 or 3 or more hours ago and i don't even know if i have or have ever had a point and this is extremely rambly and not organized in the slightest, but if i do have a point, it's something like:

there aren't a lot of aromantic characters. there aren't a lot of asexual characters. there aren't a lot of aro/ace coded characters. there definitely aren't enough to encompass the incomprehensible number of ways that people can experience or express their identities, and there are never going to be. the human experience is too wonderfully diverse for that, and it's too difficult to distill into the pitifully small vocabulary we have. my point might be to touch grass. by which i mean, don't like don't read, and remember that people are just that: people, with lives and worlds and perspectives of their own, and some of them you will never be able to understand, and sometimes you're not meant to understand them, and they are deserving of love regardless.

[alienoresimagines]

Half Of Your Heart Beats In My Chest | Clegan Vampire AU | Part 1

Hiya! I'm really happy to share with you this first part of HCs for the vampire AU I have been brainstorming with @johnslittlespoon ❤️I have a one shot set in this universe almost ready to go so I wanted to give you some context in case you wanted to read it 🥰 I don't trust myself with a multi-chaptered fic but I will definitely write the important moments of these HCs and those of the following parts but if there are moments you'd like to see (or prompts, I'm always down for them) or have questions about this AU, my askbox is always open ❤️ There will be other parts of HCs because I do have to give the Buckies their eternity together and so Gale has to become a vampire at some point but it was getting too long 😅😂 I hope you'll enjoy and let me know your thoughts about this! ❤️ There are a few canon divergences; Gale and Marge do not exist in the 1940s and so Curt sort of takes Gale's place in Mota, except for the "Buck" thing, and doesn't die @amiserableseriesofevents I hope this take on vampires will be to your taste 💕 Part 2 here

Bucky hates being a vampire, he's been one since 1946 and the only reason he hasn't stepped in the sun the moment he could is because he doesn't want to leave Curt to face eternity alone

They both move to New York and help build a vampire community that assists in making them seem less scary and threatening to human

Overtime they build their own society underground, have their own nightclubs, bars, cafes, even sports leagues! At some point, John takes up a job as a sports journalist and focuses mainly on the baseball Vampires Yankees team

But just because he makes some friends and adapts to his new powers and immortality doesn't mean he likes being vampire

He spends most of his time reading all the books he can, trying to pick up new hobbies but growing bored of them quickly, and going to the Wild Cargo, a vampire (and human-friendly) club that Curt owns

John has a lot of one-night stands and lives vicariously through feeling how alive and warm different people's bodies are beneath him but never has any meaningful relationships in which he feels connected to the other

Vampires can have a mate, and they only have one for eternity but John has long since accepted he’d spent eternity alone, his self-loathing not allowing him to even try dating

In comes beautiful, shy, sweet, brilliantly alive Gale Cleven, and John’s entire world shifts

To limit vampires from feeding in crowds and spreading fear and insecurity but also to make sure they drink healthy blood (ie. not containing drugs or nutrients since their body will reject it) and overall make it safer for everyone, states and hospitals organize blood bag donations. It also helps since some of the vampires who despise that they need to feed from people and do not like hunting, like John. Feeding from someone will always feel better than sipping from a blood bag because there is an additional thrill and it’s almost instinct for them, but some are still more than reluctant to do it, clinging on to their humanity as much as they can

Gale and John meet for the first time when John goes to pick up his weekly blood bag at the hospital, and John is really starting to consider hurting himself to spend more time with the one he’s half convinced he’s an angel. Being a college student, Gale can’t be the one taking the blood samples just yet so he’s the one at the counter

Asks John his name to give him his command and is really confused because “I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t any reservation under ‘Bucky’” 

John gives him his actual name with a grin but still insists on Gale calling him Bucky

Gives Gale the name ‘Buck’ before he can really think about it and he tries to weave a story around it but Gale doesn’t seem too convinced. Yet he lets him call him Buck and even stops rolling his eyes at the 8th occurrence

Bucky makes sure to go pick up his blood bag at the same time every week- a newborn vampire will have urges to feed pretty often but older can span their feeding by multiple weeks. John for example is perfectly fine with one blood bag every week and a half or so- and eventually chats up a friendship with Gale

He learns that Gale’s from Wyoming and moved to New York to study Medicine & Vampirism, a course his home university did not offer, and that Gale is genuine in his desire to learn and help people like Bucky, which Bucky finds really sweet and does not help stalling his crush on Gale

He gives Gale plenty of hands-on knowledge about vampires, stuff that Gale wouldn’t find in textbooks 

They meet for the first time outside of the hospital when John offers Gale to help him with one of his essays on vampires since Gale is adamant he doesn’t want to go into clichés

He chooses a little café, run by vampires that make both vampire and human-friendly drinks, not wanting Gale to feel pressured or intimidated

Soon it becomes a bit of a tradition, a weekly meet-up outside of the hospital where Gale tells John all about what he’s learned about vampires, and John learns a bit more about his species, also giving Gale more human and individualistic takes on vampirism

They’re both incredibly smitten with the other, John’s flirty personality coming back in full force and utterly genuine

He feels so relieved that Gale knows he’s a vampire but isn’t disgusted or afraid of him, even if he keeps all the “ugly” part of him firmly under locks

He eventually learns and guesses that Gale’s father was an alcoholic who used to hit him until Gale fought back, and used to curse out vampires and queers. Little Gale spent a lot of time trying to unlearn all that hate but he managed and ended up embracing being queer (though he has never confronted his father about it, still afraid of the man). He doesn’t know if he should, but he relates to vampires being outcasted for something they can’t control so he’s determined to learn more about them. He’s always liked helping people, so he chose a medical degree. Upon learning all of that, John falls a bit more in love and is determined to treat Gale like he deserves

He courts Gale like he would a dame in the 40s because that’s how he was raised and he just wants to pamper Gale lmao

Meanwhile, Gale is having whiplash being quite literally swept off his feet when all the other men who ever were interested in him were because of looks and just wanted a quick tumble in bed

John offers to take him dancing, lends him books he thinks Gale’d like, and introduces him to some vampire friends he’s made

Curt takes one look at John and Knows something happened because in all the decades they’ve known each other, he’s never seen John so happy and alive. He still feels guilt over not being more stern in his refusal to turn John, and he is the captain of the Clegan ship, with Marge of course

Gale always goes to Marge when he needs advice and a little push in the right direction and this is definitely one of them. He and Marge had tried dating in high school but they didn’t feel it was right so they remained best friends and moved to study in New York together. Marge definitely gives John a shovel talk but she trusts he can take care of Gale

A LOT of pining between the Buckies, both of them going back and forth between “Is this a good idea? Does he feel the same way?” and “I’m so in love with him, I’m doing something about it tonight” then chickening out because they both have issues and fears, lots of which to do with John being a vampire

Gale doesn’t want to be just a one-time thing but what else could he be when John is immortal? Also if they start dating and something happens to him, what would happen to John, who’s already lost so many friends to mortality? Can he trust a supernatural being when he’s already been let down so many times?

John is terrified of losing control and hurting Gale. He’s absolutely repulsed by the idea of feeding from Gale when all he wants is to protect him. The only thought that causes him more pain is turning Gale into a vampire and cutting that brilliant life short. But if he doesn’t, Gale will eventually die, and the last piece of John too

Truth be told, one of them probably kisses the other during one of their little exchanging knowledge dates that have progressively moved to Bucky’s apartment (which has quickly become Gale’s study tbh) and after that, they both get overwhelmed with their respective issues

But in the end, they both agree that they love each other too much to give up on the other so they decide to try and figure it out as they go, both enjoying every moment with the other as though it’s their last

The balance of Gale trusting John after being mistreated and having trust issues, vs John feeling unworthy of being with someone like Gale

Part 2 will focus on them dating (and yes smut I promise) while Gale is still human, and all the softness and issues that comes from a human/vampire (who can fly and shapeshift as a dog muehehe) couple 🥰

My askbox is always open, and I'd love to chat a bit more about this AU with you ❤️

My Clegan Fics

[stillness-in-green]

Hi, are you still working on the AFO Retcon Essay? You mentioned a few times you are not sure if Horikoshi retconned AFO's original plan or if he always intended for AFO to take over Tomura, but made AFO act somewhat contradictory from the start regardless. Did this ever make you feel like there are too many possibilities in regards to Horikoshi's original intentions to take into account and could therefore make it harder to write the essay?

Hi there, and thanks for your interest! I did actually talk about this a good while back, towards the beginning of the year; you can find that post here. It says pretty much exactly what you did and goes a bit further--that I'm so distrustful of Horikoshi as a writer that I have no idea anymore what might have been retconned and what was his intention from the start, and further, that even if something was his intention from the start, I don't trust him to have laid the groundwork for those intentions with honesty or good faith.

Instead of the AFO Retcon Essay, what I've been poking at instead is some sort of massive retrospective of all the problems with BNHA's endgame. That's going to require a reread on my part, and some decisions about formatting--namely, do I want to do the reread privately, on my end, and then write the Mega Chonky Essay and post it when I'm finished, or do I do it publically, read-along liveblog style, documenting the problems as I go?

At the moment, I'm leaning towards the second. I have some tentative ideas about keeping a running list of (to use a witticism from the Twitter fen) Themes & Such, ideas and ideology the series sets out and how well it lives up to those ideas--or how it fails to. I'd also like to keep track of things like character arcs and foreshadowing, documenting things with an eye to where those arcs go, what the foreshadowing amounts to, whether the series keeps its implicit promises, and so on. I suspect it would wind up looking something like a cross between the heteromorphobia essay and my chapter thoughts posts.

On the other hand, a format that deals with one group of problems at a time could feel more focused, discussing all the evidence at once of any particular topic rather than having to keep many (many) plates spinning across a retrospective of the entire series. I also already have the broad outline for that, since it was my plan last time I was seriously poking at the idea. It would probably still end up being posted in multiple parts; the parts would just cover different groups of characters or aspects of the series per installment, rather than e.g. each installment covering an arc and everything in it.

I suppose there's nothing stopping me from doing first the former and then the latter? I'm planning to reread the whole series anyway, after all.

In any case, I like that kind of installment-based format not least because I'm also in the early stages of getting a Patreon set up aimed at supporting my meatier chunks of fandom writing and potentially giving people some ability to point me at this or that topic. A multi-part analysis of BNHA--something in a similar style as my documentations of heteromorphobia, the problems with the anime's adaptation of My Villain Academia, or even, to reach back to an older fandom, my episode-by-episode write-ups on Human Debris in Gundam IBO!--strikes me as a good way to get that off the ground.

I've got one or two things to finish getting off my plate before then, and I'd want to wait until the last volume of BNHA officially comes out (12/4) just in case of any thirteenth-hour surprises, but keep an eye out! I'm not inclined to paywall my writing, but maybe an early access sort of model? I'm also going to want to find a blogging site that's more aimed at hosting long-form writing than Tumblr is. We'll see!

In the meantime, to give everyone an example of the kinds of things I'm looking at tracking through the story, one of the things that most vexes me about the ending is how it not only fails to resolve its contradictory ideas of saving and heroism, it feels to even recognize those contradictions. Here's a chunk of my notes on that topic from the outline of The Mega Chonky Essay in its current form.

• Nana says saving isn’t just saving someone’s life, but also making sure they’re smiling in the end. But that means that saving their life is the prerequisite. If Eri died smiling, her smiling would not prevent everyone from recognizing her death as a tragedy.         • “Perfect Victory” is defined as both “winning” and “saving” flawlessly—that is, every fight is won, and no one is left unsaved. This is introduced first as an ideal for Deku and Bakugou to strive for, with both of them needing to work on different parts of the equation, and continues to be an aspect of Bakugou’s characterization, as it comes up again in Joint Training. But it doesn’t stay locked to them, as All Might says directly to the American pilots that they can’t be allowed to die because the kids are aiming for a Perfect Victory.         • A pivotal question for Toga and the larger series is, given that Heroes are supposed to save people, how do Heroes justify killing Villains? Do they not think of Villains as people?         With all three of these ideas in place, the challenge becomes how to navigate the endgame to a place where all three concepts are honored/resolved. The ending must demonstrate that Heroes do see Villains as people while also being able to achieve their desired Perfect Victory—they must win against the Villains while also saving them, where “saving” means that the Villains’ lives are saved and they’re smiling in the end.         Or must they? After the first war, the series introduces another concept of how to save people, albeit one that runs directly counter to Nana's definition of a saved person as someone both alive and smiling: Gran Torino says that killing someone can be a way of saving them. He and Nana can’t both be right, so to confront and resolve that discrepancy, the story will have to acknowledge one of them as wrong. (Spoilers: It does not.)         In the end, Toga dies, and Deku kills Shigaraki, and if both of them die smiling, well, you sure as hell can’t say the same for e.g. Gigantomachia or All For One or Dabi or any of the thousands of unhappy Villains who wound up in prison (many of them likely bound for the gallows!), alive but decidedly not smiling. Heck, All Might, in trying to console Deku, moves the goalposts even more by suggesting that all Deku needed to do to get the credit on “saving” Shigaraki was make sure his inner child wasn’t crying anymore. Not only does he not have to live, he doesn’t even have to be smiling! An absence of obvious grief is enough!         Thus, you wind up in this place where you have an unsolvable problem: somewhere along the line, either someone failed or someone was wrong, and the story, in being unwilling to confront that disharmony, winds up undermining other established themes and goals. Did the kids “lose” because they failed to meet the criteria for the Perfect Victory? Was the definition of “saving” wrong? Was Gran Torino wrong or was Nana? Was the definition of Perfect Victory wrong? Was Toga correct in her fear that Heroes don’t see Villains as people?         No matter what the answer is, it runs afoul of some previously established Theme in the story. Even if the idea is that the ending is downbeat and bittersweet because the kids failed (and the story is using All Might’s goalpost-moving to resolve the dissonant definitions of “saving” in Gran Torino’s favor), that still means yet another theme is violated: that of BNHA being a story of how Deku+his classmates become “the greatest Heroes.” After all, the story also defined “greatest Heroes” for us! The greatest Heroes are those who can achieve Perfect Victory.

Whatever form this essay winds up taking, these are the sorts of concepts I want to discuss in terms of how the series sets them up compared to how it winds up following them through.

Thanks for the ask!

[crowroboros]

samuel ayers analimean analysis

I'm going to hold off on going too in-depth with Sam cause I really want to wait until TSR has a bit more content in all of its routes, just so I can really take a look at his whole character arc across the VN. I'm also not caught up with the most recent updates, so I'm not the most familiar with where his character stands currently in Nik's route (which the past few updates has been focused on from what I've heard). Spoilers for both The Smoke Room and Echo.

Samuel Ayers I find very interesting. Compared to Chase or Cameron—both of whom express a dislike of religion and a distaste for letting it influence how they live their lives— Sam really does live and die by his beliefs. There are so many times where we hear Sam's monologue in which he talks down to himself as if he himself is "tarnished" or "sinful". I do think part of this is a result from him murdering Jack in the mines as one of the first things he convinces himself of is that Satan is with him in the mines and is ready to drag him to hell for killing the guy. Now, I'm not religious nor am I familiar with the Christian God so I cannot and will not comment on the objectiveness of Sam's views but it's clear that Sam sees the Christian God as something to be feared. It creates an interesting dynamic in which Sam often grapples with his actions and sexuality and other things deemed "sinful" while also being a very self-serving person. His motivations throughout TSR aren't tied to anyone but himself, and what he agrees to in every route is ultimately focused on getting himself far away from Echo. That's the whole reason he went into sex work in the first place, to get money to head further westward (after failing in the mines). And with being gay being heavily stigmatized and outright dangerous, especially in a very Christian area, it adds yet another layer of self-loathing to Sam. Though in terms of sexuality, he doesn't seem to dislike himself due to his same-sex attraction but rather due to his work. I don't ever remember him being ashamed of being into men or anything, though he often refers to himself "whore" in a derogatory way. Overall, in terms of religion, Sam seems so wary towards his own beliefs and the idea of a God. With him both wanting to achieve his own happiness and goals but being terrified—if not outright convinced—that what awaits him is eternal damnation.

Sort of related to that is the way Sam almost justifies the way he seems to be trapped in Echo as if it is something he deserves. He desperately wants to get the hell away from Echo and his old life, to the point of being openly bitter and melancholic when thinking about the town and his life up to that point, and yet he really does seem to think that it is just how things are meant to be for him. It's like a self-fulfilling prophecy when taking Echo into consideration. In Echo's timeline, he doesn't leave the town and dies there slowly and painfully. And then the Samulation lives on in Echo for decades after that, continuing the town's cyclical nature. I think that this is in part due to Sam's aforementioned views on himself in the context of his religious beliefs. With how much he sees himself as "sinful" it makes sense that he'd justify the shitty things that happen to him as part of some "divine punishment". Speaking of the Samulation. I think it's a pretty good look into Sam's bitterness towards the world and the situation he finds himself in. Cause it does reflect a lot of Sam's personality—his sarcastic humor, his aloofness, the bitterness I mentioned—but it lacks a lot of what makes Sam nuanced. Sam is all those things, yes, but he is also rather accommodating and agreeable as well. Sam has this almost naive outlook and tends to romanticize things he hopes for. That's part of why he fell for Jack's scheme so easily and so quickly. But the Samulation lacks that. It has his memories, but it isn't very multi-faceted. This part is more of a theory than an analysis but I think it manifested like that due to the circumstances of Sam's death: Mangled and crushed under the weight of Mr. Bronson's van in a town that he hates. What a shitty way to die. If somehow, through the supernatural nature of the town, a simulation of Sam managed to live on after his death, it makes the most sense to me that it would mostly take the form of his mind in his last moments. All of the other aspects of Sam's personality wouldn't be present while he dies in such an agonizing way, but his anger and bitterness towards the world—towards Echo—probably would. Again though, just an idea. It isn't confirmed. I just wondered why the Samulation was both so similar to Sam yet much more aggressive and spiteful than the Sam we see. That could be why.

I'm going to stop this post here. Again, TSR isn't finished yet so I don't want to go too deep into Sam's character cause his development isn't done yet. So his relationship with other characters and the overall narrative and how it all shapes him will have to wait. I definitely will make a part 2 to this in the future cause this guy has a lot going for him.

[lattewithatwistoflemon]

I’m noticing, especially with Dead Boy Detectives, that when a character is multi-faceted, I have a tendency to focus on one or two aspects of the character. I notice myself forgetting the most fundamental aspects of a characters’ personality or being, because I fixate on one little element of their story or personality that I find particularly fascinating. Sometimes this leads to me sort of changing the character in my head. And then when I rewatch the show, I’ll be like “oh yeah, I forgot Edwin was predominantly like this, for the most part.”

To be more specific, with Edwin, I tend to focus on his softer side. I like thinking of him as delicate, emotional, even frail. I hope it isn’t rude to call those parts his “feminine side”, but I do think that I’m particularly drawn to the aspects of him that I personally see as more feminine traits, and this is likely because those are the traits that I find more relatable. I like him in the latter episodes, where he’s vulnerable and pours his emotions out to Charles, and when he’s essentially like a damsel in distress that has to be rescued multiple times. I see these aspects as particularly charming, but I recognize that this absolutely isn’t his whole self, and I’m glad that he is a very well-rounded, well-written character. When I rewatch the beginning, where he acts more logical, bossy and business-like, I find myself feeling excited, as though I’m watching the show again for the first time, because I forgot about this strong, stoic, sassy side of him.

With Charles, I focus on his trauma-induced anger and aggression. I forget that he’s “the smiley one”, because I focus on the part that he hides deep down. I need to remind myself that the exterior is just as real as the interior. He’s genuinely happy when he’s with Edwin. He’s immensely kind and gentle and caring, always seeing the good in everyone. We just didn’t get to see a whole lot of that prior to things going downhill at the Devlin house. And it’s not like I see him as a bad person, not in the least. I just like his angst, and I want to do something with it, some fanfics or art, but I’m not exactly sure how to release Charles’s frustrations yet.

Anyway, in conclusion, it’s interesting how I forget about the surface level personality of a character when focusing on the inner layers. These characters are just so nicely written!

[wisteria-lodge]

bird primary + burnt snake secondary

 tl;dr: Fairly sure I'm Lion primary (maybe burned Badger since I sort of envy the idea of close communities, or hedonistic Snake, not sure where that line is)

(the way that divide works out is that basically, Burnt Badgers look like Snakes. They have the Snake's small community, but wish they could cast their net wider. Hedonistic Snakes tend to be more solo, and much more focused on /stuff/. Also, both options make pretty good short-term coping mechanisms.)

but unsure whether my secondary is Bird, Snake/burned Snake, or burned Lion.

I love researching and reverse-engineering and my immediate response to situations is to Google advice, but reactively, not proactively. I am allergic to planning, and prepwork feels stifling and unnatural.

Ooooh, have we got a single-player Environment Snake? (I also think of these as MacGyver Snakes.) Basically just pulling at the things around you in order to solve the problem at hand.

I studied math in college then did a coding bootcamp, and I always felt adrift because both only taught memorizing solutions to individual problems/proofs, not how to solve unfamiliar ones -- i.e., really learning. 

However, I neither consider myself flexible nor want to be, and singleplayer Snake is wayyyyyyyyyyyy more comfortable than stuff involving other people. (Complicating factor: not neurotypical.)

I think I can say, pretty confidently, that this system works just fine if you're not neurotypical. :) There's no reason you have to use the multi-player version if you don't want. The most dramatic single/multi player divide is probably Bookkeeper Badger vs Courtier Badger, and there are lots of people who prefer being just one or the other.

I do the "faces" thing reflexively, in the moment, but it doesn't feel like "shifting" or "becoming" anything: just me, lying.

That's Snake. "Becoming" is more of a word that a Courtier Badger would use, they kinda do have to believe it, or it doesn't work. Snake secondaries are a lot more aware of what they're doing, in the moment.

It's interesting that you are just straight-up using the word lie though. In my experience, Snakes are more likely to conceptualize that particular problem-solving strategy as "say it in a way they'll listen to," or something like that. You might just be super direct (and/or like hanging out in Neutral) buuuut... the negativity of "lie" can sometimes point to a Burnt secondary. No sign of that yet, but I'll keep an eye out for it.

I don't have a moral problem with lying; it's often even right since a) telling the truth often hurts people, and b) people do prefer it: most people want to hear what they want to hear, and if that happens to be the truth that's great.

Hmmm. This is sounding like primary stuff. And it's quite reasoned out, which makes me interested in hearing why you went for Lion primary instead of Bird.

But deep down, I guess I resent it. I wish that when I say what I mean it would convince people rather than create problems. I try to ration that to only things that REALLY matter to me, but tbh many things do. I hate arguing.

What I'm hearing here is the Bird primary fantasy of "If I was only able to explain it exactly right, in precisely the right words, then everyone would agree with me." And as you say earlier, it doesn't actually work like that. It sounds like you're feeling a bit cynical in regards to other people a the moment, and I can't exactly blame you.

I would love to be an inspirational secondary but I am bad at inspiring people.

There is definitely some burnt secondary talk going on here.

Family: I'm not close to my father -- he’s a terrible person, serial cheater, racist, etc. I'm closer to my mother, and don't think she's a bad person, but both parents were hypercritical and have horrible tempers, so my childhood felt horrible to live through since I was always getting yelled at or having corporal punishment used for doing something wrong.

Definitely seeing where the burned secondary energy is coming from, if so many of your formative experiences involved being told that the way you were doing things was wrong. I also see why you might have at least a fascination with the confident, firey, speak-your-truth-and-damn-the-consequences Lion secondary.

(On paper this could be called abusive, and anyone else being subjected to this makes me furious, but I'm not fully comfortable with the label for my situation, even though I know that's inconsistent.) 

I understand, and I appreciate that. I also appreciate your carefully articulated position, and it's slanting me in the direction of Bird primary. Even though this is obviously a topic you are very emotional about, all those emotions are arranged within the framework of thought. You're aware of and okay the fact that you feel all kinds of different ways about what happened.

Any secondary model came from my mom, but I don't know about primary. She always says my sister and I are "the most important things in her life." (One of the reasons I don’t want kids is that I don’t think I could ever believe or promise them that.) She ostensibly also hates my father and their divorce was vicious, but she kept working for him until he retired, goes on trips with him to see my sister or me, and pressured me for years to un-estrange him because “after all, he’s family” until I gave in and now pretend to have a relationship just enough to placate them. I don't have any ethical problems doing this, it's just irritating.

That is very, very unusual family dynamic. Have to get my head around that. Your mom may have some very intense Badger going on, especially with the the whole "after all, he's family" thing. That could fit go with a nasty divorce, especially if she thought his presence was a threat to you and your sister. On the other hand, she might just be able to compartmentalize to an insane degree, which would probably point to Bird secondary.

I don't understand this aspect of my mom; I observe it happening, but I don't understand it. It feels kind of sad, in an existential way. 

Honestly, I agree.

(Another way my dad sucks is that he played favorites with my sister and I, me being the favorite.

Being the Golden Child sucks just as much as being the Problem Child.

The shitty resulting dynamic is I only "care about" his approval to avoid him creating drama that ripples to everyone around him -- he's gotten better but he has literally started shit when I didn't end emails with "love" -- but my sister actually cares about his approval, and it hurts her.)

Secondary-wise, my mom would always harp on me to "pay attention to the people and things around you," and whenever I tell her about solving problems in Snakeish ways she's like "way to go, [me]!" But she also is meticulously planned and scheduled and organized, and hates surprises and not knowing exactly what will happen. She's the kind of person who gets frustrated in April when I haven’t told her my Thanksgiving itinerary, which, like... I don't want to think that far ahead.

She could be either Prep-work secondary, Bird or Badger. If she's a Bird, "pay attention to the people and things around you," points to a a Rapid-Fire Bird (which can look *very* Snakey.) Or it could be a way of describing Courtier Badger. Being that scheduled is more often a Bird thing... but I could also imagine a Badger manifesting like that, especially if she is so concerned with specifically planning holidays.

Low-stakes/high-stakes problem that felt good: This is a high-stakes problem containing a low-stakes problem. I'm rolling them together because they illustrate both aspects of my problem solving.

Higher stakes: That coding bootcamp required being on Zoom 8 hours every day. But I had 3 roommates (part of why I did it was to not have 3 roommates), and they didn't want me there that much. I can't go to coffee shops because either they're loud, or I will make them loud by talking for 8 hours, thus becoming the problem. Coworking spaces are expensive af. I even consider renting a storage unit but I don't think they have power and wifi. The idea I settle on is sneaking onto a nearby college campus: preferably the CS building, to blend in. I scour the college subreddit for posts about what buildings let students in without ID, then scout them out (this is March, the thing doesn't start until May, I'm just high on must-solve-now energy). After ~15 minutes (lol) of walking through campus I decide I've had enough, seems doable. The day of, I leave early in case I have to give up and go home, but that turned out to be completely pointless because tailgating in is shockingly easy. Like it's scary how easy it is. One day a security officer stopped me but even he eventually let me in after I acted increasingly frazzled and panicked -- not ENTIRELY an act but I definitely was playing it up.

I like this story. And I feel good about saying that it is QUITE snakey: what do I have immediately around me, and how can I use it to get what I want in this moment? Even little details like - you're not bothering to come up with a cover story or borrow/forge someone's ID. If you're caught you'll talk your way out of it. You did a little research, then scoped the place out, then were good to go.

Lower stakes: I usually did classes from an empty auditorium (students weren't supposed to be there but no one checked, and also I'm not a student right?). The whiteboard's eraser stand was a few inches away from the wall, and one day I drop my phone in the gap. Shit. The gap's way too high to reach down. I can't ask anyone for help because I'm already 2 layers deep of being somewhere I'm not supposed to be. The stand screws to the wall, but I don't have a screwdriver because who just carries a screwdriver around? (For whatever reason, going to a hardware store didn't occur to me.) I stare at the thing until I realize: I am literally in the ENGINEERING building. I search various offices, ask people for a screwdriver, but no luck. Then I see a board listing the departments. One floor has a "makerspace," and somehow, its door is wide open (the student lounge is locked down but the room with deadly power tools isn't, ???) I grab 5 sizes of screwdriver, then also grab duct tape and a ruler to fish my phone out in case the screwdrivers don't work, which turned out to be a good idea because they didn't

Sounds to me to me like you just MacGyvered a solution :D

One thing I am picking up on is your subtle critique of the existing rules/systems. Getting in via tailgateing is easier than it should be, talking your way past the guard was too easy. The door with the powertools really should be locked, etc. It's making me (again) think Bird primary for you. You've very tuned into the way things run, and how well designed (or not) that is. There's also just a little bit of Birdy rules-lawyer in "Students aren't allowed in this room, but I'm not a student (because I snuck in.)"

Hard decision-making process…. I don’t know. I don’t experience many decisions as hard. I often know what I want to do right away; the difficult part is doing it.

In the language of this system, that's a Burnt secondary.

Or I know what I should do, am obligated to do, have no choice but to do, etc., though sometimes it feels miserable or wrong, like resignation.

Unfortunately that is what it feels like to have a Burnt secondary - you just use whatever problem-solving strategy you can at random, since they all feel like a chore and it doesn't really matter.

I can feel proud of making certain "right" choices in an abstract self-congratulatory way, but I never like it or really feel good about it. I either act on something immediately or put it off until the decision makes itself, a drop-dead deadline approaches, I get bored/impulsive enough to do it on the spot, or I suddenly swerve my life toward something I like better.

You're definitely an Improvisational secondary. Which is really fine, even though I know it doesn't feel that way all the time when you come from a family of intense Prep-work people. Just keep an eye on that 'wait until the deadline' impulse. It's very, very common for neurodivergent people to use that last-minute stress adrenaline to kind of hack their brain, and it's not sustainable.

I'd wanted to change careers for years but the actual decision to do the bootcamp was an impulse based on ~3 hours' research the day I encountered it.

That can absolutely work though. You *are* working on the problem and mulling it over in your head long term, even if you are (in the words of another snake secondary) "waiting for the opportune moment."

This is all healthy and well-adjusted, and it definitely has never caused any predictable problems! (Did get a job though.)

Hey, if it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid.

My fantasy: To be successful and well-known in my field; to create the kind of art I want to create and have it be respected/influential. To live the life I want, with the aesthetic I want, and the opportunities from others and follow-through from me to achieve that. The details vary based on the field but that's the general template. 

I'd say that's a very human fantasy, without too many details that slant me one way or the other, in terms of this system. There's definitely a focus on the community around you and how you relate to it/integrate into it. And that makes me think Bird (the external primary) is more likely than Lion (the internal primary.)

Characters: I relate to characters who are flawed in the same ways I am -- they feel like cautionary tales -- or sometimes via empathizing in a way the story doesn’t (Carlotta from Phantom got done DIRTY).

It's interesting that you respond to characters who the narrative framing doesn't support, because the narrative framing doesn't support them. I guess that does fit with your interest in constructed systems, and if they're useful/functional or not. Which points to Bird.

On that big pop culture character test I always get Hannah from Girls and Gaius Baltar from Battlestar Galactica: harsh, but not wrong.

(I always get Inara from Firefly and Céline from Before Sunrise.)

It's been a second since I've seen Girls or Battlestar Galactica, but I do think that both of those characters are Bird Snakes, which is honestly impressive since Bird Snakes are easily the least common fictional archetype.

Baltar is clever, adaptive, reactive, he pulls from around him. He also bluffs and will *act* like he's an expert when he really isn't. A lot of his internal conflict revolves around extremely Bird primary rationalization - is this situation really his fault? and if it is, what is he morally/rationally supposed to do about it (if anything?) "Voice of *a* generation" Hannah also has this way of getting caught in her own feedback loops when trying to figure herself out. One of my favorite moments is the bit where she loses her purse on the way back from the wedding, and then rides the train all the way to Coney Island, sits on the beach and eats the slice of wedding cake while watching the sun rise. I think that's beautiful, and a very Snake secondary response.

I also gravitate toward a specific archetype: Blanche from A Streetcar Named Desire, Madame Bovary, Violetta from La Traviata. People who desire an impossible thing deeply and unshakably, temporarily achieve it, and are taken down dramatically.

Now that, I'm thinking is a story structure that you like. And/or you're drawn to these tragic great ladies, living most of the way in a fantasy world. It's a good, cathartic archetype.

What makes me feel powerful: I don’t really resonate with that framing. The closest is that feeling like I have no options is the same for me as feeling powerless.

Okay, "not feeling powerless," I'll take it. And we're back to that Burnt secondary again. I'm hoping you'll leave your Snake a little more room to breathe and play, because it seems like you're a pretty capable person. You manage to do the things you want to get done, and you have an excellent awareness of what are good and bad situations, both for you and just in general.

Thank you to anonymous for such an excellent submission. If you'd like a Sorting of your very own, commissions are open on my ko-fi. :D

If you'd like to read more about the system I'm using, my explanation is right here.

[that-dreaming-dragon]

Intentional Connection - the Linking Process

Sometimes I like to refer to my linktype shorthanded. Sometimes as either just heartlink, vaguelink, or if I really want, para-linked hearttype, and collectively linked vaguetype.

I like the extra denotation, because near everyone else is talking about linking as if only identify-as. The community does generally put more focus on identify-as identities.

Both our linktypes are important for different reasons. One is to bridge the different paratype feelings, and the other is for bonds with friends (and for general shenanigan).

How we go about linking the two are slightly different because of that.

For the three-tailed enfield, there's already something there, the paratype element from both myself and my hearttype makes for a good foundation, I didn't have much work but to build on top of whatever was already there, all I needed to do was to link them together.

The way we did it was taking more interest in fox related stuff, or more in particular multi-tailed kitsune. We plan to watch some kitsune focused anime eventually, and make a art for our heartlink. At the moment, we have a number of fox and spirit foxes pins around.

Honestly, we aren't sure if the linking started the process or if it was already a thing, and linking just strengthens the connection, which is probably due to the paratypes.

But I think a large part of it was just simply engaging it with a "I have this feeling of a spark, I want to retain that feeling, and fan it to make it large". It's sort of how it happens with a number of my shapeshifter forms. I go around, holding this thing close to my heart, and whenever something pops up that reminds me of the enfield, I will perk up. That sort of feedback loop is what makes the linking stick. I make it happen more via me actively engaging or seeking these reminder. I feel like it trains the brain to hold onto it that much longer, and eventually you just let it be, and it will be fine on its own.

Now I'm not actively looking for stuff, but I don't need to, I can probably take away the link suffix and the three-tailed enfield is there to stay as a parahearttype. But I like it, I like the reminder of where it came from, and I like being in that community, and exist as a reminder to other questioning alterhuman that yes, my way of linking exist.

With a linktype that came from a preexisting fictional source, you'd think all I had to do was to engage with said fiction. I mean, I could, but this whole thing happened after I long left the source environment. Or perhaps not quite.

I still retain the knowledge of the source. And because of this, when others within the alterhuman community engages with it, I took special interest towards the happening. What pretty much started the linking process, was the want to connect to others who are from that same source. Perhaps we previously held fondness towards the source, or the character in specific. We know we have things going on with what the character's "element" is--stars and cosmos. So that had helped our desire to link.

It's definitely not enough to help maintain the link. The failed dragonite hearttype link was also made happen due to the desire to form stronger bonds with other pokemon alterhuman.

I suppose when put side-by-side like this, my successful linktype are due to either paratype element, or other factors to reinforce the overall linktype structure.

Furthermore, the Aurelion Sol vaguelink was a collective decision, something both Akumu and I(Ryuu) are interested in linking. The linking could have fade without both of us there at the same time, and Akumu tends to disappear to places half the time. It made linking this specific identity a little trickier.

What made it start to grow and "stick" properly was perhaps when I put it on as a proxy, for a bit of a joke. It felt wrong without Akumu there during that time, but trying to be Aurelion Sol for a day has done wonders for the linktype. It felt right, it felt like it could really work.

We kept the proxy.

After that, it's like a little tug at the back of our mind, telling us that it's still there, all we need to do is pick it back up. We also aren't really active with this linktype. We never are all that active with our alterhumanity. But at the same time, it's like a tab opened on the browser, whenever draconity or prompt topic came that we can talk about our relationship with Aurelion Sol in, it's like another boost to the linking process--active discussion with the alterhuman community while keeping in mind of this connection. It makes sense, we wanted to link this 'type because of connections to others, so to make it stronger, we need to connect more with others.

Maybe that's how our method works, going in full circles. Start the desire to link, try around for other stuff, and then go back to what first prompted the linking desire.

The fact that we are gaining noemata for this vaguetype tells me that, like the enfield, this one is here to stay. Because when thinking and talking about it, and the rare noemata, the link became self-sustaining.

I feel a bit uncertain to call this linktype done, but it seem to be doing alright. Perhaps more writing and pondering will help more.

[elliemarchetti]

Ignite

My entry for @wolfstarmicrofic’ prompt 26. You can read this after Declaration, Interrupted if you’re into multi-chapter fics or as a stand-alone about first times and insecurities. Past Blackinnon.

Prompt: Burn

Rating: Mature? It’s not explicit, but they’re clearly doing some sexual stuff

Words: 562

“Oh God,” he moaned, his ability to form flowery sentences completely lost in the primitive heat of the moment. “You’re so good.”

Sirius’ breath was coming faster and faster, and each little wispy gag of his partner inflamed his passion even more. He wanted to possess him, to own him, to hold him beneath his body and never let him go. His mind screamed that this was his first time doing anything sexual with a man and he had to have a care for him, but his body demanded release so, with a ragged groan, he forced himself to switch roles.

“Remus?” he called after a while, barely recognizing his own voice by how hoarse and desperate it was.

“Don’t stop,” the other one gasped, “I’m so close…”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered on his, at least he hoped, soon-to-be boyfriend’s neck, between licks and kisses. “So unbelievably…”

Words died in his throat when he felt Moony stiffen, and not in climax. A brief blaze of discomfort, of the emotional sort, not the physical one, flashed across his scarred face before he could hide it, and every fibre of Sirius’ being focused on his features.

“You called me beautiful,” he whispered, making his partner just stare for a good ten seconds, because for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how that was a bad thing.

“I’m not beautiful. I never was, but what happened with Greyback certainly didn’t help.” Remus went on. “Who were you picturing?”

“I beg your pardon?” Sirius asked, blinking furiously. It had to be a joke, maybe one of those with bad timing for the victim who reacts badly and makes it seem worse than the original intent actually was. “Are you mad?”

“Were you thinking of Marlene?” Moony insisted, not angry but surely pained, or at least resigned.

“How could I possibly confuse the two of you?” Sirius asked, trying to allude at the decidedly manly body his partner possessed, but Remus’ lip trembled between his teeth and a muscle spasmed in his neck as his face crumpled and hot tears stinged at his eyes.

“Listen to me, and listen to me well because I’m only going to say this once” Sirius resumed, his voice even and intense as he tenderly caressed his partner’s right cheek with his thumb. “I burn for you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. It’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is, and if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I’m going to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you in a hundred different ways until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most beautiful and desirable man in England, and if everyone else doesn’t see that, than they’re all bloody fools.”

Remus was evidently speechless, with pupils dilated and mouth slightly agape in shock, but Sirius still arched a brow into what had to be the most arrogant expression ever to grace a face when he asked him if he understood. Apparently not quite able to form a response when their noses were a mere inch apart, Moony opted to just nod, and without giving him even a moment to catch his breath, Sirius devoured his lips in a kiss so fierce Remus clutched the bed just to keep from screaming.

[drivingafterdark23]

[Sign Ups] [Prompt Submissions]

Hello, and welcome to Driving After Dark 3!

This is an 18+ Life Series event, focused on Explicit and Mature fanworks. It will feature smaller teams of 2-5, where you can either collaborate on a piece, work together to create pieces for each other, or just to make whatever you’d like!

Points will be given to teams as they finish pieces, and everyone on a team is encouraged to participate equally.

More information about how this event works is provided below, in the FAQ. We look forward to seeing you there!

Pregame Timeline

7/07/24 - Pregame Sign Ups Open

7/13/24 - Pregame Sign Ups Close

7/14/24 - Pregame Starts

7/27/24 - Pregame Ends

Event Timeline

6/30/24 - Sign Ups Open, Discord Unlocks

7/14/24 - Sign Ups Close, Discord Invites Close

7/21/24 - Matching Form Opens

7/27/24 - Matching Form Closes

7/29/24 - Teams Release, Event Starts

8/03/24 - Check-in #1 (Open for 24 hours)

8/10/24 - Check-in #2 (Open for 24 hours)

8/17/24 - Check-in #3 (Open for 24 hours)

8/24/24 - Event Ends

Rules:

You must be 18 or older to join.

Discord is required to participate.

You may never screenshot and share messages from the discord server without explicit permission from the parties involved.

No AI-generated content of any sort will be allowed.

No fandom discourse.

Follow "Don't like? Don't read." as well as "KINKTOMATO"/"YKINMKATOK".

For this event, we’ll be allowing work-in-progresses. However, once the event begins, you must spend at least the amount of time on it as you would on a colored or 500 word piece.

As this is a game, keep in mind good sportsmanship!

FAQ:

How does the Pregame work?

Everyone who signs up for the Pregame will be matched in a random team of either two or three. During the two weeks it runs, individual teams will be asked to create one overall creation. This can mean one collaboration on a piece, or a piece inspired by your other teammate(s).

You’ll be asked to provide your discord name and any requests to not match with participants if needed. Otherwise, the process will be randomized.

How does the matching process work for the Main Event?

In the Main Event, there will be a portion of the Team Matching Form to request teammates, or ask not to be matched with participants. Teams for the Main Event will be hand matched, so please include as many requests as you want (both to match, and to not match)! If two or more people request each other, you’re more likely to be on the same team, but we cannot make any promises.

What counts as a finished piece?

Anything that you consider complete. We just ask that your pieces are at least equivalent to the time you’d spend on a colored piece, or a 500 word piece of prose.

Do I need to check in?

Yes, every Saturday during the event (3 check-ins in total)! Mods will mention your team in a private thread to ask you how everything’s going. If you plan on missing a weekend for any reason, alert your team member(s) and a mod, so we can check in with you beforehand.

If you fail to complete a check in, you will be considered dropped from the event.

Can I drop out or swap teams?

Yes! You may drop out or swap teams any time before Check-in #3. You’ll need to tell a mod and your team member(s) beforehand, so that we can place you and/or your team member(s) somewhere else.

How do I award myself a point for completing a piece?

As you finish pieces, there will be a short Google form to submit them, located in #links-and-info.

For collaborations, each member of the collab will need to be marked as having finished a piece, so make sure that everyone involved fills out the form. For multi-chaptered fics, each chapter will need to be marked as a single piece, so fill out the form according to the number of chapters.

How are scores calculated?

Your score is calculated from the average pieces completed across everyone in the team, plus how close you are together! (Side note, this has nothing to do with your actual relationship with each other – see note on “Bond Meter”.)

The actual formula on the spreadsheet is “team minimum”/”team maximum”+”team average”*10, or =(MIN(range)/MAX(range))+AVERAGE(range)*10.

How will scores be communicated?

At the end of each week, we’ll be announcing the top teams in the Discord. If you’re curious about your score during the week, there will be a spreadsheet posted in #links-and-info.

What’s the Bond Meter?

The gimmick of this event is based around having a connection with your teammates. If you’re looking to win, you’re rewarded more by getting closer to matching your teammates in the number of pieces created. An even split would be 50/50, 33/33/33, or 25/25/25/25, etc. depending on the number of people in the team. This is also shown visually in the spreadsheet!

Who are the mods?

RedstoneBug/@redstoneglitch, @jibbingjibberish, Fire_Cat/@violet-fire-cat, @twelvevoid

[distantdarlings]

WHAT FEELS LIKE FOREVER // t. nott (Multi-Part) PT. 2

RATING: R / 1.8K WORDS (Pt. 2)

Theodore Nott x Reader-Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - Your first performance in America starts off roughly. Theo makes the decision to perform a song you wrote. The only problem is that you wrote that song for him, attempting to express your feelings towards him. He was never meant to find it.

+ WARNINGS - Language, tension, angst, eventual smut

+ MUSIC (Listened to while writing) -

Big Black Car - Gregory Alan Isakov

(Small note before I begin: I have been very inspired by Gregory Alan Isakov while writing these chapters and sort of imagined the band sounding like his music and Theo's singing voice sounding like his. Just wanted to mention that so y'all could be on the same page of imagination as I was if you wanted! :) Enjoy!)

---

Theo’s lips spoke the words you had written down in a small journal. Written—unbeknownst to him—for him.

The day Theo had caught you whispering the lyrics as you nursed an alcohol-stained cigarette beneath the stars, was the day the song had been discovered. Theo loved it instantly and demanded the two of you wrote the rest of it together and record it. You had kept your mouth closed for fear of a dry throat and a clenched heart saying things you truly meant.

Now the whole world knew how you felt when even you didn't know how you felt. It wasn't an ideal situation in the slightest and the knowing glances Mattheo and Enzo shot you made you feel even worse. 

"Everything you do…," you harmonized with Theo, hearing the way your breaths mingled through the amplifiers. Your chest ached with the dull knife of holding tears in. This song always fucked you up. How you’d begged Theo not to record it…

"...changes how I see us, how I saw us then…," your voice cracked under the pressure of the tears you were suppressing. Theo gave you an odd but worried glance. You swallowed thickly, looking down at the instrument in your hands, focusing on that rather than your screw-up and the sobs that pushed rapidly up your throat.

You finished off the chorus successfully, having stared at the lights trained on the stage until the tears receded. This was your last song…or it wasn't…you couldn't remember and you didn't care. You swiftly slipped the strap of your bass off your shoulders and set the instrument down on its stand.

If you didn't get out now, you would explode. The heat and the lights and the crowd and Theo and Enzo and Mattheo—it was too much. You pushed through the backstage door and felt the autumn air abuse the sweat on your neck. Your hands spread over the balcony, holding your weak back up. The tears that threatened to spill rose in your throat once more. You hurriedly loosened your tie and unbuttoned the top button of your shirt, ripping the suit jacket off along with it. It was so stuffy in there and the cool air felt like the touch of an angel. 

Your head hung between your shoulders, feeling them shake with each sob that racked your body. The roots that had planted in your heart burned like a hot poker in your sternum, scorching through your ribs and skin from the inside-out.

You cried out at the pain caused by a single man and the way it felt to be without him. You needed to tell Theo how you felt but the fear of animosity coming from him scared the hell out of you. The thought of hatred any deeper than their normal arguments made you feel like you were dying.

The desire to feel Theo’s hands on your body was more than anything you’d ever felt in your life. It wasn't just a sexual thing. It was something much deeper than that and had been for a very long time. You feared his reaction more than death at this point. But you wanted—needed—to tell him. 

The backstage door opened much gentler than it had when you had come out. You could hear shoes scraping against the concrete and light exhales. You recognized the pattern of them, knowing the way Enzo breathed.

"Hey," the man said quietly, placing his hand on your back. His presence seemed to invoke a sense of tranquility almost instantly. Your cheeks dried and the pain alleviated a bit.

"Enzo, I—"

"I know." 

You shut up at this. You knew that he had known for a while now, it just felt odd speaking openly about it. It felt wrong but he seemed to make it alright.

"I don't know what to do…," you whispered.

"You will."

There were no more words after this. Only Enzo’s hand on your back and his gentle breathing that soothed you like a lullaby.

× × ×

When the group arrived back at the hotel—still, no words were spoken. Enzo’s hand no longer touched your back and his breathing was too far away to hear. 

Theo did not look at you once and your neck ached with the weight of the older's coldness. You could taste the bitter mood on your tongue and you tried to swallow it, but it remained. The aftertaste seemed to be stronger.

The silence became almost suffocating once you had stepped through the door to your hotel room. You shut it and collapsed against the broadside of it, sliding the length of your spine down its surface. 

You brought your knees to your chest and buried your face between the two of them, covering your ears with your arms. Radio static and honeyed oatmeal voices rang in your head at a deafening volume. You sighed at the aggressive cacophony within your brain, wishing desperately for it to stop.

You had to tell Theo—that much was obvious. But how? If you were going to get practical, you’d technically already told him. You’d confessed when he had found the song. But the older man hadn't known this.

You pulled himself from the floor and approached the cream telephone that sat menacingly on the bedside table. Your breathing picked up uncomfortably, making a bit of panic set in. Your fingers closed around the receiver and you brought to your ear. You called the front desk and asked for Theo’s room number. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears at the anticipation. 

"Who's this?"

"Um…Theo, it's me."

"Oh," the voice on the other end chuckled. "I thought you were some crazy fan or something. What's up, love?"

"C—" you choked on your words, your throat swelling as if a pillow had been shoved down it. "Can you come to my room, please?"

There was a silence on the other end that lasted only a few milliseconds. It was most likely Theo hearing the question and making a decision, but it felt like years to you. The fingernails on your free hand creased into the flesh of your palm so deeply you could've sworn you were drawing blood.

"Yeah, sure thing," he spoke. "I’ll be right over. Do you want me to bring my pillow?"

"If you want," you said, a breath of air slipping past your lips in delighted relief.

"Alright," he whispered into the phone, the crackly connection making it seem as if Theo was there next to you already.

The line went dead and, still, you stood there, with the phone pressed to your ear. It was as if you were waiting for him to come back and tell you he was just kidding. That he would never help you out or stay with you.

Your throat felt tight again. but the feeling did not remain when there was a knock at your door. The phone slipped from your fingers and clattered against the dresser, dangling against each individual drawer.

You made your way to the door and pulled it open—perhaps a bit too harshly. Theo waited on the other side with his pillow tucked beneath his arm. He was already in his night clothes—the same trousers and shirt as this morning on the beach. 

"Hey," you spoke breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, equally breathless as if he had run the whole way here. Your stomach tingled at the thought of him hurrying as fast as he could to see you. It made you feel as warm as if he had just wrapped you in a blanket.

Theo stepped in and threw his pillow on your bed, collapsing against the old mattress right after it. He made himself comfortable, slipping his feet beneath the duvet.

"I have to take a shower, okay?" you said.

"Of course—I'm not your mum," he chuckled which made the younger suppress a smile.

"Okay." 

You made quick with your work of grabbing your night clothes—the jumper and trousers you wore this morning—out of the dressers and exiting the room. You walked down the hallway to the communal showers at the end of it. You didn't like having to share showers with strangers but you reckoned it was better than nothing.

The shower was quick and hot and steamed up the bathroom fast. The moisture in the air filled your lungs and made it somewhat difficult to breathe. In an effort to get out of the suffocating room, you dressed quickly and hung your towel around your neck.

When you arrived back into the room, Theo had drifted off. His eyes were peacefully shut and his body was curled around his pillow like a child to its mother. Your chest ached at the small tells he seemed to have that always compared him to a young boy.

The duvet had been pulled up to his waist and tucked messily. He looked comfortable. 

You smiled softly and ran the towel over your hair once again, attempting to dry it a bit more. You threw the used material in the corner of the small closet and made your way over to the bed.

As gently as you could, you slipped beneath the heavy duvet and laid on your side, watching over Theo. You watched as his body rose and fell with stable breaths.

The older's eyes fluttered and he found yours. He was suddenly awake and glancing around.

"Oh, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to nod off like that," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What did you want to talk about, love?"

"Nothing, it's alright. Go back to sleep," you smiled, reaching over to pat the top of his hand.

"No, you wanted to talk, let's—"

"Really, Theo, go to sleep."

The older looked unsure but also incredibly tired. He sighed and leant his head back against his pillow. He seemed to be physically fighting sleep, trying his hardest to stay awake for his friend.

"Go to sleep," you whispered once again. You continued to watch as the young man drifted off again, his fingers curling around your hand, seeking subconscious comfort.

You stared at the two of your hands before slowly turning it over. You entwined your fingers with his, marvelling in how they looked together. 

"I love you, Teddy," you whispered to your sleeping love. You wondered if he was awake in the slightest and whether or not he'd heard. If he had, he said nothing.

You watched as the man's lips trembled under the weight of his dreams. You decided that you should probably go to sleep as well. You all had a big day tomorrow and you knew well enough that the man lying next to you was going to paint your dreams with gorgeous devastation.

Part 3!

[azacat-alias-lost]

So, I have a question for all my Sanders Sides fellows out there. Would yall be interested in a sci-fi logicality fic?

The basic premise is that Patton is an extraterrestrial that came to earth by an... admittedly shady government program, and Logan is a researcher at a multi-functional center that mostly focuses on astronomy and other space-related studies. Anyway, Patton gets hired as an assistant, we find out about Logan's weird past, the color blue is extremely tied into the theming and symbolism, it's wild. I only have like 1 chapter done, but wanted some opinions.

Anyone interested? Dm me if you want to maybe beta read it or something. Trying to decide whether to post it Here or on AO3. Title is "Irrational Blue" if that tells you anything.

Oh and i cant write smut. Not bc i hate it, just bc i am not that sort of writer. Just be aware it is all fluff and angst. So yeah! Thoughts?

I know i'm new but your input would mean a lot to me :]