#just have like little collections of short stories :)

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 1.8k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of the other priestesses, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[ryin-silverfish]

Sorry for the very late reply: I stayed off Tumblr for like, a month or so. But this is a long reblog with a lot of interesting points I wanna respond to.

Honestly, the most common form of JCT doesn't stem from A Chinese Odyssey. It's inspired by the webnovel that's kinda a fanfiction to said movie, Biography of Wukong.

The predecessor to BMW, Asura Online, takes a lot more inspiration from the webnovel than its spiritual successor, and even tho BMW isn't trying to be a direct continuation of AO, I would argue that some of its themes and worldbuilding still slipped into BMW.

You mentioned not seeing JCT in the game according to my definition, and I feel like it's a matter of exposure. For someone who has Chinese as their first language, they are gonna to be 1) exposed to a shit ton of JTTW media, and 2) see a lot of interpretation about the novel proliferate that an English audience is completely unaware of.

BMW is not the most extreme or common form of JCT, but the general ideas are still recognizable. Like, just because it doesn't make all the gods evil, or all the yaoguais innocent victims, doesn't change the fact that the main narrative is still one of Oppressive, Conspiring Pantheon vs. Oppressed Yaoguais.

(Example: the lore entries' implication about Lingji and the Yellow Wind storyline is that Lingji is creating the weird stone Buddha heads and the Fuban yaoguai to 1) collect Lingyun, the "soul" equivalent, and 2) artificially create a threat so that he can rescue the Flowing Sands kingdom from it and convert them to Buddhism.)

(Instead, the Yellow Wind Demon became the rescuer and the kingdom started worshipping rats, which was why its people were all turned into rats.)

(Or, the most obvious one: the Western Heaven's genocide of the Yakshas in the Bull King family backstory.)

(As for Erlang: why do you think you find him inside a painting, which, according to the lore entries, is implied to be the result of him asking Maitreya for refuge from the Celestial Realm?)

And it's made even more jarring by the fact that the game wants to create a facsimile of the original novel through quoting its poetry and imitating the vernacular novel dialogue style, and make allusions to SWK's role as the Mind Monkey, without realizing how it conflicts with the Biography of Wukong-style interpretation.

You mention the lore entries, and that's actually my favorite part! Both the Ming-print style illustrations, and their simulation of the Zhiguai short story style.

But, again, there is a dissonance. The funny and strange Zhiguai-style entries are noticeably different in tone compared to the "main storyline" entries about major characters and backgrounds, which is written like modern short stories instead of a classical Chinese text translated into Mandarin.

And my problem is not that the adaptation is different, that it may want to change the allegory or reinterpret the themes for a modern audience.

It's the feeling that they want to have it both ways——be faithful to the novel (or at least create a facsimile of faithfulness), yet also stick to the Bio of Wukong style popular reading that proliferates in modern JTTW media for mass appeal.

And to me, the dissonance in the two narratives weakened the thematic coherence. Frankly, if it sticks to one or the other, I wouldn't have been writing these critiques: if it's a proper exploration of the original novel's allegorical themes, I'd be praising and loving it, and if it's JCT thorough and thorough, I'm just going to be like "Yeah, not for me" and leave it at that.

But it's this mixture of things I love and things that frustrate me that drives me to write and get down to the bottom of those conflicting feelings, which has little to do with JTTWR's original posts and his attitude towards adaptations.

Lastly: I'm very much coming from the perspective of a native speaker complaining about Chinese JTTW media and popular interpretations. My own opinions are not mainstream in the Chinese JTTW fandom either——JCT is so popular precisely bc it has mass appeal.

Just a thing to keep in mind.

I'm a Theravada Buddhist. I saw many people interpreting the story and meaning behind Black Myth Wukong, differently. But I hope the devs team didn't intend to insult Buddha Dhamma by recreating this new story and distort the meaning of Buddhahood or Enlightenment itself..

I don't know if they intended to insult Buddhism, but I can say that their presentation of Buddhism in the game is disrespectful.

@ryin-silverfish recently posted a wonderful essay on what's known as the "JTTW Conspiracy Theory," which is a method of interpreting the story by twisting details, making the heavenly hierarchy look evil. The game follows this method. I recommend that you read the essay:

I unknowingly ran into the JTTW Conspiracy Theory a couple of years ago. A Chinese article claimed that the Buddha lies in the novel. This is my rebuttal.

