#just wanted to write it

[firewasabeast]

this is the story I was trying to write earlier and could never get it to come out right, so y'all get the outline instead lol enjoy! There is MCD here, based off of some spoilers.

Tommy being thrown into whatever's going on with the 118, and he's doing everything in his power to help save them. He may not be with the 118 anymore, but they were his people. They each played a role in changing him for the better, and he'd do anything they needed. Plus, Evan asked. And if Evan asked for Tommy to bring him the moon, Tommy would figure out a way to do it. It doesn't matter that he'll probably be fired, or arrested, or potentially shot out of the sky, he does it because it needs to be done.

And the 118 gets what they need to get better. Except it takes a while longer for Bobby to recover and... and then he doesn't recover. He flatlines in the hospital, and they're not able to save him. Tommy holds Buck as he falls apart in his arms, and it's the worst feeling in the world because Tommy knows if he'd been a little faster, if he'd thought quicker on his feet, if he wouldn't have had to waste time with the army or the FBI, the outcome might have been different.

But he keeps these thoughts bottled up because Evan needs him. Bobby was the closest thing Evan ever had to a father, and he's gone now, and Evan needs Tommy to be strong. So he holds onto Buck at night until he falls asleep with tears still pouring down his face. And he sits with him while Buck tries to perfect Bobby's recipes. He listens to all the stories and he's there to comfort him when the random breakdowns start.

Tommy stays strong through the week. He stays strong through the service, through the burial, through it all, until they're at Hen's for the reception. For the first time since Bobby died, Buck doesn't know where Tommy is. So he goes looking for him. Finds him hidden away in Hen and Karen's room. Hen's got a hand on his back, telling him to hang out and take however long he needs. When she goes to leave and spots Buck, she gives his arm a squeeze before leaving.

That's when Buck realizes he hadn't seen Tommy cry all week. He'd done nothing but take care of him. There's a pain in Buck's chest that isn't from losing Bobby. He closes Hen's door and walks over to Tommy, startling him. Tommy tries to wipe the tears away, tries to say he's fine, but Buck knows better. So he holds onto Tommy, and Tommy sobs. He starts apologizing over and over. "I'm so sorry, Evan. I'm so, so sorry."

Buck's not sure why he's apologizing. He'd done nothing wrong. He has to wait for an answer. He waits until the crying dies down, until Tommy can talk without falling apart. Tommy can't even look him in the eyes, so Buck places two fingers under his chin to lift his head until they're staring right at each other. That's when Tommy tells him how he's been feeling. How it's his fault that Bobby died. How he didn't do enough. He failed Bobby, he failed the 118, he failed Evan. Buck knows now that Tommy has been torturing himself all week. Yes, he was taking care of Buck because he wanted to- that's just who he is- but he also felt immense guilt for something that wasn't his fault at all.

So Buck keeps holding him, telling Tommy that if it weren't for him, there would be no one left. No Hen, no Chimney, no Ravi. Plus everyone else in that building would be gone too. Buck tells him that he may be heartbroken over Bobby, and he always will be, but he's never once blamed Tommy and he won't let Tommy keep blaming himself either. It may take a bit longer for Tommy to believe it, but Buck is determined to keep telling him over and over until he does. In the meantime, Buck just holds him, being there for him the same way Tommy has been there for Buck time and time again.

[fandomsoda]

The Autistic Experience - a poem (tw for general hardships relating to said topic)

Start out and everything is going as it should You start figuring out what you find bad or good You feel so much and have thoughts so deep, a fully fledged person One who possesses many likes and opinions

But suddenly you meet other people and they’re talking to you like aliens. None of their rules or what they say are making any sense Never saying what they mean, bizarre etiquette And acting like you’re the weird one if you don’t get it

Dehumanized, overstimulated Outcast, hated Back you up into a corner like an animal in a cage And in a moment of fear you can only lash out in what looks like rage

And because of these people you feel unequal Start thinking that you really are feral They’ve got us relating to robots We feel human, but they say we’re not

We look the part And feel the same But society disagrees All because we have special and unique needs

Claim we don’t have feelings. They cry “changeling!” Or try to rebrand us as genius But either way the things they say aren’t how they should see us

But when we find each other Something special happens We can connect And have meaningful interactions

Speak the same language figuratively And understand each other A sense of belonging and unity Siblings, sisters, and brothers

Stimming when we get excited Special passions get ignited Happiness finally invited There is a joy that sparks

And we will continue to survive Even if existence is hard

[arynneva]

wait do people read first person stories and think they're the ones in the story???

Saw people talking about not liking first person, which is fair, but their reasoning was like "I would not do that" and I don't understand that mindset.

First person stories are still about a character. A character making their own decisions. First person isn't about you???? At least I thought it wasn't. What am I missing? I've always seen first person as just a more in-depth look into a character's mind and stricter POV. Not as a reader stand-in.

[heartbreakincident]

nothing but respect for our troops (smut writers) but listen. i dont want to be the person to tell you this, but not every character is going to be a dom or a sub. some people. and i know this is hard to hear. but some people do have vanilla sex. and some of those people might even be The Character.