[steam-beasts]

This is not my body - short story

- Thomas -

Thomas never asked for this. He never wanted this. The day he got infected by that damn coal, he just wanted it to be a normal illness

Dear Lady above, why did it have to be like this??

As he rested in the Ffarqhuarr sheds, in his humanoid form, he curled up tighter and whimpered. He didn't blame the controller for this, he couldn't ever have known. He didn't blame Lady for this. He didn't really blame anyone for this. But he sometimes just hated it in secret. As he dug his nails into his biceps, still to this day, it felt unfamiliar.

No matter what, he was still a locomotive. A sentient machine, way down inside. But lingering, way down inside, this didn't feel like his body.

- Edward -

Edward was fine with this body.

He didn't mind it, really. When he first got it, he was admittedly quite stressed out about it. The itchy fur, the heavy cumbersome limbs. It was a nightmare. He had seen a lot of things through the years; engines being sent for scrap heap, intense, almost fatal crashes, and having to watch as humans he knew grow old and weak, and he would always outlive them.

It was mostly quite sad. But Edward learned to get over it. He had been humbled through his years, gaining wisdom and passing it down to the younger engines. He was always calm about it, calm and collected.

But the infection did something to him. Not just mentally, but physically.

Instead of sky blue wheels that rolled along the rails, he had thundering, monsterous paws. Claws that can tear through flesh with utter ease, and sharp teeth that can sink into prey. He, like the others, couldn't control himself.

He hurt people. Killed people. Ate people. Was he calm and collected after that? No. Admittedly, the fact he did and can do such things, the bloodlust, it made him a little bit looney. Edward found himself more pulled towards the horror genres. An effect of being a blood-hungry beast, the old engine had to guess. Edward was a machine deep inside. A product of Lady and mankind. Even with these new feelings, that's what he'd always be, no matter how much this damned curse warped his body.

Did he hate it? No.

...he just didn't like it.

- James -

James stared in the small window. He admired himself, with horror, fascination and a bit of sadness. He looked splendid! As splendid as ever! His fur was fluffy and perfect, his claws were lovely, perfectly sharpened and red. He was splendid...he HAD to be. Right?

It took a lot of work to get here: he had to get painfully sick and puke his boiler pipes out nearly every night, then came the horrid, agonising sensation of his chassis peeling off. Beautiful, beautiful red blood smothered the place around him. Yes, he was screaming to the high heavens, screaming his breath away as the rails were painted in many shades of red. But it was of happiness, totally happiness. He was even more amazing than ever.

At first, he absolutely hated it, when he came to his senses after a while, he would rip out the grey fur that covered most his body. He'd whine, he'd hurt himself, he'd cry and sob. He felt like a giant, ugly rat, parading as a steam engine. As he sat there, staring into the window, his eye shadow was running. He didn't even notice he was silently crying. He was splendid. He was a splendid engine.

But deep down inside, he knew he was a freak. He grew more obsessed with his looks, in order to not be seen as a freak, James would pamper himself, make himself as splendid as possible.

James wanted to love it. But way down inside...he hated it.

[twistedcrumbs2]

A Premium Shower with Vil Schonheint

Another One from the intrusive thoughts series. Deal with it.

For Vil Schoenheit, sharing a premium shower with you at least once a month is more than just a habit — it’s a ritual, sacred and unwavering. He follows this tradition religiously, treating it as a cornerstone of your relationship. To him, it’s the perfect moment to unwind by your side, to wash away the stress of life, and to reconnect with you on a deeply intimate level.

Vil won’t deny it: it’s therapeutic. There’s something about those moments that feels almost magical — the soft scent of your shampoo, the smooth texture of your skin against his, the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the water. For someone who cherishes every little detail, this kind of closeness is pure gold. It’s also an opportunity for him to slow down and talk to you, undisturbed by the chaos of daily life.

And let’s face it — dating a man who’s a renowned actor, model, singer, and part-time influencer means that finding time together isn’t easy. Vil’s schedule is constantly packed with filming, runway shows, photoshoots, and rehearsals. The physical distance is an unfortunate reality of your relationship, which is exactly why he treasures these intimate moments so much.

But don’t mistake this for an ordinary shower. It’s anything but. Your premium shower is a full-fledged event, complete with a step-by-step process that Vil orchestrates with precision. He transforms the bathroom into a luxurious spa: the water temperature is always perfect, the bath is infused with rich bath salts for silky-soft skin, and fragrant candles are strategically placed to create an atmosphere that’s nothing short of enchanting. Yes, the shower is taken in the dark, but the candlelight adds a warm, serene glow, making the space feel like a scene straight out of a luxury product commercial.

Of course, Vil has an entire collection of high-end products reserved solely for these occasions. Only the best brands with top-tier ingredients make the cut. You’ve both turned this into a shared passion, constantly messaging each other about new finds, exchanging reviews of shampoos, hair masks, and body washes. Vil often indulges in impulse purchases during his travels, buying products just so he can test them with you. Your bathroom cabinet is overflowing with these treasures, but neither of you can resist adding more — because life is better with options, isn’t it?

When the time finally comes, Vil begins by meticulously washing your hair. He’s methodical: first, a pre-shampoo treatment, followed by a scalp massage to stimulate hair growth, then a rich hydrating mask, and finally, a conditioner to seal in all the goodness. His touch is so careful and deliberate that it feels like you’ve stepped into a five-star salon. And, of course, Vil expects you to return the favor. Not that he ever says so outright — he simply rests his head in your lap and waits, trusting you’ll match his effort.

One of his favorite parts? Watching you melt under his touch as he massages your scalp. The way your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter closed gives him a quiet sense of satisfaction. Moments like these remind him why these rituals are so special.

But nothing compares to the moment he pulls you into his arms under the warm water. The tranquil stillness, broken only by the sound of your breathing, feels like a sanctuary. Vil closes his eyes, wishing — just for a second — that time would stop, allowing him to stay in this peaceful bubble with you forever.

While the products work their magic on your hair, Vil takes the opportunity to share stories about his latest projects. He talks about photo shoots, rehearsals, and behind-the-scenes tidbits from his films. Naturally, he also seizes the chance to educate you about the products you're using. He’s a walking encyclopedia of beauty knowledge, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After the bath, the ritual isn’t over — far from it. Next comes the exfoliation. Vil carefully applies a gentle scrub, working it into your skin with slow, deliberate strokes. He doesn’t miss a spot: arms, legs, back — every inch of you is treated with the same meticulous attention. When it’s his turn, you do your best to match his expertise, but he always smiles knowingly and offers gentle corrections.

And then comes the highlight: the oil massage. Vil’s hands work wonders, gliding across your skin with practiced ease. His touch is so soothing that you’ve fallen asleep more than once. He doesn’t mind — in fact, he finds it endearing to see you so completely at ease.

Finally, there’s the last step: skincare. Wrapped in matching velvet robes, Vil leads you to the bathroom sink for a complete routine. From the cleansing foam to the serums and hydrating masks, every step is executed with the precision of someone who takes beauty very seriously. You do your best to follow along, but it’s hard not to get distracted by the passion in his voice as he explains the purpose of each product.

By the end of it all, both of you feel utterly renewed. Your skin glows, your body feels light, and your mind is at peace. Vil lies beside you with a contented smile, already looking forward to the next premium shower. And you? Well, you can hardly wait either.

---

What do you think? I refined the descriptions to better capture the emotions and details of the scene while maintaining a cohesive, natural flow.

[alexanderwales]

I finished the rest of Save the Cat almost in a single sitting, not because it was particularly riveting, but because I had time to kill, so this pseudo-liveblog is at an end.

Chapter 6 and 7 are basically the same, collections of small tricks and tips. Neither of them are terribly helpful, and all the tricks have terrible shorthand names like "Pope in a Pool". There's very little in the way of any thematic cohesion to these bits of advice, and no grand theory of the Laws of Storytelling emerges, in spite of the laws being invoked a number of times.

The advice itself is, I think, generally good:

give the reader something to root for early on to kickstart investment

spice up exposition with something entertaining

only one kind of magic per plot

don't tell a story that requires too much setup

don't tell a story with too many moving parts

include a ticking clock

have character arcs

keep the scope limited to the characters we care about

make the hero proactive

show, don't tell

make the bad guy very bad

the plot should go faster the further in it goes

use the whole spectrum of emotion

make sure each character has a distinct voice

make sure desires are "primal"

give characters something that makes them stand out

I don't endorse this whole list, and I especially don't endorse the way that Blake Snyder talks about them or the examples that he gives. And if I endorsed the list, then I would include a lot of caveats, and some general principles of storytelling that should be followed, rather than these specific pieces of advice, which are all conditional. Like ... okay, here's an example:

Exposition is a broccoli that the audience doesn't want to eat. There are very different ways of dealing with this, but we can start with "minimize exposition" as the first "law" of storytelling, and from there, we have different strategies:

Spruce up the exposition, making it into a mini-story, delivered in an entertaining way, so that people aren't bored.

Run something alongside the exposition so that people aren't bored, like sight gags in a comedy or an action scene in a thriller.

Have the exposition delivered through implication and clues, rather than stated outright, like having a character limp rather than explaining to the audience that they were wounded in the war. This is show, don't tell, and it's harder than it seems.

But while Snyder lays out some of this advice, it's all in different sections even though it's dealing with the same fundamental problem, and I'm not sure that he really understands that. If he does understand it, then he's not making that clear for the reader.

My thesis is that to understand storytelling, you want to understand root issues and classes of solutions. I have not written a book on writing, nor do I think there's a market for that, nor do I think I'm qualified, but it's the kind of thing that I would strive to deliver. There are a lot of writing problems that are parallel to each other, and there are a lot of structural elements that are mirrors of each other, so why not try to put it all together that way?

But Snyder makes basically no attempt to put even very related problems together, it's just little bits of advice to gnaw at the most common problems, and ... maybe that's fine, but it felt lazy to me.

Chapter 8 was the final chapter, and was mostly about trying to sell screenplays. This was irrelevant to me, but kind of interesting, and also made me feel like Blake Snyder is a better marketer and salesman than a screenwriter, and also maybe just got lucky to be working at a time when scripts were getting huge bidding wars for no good reason. The efficient market hypothesis gets clowned on again, I guess.

I'll probably write up some overall thoughts, a short review: I think I am unsuited to liveblogging because I go long. But the even shorter version is that I think I picked up a few things that were interesting to think about, and while Blake Snyder is a hack, he's an entertaining writer.

[demonvampire180writes]

Stacie's Master List of 9-1-1 Fics:

(Mostly BuckTommy)

As We Go Along Rated: G

BuckTommy

Summary: Buck still bakes every time he thinks about Tommy. And he thinks about Tommy a lot. In fact, he thinks about him so much that sometimes the man manifests in the things Buck creates without him even trying. Especially with Christmas just around the corner.

No "happy" ending

It Was Dinner and a Movie Rated: T

BuckTommy

CW: Mild homophobic language

Summary: The boys decide to do a first date do-over now that Buck is more comfortable in his skin. And while things go mostly smooth, something small always has to interfere, and Tommy is over it. He was afraid to speak his mind once, but he's older, wiser, and has a much lower tolerance for others intolerances now. While this date won't be perfect, he refuses to let the small-minded make it worse.

LA's Link to the Sky Rated: G

BuckTommy

Summary: Buck and Tommy have a full week of opposing schedules and Buck is excited because he has something special planned for Tommy, and he can't have him catching onto it until Buck is ready.

Shine Bright Like a Northern Star Explicit Version Rated: M

BuckTommy

Summary:

Buck surprises Tommy with a late night beach date and things get a little bit emotional.

For the rated G version of this story, please check out Chapter 5 in my previously published work "A Thousand Butterfly Kisses."

A Thousand Butterfly Kisses Rated: G

BuckTommy (Incomplete 5/8 Chapters, All individual one-shots)

Summary:

A collection of short stories about various dates Buck and Tommy go on, including taking the kids to the zoo, picnics under the stars, ferris wheels and roller skating at the pier and so much more. Nothing but fluff and happiness for these two! (Except in one instance.)

Each story is completely independent of the other. At least one story will contain age related death but there will be a warning in the author's notes at the beginning if that's something you're triggered by. Any other triggers will be in the A/N each chapter as well as a short description of the story.

Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty Rated: G

BuckTommy

Summary:

Tommy keeps his promises, and even though he's late, he still shows up, tired and exhausted as he is. In thanks, Evan shows him what it means to be taken care of and prioritized.

The beginning is just like the end of 7x06 but hopefully it's only a small part of it.

Someone Like You Rated: G

BuckTommy

Summary: Buck manages to keep it hidden from everyone for over a month, but one day he just breaks. When he does, the only thing he wants, more than Tommy, is his big sister to hold him and tell him everything will be alright.

Post 8.06 Canon Compliant - No "happy" ending!

Right as Rain Rated: G

BuckTommy

Summary: The cat distribution system hits Buck while Tommy is at work.

Walk With Me Rated: G

BuckTommy

Summary: Buck and Tommy go for an early morning walk together.

Satin and Lace Rated: E

BuckTommy

Summary: Tommy likes to wear lace once in awhile, trying to be true to himself and getting out of the mindset of toxic masculinity, but he's never told Evan. One day, Evan walks into his bedroom after Tommy has gone to change after a very windy date, and to say Tommy is caught unawares is an understatement. Only Evan's reaction is totally unexpected and shenanigans Tommy has never experienced before ensue.

Oh Captain, My Captain! Rated: G

Bobby centric, includes all main couples

CW: Mentions of depression/poor mental health

Summary: Bobby has no issues being honest about his feelings. Until he does. It's been months since he left the 118, and he wakes up every morning regretting it, but he made this bed and now he's being forced to lay in it. But he doesn't want anyone to know. Can't let anyone know his weakness. Athena, the amazing woman and wife that she is, does notice however, and she makes it her mission to bring that smile back to her husbands face, and bring his family back to him, any way she can.

[fix-it-darlin]

D.A.M.N. Crew Headcanons

Freelancer

Doodles on the back of their hands

Never really specialized in anything as a kid and had way too many hobbies. They view this as a negative thing, but the rest of the crew is delighted to hear about their many interests.

Chicken scratch handwriting that only they can read most times.

Attempted to learn shorthand to remedy this but couldn't stick to it long enough to make much of an impact on their note taking style.

Didn't like their hair for a while and so they were always wearing some kind of hat. They still wear a hat a lot, but they've started to get more comfortable with it, especially as Gavin teaches them how to style it better.

Never had a close friend group before the D.A.M.N. crew and usually spent time in groups that seemed to just tolerate them while they were in school.

Used to read voraciously, but hasn't read a full book in about a year. They can manage articles and short stories, but a full book is asking a lot.

Talks to themself a lot and has nearly filled their phone's storage with all the voice notes they make.

Gavin

Gave himself dimples

Wears lots of rings, but one from Freelancer is worn on a chain rather than his hands

Favorite movie is the Princess Bride. The D.A.M.N. crew gets together for a movie night every few weeks and this is always his first suggestion.

Learned how to knit just so he could make Freelancer a hat for their birthday. It was a messy first attempt, but Freelancer loves it all the same.

Great gift giver

Damien made him join a book club with him after figuring out that he hasn't read a book in his life. Gavin gripes about this, but he's actually delighted to have someone to read with and keep him accountable there. He's tried to bring Freelancer into it too, but recognizes that they're too busy for books at the moment.

Damien

Has a very particular taste in energy drinks and doesn't like tea very much.

Black nail polish

His mom pushed him to be good at art as a kid, and he was, could render incredibly realistic studies of nature, but he hated it. He doesn't draw much in present time, but Huxley discovered one of his old sketchbooks at one point and was seriously impressed. Damien wanted to throw out the sketchbook, but Huxley's kept it for now.

When he does draw, it's these shitty little cartoons (I'm talking stick figures and shaky lines) he uses to make Huxley laugh, and only when he's particularly inspired.

Loves to take runs at the crack of dawn just so he can catch the sunrise and the early morning dew.

Has never seen snow in person

Huxley

Loves graphic novels (read all the Bone books as a kid)

Definitely has a rock collection, knows how to skip stones

Goes to poetry open mic nights with Lasko as a way to improve his diction but also train himself to formulate his words better. Some hilarious haikus and free verse have come out of this. Huxley's favorite is the one he performed about a raccoon trying to get tickets to a concert

Is incredibly gentle with his touch as though he's afraid that he'll hurt people with his hugs.

Has dressed up as a bulbasaur for Halloween before

Passed notes with Damien during a lecture that they shared. It drove Damien nuts, but Huxley wasn't sure how else to talk to him at the time. He and Damien still leave each other sticky notes on the mirror and Huxley treasures each of them.

Lasko

Has glasses and they slip down his nose all the time

You know the trope that when people take their glasses off, all of a sudden they're super hot? Yeah, Lasko is the exact opposite way because his lenses are pretty a high prescription and make his eyes look much bigger than they actually are. Take those off and he's immediately squinting and those eyes don't look so big anymore which makes him look uncanny. He's pretty self-conscious about that.

Listens to Mitski

Can quote the entirety of The Hobbit word for word and has very strong opinions about the movies. (He saw them against his will once and has never gotten over it)

Pretty deep morning voice surprisingly enough

Started doing yoga with Dear as a way to keep loose and relax although it's debatable how much relaxing is actually going on towards the end of their sessions and how much of it is just excuses to tease and flirt with each other.

Dear

Top two buttons of their shirt are always unbuttoned, they've got quite the collection.

Loves Lasko's squint that he gets when his glasses slip too far down his nose.

Was on the swim team when they were in school and were pretty good at it (this is an understatement, they set a couple of records for their school)

Nails are always very neatly trimmed and they usually have a clear coat or white nail polish on them

Loopy, neat handwriting

Has always been called a good listener. Little does anyone know that they talk Lasko's ear off just as much as he does their's. They know an insane amount about different species of coral and sea cucumbers and have a collection of books, photos, and articles about them that they've built up over the years.

Very good at figuring out people's strengths and makes a point of complimenting them on it. They are proud to say that they've flustered Huxley with their compliments because it took them the longest time to figure out what would really hit for him.

Has a tattoo on their back

Is part of Damien's book club and always has some of the most detailed notes on the books they read. It's become a bit of a competition between the two of them to see who has the best notes. It's all in good fun though.

[ms--lobotomy]

Konrad with reader is like one of those dangerous or atleast extremly angry wild animals with babies. I don't mean the trope of heroically protecting them from a legimate danger (though he abseloutly would). I mean the pissed off pair of swans making the local lake unusable from attacking random passerby. The moose with her calf crossing the street in front of someone who is standing very, very still. The exact feeling of "Oh fuck it has babies. Run. Run RUN". The video of a bunch of, I think silverback, gorillas crossing a road infront of the camara men. The pack including the alpha male and a bunch of babies. (I know fuck all about gorrilas, they might not actually have alphas.)

It's so "animal" but I desperatly need someone seeing Konrad crossing his road with his little family with a simmilar vibe. semi related I was at once going to write a short (tumblr ask length short) story about someone catching the nighthaunter hunting animals near their proportity then collecting plant matter and wondering wtf he is doing with the "twist" being that he is just providing for his waifu.

My parents once told me they used to have pair of large parekeets/parrots (not tame, aviary birds) where the female was missing an eye and the male became satan incarnate because of it, that, is Konrad Curze. Only that is with his partner not his child. May the emperor save you if the reader is pregnant, actually I think any human servant on the nightfall would just rather willingly be his legions murder toy than risk being in the same room with her then.

Meanwhile while all of this nonsense is going on the reader is just a ray of sunshine :3 happily trotting along with him :3, sitting in his lap during meetings, holding his hand while he snarls at passerby like an epileptic chihuahua on steriods, etc.

-🟩

Konrad is animal coded, more so than most Primarchs. I mean, look at his canon art, he's got pitch-black eyes and sharp teeth. At the end of the day, what is Konrad but a very angry bird? Or an opossum, crossing the road with his opossum partner(s) and children?

I LOVE Sunshine x Konrad-esque character pairings. Give that man a sunshine wivesband STAT.

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[astrxealis]

okay rambles but i started creatively writing in like ... 5th grade? and. oh god just a little encouragement to anyone looking to get into writing or insecure or whatnot, but HELLS, maybe it's to he expected with my (obviously) very young age and inexperience with writing then, but my writing was really. yeah. Yeah. but then i'm what... a lot older now, obviously, and my writing has gotten leagues better. i'm probably not a good example for this bcs childhood years development stuff are different etc etc BUT practicing writing more and whatnot really does go a long way :]

[altruistic-meme]

me, an author: i would literally burst into tears on the spot if someone bound a physical copy of one of my fics!

every post i’ve seen where someone has bound a fanfic: *the author is praising it and so overjoyed*

posts i’ve seen by other authors: man it would be so cool if someone bound my fic into a book!!

still me anyway, thinking about asking an author if they are ok with me binding their fic into a book: what if its creepy what if they hate the idea what if it makes them uncomfortable what if-

[milf-harrington]

not to brag but i just wrote a whole section of my reincarnation fic, it's not well written, but it's written which means at some point in the future there will be something there for me to edit

[planet4546b]

thinking about doing like. a reverse oc-tober where im just gonna spend october collecting various prompts so when i get to nano ill be ready to go

[cruelsister-moved2]

we need to outlaw including novellas in short story collections. punishable by death. 

[masochistikitty]

god i fucking love. this one oc. hes an ancient forest spirit whos fed up with all the supernatural chaos being enacted upon the non magical world, so hes working against the othet supernatural creatures. however, when the humans (the main characters) get upset at him he turns into this petty bitch like "well no, you left so until you rejoin me im gonna be like them. its not like anyone can even find the town right now" like omgggg hes so self motivated <333 when he was human he probably had a crazy addiction to something idk what (probably alc tbh)

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.