[sidhewrites]

Being kink positive makes it really hard to be a hater of media rip. I used to love watching “the WORST book I’ve read this year” booktube videos but now its like I hear them ask, “Who is this werewolf smut even for?” Omegaverse fans, next question. “Why would you write this?” Because they find it sexy, can we stop focusing on the ewie yucky kink part and focus on the fact that the author used the word knot five times in a single scene? It’s bad werewolf erotica, but it’s not bad because it’s werewolf erotica like come on

[specialagentartemis]

“Be curious about what you’re writing about” is not stock Common Writing Advice but it really, really should be. There are a lot of written works that fail due to the authors just being obviously incurious about what they are writing about.

[vulpinesaint]

quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕

[beyourghost]

and obviously you find yourself thinking oh i do wish i could get severed to do this one thing. would you actually maybe not. but you do wish you didn't have to undergo medical procedures you do wish you didn't have to do the things that give you anxiety you do wish you didn't have to do tedious tasks that barely even require you to be present for them. it's tempting. that's why the premise works. but the premise is also that somebody has to do it. somebody has to go to the dentist and somebody has to get on that plane and somebody has to write those thank you notes. just like somebody has to clean the house and somebody has to harvest the food you eat and somebody has to make the clothes you wear. you can't eliminate inconvenience you can only delegate it. you can't eliminate suffering you can only delegate it. and always the easiest way to live with this is to see that somebody as less than. less than you less than people. and if that somebody has to wear your body to do it well maybe it's not all that different. they're not a person. you are. it's capitalism all the way down baby

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[pangur-and-grim]

alright, I’m annoyed with the class that I’m taking. it’s about writing novels, and I thought it would have cool stuff about balancing your narrative and developing themes etc, but instead she spent the first class talking about how every book fits into the Hero’s Journey (the monomyth template). and I was somewhat of a contrarian, and said “can you give us examples of books that don’t fit into this template?” and she said “no. because all books fit.”

but I dunno man, I just finished reading this Korean book where the plot is just the character having a string of hookups and reflecting on them without changing in any way. I don’t know if it’s possible to contort that into the Hero’s Journey.

[ismyverynaturethatofthedevil]

The boy

@the-witch-and-her-husbands

Marius de Romanus smiled when he opened the door. “Come in Daniel!” He stepped back and swept his arm in welcome. He was a famous painter and art dealer and Daniel Molloy was here to interview him. “I’ll show you to the living room, do you want a cup of coffee?” His house was large and lavish. A young dark omega joined them and smiled softly at Daniel as he went to Marius’ side. “This is my mate Armand and he makes a fantastic pot of coffee.”

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[heartswithinreach]

sylus always answers your calls. always. no exceptions.

he could be in the middle of a gun fight or a messy interrogation but when he hears the inside joke of a ringtone he set for you, he uses his evol to shackle everyone in place while he answers, calm and collected as can be.

“kitten, it’s late in linkon — you should be sleeping. no, i’m not busy at the moment.” a cold glare is the only warning his enemies get to stay quiet. “what do you need?”

some of the world’s most powerful and feared men have had their final agonizing moments prolonged by listening to the leader of onychinus sweet-talk you.

[barefeet-only]

Danny and Damian are related, with a twist.

Danny is the son of Talia Al Ghul, however he is NOT the son of Bruce Wayne. Ra’s has had his eyes on various people across the world that have either impressed him or show a unique skill set that he’d like to have. One such person was under the both categories and he got Talia to collect a DNA sample and as a result Danny was born.

This was before Bruce’s time with the League by a few years, but very quickly Danny was not meeting expectations. And by the time Bruce did show up Ra’s had lost all interest in Danny, moving on to better things.

Talia always hated Danny because she was forced to have him with a man who she never liked in the first place. Furthermore, because his skillset was lacking she found that even more reason for her distain. In her eyes, he wasn’t worth even considering her blood.

Danny, knowing that he was doomed if he didn’t make an escape, left the league sometime around when Bruce was moving up the ranks and was making waves within the organization. Perfect timing honestly, any attention he might have had was quickly gone when this prodigy showed up.

Danny escaped the League and went into hiding quickly after, settling on a rural area of the United States after bouncing around countries for a few months. This was mainly because Jasmine Fenton saw a young boy pick pocketing strangers while her family was visiting Chicago and scolded him. Her mother and father saw the boy and also lectured him to which Danny responded it was his only option (he was trying to get this loud family off his back so he could sneak away). Eventually the Fentons decide that if he has nowhere to go he might as well go with us, and Danny decides blending in with a Nuclear Family is the best way to ensure that his peaceful life away from the League stays that way. Oh how little did he know.

Flash forward a few years, Talia, who was visiting Gotham to check on Damian, sees a glimpse of a boy (now man) she thought she had forgotten. Her blood runs cold, if this abomination is in Gotham then her son is likely in danger and she would never let anything happen to Damian.

[tootkin-goblin]

Just remembered, as I was cooking some potato, about that time I went on holidays at my (now ex) girlfriend's grandma and met her whole family on this side.

All of them, the uncles, the aunts, the cousins of all age and gender, all of them told me about the legendary mashed potato that the grandma does. How good it is, how they can't reproduce it, and how the grandma has never told the recipe to anyone ever. A mystery, a secret she's going to take to the grave!

And like, it's a very good mashed potato. The recipe is simple, you boil some big potato, then you mash them with salt, pepper, herbes de Provence (a mix used almost everywhere in the south of france made of rosemary, oregano, thyme, basil, chervil, tarragon, bay leaf, fennel, marjoram, sage, and wild thyme), a good chunk of butter and a dollop of olive oil.

I know because she was very happy to show me how it's done when I, alone, went to help her in the kitchen (: