#like when i was starting it i was like ok this should be good but then i kept thinking abt it and it kept getting worse

[inthefoxholes]

1000% yes. It just not only makes the characters one-dimensional, it also completely takes me out of the story. How often do Rook and their romance reassure each other that they’ll make it out alive in the last two quests?? Why? What kind of assumption is that, going against gods? Why is everyone so upbeat about this? I guess it was supposed to be romantic/touching, but when Rook promised Lucanis that they‘d definitely see each other again when all was over I was so angry, that is such a disingenuous thing to say before something that is for all intents and purposes a suicide mission. (But it wasn’t, and again the emotional response fell flat and it all felt goofy rather than epic)

And I would also add to the very valid points made above, that this emotional flatness is a corollary to the sanitized world of datv. Conflicts in previous games arose because something was terribly wrong, and this wrongness could often enough not be talked away - action was required. Alastair‘s conflict arose from the fact that he was a bastard and given away for political reasons, and now called upon to take responsibility by the same system that had discarded him before. Just listening to him is not enough. As a player you have to actually support him through this by your actions (or not, and potentially lose him). (And that’s just one example, let’s not even talk about your crew from da 2, where everyone was so traumatized that any help you could offer was first and foremost damage control.)

There is nothing like this in veilguard? Lucanis is possessed by an actual fucking demon, and it’s kinda unproblematic? Because there are no Templars anymore and people are suddenly super chill with abominations? Harding manages to pacify (?) an actual fucking titan, a being of unfathomable age and scope by… I don’t even know, have someone tell her feelings are ok, a truth she not only integrates into herself in a matter of seconds but then manages to instill in a being that should be beyond her horizon of understanding? And this is not something we should ruminate on? The titans, the monstrous thing that was done to them? It’s just ok now? I don’t even know what Neve is supposed to represent or solve. There are lichs in this world and we‘re not gonna ask about them?? They’re not gonna help us, have never helped anyone, are super fine with slavery and exalted marches, no explanation given? But they are still the good guys, kinda? I could go on. (Don’t get me started on Illario - what the fuck do you mean I can’t kill him?? He betrayed Lucanis, kept him in a torture-prison for a YEAR, and my choices are reconciliation or prison? How insulting is this to what Lucanis went through?)

It’s like there’s no conflict allowed in the world, apart from the big one (and how very fortunate that every companion quest ties neatly into this), and that gets resolved far too easily, without any messiness, any damage, any depth.

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.

[starlighttsv]

Can you do Pazzi as moms where there daughter is a little bit older and she gets bad grades and Paige and azzi help her

Bad News - Pazzi’s daughter

Sum: Saylor gets bad grades and her teacher calls Azzi

Warnings: based in 2044, a curse word lmao

Notes: was I daydreaming or something? Why is this all over the place? 😵‍💫 I didn’t go into to much detail about p & a helping her bc I didn’t really know what else to put so sorry about that.

Wc: 1.2k

Pair: pazzi x daughter!oc

Saylor’s Masterlist

“Hi is this Azzi Fudd?” A girl says over the phone “Yes, and who is this?” Azzi responds back “I’m Mrs. Smith, one of your daughters teachers. Um im calling because Saylor is failing my class and two others. We have tried to help her but it doesn’t seem to be working. She failed her test for my class yesterday and it’s not looking good for the tests in the other two classes either.” Mrs. Smith says over the phone

“What? That’s not like Saylor, she normally does really good in school.” Azzi replies confused “Thats what me and her other teachers have been talking about. We didn’t know if maybe there was something going on at home to make her not be concentrating, or maybe her friend group?”

“No, No there’s nothing going on at home. As for her friend group I don’t really know. I’ll talk to her other mom and we will try to figure it out, thank you for calling” Azzi says to mrs. smith with both of them saying byes then hanging up

Azzi sighs pulling the phone from her ear and going to Paige’s contact- not knowing if she’s gonna answer or not because Paige was at a photo shoot

“Hey Az, what’s up?” Paige says over the phone after picking up on the 2nd ring “are you busy?” Azzi asks “nah, I just left the photo shoot figured I would stop at the store and get stuff for dinner and then maybe bring home some lunch? You good with chipotle or you want something else?” Paige asks

“Chipotle is fine, but um I just got a call from one of Saylors teachers” Azzi says to Paige, “What? Is Saylor ok? Do I need to go get her from school?”

“No. No, she’s fine but she’s failing some of her classes and her teachers are worried somethings going on at home or with her friends” Azzi says while packing her duffel and starting to walk to her car

“Well nothings going on at home and she should only be talking to her friends at school. She’s still grounded. So I don’t know what could possibly be happening in her friend group at school for her to be failing multiple classes. Hey I’m gonna FaceTime you I’m about to start driving”

Azzi doesn’t answer and just waits for the FaceTime call, accepting it when it appears on her phone “maybe it’s the grounding?” Azzi says confused while watching Paige start driving and turn onto the main road

“If it is the grounding she needs to get over it immediately. She knew she wasn’t gonna get away with sneaking out, we would have found out eventually. We need to just sit her down and make her talk to us-“ Paige starts but Azzi cuts in “but that’s easier said than done”

“Exactly!” Paige starts “FUCK! What is happening with her? Is it us? Did we do something to make her start acting out? Do we need to get her like a therapist or something?” Paige stresses

Azzi has already started making her way home while Paige was going to the store. “I don’t think we’ve done anything. She started acting out like 2 years ago-“

“When we had her transfer schools.” Paige cuts in “Do you think that’s it? She’s mad at us for her transferring so she’s punishing us by acting out?” Azzi says pulling into the garage and sitting in the car

“I can’t think of anything else, can you?” Paige asks still driving to get to the store

“No, not really.” Azzi sighs “I just want our daughter back to her normal self. It’s like she’s possessed by something.” Azzi now stresses

“I get it mama, I do. I want her back too but I don’t know, maybe we do family therapy?” Paige asks pulling into a parking spot at the store and grabbing her phone from the phone holder on the dashboard

“Couldn’t hurt” Azzi says pinching the bridge of her nose “I’ll let you go I can see you just pulled into the store. Im probably gonna go take a shower and then start cleaning, let me know what you decide for dinner yeah?”

“You go it. I love you” Paige responds

“I love you too”

After a few hours of Paige and Azzi hanging out and watching movies, Saylor finally gets home and walks through the door

“Hey baby come in the living room for a few please” azzi says out to Saylor who was a few rooms away literally just walking through the door

“Give me a sec mom” Saylor shouts taking off her shoes by the front door and setting her backpack by them. Saylor grabs the emergency phone and then walks to the living room, tossing it onto the cushion next to Azzi

“What do I have to be in here for?” Saylor asks “here take a seat” azzi says pointing to the love seat across from Paige and Azzi, making Saylor look at her confused but doing it anyway

“Your teacher called, saying that your failing a few different classes” azzi started “We have to ask, are you actually struggling or are you just faking it as a way to get back at us for grounding you? Cause we can help you if you’re actually struggling or we can pay someone to tutor you but we’re not gonna do that if you’re just trying to get back at us.” Paige finishes for Azzi

Saylor just stays quiet with her head down looking at her hands making Paige and Azzi look at each other before Paige starts speaking again. “Saylor. Do you need help with school?” Paige says with a soft voice Saylor just keeps looking at her hands “bug?” Paige says still with a soft voice

Saylor takes a second before nodding her head slowly “you do need help?” Azzi asks making Saylor shake her head again

Paige and Azzi both get up and sit on either side of Saylor both hugging her “that’s all you had to say Saylor, you didn’t have to go through all that homework and tests knowing you were gonna fail. We would’ve helped you” Azzi says with her lips pressed against Saylors temple

Saylor just leans into both of them “hey, what are you struggling with?” Paige says softly

“Math, science, and history” Saylor mumbles out “well we can help you with those. Unless you want a tutor? Your choice” Paige says kissing Saylors temple while Azzi’s rubbing her back

Saylor just cuddles closer to Paige’s chest making her laugh “was that your answer?” She says amusingly making Saylor have a small smile on her face while nodding

“Alright” Azzi says giving Saylor another kiss on her forehead before standing up “you wanna help me with dinner and then after we can take a look at your homework? Maybe we can make some cookies too.”

Saylor looks up with her head still placed on Paige’s chest, and nods making Paige stand up and then pull Saylor up to her feet. “Cmon let’s go make dinner, I’m hungry” Paige says pulling Saylor and Azzi to the kitchen making both of them laugh but follow her anyways.

That’s how the Bueckers family spent the rest of their evening. Cooking dinner, baking cookies, and doing homework.

@melpthatsme

[rainytrashh]

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First Time

Fic type-> NSFW + request

Tags-> Sub/ bottom Jayce, Jayce’s first time bottoming, no protection/ cumming inside, so amab reader.

Word count-> 1560, just about a short story

AN-> I can’t find a way to reply to the initial req so I hope you find this anon, also it was a nightmare trying to publish this but I’m glad I got it done in a timely manner.

Masterlist | AO3

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“This ok?”

“Yes just, feels… different.”

You’re careful to ease your finger inside of him, for the first time that is. You’d both decided to ‘switch it up’ given Jayce is usually the one fucking you- not that it became boring or anything no way, (the rumours going around Piltover were in fact true) it’s just you’d been together long enough to start experimenting a little. And this seemed like a solid first step into unknown territory, at least for Jayce.

“That’s it.”

You mumble, leaning in to place gentle kisses against his jaw, trailing down to his neck and collarbones as you eventually reach your knuckle. You begin ever so slowly pulling it back out again when you feel his hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, wait just…”

“Yea?”

Stopping your movements you look up at him, quirking an eyebrow. He looks unsteady, sending a pang of worry through you.

“We don’t have to do this…?”

His mouth hangs open a second or two before answering.

“No I do want to, I do, and I don’t think you can be any gentler… but it’s all new and- and weird and…”

“Different?”

His lips form a small smile, you breathe a subtle sigh of relief at his reassurance.

“Yes, so let’s just, go slow.”

You take out your finger and grab the bottle of lube from beside you once more.

“Ok, do you want to adjust or anything? Then we’ll try again.”

He reaches behind him and takes one of the pillows he was laying his head on.

“Put this under me, I feel too sat-up.”

And that you do, you may feel a little further away from his face than before but that should change soon.

“Let’s try more lube this time, see if that helps.”

You squirt some on the same finger as before, getting some on the one next to it, and place one of his legs over the top of yours for a better angle.

Your eyes meet in a silent agreement before you look back down to the task at hand, placing one of your own on his waist.

The finger enters him once more, able to make it to the knuckle fairly quickly this time.

You steadily insert the second, making Jayce groan quietly at the stretch. You begin moving your fingers in, out and around without prodding too much just to get him used to the feeling. He takes a gasp of air when you brush over his prostate.

“Is-“

“Just keep going.”

It’s not like Jayce to interrupt. Glancing up you notice him staring at the ceiling, a faint flush on his cheeks. Deeming him a bit more than okay, you continue.

“Alright.”

You find the spot once more, curling your fingers and putting some pressure against it. Jayce only lets out a breathy moan and lets his eyes fall closed briefly.

“Yea that’s… that’s good.”

You smirk at his reaction.

“Hm, that’s an improvement.”

You continue like this for around a minute more, making double sure he’ll be ready for the real thing. You probably would’ve gone on for longer if he hadn’t started to get impatient.

“I’m ready, it’s fine now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure, trust me.”

You take your fingers out and put some of the remaining lube on them on your ever-hardening dick. You grab the bottle and put some more on just to be safe.

“Just, c’mere, please.”

You shuffle closer to him on the bed, he puts his other leg on top your thigh without you having to ask him too. You bite your lip as you line yourself up, then slowly start pushing yourself in.

Jayce’s thighs flex as he tenses up.

“Just relax for me, nearly there…”

You think it good to start stroking him to distract from the foreign feeling. He sighs as you feel his body relax a little, you hook your other hand around one of his thighs near to his hips. Your bodies get pressed flush together as you enter him to the hilt.

“Ooookaaayyy…”

A breathy whisper from Jayce as he adjusts to the fullness inside of him. His hands land on you anywhere they can reach for support (and probably not knowing what to do with them otherwise). Needing some stimulation yourself, you roll your hips into him and lean down to kiss him too to distract from the movement. You both groan into the other’s mouth at all the new sensations.

Kissing down his jaw again he lets his head fall back and you feel his gentle pants against your ear.

“You feel so good Jayce, so tight.”

“M-more… please…”

He sounds hesitant, but equally as desperate. A tone you can’t resist.

You let your own need slip through the reigns as you start pulling your hips back more and more with each thrust. Jayce’s hands reach up your chest, one going up to squeeze your shoulder. He can barely contain his own noises as you find a steady but still gentle rhythm to fuck him to, now abandoning his dick in favour of holding his hips instead.

“C’mon, shit, you can do more.”

“We said we’d take it slow-“

“Fuck that…”, he looks up at you with those eyes you know all too well. His eyebrows furrowed but his eyes still wide- pupils blown,

“… so fuck me.”

You sigh and hoist one of his legs up so his calf rests on your shoulder. Your thrusts pick up again- only faster this time. He throws his head back as you make his body shift with them. An audible slapping sound echoes from your hips against his ass.

“Fuck!”

A light sheen begins to form on both of you, his dick now leaking against his navel- hard and twitching.

“God Jayce… doing so good f’me.”

You take hold of his cock in one hand and begin stroking in time with your thrusts, the other is placed next to his head to prop yourself up some more. This pushes him deeper into some sort of half-folded-missionary position. He moans as he looks down at the sight of himself getting fucked like this.

He throws his head back again to look up at you.

“Harder, please harder, I can take it, make me take it.”

You wouldn’t be surprised his he was rambling at this point and he already looks thoroughly fucked-out, so there’s not a chance you’re slowing down now.

“Fuckin’ hell, didn’t know you’d be so desperate for it.”

You let your head hang as you let go of his cock and opt for pulling his hips towards you more, dragging him down the pillows.

“Didn’t know it’d, it’d be so good- right there, please.”

Try to keep drilling into the same spot, fatigue starting to get the better of you with the pace Jayce has set.

“Always a… piece of work with you huh?”

Heavy breaths intertwine between you as you let your head fall just above Jayce’s shoulder, almost rutting into him like an animal. His moans and whines fuelling you now that you feel your legs start to shake-

“Harder.”

“No-“

“Why-“

“Need to cum, gotta pull out.”

“Inside...”

You groan into his shoulder as you feel his arms grip your back, nails digging into your flesh.

“Jayce… fuuuuck.”

The leg not pressed into his chest wraps around your waist, urging you not to move another inch. You come to a still as he presses you against him as best he can with his leg between the two of you, you can’t help but cum inside of him. He reaches down to touch himself as he arches his back into you, high-pitched whimpers being let out into your neck.

“Jayce-“

You feel his cum paint your stomachs as his walls spasm around your spent cock.

Both in a post-orgasm haze, you release your tight grip on the other. Just settling for a few seconds of being near each other before you start to get too warm against Jayce’s burning skin.

“We have to do that more often.”

“Come on, clean-up’s gonna be harder now that I came inside you.”

“It was better than I had thought it was going to be.”

You scoff and smile at his comment.

“I’m not one to over-hype things Jayce.”

— – - – — – - – —

A while later you two dry off after a shared shower, clean sheets on the bed. (courtesy of you, and only you).

“So, outta ten?”

Jayce tries to turn to look at you- already comfortable in bed- as he pulls on his sweat pants, stumbling a bit in his hunched flamingo-like position.

“Er, is that how we’re ranking sex now?”

“I don’t know, I just wanna know how it was. Thoughts, feelings, whatever.”

He doesn’t bother trying the strings at the front as he lays himself down across your legs.

“I told you already.”

“No I mean like, what happened to taking it slow you know?”

You smile knowingly at him, reading him like a book as he fidgets a bit.

“It was… really really good.”

“Aw, just good?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, before you wave a dismissive hand in his general direction.

“I get it, I get it.”

You both lay quietly for a few moments, both just taking in each other’s presence.

“Didn’t know you’d be a cumslut though-“

“O-kay, that’s enough talking for today.”

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[dustorangeheartssnow]

When It is said that Young Dick Grayson is seriously a consummate professional part of that means that as a kid, at least in the early years, c. age eight to, say, fourteen, he doesn’t hide his injuries from Bruce when Bruce directly drills him for an Accounting (“Robin.”) after each closecall or before every drive back to the cave. He def does start lying about it later so he can just continue stretching himself very thin and also because he becomes embarrassed that he gets hurt bc he should b better (I CHOOSE TO BELOEVE) and this is part of what sets Bruce off and sort of starts to corrupt their trust when DG is an older teenager but that’s all later bc they establish the trust first. And so The first time DG gets shot he handles it extremely calmly, quietly, undramatically, but upfrontly with exemplarité because that’s the way u must act to earn Bruces trust. And also he has pain management techniques so Bruce does the “Robin” thing that like means Report or Account and Dick is like “Through & through to the left shoulder” while not crying or writhing or whatever but also not being SO TENSE but holding it together calmly and not denying it BUT OBVIOUSLY INTERNALLY HURTING but not showing that and so this makes Bruce who is himself PANICKING calm down a little and Bruce is impressed by this because Dick is enacting the correct procedure and being very upfront. Like very professional. Like OK i trust u. And similarly although it is a good plot point for angst, in actuality Dick as Robin seeing his first like bloated corpse or dead bodies on the street or gruesome crime scene doesn’t really outwardly react and keeps it very exactly right and professional with the right mix of gravitas in the moment while going back to being playful and light as soon as it’s appropriate to do so and this also very much impresses Bruce too. he also does not exploit Bruce being truthserumed. He never asks questions of Bruce he jsut retrieves him and gets him the antidote ir back to the cave or whatever and the truth serum thing happens many times and then one day Bruce is truth serumed and Dick isn’t and Bruce can tell Dick is about to ask a question, and not just any question but dick is working his way up to the courage to ask a Serious Meaningful Question, and Bruce internally is maybe in that period where he’s beginning to realize how much Dick means to him and what role Dick is beginning to take for him and he is like so sick with agony about it but dick just asks like: “Do you think I’m funny?” or something and Bruce is so incredibly caught off guard like “of course” and dick has a very serious but inscrutable sage nodding with narrowed eyes reaction to this and that’s the only time dick asks Bruce something under the duress of truth serum but bruce like thinks about it and cannot figure that moment out

[nostalgebraist]

Thanks for this thoughtful review!

(BTW, for others – this is probably obvious but there are spoilers below the readmore, don't click unless you've read the book)

I'm going to use this as an opportunity to talk about one specific thing that bugs me about some reader reactions to my stuff. Therefore, most of what I say below will be negative (about your review), but I want to emphasize first that that's not a reflection of what I thought of it overall.

----

What I'm here now to talk about is this kind of thing:

There are parts of all his books, where I really think that the explanation for why they are the way they are is that they are "bad on purpose", and all the bullshit [note: in context "bullshit" seems to be meant as a neutral term for non-realist elements -nost] is a way of turning these shortcomings into strengths. The self-effacing voice which whispers that the characters aren't sufficiently well-drawn, are too cartoonish—well, what if that was the point? What if there was a reason for that, in the story?

And like... okay, there is sort of a sense in which this is true, sometimes, kinda. There is a grain of truth to this; it is getting at something real.

But it pains me to say that, because I don't want to encourage this kind of reading. Interpretations like this are occasionally correct but IMO they're much more common than they should be. IMO the right intuition is that this is a galaxy-brained, contrarian sort of take, a last resort you land on when you've ruled out everything else.

And not just with my work, with everything – I'm simply more aware of the problem when it comes to my work, because I wrote it and I'm aware of why I actually did things the way I did.

I've said this before, but watching the way that people react to my own fiction has been an eye-opening experience, one that has taught me things about reader (and viewer, etc.) reactions in general. Specifically, what I've learned was:

People's tastes are way more diverse than I had realized (before I started writing and sharing fiction). And they are diverse in a very fine-grained way; even if two readers have the same preferences about 90% of stuff, or 95%, they'll still diverge on some things. While it's not literally true that "every reader is a unique snowflake with a preference set that no one else shares," that is a very good first approximation of how things are.

Readers (including me!) have been trained by a lifetime of reading book/movie/etc. reviews to frame their preferences/reactions in a pseudo-objective "this is just how it is" way, like their own tastes have some special viewpoint-independent priority, a quality of "reality" or "accuracy" lacking in everyone else's tastes (which are all different, cf. 1). And this is not just a stylistic quirk of the way people write about fiction, it actually (IMO) feeds back into the underlying opinions behind the written commentary. It degrades people's ability to understand what it is they're looking at and their ability to make accurate inferences about the process of its creation.

----

Here's a sort of cartoonish schematic of the type of experience that led me to draw these conclusions. (And I suspect this is not just a thing that happens to me, I imagine it happens with any sort of work that "contains a lot of different types of stuff" the way mine does.)

Writer makes something that has X and Y and Z in it. Writer thinks X/Y/Z are "great tastes that taste great together." Writer is very pleased with the result.

Reader 1 has similar tastes to writer, says something brief about how they loved the book and it's a new favorite for them.

Reader 2 loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to X and not messed things up by doing so much Z.

Reader 3 is the reverse of their predecessor: they hate X, are OK with Y, love Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to Z and not messed things up by doing so much X.

Reader 4 loves X and Z – but they hate Y. They write a lengthy… you can fill in the rest. Imagine a whole bunch of these guys (readers 5, 6, etc).

Reader 17 has the same tastes as Reader 2: loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. But their lengthy review takes a different, in some sense "more charitable" angle, speculating that the inclusion of Z was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet X.

Reader 18 has the same tastes as Reader 3: hates X, is OK with Y, loves Z. But, they explain, X was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet Z.

Writer reads all these reviews and feels strange, dizzy. The "nicer" reviews like 17 and 18 are actually more uncomfortable to read than the "meaner" ones like 2 and 3.

"I don't know how to convince you guys," Writer thinks, "but I... I just liked all of it? I thought it was good? That was why I wrote it? (Why else would I have written it?)"

----

Or, as I wrote in that previously linked post from 2021, w/r/t TNC specifically (and making a slightly different but closely related point):

Some people say X was the worst part of TNC, some people say X was the best part. The story was a celebration of Y; the story was about how Y is laughably futile. It’s a letdown that we were never told more about Z; the reason TNC is good is that it leaves stuff like Z to the imagination. It was obvious we were meant to believe P; it is obvious we were meant to believe not-P; the ambiguity about whether P is tiresome literary masturbation; at least the story didn’t jump the shark by spelling out whether P! The reason people like TNC is, of course, that it has A, although nostalgebraist insisted on putting B in there too because he hasn’t fully perfected his formula yet / he somehow thinks B is good even though it isn’t / he thinks it’s funny how bad B is (but the joke tires). …and then someone else has same take, but with A and B flipped.

This exact sort of thing is of course happening again before our eyes with reactions to TAoHS.

I've encountered multiple readers who disliked most of the story but felt the ending (sort of) "redeemed it," and I've also encountered multiple readers who liked the story up until the ending but disliked the ending (or at least thought it was worse than the rest) – to say nothing of the many readers who liked (or disliked) the whole thing all the way through.

And this ending-related stuff is just one particularly obvious facet of a broader diversity in the overall reader response.

By now I know not to be surprised by this stuff, and even to find it kind of fun to watch... but I have to admit, it is still a dizzying and uncomfortable experience.

----

Now, as I said, it is sometimes true that things really are "bad on purpose."

But I think the interpreter's default hypothesis – which should be maintained by default unless convincing evidence against it can be brought forth – should be:

The writer thinks that the thing they wrote is good. They think the ideas are good and they think they executed them well. And they think this more-or-less homogeneously for everything in the work – there are no "bad but unfortunately necessary" parts from the writer's POV.

(At least, this should be the default with works that aren't making the writer much/any money. Obviously things are different with lucrative commercial fiction; there are plenty of well-paid hacks who know they're hacks and do it for the money, etc.)

Why should this be the default? Multiple reasons.

First: it takes a lot of effort to produce any sort of creative work. The writer thought that effort was worthwhile, for some reason – why?

The most straightforward explanation (and a very common one IMO) is that the writer simply believed in the thing that they were making. They believed the effort was worthwhile because it would yield a good product.

Second: as a writer you have an immense amount of freedom. It's difficult to overstate the extent of it. You are playing God, you decide the way that literally everything will be.

Obviously there are some constraints, cases where one part of a story will imply the existence of another or whatever.

But it's very rare that you actually get forced into "doing a thing you know you are bad at, badly." After all: why do that? No one's forcing you! Just do something else! You're God, you control everything!

(Note that this applies also to the very act of writing anything. No one is forcing you to write at all. If you can't come up with good ideas, nothing prevents you from just not writing your bad ones.)

Third: at least in my experience, "playing God" in this way requires a certain state of mind, a certain boldness and self-assurance, which is incompatible with thinking "yeah this is gonna suck but I have to do it" – but is very compatible with thinking "I am making something excellent and every part of it is excellent, hell yes."

Fourth: because of the previously noted diversity of reader preferences, it should not be surprising to any given reader that they find some parts of the work much better than others, even if the writer thought it was all excellent.

This outcome is predictable from the X/Y/Z stuff I talked about above. No clever interpretive work is required to explain it; it arrives pre-explained; it's simply what happens by default.

And finally: because, as I noted above, I think all of us are infected with "reviewer brainworms" and we need to be mindful of this fact.

(Just to be clear, I am not accusing OP of being more infected with said brainworms than anyone else; I'm still on my soapbox, giving a generic rant about a general issue, with OP as merely a jumping-off point.)

We've grown accustomed to the casual conflation between our own tastes and some (usually hazily imagined and under-theorized) sort of "objective, ideal artistic standards."

Outside of a few edge-case eccentrics who can be ignored for my present purposes, we do not do this because we've become intellectually convinced that

(a) such objective standards make sense and really "exist" or at least really matter and

(b) they just so happen to match our own preferences.

Rather, we've fallen into this habit because it's what the pros do: there's a standard style that professional critics and reviewers write in these days, and that style implies these stances. And if one writes (and thinks, in one's inner monologue) in this style, one can easily fall over backwards into uncritically believing (a) and (b) for no better reason than "I seem to already be talking as though I believe these things, hence it would be simple and convenient if I really did believe them."

But – even if we bracket the philosophical questions of whether (a) is in fact true, and (if it is) whose tastes in particular ought to be elevated in the way (b) presumes – even if we table all that for another day, still we ought to keep in mind how weird and audacious a move this is, this simultaneous assertion-without-explanation of the (a)+(b) pair.

We've gotten used to it by exposure, because "the pros" have normalized it. But in actual fact it is a pretty wild thing to just go and assume, given the X/Y/Z/etc. diversity of actual opinion!

If (b) is true for you (general "you" not OP), then it can't be true for me, because we're both unique snowflakes to a first approximation; indeed if (b) is true for you then (to a first approx.) it is only true for you. No one else's tastes have this magical relation to reality, just yours.

Holding the belief (b) about a given reviewer is conceivable-but-wild if we're only considering them in isolation. But once we bring a 2nd reviewer (with non-identical tastes) into the picture, who also believes (b), it's literally impossible to maintain that both of these people are fully right.

And then of course in real life there are not 2 but many, many readers out there, all of them unique snowflakes. And, while it is socially normal in our social context for each one of them to write like they're the chosen one blessed with that special (b)-magic, if you read enough such writing and actually think about what you're reading, it can't help but feel like a sort of game, like playing make-believe. As with most games, it can be very entertaining (for all parties involved), but we shouldn't confuse its amusing conceits for properties of the real world.

In the real world, the writer has their tastes, and you have yours. These tastes are probably not identical. The writer may be aware of the diversity of readerly tastes, and may thus be aware that tastes like yours are out there, but they have no special reason to consider you in particular, elevating you above all the other readers who are non-identical with them (and with you). The writer is dimly and abstractly aware of you, at best, as just another one of the people who will come along later, dislike some of their choices, assume that these choices were wrong in some "objective" way the writer knew about at the time, and then speculate as to why the writer would do something they know is wrong. For every choice, and every way of making every choice, one can imagine a reviewer who responds to it in this way, and quite often these reviewers actually materialize once the work is available for consumption. If you try to reason about these guys in advance, as a writer, it'll stop you in your tracks (if nothing else because there are 2+ of them whose takes are mutually incompatible). You've gotta have some other standard of value to rely on.

So, as a reviewer, if you ask "why would someone ever make a choice I don't like?" and try to pick at this question, you are quite likely heading toward a dead end. The writer wasn't thinking about you (or people like you). They were applying their own, distinct standard of value.

Better to ask: "suppose there was a person who actually liked all of this. What would they be like? How would they be similar to me / different from me? And what, if anything, can I conclude from that?"

The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

My fourth novel, The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, is now available in full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

[sugdenlovesdingle]

I am a slut for Hurt/comfort first “I love you” 🥺🫶🏼

Hope you’re having a fantastic day 🥰

Sorry this took FOREVER, but I hope you like it!

(I’ll post on AO3 after I've had some sleep)

----

"You could always come along. Half naked men are relevant to your interests these days." Eddie teased and Buck rolled his eyes.

"There is only one man I'm interested in, and I prefer him completely naked." he grinned at Tommy who leaned over the table to kiss him.

"Likewise."

"Can someone please remind me why I'm friends with you two again?" Eddie complained.

The three of them were sat at Buck's kitchen table, grabbing a bite to eat together before Eddie and Tommy were going to another fight in Vegas.

"I saved your life." Buck reminded him around a bite of food.

"I've saved your life." Eddie shot back.

"Free babysitting."

"Well with Chris still in El Paso, I don't think I'm going to be asking for your services in that department any time soon. If ever again..."

"Chris will come around." Tommy started sincerely, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "And I get you free tickets to fights and free helicopter flights to exclusive fights in Vegas and back. Which you could be more grateful for."

"I'm beginning to wonder if that means getting all the details on your sex life is really worth it."

"Hey, you don't have to come. I can always go with Evan and get my buddy to set us up with a nice hotel room on the strip." Tommy said turning to Buck. "The two of us, a king size bed, maybe a jacuzzi... Not leaving the room for an entire weekend..."

"And then you'll complain about about having missed the fight of the century when we get back." Buck reminded him but happily let Tommy kiss him.

"There will be other fights. A weekend in Vegas with you sounds pretty good. We could hit up the casinos. I'm pretty good at poker."

"I beat you the other day." Buck smirked.

"That was intentional." Tommy said with a wink.

"Why would you let him win?" Eddie asked, downing the last of his beer. "Why would you play with him in the first place? Mister over competitive."

"Hey!" Buck protested while Tommy just shrugged.

"I had my reasons."

Eddie narrowed his eyes.

"This is another sex thing, isn't it?" he held up his hands. "No, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Tommy laughed and finished the last of his food.

"We should get going soon. We need to still drive over to Harbor from here."

Eddie nodded.

"But no more details about your sex life or you can go alone."

"Noted." Tommy said, getting up and putting their dirty dishes in the sink. "Don't bother with those ok? We can do them together tomorrow." he told Buck.

"Sure. You coming back here after then?"

Tommy smiled.

"If you want me to."

Buck stood up and wrapped his arms around Tommy's neck.

"I want you to. I don't care how late it gets, I want you here. And you better wake me up if I'm asleep."

"I'm not making any promises in that department. But I'll promise I'll be there when you wake up. Deal?"

Buck pretended to think it over.

"I guess I can live with that." he joked and the two of them shared another kiss, getting lost in the moment until Eddie loudly cleared his throat.

"Come on Tomás, we have a flight to catch."

Tommy reluctantly stepped out of Buck's embrace.

"The flight is me." he glanced at his watch. "But yeah we should get going." he shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his phone and keys, and with one more quick kiss and a promise to see Buck later, he followed Eddie out the door.

Buck sighed.

As much as he liked the fact that his boyfriend and best friend got on so well, he wouldn't have exactly hated it to spend his night off with said boyfriend instead of watching TV on his own.

He'd only known Tommy for a couple of months but it was getting harder and harder to remember what his life was like without him in it. He didn't particularly want to either.

Just thinking about Tommy made him smile like a teenager with a crush, but lately he was starting to feel like this thing between them was getting more serious. A deeper connection. Not just sex or romantic dates but also being content to just exist in each other's space.

Like spending the night watching the latest movie Tommy insisted he had to watch or trying out a new recipe with Tommy sitting at his kitchen table, keeping him company and being his guinea pig.

It felt a lot like love.

He was pretty sure Tommy felt the same, even if they hadn't actually said it yet.

He really wanted to though, but he was still waiting for that perfect moment. Maybe he'd tell him when they woke up together in the morning.

He smiled to himself as he scrolled through his DVR to find the documentary on bees he'd recorded earlier that week and got comfortable on the sofa as he hit play.

The documentary was interesting enough but still his mind kept wandering. He tried to remember the names of the guys fighting so he could check the score, when his phone suddenly rang in his hand.

He frowned at the screen, not recognising the number. He debated letting it go to voicemail but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Evan Buckley?"

"Yes, this is Evan Buckley... Who is this?"

"My name is Laura Greenwood, I'm a nurse at Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre, and I'm calling you on behalf of Edmundo Diaz. I have you listed as his emergency contact, is that correct?"

"Yes, yes that is correct. What's going on? Is Eddie in hospital?"

"Mister Diaz has just been brought in following a car accident."

"A what?! Is he ok?"

"His injuries are non life threatening as far as I've been told." the nurse told him in a practised calm voice. "Are you able to come to the hospital?"

"Uh yes, yes I'm on my way." Buck told her, rushing around his loft to grab his stuff and put his shoes on. "Wait... Was there anyone else brought in with him? Is there a Thomas Kinard with him? Was he admitted too?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that sir. When you get here you can go straight to the ER and they'll take you to see mister Diaz. Perhaps he will be able to tell you more about any other passengers involved in the accident."

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Eddie was in a car accident... but he'd been in a car with Tommy. They'd taken his truck. So what did that mean for Tommy? Had someone crashed into them? Was Tommy alright? Was he even still alive?

He all but threw his Jeep in the first available parking space he came across, and only just remembered to take the keys out of the ignition and lock it.

The hospital was outside the 118's jurisdiction, so he wasn't as familiar with it as some of the others in the city, but he found the ER with ease after making himself follow the signs.

"But was there a Thomas Kinard brought in too?" he tried with the nurse who was taking him to see Eddie.

"Are you next of kin?"

"He's my boyfriend."

The nurse nodded.

"And are you his emergency contact as well? Or listed as next of kin anywhere?"

"I... I'm... No... We've only been together a couple of months... we haven't had that conversation yet."

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and Buck knew what she was about to say.

"I'm very sorry, but I can't give you any information if you're not next of kin."

"Right... yeah... I understand..."

"If you know who his emergency contact is, they can update you... or tell us it's ok to tell you."

"C-can... I know you're not allowed to give me any details but... is he here? Is he alive?" Buck tried. "Please. I just need to know he's alive."

The nurse looked at him for a minute, weighing her options, then started typing on a tablet.

"Kinard? K-I-N-A-R-D?"

"That's right."

"He's here." She confirmed. "He's alive. They're working on him. That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry." She started walking again, and Buck had to jog a few steps to catch up with her when his brain had managed to process the information she'd given him.

The nurse pulled open a curtain around a bed and Eddie looked up from the magazine he was flicking through. He looked a little banged up but mostly in one piece.

"Mister Diaz, there's someone here to see you." she stepped aside and Buck made himself walk up to the bed and greet his best friend.

"What happened?" he asked after the nurse had left them to it.

"We got t-boned by some drunk idiot in an expensive sports car." Eddie told him. "Tommy got the worst of it. Have you seen him yet? I figured he'd be higher on your list of priorities."

Buck bit his lip. He was happy to see his best friend was ok, but he couldn't help but worry about his boyfriend.

"They won't let me see him. I'm not family, I'm not his emergency contact, I'm nothing. They called me because of you... All that nurse told me is that he's alive."

Eddie gave him a sympathetic look.

"Do you know who his emergency contact is? Does he have family in LA? Siblings?"

"He was born in LA. His dad still lives in the house he grew up in... But they hate each other."

"Ok so not his dad then."

Buck shook his head.

"He also has a brother but I don't even know his name." he rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't even know the name of my boyfriend's brother." he said dejected. "What if he dies? I don't know his family, I've only met a few of his work friends at Harbor, and I don't know any of his friends outside of work. Nobody would even let me know when the funeral is. I don't even know if he would want a funeral. I barely know my own boyfriend!"

He was spiralling and well on his way to a panic attack.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Eddie did his best to snap him out of it by squeezing his shoulder and making him look at him. "Tommy is not going to die ok? He's the one that called 911 after the accident. He had a head wound and they had to cut him out of the car because his leg got pinned. But he was bitching about his truck getting ruined and how it would take him ages to get it back in working order so he was definitely conscious when they got him out. "

Buck made himself take a few deep breaths to compose himself. Tommy worrying about his car was good. That meant he was awake and conscious enough to know what was happening.

"What kind of head wound? Was it bad?"

"Not as bad as it could have been." Eddie told him after a beat and Buck knew he was choosing his words carefully so he wouldn't freak him out. A move straight from the LAFD handbook.

"What does that even mean? There was no brain matter on the airbag?"

Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend's dramatics.

"The idiot hit Tommy's side pretty hard. Almost flipped us over. We got knocked around the car pretty bad and he hit his head on... something. I don't know, it all happened really fast."

Buck nodded and just about managed to stop himself from shaking Eddie to give him more details.

"I think I passed out for a few minutes... because the next thing I remember is Tommy asking for my phone, well... more like demanding, because he couldn't find his." Eddie continued, scrunching up his face trying to remember more details. "I think he used my phone to call 911... but I don't know what happened to it." He looked around. "They haven't given me my stuff yet."

"I'll go find someone..." Buck moved to stand up but Eddie stopped him.

"The phone can wait. We need to figure out what we're going to do about Tommy."

"What do you mean what we're going to do about Tommy? I'm not family, they won't let me see him."

"I know... but maybe we can figure out a way around that. That nurse from before likes me... maybe if I flirt with her a little she'll tell me what room he's in? Or how he's doing?"

"Just how hard did you hit your head in the crash? I think you have a concussion. That's never going to work."

"Hey, I'm charming and sexy! I'm hot!"

"I've seen you puking up your guts after bad sushi and hungover and praying in Spanish on my bathroom floor after you decided to mix beer and tequila. You are neither charming or sexy."

"Well you try it then! Or maybe one of the male nurses will be easier to persuade."

"I'm not going to flirt with a guy to get info on my boyfriend!" Buck said exasperated and stood up. "I'm just going to calmly talk to the nurses again and explain the situation... maybe they can tell me who his emergency contact is. Maybe it's his brother and I can introduce myself and he can tell me how Tommy is doing."

Eddie mumbled something under his breath but Buck ignored him and went in search for someone who could tell him more about Tommy.

He was almost at the nurses station when he heard a familiar name.

"I'm here for Thomas Kinard. I got a call he was in an accident."

"Are you family?"

"I might as well be." Buck had a clear view of the man now but he didn't recognise him. "I'm his emergency contact. You called me."

"Name?"

"Sal Deluca. Salvatore."

The nurse typed something on her computer.

"He was in a car accident. Suspected fractured pelvis, head laceration, suspected broken ribs and open tibia fracture, as well as suspected ruptured spleen. He's in surgery now." She told the man. "You can take a seat here and someone will come update you when they can."

The man looked like he wanted to argue with the nurse but apparently decided it wasn't worth it and just sat down on a nearby chair and took his phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen and put the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, it's me." he paused to listen. "No I haven't seen him yet. He's in surgery. Pretty banged up. He's gonna need help when he gets out. We can't let him go back to his place on his own." Another pause. "I don't know, Gina." A slight irritation in his voice. "We'll figure it out when the time comes." another pause and a sigh. "Yeah. I'll call you when I know more. Yeah. Love you too. Bye."

Buck watched him put his phone away and sit back in the chair. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and walked up to the man.

"Hi... uhm... you don't know me but...-"

"Look, man, let me stop you there. If you're the one that hit my buddy and want to clear your conscience now or something, don't bother, I'm not interested. He'll probably forgive you when he's awake, because he's an idiot like that, but don't come to me with that shit."

"What? No. Tha-that's not... I'm Evan Buckley. Tommy is my boyfriend."

The man sat up.

"You're Evan?"

"Yes... Has Tommy mentioned me?"

"Yeah. Hasn't stopped talking about you for the past few months. I feel like I know you better than my own wife by now."

"Oh... I uh... h-he hasn't told me a-about you..." Buck stammered.

"Of course not." The man rolled his eyes. "We've been friends for over 20 years, he's my both daughters' godfather, but he won't tell his new boyfriend about me." he continued sarcastically. "I guess he just wanted to make sure you're not an asshole like the last idiot he dated. Andrew really fucked him up."

"Y-yeah..." Buck agreed, not wanting to let on he didn't have a clue who Andrew was.

The man stood up and offered Buck his hand.

"I'm Sal. Were you in there with him?"

"No, my best friend was. They were going to Vegas to watch a fight." Buck explained and filled him in on the details.

Sal turned out to be easy enough to talk to once he'd decided Buck was alright, and the two of them talked about Tommy, the job, the 118, and the grudge Sal still held against Bobby.

After some time, a tired looking doctor came to update them on Tommy's condition and a nurse took them up to the floor so they could see him.

"One visitor at a time." she warned them.

"You go first." Buck told Sal who shook his head and pushed him towards the door.

"He's not going to want to see me, trust me. You go sit with him, I'll go update my wife."

Buck wanted to protest but Sal was already walking away and tapping his phone screen. He looked through the little window in the door and saw Tommy, looking way too small and frail for a man his size.

His leg was in a cast and there were various bandages around his head and body. He glanced at the monitor beside the bed and watched the lines move with Tommy's heartbeat before gently opening the door and going in.

He grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and sat down as close to the bed he could get. He watched Tommy's chest rise and fall with each breath and carefully took his hand in his.

"Hey... You scared the shit out of me..." he said softly. "I got the call about Eddie and I jumped in my car right away... And Eddie's fine, he'll be alright... But they wouldn't tell me anything about you. I didn't even know if you were alive." He brought Tommy's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. "When you get out of here, we need to talk." he said and winced at how it sounded. "Not... not like that. I'm not breaking up with you. I just... our jobs are dangerous you know. And next time you get injured on the job... or just... anything happens to you... I want to know what happened. I want to be able to come see you without Eddie thinking he can flirt with a nurse and convince her to let me." He laughed a little. "You know that would never have worked."

The next few hours went by in a blur. Tommy woke up a few times but was way too out of it to have anything resembling a conversation, Sal dipped in and out of the room, and even Eddie had come by to check on Tommy.

The hours turned into days, and the days turned into a week. Tommy's condition had improved enough for him to be moved onto a regular ward and for the dose of the heavy painkillers to be lowered so he was awake for longer periods of time and more aware of what was happening around him.

And also getting more and more annoyed by the fact he couldn't move around as freely as he'd like, practically begging the nurses to get him a pair of crutches even if he was nowhere near well enough for that.

"Hey there sleeping beauty, welcome back to the land of the living. If you wanted to see me that badly, you could have just picked up the phone, you know? You didn't have to crash your car." Sal joked when he walked back into Tommy's room after updating his wife and checking in at work on day 8.

"You know me, always had a flair for the dramatic." Tommy replied and gave him a tired smile. "How are the girls? Evan said you went to call Gina."

"They're fine. Torey wants to come see her uncle T but we talked her down to facetime when you're feeling better."

"Yeah... when these bruises clear up... and the stitches come out. Or can be covered up somehow. I don't want to scare her." Tommy said, gesturing to his head. He was looking a whole lot better than when he'd first been brought in but the bruises were only just starting to fade.

"She's seen you first thing in the morning before you've had your coffee, she can handle a couple of bruises."

Buck sat back and let the two of them talk. He'd gotten to know Sal a little over the past week or so and he liked the guy. Even if he was still kind of intimidated by him.

But it was clear he cared about Tommy and Buck was happy Tommy had a best friend like him. Someone who would drop everything to be there for him. Someone who would always have his back.

Though it was also frustrating that between Sal, the hospital staff, Tommy's crew from Harbor, and various members of the 118, Buck had barely had a moment alone with him.

And he didn't need an audience for what he wanted to tell him.

"I promised Torey I'd take her up to see the lights."

"So save it for her next birthday." Sal argued and Buck realised he'd zoned out and didn't have a clue what they were talking about. "Or wait until she turns 21 and take her to Vegas."

"Oh sure. 'happy birthday sweetheart, you'll get your present in 11 years' I'm sure she'll understand." Tommy said sarcastically and Sal laughed.

"You know she'll remember. And then Bella will want to go too when she turns 21. So you better make sure you get back in that chopper so you can take my girls to Vegas when they're old enough."

Tommy groaned.

"When Isabella is 21, I'll be..." he shook his head. "I don't want to think about that."

Sal sat back in his chair.

"They grow up way too fast." he settled on. "Feels like only yesterday that she couldn't even wrap her little hand all the way around my finger, and now she's talking about inviting boys to her birthday party."

Buck did his best to focus on the conversation, even if he didn't know Sal's family, but he kept zoning out and his eyelids were getting heavy. He hadn't exactly had a good night's sleep at Tommy's bedside, and now the worst seemed to be behind them, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him.

"Evan." someone squeezed his hand. "Evan, hey, wake up."

"Wha-what?" he blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up straighter. "I'm here, I'm awake. I'm here. Are you ok?" he searched Tommy's face for any sign of discomfort or even pain."

"I'm ok. But you just fell asleep sitting up. Why don't you go home to get some rest. in an actual bed."

Buck frowned.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm fine. I just... closed my eyes for a second. I'm fine now, I promise."

"You sound like my daughter when she doesn't want to go to bed." Sal cut in. "She's 8. And I usually pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed anyway. So don't try me, Buckley."

Tommy laughed a little but then turned serious.

"Evan, you're exhausted. Why don't you call Howie to take you home. Just for a couple of hours." he pleaded. "I've got Sal here to keep me company, and all these wires stuck to me so they can make sure I'm alright... I'm ok now, I promise. It's your turn to rest now."

"I'm fine." Buck insisted. "I'll get a coffee from the machine later. I'm fine."

"Evan..."

"Tommy, I love you, but please stop trying to get me to leave. I'm not leaving until you are." Buck told him, and brushed a kiss over Tommy's knuckles to emphasise his point.

"Ev... I... You... Did you... mean... that...?"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Not that... the... other thing..."

"The other thing?" Buck mumbled and tried to replay the last part of their conversation in his mind. Tommy, I love you. "Oh... t-that... I..."

"It's ok. You don't have to explain. You're exhausted, I get it. It's fine." Tommy rambled.

"No, I... I... did.. do... mean it. I just... didn't... realise?"

"I'm going to... go buy some cigarettes." Sal said and got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"You don't smoke." Tommy pointed out.

"I'll start." Sal replied and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two men alone.

"Are you cold? Do you want me to fluff up your pillow? Do you want some water? Do you want me to go so you can sleep?" Buck rambled, fussing with Tommy's blanket.

"Evan... tell me... did you mean it? It's fine if you didn't. I can handle it. Just tell me. It's alright. We're just having fun, right? You didn't sign up for all of this. It's fine. You can just go. I'll call you when I'm better. Maybe we can go to that club you found online the other day. I mean, it's gonna be a while before I can dance again but... -"

"Tommy!" Buck interrupted. "Shut up. Please." he carefully sat down on the bed next to Tommy's hip and put his hand on his uninjured leg. "I did mean it. I just... didn't mean to just blurt it out like that. I wanted to make it romantic. Maybe a candlelit meal at home. Some music playing in the background, maybe a nice glass of wine... and then I'd take your hand..." he paused to do just that. "And I'd look into your eyes. And I'd tell you that these past few months have been amazing, That you have been amazing. That you make me happier than I ever thought I could be." he carefully leaned in to press a kiss to Tommy's lips. "And then I'd tell you I love you. I love you so much. And then in a perfect world, you'd say it back and we'd have the best night of our lives."

Tommy smiled.

"That sounds amazing. And I love you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's kind of scary... I've never felt this way about anyone before... and definitely not this quickly... but yeah, yes I do love you Evan."

Buck leaned in for another kiss.

"I really wish we could do more right now. I wish I could hold you." he gently ran his hand up and down Tommy's good arm.

"I know... Me too."

"When you get out of here, I'm going to cook for you. All of your favourite foods. I even found a recipe for spumoni online and I'm going to make it for you." Buck promised. "It probably won't be as good as your grandma's, though, but I’ll settle for second place." he joked.

"I'm sure I'll love it. Because I love you."

"I love you too." Buck replied. "And I could really get used to hearing you say that."

"Good thing I'm planning on saying it a lot then."

[butterflywingswrites]

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

giving caitlin a massage on vacation part 1

caitlin flopped down in the middle of the bed. yes one bed with your hot friend you have a crush on is probably not the best idea but the hotel was already expensive and you refused to let caitlin pay for everything like she insisted

“i can’t believe this fancy hotel doesn’t have massages. i swear it said they had on the website” caitlin sighed, she was really looking forward to the post-plane massage

“i’ll give you a massage”

“right now?” you were surprised that she was taking you up on your offer, shes normally very reserved

“yeah. take your clothes off” you paused “i think that’s how massages are supposed to be done”

you averted your eyes as she took her clothes off in an attempt to be respectful of your friendship. you were both single. she knew you were bi and you knew she was ‘sexually open’ (but didn’t speak on it publicly because she didn’t need people knowing her private business) so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could hook up this week but she’s never responded to your flirting in a manner other than friendly, so you wanted to respect her boundaries

“on my back or on my front?” she kept her underwear and bra on. there’s the reserved caitlin you knew

“i’ll get your shoulders first. lie down on your stomach” you allowed yourself to look at her body as she laid down. you’re a thighs girl through and through but those arms and abs are impossible to ignore. caitlin surprised you by unhooking her bra, lifting her chest a bit, lowering the straps off her arms, and throwing her bra off the bed. but you weren’t going to complain about a pretty girl taking her bra off in front of you. you placed your legs over her hips to get in a good position and started to massage her shoulders. she let out a loud satisfied groan. fuck. you were already wet one second in

“i’m so tense i really needed this” you continued to work on her strong shoulders while trying to contain your arousal. the soft moans and sweet whimpers she made were insanely hot and it was already difficult to focus. you moved down to her back. you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable so you kept your hands away from her side boob. she seemed to sense your hesitancy

“just really manhandle me. go as hard as you can” you placed your hands on her back and let your fingers graze her side boob. she didn’t object so you continued to work on her back. again with the soft moans and sweet whimpers. as you got to the bottom of her back, you considered whether you should massage over or under her underwear. you decided over just to make sure she was comfortable. she squeaked when you put your hands on her ass

“is this ok?”

“yeah of course. i was just a little surprised. keep going. please” the bit of desperation in her voice turned you on even more. you continued to work on her ass as you scooted down her body to get in a better position. you breathe in a little as you finally put your hands on her thighs. they’re so muscular and would look amazing on top of your shoulders. you pulled her legs apart to get more leverage and you couldn’t help but notice there was a wet spot on her underwear. fuck. you smiled to yourself. if the only thing that happens between you and caitlin is that you made her wet by having your hands all over her, you would be happy with that. more soft moans and sweet whimpers. you held back your own moans as you, a thigh girl, massaged the most gorgeous girl’s gorgeous thighs. you took your time on her thighs, you were enjoying yourself and she’ll stop you when she’s ready. the moans became less soft and caitlin eventually put her hands on yours to stop their movements

“can you do my front now?” she sounded a little desperate as if she was trying hard not to expose that she was turned on

“yeah. turn over” she turned over, exposing her tits and abs to you. you quickly put your eyes on her pretty face so she wouldn’t see you taking in her body. she put her hands up to cover her chest. you smoothed her shiny hair down and examined her flushed cheeks. she looked amazing under you and you could easily see yourself being on top of her again and again

“is this helping you? are you less tense now?” you had to say something so you wouldn’t kiss her and potentially make things weird

“yes this feels amazing”

“let me get your tits” you said as you pushed some stray hair behind her ear “you’ve been working so hard all season, you deserve a full body massage”

“nah you can skip them. they’re small they don’t need any attention”

“small and cute and perfect. they deserve all the attention” she rolled her eyes but gave you a cute little smile. you moved your hands from her beautiful face down to her chest, nudging her hands off her tits and replacing them with yours. you massaged her tits and rubbed your thumbs over her nipples. her eyes closed and her mouth opened slightly. you could see her damn tongue that she was always sticking out but never putting it where it belongs (your mouth). soft moans and sweet whimpers left her mouth again. eventually you moved your hands off her tits and down her abs. they were so tight and toned she must do crunches constantly. your looked up at her face. she seemed to be enjoying herself so you decided to be brave and dip your fingers below her underwear waistline as you rubbed your thumb in circles around her bellybutton. she raised her eyebrows but didn’t object to your hand placement. you took your hand out of her underwear and once again separated her legs. did the wet spot get bigger? fuck. instead of starting at the top of her thighs, you decided to tease her and start at her knee.

you put both of your hands on her right thigh, massaging up as slowly as possible. god her legs are stunning. the higher your hands got the louder her moans got. when you eventually got to the top of her thigh you slowed down even more and ‘accidentally’ grazed the wet spot with your fingers. she let out a particularly loud moan so you moved your hands to just above her left knee. you laughed a little to yourself at her frustrated face and obvious irritation but you knew the payoff to the teasing would be worth it. as you moved your hands up her thigh as slow as possible, her soft moans got louder and her sweet whimpers became more needy. you once again ‘accidentally’ grazed the wet spot when you got to the top of her thigh. she let out a long moan and made a face that was clear she was thinking. you ran your fingers over the wet spot again. she grabbed your hands with her right hand and the back of your neck with her left hand. she pulled you down to her with her left hand and finally puts her tongue where it belongs (your mouth)

[fireheartpages]

interlude | b.d

bodhi durran x reader chapter two. series masterlist summary: So, he made a plan. He would work his way into your atmosphere. Get your attention somehow, manage to win you over. He didn’t know what it was, only that his interest would only be satiated by one thing: knowing you. word count: 1.8k notes: kind of second person pov, it's mostly all bodhi's pov though. canon-typical violence. bodhi is such a sweetheart ok. this is a little brain baby because i wanted to dive a little more into his brain so i could get a good feel of where this was going! pls enjoy reading bc i really enjoyed writing it, i love a good character study and that’s well and truly what this is!

When Bodhi had seen the dragons after parapet as a first year, he had almost been apart of the group that ran.

They were menacing—terrifying, and for a brief moment, he wondered why more people didn’t have the common sense to turn around in their presence. Leave them be. Simply try something else. Like maybe something that encompassing and powerful should just be left alone.

His anxiety had eaten through every nerve ending in his body until he was barely able to stay on his feet. But he did. He stayed standing, and when Garrick leaned over and whispered to him not to move—lest he incur the wrath of such a colossal beast—he listened. He planted his feet on the ground and kept his head held high. This was his life now. This was the card he had been dealt, and deal with it he would.

It was this attitude that had gotten him bonded to his own dragon: Cuir, the massive green with a quick tail and even quicker tongue.

She was a mother hen if he’d ever met one. Half the time she was making sure Bodhi had an adequate meal and enough sleep, and the other time she was the backbone he’d grown and hardened in the quadrant.

She’d gotten him through all of the hardest things he’d done within the quadrant. His first year had been rough—not incredibly eventful by most standards, but enough to put him through the wringer.

Nothing had made him feel more inadequate than watching all of his friends develop signets while his own lie dormant. Cuir had started channeling almost immediately. Her trust in him was implicit, but he had worried it was misplaced. He worried he would just never develop one. Worried that he would just burn up and never amount to anything.

But there never seemed to be a danger of it. Never seemed to be a surge of power with the threat. He could feel it, and he could channel into lesser magics, but there was no signet. Nothing.

Everyone else in his squad had a signet. They had even been developing and training them. But not Bodhi.

It was only a few weeks before the end of the year, going on a mission for the rebellion and suffering through Xaden’s taunting when he realized his signet had developed. He just hadn’t used it yet.

Xaden had swarmed his feet with shadows, nipping at his ankles like they were viscous animals, and they all watched as the shadows seemed to burn up.

No one was more surprised than Bodhi was.

“Light?” Garrick had asked.

Xaden shook his head. “No, I—I felt that.”

Then, during War Games, he realized what it was.

Some asshole from first wing was a fire wielder, and he had it out for Marked ones. He sent a wall of fire at Bodhi, completely intent on killing him, and Bodhi had thrown his hands up. And then nothing happened. The flame sputtered out, and—oh.

A twist of his hand, and he had rendered the asshole incapable of using his own signet.

The other rider tried again, and Bodhi was intentional with it this time. He twists his hand again, imagining it was a dial on someone else’s power, and he watched as the flames seemed to retreat back into him.

Satisfaction was a tangible thing in his chest. Pride filled his bond with Cuir. There was a roar from someone behind him, and Bodhi couldn’t help but just fucking smirk at the guy.

“Nice try.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Durran!”

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that!” Bodhi called as he mounted his green, knowing it was a taunt. He was top of his wing in sparring. He’d lost to one other person during challenges ever. In that moment, Bodhi felt unstoppable.

He suddenly became the most useful tool his squad—hell, his whole wing. Needless to say, they won War Games that year.

The Executive Officer title came as no surprise, not after the display of power he had shown in the latter half of the year. It did, however, paint a target on his back. No one liked that Marked ones were working their way up in the ranks. Him, Garrick, Xaden, they were the pentacle of everything leadership had hoped rebellion kids would never become—good at their fucking jobs.

But Bodhi had decided he refused to show them what they were looking for. Including anything less than perfect. He would be a powerful rider. He would master his signet. He would be a just officer. He would do everything he could to help with the rebellion. He would be the perfect soldier for Navarre, so they could never suspect he was an even better soldier elsewhere.

And then he watched you make a dance of the parapet.

He couldn’t resist the interest that followed, the way you captured his attention simply by being there. You were meant for a stage, not the hardened walls of Basgiath. And yet.

You were incredible. Skilled and talented. You were kind, and witty, and good gods he would give anything to be the center of your attention. You were like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

So, he made a plan. He would work his way into your atmosphere. Get your attention somehow, manage to win you over. He didn’t know what it was, only that his interest would only be satiated by one thing: knowing you.

Step one: observe. Figure out your likes and dislikes, your habits and interests, who your friends were. Xaden’s weird interest in Violet helped, gave him an excuse. He watched you during challenges, even got the chance to spar with you. Would watch you slip those gloves on your hands every morning as you run to catch up with your squad. Watched you dominate the Gauntlet despite the odds stacked against you.

Step two: get an in. Ané was the cadet in the healer quadrant that always seemed to be stuck with him when he came in with any particularly nasty wounds. A sprained wrist, too-deep cut, and one time, even a broken rib or two he’d gotten on a very much not sanctioned flight to drop off some weapons over the border. That was all his fault, but it was hard to explain away when no one had observed it. But Ané was kind, like you, and when he explained what he’d seen of your hands, Ané seemed to know what it was. And have a solution.

Step three: delivery. It had taken Ané minutes to make a balm for you, and he kept it on him until the next time he saw you. He had felt like he was ambushing you, jogging up to you in the courtyard as you headed back from the infirmary, but he was excited. To say the least. Not being able to do so had never crossed his mind, so when you’d nearly rejected it, he had almost crumbled right then and there. But then you’d taken it from him, and gods, the look on your face—he wanted to bottle the feeling in his chest, the light in your eyes. And when you’d told him about home? Trusted him with little pieces of yourself—the cold you hated, your mom’s role in the damn rebellion, how you’d ended up in the quadrant. The high he felt was better than winning War Games.

Step four: make you like him. You were a hard shell to crack, but he was working on it. He was doing his damndest. He would give you as many little pieces of himself as he could. Find you during Threshing and talk down your anxiety. If you could admit your history to him, he could tell you a little about his. You weren’t Marked physically, but from the burden you carried, you were marked in another way. On your soul.

Step five: make you fall for him. Not that he’d fallen for you. He wasn’t, like, in love with you or anything. He just—liked you. Yeah. Really, really liked you. Cuir thought he was full of shit, but she didn’t know everything. (Even though she reminded him many times that she, indeed, did.) And the more he got to know you, the more he liked. He would teach you how to spar, and make you give him something in return. He didn’t care about flying like you. In fact, you were terrifying in the air. Said you weren’t meant to be a rider and yet you rode like you were born for it. He just wanted to spend time for you. And if he got to touch you while you sparred? In the most innocent way, of course. No funny business. Unless you have the green light, then—

Then you started pulling away.

He missed seeing you for days at a time, sometimes an entire week. He felt it like a phantom limb.

It had only then occurred to him then just how thoroughly you had encompassed every part of him. Just how easily he had gotten you mixed into every aspect of his day. How much he looked forward to seeing you until he was deprived of you. Until he didn’t have access to your wit and your laugh anymore.

Seeing you on the flight field had been nothing less than a shock. He had recognized Shocair before she had even seen them. He was still thinking of the most recent drop when their little group had stumbled across her.

And somehow, deep in his gut, he knew. He knew that if you discovered them, found out what they were doing, that they were working with the resistance… You wouldn’t say a word. In fact, he knew you would jump to help.

Those thoughts had sprung forward without him realizing, and it was like they were caressed, cupped in his head and—it was a weird feeling. Almost like someone ran a hand through the pond that was his mind. Not unlike the one he got around Xaden sometimes. The one that flared something in his channel.

And then Shocair’s wing lifted and you stepped out and Bodhi’s heart about stopped beating. You looked run through. Tired. Still beautiful. Beaten down.

Xaden had gone on offensive, but you handled it with ease. With the support of Shocair, of course. When you said you slept on the flight field, it was like his world had stopped spinning.

Something was wrong, something was deeply, deeply wrong. He would have done anything to fix it.

But you kept icing him out. And it hurt like hell.

He wasn’t going to push, but damn him if he wanted to. There was a moment there where he thought he might have cracked you. But he wasn’t a fire wielder, so he couldn’t melt your ice, and he wasn’t an inntinnsic, so he couldn’t figure it out for himself.

So he walked away. And he felt like a damned coward for it.

[graementality]

behold?? my full interpretation on all of the main factors of CCCC!! I don't know what compelled me to write all this but here we are. (whoops this got LONGG)

enjoy!

[disclaimer that this is my own interpretation and, while I take alot from canon, some of it will be closer to the fanon side of things. ]

[disclaimer 2 that I get all writery in certain parts and essentially write "from the characters' perspective" so those bits aren't MY OWN opinions, it's what I think they would feel about certain things C:]

[disclaimer 3 that alot of this is me stating the obvious, aswell as making them out to seem quite horrible, I promise I love them all and while they do have many flaws, they have good moments too </3 uhh ok yeah don't kill me with rocks pls]

Heart

• first of all: Heart has a huge victim complex. whether intentionally or not, he will always play the victim- he can get quite emotionally manipulative in this sense too. It can never be his fault- "he was provoked" "the other deserved it" "the other started it" "I'm innocent I'm innocent I'm innocent."

• he *can be* immature. now this word gets thrown around alot by Mind but i think he's 'immature' not in the sense that he throws tantrums and can't be trusted and has nothing of importance to say like Mind thinks. he is in the way that he refuses to listen to others, refuses to take the blame, and can also be quite petty and has a tendency to blow up (sound familiar? yeah. Minds immature too, we love Heart Mind parallels).

• he is spiteful and impulsive, but can you blame him? he's constantly being belittled and fought against; of course he's gonna take any chance he can to get back at Mind- to show him how it feels- to make him finally *listen*.

• Heart constantly feels like no one listens to him, that he is the disregarded part bcus he's "uncontrollable and unruly". this obviously forms alot of built up resentment because no one is taking him seriously. I think he can switch alot between "I need to prove that I'm just as good as Mind, I'll show them." and "they're right, I'm violent and impulsive and I'm ruining our chances of becoming Whole.". as you'd expect- his mood swings are wild.

• he is Inherently violent and impulsive. nothing is premeditated- if he's angry, he'll act on it. he'll say and do whatever he thinks will get him out of a situation or will make the other person listen.

• just the same as Mind- he is under the full impression that his opinions on how Whole should be are correct. And of course there is truth in that, emotions are a necessary part of existence, but just like Mind, he doesn't understand the need for his other half's part aswell.

• I think he very much wallows in his depression. he finds it difficult not to, but when he's bad- he's bad. he takes after Whole in that sense. he will be selfish and cruel and will isolate. he will spend all his time in his room and will be significantly more vile to Mind. he gets very caught up in his own emotions and depression, which just enhances it. (that is until things start being better and they're on their way to concord ofc, they all start helping eachother and themselves again) (this sounds mean I promise I love him, sadly I love projecting onto him more)

• there's alot of negatives here for him being my favourite character but trust me he can be good too. He's excellent at comfort, he knows just how to make someone feel better when they need it. He's empathetic, he can read people's emotions with ease and because of this-is able to understand them. Every fight with Mind- he feels his anger and frustration just as much as his own, he knows Mind gets just as riled up as him when tipped over the edge. The same goes with Soul, he can feel Soul's anger like a looming threat when their fights escalate too far. He can feel Soul's guilt and and how he relishes in the control despite it. That is to say- Heart can be kind and caring too, when it counts. he's the love AND the hate; it just so happens that he's got ALOTT of things to be mad about in his life </3

Mind

• Mind is astronomically emotionally repressed, it is a problem. he views emotions as something that holds him and everyone back from rational thinking and being at their optimal performance levels. he doesn't allow himself to get caught up in emotions (this of course is a lie, and excludes his petty outbursts at Heart, those don't count).

• ^ so much to the point that he 'removes himself of everything humane and emotional' by replacing himself with mechanical parts. no I don't think that's canon but I love this headcanon and I will die on this hill.

• though he would deny it: he is very petty, and does enjoy provoking Heart whenever given the chance. (which of course Heart does aswell)

• he is a 'control freak' to his core. though it comes off as tyrannical, he truly does think he knows what's best for the Whole, and that's why he's so adamant on being the ruler. logic is straightforward, logic can be easily worked through and used to make optimal decisions, thinking clearly avoids all possible bad situations. logic is his mainstay, his rock. (If he were to let in the flood of repressed emotion, he wouldn't be able to handle it all, and would lose hold of his mainstay whilst desperately trying to stay grasped onto it. he would be scared and lost in it all without a way back up.)

• he hides behind his apathetic facade but he *does* feel and he *does* get angry and upset and scared- and he hates himself for it. he can't be seen as vulnerable, as weak. I don't think he even knows *how* to deal with emotions either. he's spent so much time shoving them down that when they finally all come back up, he genuinly doesn't know what to do, he panics, unable to use logic in a situation like this.

• he is stubborn as all hell.

• he is Whole's ego. he doesn't think he's ever good enough and yet pretends he's the best; he believes he's the best too- contradictory I know, they're all hypocrites /lh.

• despite all these sympathisable things, he *is* cold and he *is* cruel at times. just like Heart, he has his reasons, but that doesn't make his actions justified. (make up already you guys suck!!!!)

Soul

• sigghhh identity issues x1000; he doesn't know who he is or what he's meant to be. he isn't a real person, and what's worse, he isn't *Whole*.

• I think so much of his character is based around Whole rather than him being much of his own person. his identity is a mimicry of Whole, botched together to make the imperfect Self, always wrong, never perfect enough. he has spent his whole existence working towards becoming someone else that he's never once thought to make an identity of his own- it's all for Whole, he would be nothing without him.

• he does not want to have to hurt the other two but in the end, that's all they'll listen to. he mimics power and control. he doesn't want to hurt them- but what else does he have if not power over these two? he has no control over the loops, no power against Whole, he can't do anything to stop this in the grand scheme, so he exerts control in the only way he can. he (tries to) keeps them in line. there is a large amount of guilt around that though.

• he's actually a very guilty person in general, his existence is merely the happenstance of dissonance; he and the others are born from it. he is the hubris of his Whole's misery- how could he not feel guilty about his every motion and thought, his existence itself is made from anguish {his Whole's anguish}.

• he yearns for non-existence and existence simultaneously; he contradicts himself. he wants to be Whole, but at the same time he wants to co-exist with him, happily.

• overall he is tired, he is very very tired. he doesn't have much left in him and he'll do whatever is necessary to just make it *stop* at this point. I think even after cacophony ends and the fighting finally stops, he's still on edge. he flinches at every little sound and raised voice. he wakes up in the middle of the night thinking he heard the other two arguing again, he has nightmares. he's very paranoid at all times.

• during cacophony I feel like Heart and Mind are defintely dehumanised by him. whether subconsciously or not. they become the ids, rather than his fellow thirds. they're a problem he needs to fix, parasites he needs to be rid of. he wants to get along and trust them, truly, but he never can.

• touch starved. this needs no elaboration.

• he worships Whole, devotes himself to him. he thinks of him like a god, something holy and perfect and completely out of his reach. his whole identity and existence is built around becoming him, this places Whole as the epitome of perfection. he wishes he was able to be close to Whole, to know him- but that's impossible, and he thinks if he ever even got the chance to brush their hands together his body would explode at the heat of his divine touch. yeah listen to this freak, please be normal for once in your life Soul.

Whole

(disclaimer: this is the character Whole and is in no way how I view CJ!! they are completely seperate thank yew) -

• my entire perception of Whole is mismatched ideas I've collected from mutuals but a large portion of his personality is from 'live the dream'. so, just picture that version of Whole mixed in with the weird codependent god relationship with Soul and that's my Whole 👍

• he is selfish and hypocritical at his core, he's almost as guilt-ridden as his Soul.

• he knows he does bad things, to himself and others. he hates it, he regrets it, he feels guilty for it- but he will always come back and do it again.

• he lacks barely any form of self love- of course this is going to make it difficult for him to sympathise and love his little blots- *parts of himself*.

• he is (of course) suicidal, alot of his (self proclaimed) 'selfishness' stems from this; he can't help it but its true. he's spent so long only looking out for himself, in isolation, believing that everything he does is pointless- his actions are gonna be selfish, whether he likes it or not. hence- the loop; he continues to repeat it.

• he is a chronic liar, he lies to himself, he lies to HMS, he lies to his friends. sometimes harmlessly, sometimes Very Much Not. there are times he's sworn he won't restart the loop and believed it, but of course that never lasted very long.

• he's not good at maintaining relationships- with anyone. this is why he struggles so much with Soul's unwavering devotion to him. not only does he feel like he's not putting into their relationship as much as Soul is, but he also lives in constant fear that *it will end eventually*. Soul will realise what a bad person he is and abandon him, or he'll fuck something up on his own.

• Whole has religious trauma (two wuv), and because of this he is very uncomfortable with Soul's worshipping of him.

• despite this, he still leans into it; no one's ever adored him this fervently, without hesitation, he can't help but enjoy it at least a little. both him and Soul are touch starved as hell so, it's *alot*. It's easier when they're in the loops, when he's separated from them all, from their resentment and their love. he doesn't think he deserves anything but what he thinks of himself. so Soul's unwavering love and devotion throws him off, but who would he be to refuse such a scarce thing in his life?

The Juno Incident

• ok!! I like lot's of different interpretations of the Juno incident honestly, though the ones that align best with what I think happened are these:

• Heart missed, literally. his bullet did not hit Mind. I believe he had low vision (just like me fr!!) before being blinded fully after TJI and this of course made aiming difficult.

• ALTERNATIVELY, he *did* shoot Mind, and the bullet *did* hit. Whether that was in the throat or some other place idrk, it fluctuates.

• In both instances, I think it went like this: after Heart's shot, Mind was shocked, he was scared, ESPECIALLY if the bullet did actually hit. I think in that moment, he did not have his logic to rely on, emotion- shock, fear, betrayal, anger- all of it, took over. he probably couldn't move for a few *very long, agonising* minutes, he was shaking, he was trying to organise his thoughts to best approach the situation and *couldn't*. his smug demeanour was finally broken down and in that moment he was truly *weak* (which he resents both himself and Heart for every day).

• meanwhile Heart very quickly flips from seething hatred and anger to regret, he's a sobbing mess. he's also scared- partly for Mind (if the bullet hit), but mainly for himself, mainly of *Soul* and what the consequences will be. he starts hysterically apologising, not to anyone in particular, just whoever will listen. he immediately goes into defence mode- victim mode.

• when Soul gets to the scene it's a mix of emotions. he's mad, mostly, but also feels betrayed- this is going to impact Whole, this is a setback we can't come back from, how could they do this? but of course the first thing he has to do is help, mediate, punish- as always.

• when it comes to whether or not Soul blinded Heart, I'm not sure. I enjoy the interpretations where he does, but also the ones that don't. but I firmly believe that it was majorly Heart's doing (self inflicted whilst in Apathy which I'll elaborate more on soon).

• Soul still punishes Heart obviously. after realising that Heart isn't the one that's been hurt here, and is crying crocodile tears, he quickly makes his way to Mind, who is still trying to regain his composure. Heart is obviously still screaming and wailing, and Soul now has the full picture of what happened, he tears into Heart. he yells at him about how he's betrayed them, betrayed Whole, how he's broken everything. Heart just defends and defends, cries and cries, he doesn't want to face the consequences. Soul eventually sends him to Apathy, where he can't wreck anything else (except himself). This was maybe the first time they were all equally afraid of eachother. (It will happen again, and again, of course)

• after dealing with Heart, Soul tends to Mind, who is *very* averse to being looked after (he doesn't need his pity). But he is obviously Very Fucked Up and accepts the care anyway. cue weeks of recovery and PTSD.

Apathy

• Apathy is somewhere in headspace that no one knows how to get to, they just end up there when that is where they need to go. It's a long walk, or a short one; no one really knows when you end up underground, you just do.

• I picture it as something of a cave system but instead of rocks, it's made up of decay. It smells like dirt and rotting flesh, the walls squirm as if they were alive, the floors are covered in rotting vine-like things that crawl around you and pull you deeper into the pit. Its dark and agonising.

• Heart relies heavily on sound and touch, this place is a sensory nightmare for him to say the least. he can barely see, Apathy is unable to harbour sound, and everything around him makes him want to throw up.

• eventually his own actions, with the additional side effects of being somewhere so horrific all alone for so long- causes Heart to scratch out his eyes. I hc him as someone very prone to scratching and skin picking- it got a bit much here to say the least and that got taken out on his eyes.

• I imagine he was down there for at least a few weeks. at the max a little over a month. Soul is the one to come get him, Mind does not want to face him.

The Loop

• Whole purposefully restarts the loop. for quite awhile I stuck with the idea that the loop restarts itself, like when they start fighting again- as the cycle of depression does. and while I still believe that- I like Whole restarting it on purpose more :]. It gives not only the plot, but all of the characters so much more depth in my opinion. there's resentment, there's guilt, there's it's effects on relationships and relationships with oneself. It's just overall so horribly good.

• I mainly like the way things happen in 'live the dream'. as in: Whole gets tired of Being A Person, he doesn't want to exist anymore- so he sits down at his piano and begins his song to restart the loop; the loop that brings him to the peaceful realm of unconsciousness whilst his thirds go through hell once again. and when they finally reach concord, he's brought back to reality. and it repeats itself.

• regarding memories: Soul remembers the most, which isn't saying much but yk. his memories of the loop mainly consist of the main events (split, fighting, Juno incident, any other significant things). his memories aren't clear enough to ever prevent any of this though, he just has to live with the fact that he knows something bad is going to happen, and he can't do anything to stop it. even if he did manage to, the loop would find a way to make it happen anyway. (for example: he calms Heart down before he manages to shoot Mind. Soul thinks all is well but later that night he hears muffled yelling from one of the blots' rooms, he's annoyed for a moment- just another fight- until he hears a gunshot. It happened anyway, his efforts were fruitless.)

• Soul is aware they've been through many many loops. he doesn't know how many, but he knows they've been here for A Very Long Time. he's tired.

• Heart and Mind are..somewhat aware of the loop? I think during calamity and closer to concord they're able to remember better, but in the midst of cacophony, they might as well know nothing. the battle for control and constant warring prevents them from remembering they've been here before- and will be once more. It all feels familiar, they write it off as deja vu. alot of things happen because of their 'instincts', for example: Heart's first thought during The Fight with Mind is to grab the gun; he's never shot anyone before, so why'd the thought come up? well it's obviously the most efficient choice of action- it'll certainly get Mind to shut up and listen to you. <- and so the cycle repeats itself.

• on how many loops there have been. I think it comes and goes like the cycle of depression (obviously). I think they each last for a few months up to a year at a time, and concord lasts for roughly a few months aswell. however many of those fit into the time that Whole has been alive and struggling with depression is how many loops there have been.

done!! holy shit that's alot, over 3k to be exact. these ideas will probably change and fluctuate over time but it was nice to get it all down for now :] feel free to send me asks about my headcanons of these weird little bugs, I love them :33 !!!

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Letter

It's not like Buddy liked Chase. He didn't. Honest, he really didn't. And you know he's being honest because he never lies... ok, well, he's lied a couple times.. actually, he's lied a lot. But he's really not lying about this. Because, what is there to like about this idiot? Because that is what he is, an idiot. Plain and simple. With his obviously fake blonde hair and forever-outside voice. The guy should just get the hell out of his way if he knows what's good for him. And that's what he's been telling him.

But he never thought Chase would actually listen.

3 weeks. 3 whole weeks since Chase has been in a book. This was starting to seriously piss him off. Where the hell was he? 

Now, reader, before you start getting ideas that Buddy actually misses Chase, you better think again. Chase has something he wants, the heroine key, and that is it. He just wants the key, so fuck off if you're questioning his honesty in the beginning. 

"Buddy?" calls out a voice, to which Buddy immediately jumped. But don't think he was excited! Or startled. He was merely jumped into action to follow it. However, he quickly realized that wasn't the voice of the blonde, but rather the even more unbearable brunette. 

"What are you doing with the heroine key?" Buddy asks, leaning against the stone archway. He looks around. Another high-fantasy novel with a castle. He's starting to figure out who's the one choosing these books in the first place.

Deacon whips his head around to face Buddy. "Geez. How do you do that?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Just.. appear out of nowhere? Like you're teleporting or something?"

Buddy scoffed. This idiot really thought he was teleporting? As if someone could top Chase's idiocy. "You still haven't answered my question."

Deacon sighs. "Chase has been.. whining, lately."

Buddy scoffs. "When is he not?"

This got a chuckle from the brunette.

"You guys had some sort of fight in the last book you did together?"

Buddy raised an eyebrow and tried to remember. But, he and Chase would always fight, so he couldn't remember any of the specifics. "Probably."

Deacon rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. Deacon seemed to get peeved with Chase a lot, which gave Buddy a sick satisfaction. Not because he's jealous, of course not. But because if the two don't work well together, it'll be easier to make them crack. Give him information. Stop trying to twist his words.

Deacon groaned. "Well, something you said seriously offended him and he's refusing to use Silver, and has been using Bronze, instead."

Buddy felt his eye twitch, Deacon noticing and taking a step back. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"What did I say that could've offended him that badly?!"

"Hey, you know how fragile his ego is."

Buddy makes a light 'tsk' and puts his hands on his hips. "Well this definitely is.. annoying." Before you think I'm annoyed because now I won't see him, that is not the reason. It's annoying because Chase was a much bigger slip up than his ugly, freckled companion. Buddy can extract more information from him. 

"Tell me about it. We've had lots of trouble collecting narratonin now, since the heroine key.. yknow.. summons you."

Buddy raises an eyebrow. "Well, then. He must not be that determined to collect it, huh?"

"Don't talk like that, Buddy. You don't know. He's been telling me to use the key, as long as I go into different books. But I just haven't wanted to deal with you on my own."

Buddy nods in agreement. "I would rather rip my hair out then be alone with you."

"Look. All I ask is you apologize."

"Look," Buddy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what it is I said that is worth an apology."

"It was something about his singing, I think? And the narratonin? He gets really heated everytime he talks about it and then shuts down.

Ya, that did sound familiar. Buddy rubbed his temples in an attempt to remember.

"Snap and clap and touch your toes! Raise your hands, now body roll! Dance it out, you're hot to gooooo!!"

"CAN YOU STOP THAT!?" Buddy snaps. "You've been singing that tune all day!"

Chase rolls his eyes. "You are just jealous of my singing."

"Oh trust me, I am anything but. You're singing is like nails on a chalkboard. Grating and makes me wish I didn't have ears! You better hope you collect enough narratonin fast, before too many people are cursed to have listen to your voice and will never give you another chance to sing, even when you use the narratonin to make you bearable to listen to!"

....

Chase left the story after he said that. But Buddy hadn't sweat it too much. Why would he? They always bicker. But based on the look that Deacon was giving him, he could tell that he had screwed up.

"That's.. definitely too far, Buddy."

"I- How was I supposed to know he'd take it to heart?!"

Deacon shakes his head. "Look, whatever. You can't take back what you said and that's fine. But you can at least make up for it. Maybe write him a letter? The bedroom I woke up in the basement had a desk and some paper. Maybe go write something in there?"

Buddy raises a brow before tilting his head back. "Fine! Whatever. Only because of my own reasons, though! Not because I feel bad. Don't go and get the wrong idea!" he calls out as he enters back into the castle, bulldozing through guards.

"Move, move, Evil Queen, make way." He reads down the spiral staircase, twists and turns, twists and turns. By the time his feet hurt in his heeled shoes, he finally reached the basement.

The room felt all too familiar. Small, box shaped with a thick layer of dust on every surface. A creaky bed, about as soft as a rock, and blankets covered in bed bugs. This... was why he didn't really want the heroine key. Of course, he's still going to retrieve it. It's part of his job. But he will never use it. He's already got a crappy life. Why make himself live through another's?

He sits himself in a creaky oak chair, which gave him a few splinters, causing him to flinch. A small pile of thick paper and a quill with mostly dried out ink. But, still good to use. He wish he knew why his words upset Chase so much. Not because he genuinely feels bad, but because it would make this letter less of a hassle to write. He scribbles up in the corner of the parchment to check if the ink works. He then taps a couple of times in an effort to think of what to write. Buddy, despite all of his time dedicated to reading books, has never been good at words. Things never come out right and he always overthinks it, always adding parenthesis and commas to make his point more clear, out of the fear he's not being explicit enough.

"Dear Chase,

I still cannot believe that you let slip what your name was. You truly are 

I apologize that my words had offended you. I may not know what you plan to do with the narratonin, probably something stu. Your singing is really not that bad. It only makes me want to claw my ears off a little. I do think that you can have a big audience if you put your voice out there, with or without the narratonin.

-Sincerely, 'buddy'"

Buddy stared at the letter, questioning everything he wrote, but decided it was... good enough.. ya, it's not like Chase is worth that kind of effort.. 

He folds up the paper and stuck it into his back pocket. He looked up the staircase once more and let's out a long sigh as he made the long trip once more. Twists and turns galore with each step. The guards quickly moved as to not get pushed out of the way again. He found the ugly boy standing outside, waiting for him. He shoved the letter into his chest. "Here."

Deacon let's out a huff and nods. "All right. I'll see you later, Buddy."

Buddy simply just rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

The boy pulls out the Helper Key, wrapped around his neck, and the he's gone. Buddy looks at the spot where he had disappeared before mentally scolding himself for being so hopeful.

~~~~

It's not like Chase liked Buddy. He didn't. Because what is there to like about that jerk? He's an aggressive prick who does nothing but provoke him. With his incredible eyeliner and deep voice... He should just leave Chase alone. And that's what he's been telling him.

So he stopped bothering and has been properly avoiding him. 

Ho could he not? It wasn't the comment about his singing, although that had hurt, but the fact that Buddy thinks he's so shallow that being famous is Chase's biggest concern. And the way Buddy said it didn't ound like just a jab because he was mildly annoyed. It sounded genuine. Like her really thinks so low of Chase. Maybe Chase took it so seriously is because earlier in the day, before he said that, Chase had visited his mom. 

His moping is interrupted by a knocking at his door. He looks up and sees his cousin, Deacon, standing in the doorway.

"Where were you?" Chase asks. Deacon hands him a paper. 

"It's from Buddy."

Chase sucked in a breath. Buddy. Buddy!? Buddy sent him a letter? 

His heart was racing and his hands were clammy. No way. No. Way. Why was he getting so excited. Stop it, heart!! He pats his chest a couple of times to ease his rapid heart rate before he folded the paper open.

He scanned through the words, squinting as he made out some of the scribbled out sentences, and he finishes it off with a deep frown.

"What's with that face?" Deacon asks.

"This is kind of a crappy apology. There are multiple scratched out sentences that was just him being petty."

Deacon takes the paper and reads over it. "Hm. I mean.. ya, it seems kind of backhanded, but at the same time, since when has Buddy gone out of his way to do something like this i the first place?"

"You probably just told him to do it."

"Ya.. but what about the fact that he actually listened?"

Chase froze and looks back at the letter, feeling his face flush slightly. Damnit. He had a good point. He crumbles up the letter and was about to toss it into the trash, but stopped himself and instead tossed it onto his desk.

"Give me my key."

Deacon smirks.

"Don't smile at me like that."

Deacon quickly stifles it and hands Chase the key. Chase gets up ad grabs a totally random book and crams the key into the cover. The last thing he heard was, "Wait, not that book!"

Chase's eyes opened and the first thing he's met with is excruciating pain. He's impaled. He screams at the top of his lungs and standing over him is Buddy, whose eyes are equally as wide as he stares down at Chase. 

"What kind of book did you choose?!" Buddy exclaims, quickly pulling the spear out of Chase's chest, who's left panting and throbbing in pain. Buddy squats down and looks over him. "Deep breaths. The main character of this book has healing powers."

Chase tightly close his eyes and feels the gash slowly close up. He lays down in the ground, panting. "SHIT! I just needed to talk to you. Just my luck."

Buddy chuckles, actually chuckles, which feels like another stab to the heart, but kind of in a good way???

"You got excited to see me?" Buddy asks.

Chase scoffs. "I just came to talk to you about that letter."

Buddy goes quiet. "Hm. You seem upset? Was it not to your liking, your majesty?"

"Eat a sock," Chase grumbles.

Chase sits up, holding himself by his elbows. "What kind of book opens with the heroine getting stabbed?" Chase grumbles.

Buddy shrugs and looks around at the wasteland they were in. "Well.. what did you think of the letter? You still mad at me?"

Chase pauses before huffing. "Nevermind. I just wanted to say it sucked. I would keep avoiding you if it weren't for Silver, like.. begging me to go back to using her."

"Mhm?"

"Mhm!"

Chase stands up. Buddy does too.

It's not like they liked each other. They just had a story to complete. They just happen to.. do it together.

Shut up.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 16: I Am Broken

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; dehumanization; beginnings of an anxiety attack, though it's not labeled as such; some negative self-talk (13)

Author's Note: Ok... one more then we'll get into 13 starting to spill the beans. She'll be ok - Simon's there now! I think I'm going to pause on 13's story for a bit, though. I've got things brewing about other OCs so I'm gonna get started on their stories uwu <3

When I open my eyes again... my head is still on Simon's lap. I adjust carefully so I can look up at him. His eyes are closed and his head is resting on the back of the couch.

"Simon," I call to him softly. "Hey," I say a bit louder and poke the center of his chest.

His lashes flutter and he opens his eyes. With a groan, he tilts his head to look down at me.

"What's wrong?" he asks in a voice rough with sleep.

"The way you're sleeping, mostly. C'mon. We should both go to bed."

As I sit up Simon's hand snakes around my waist, but over his blanket.

"No," he mumbles, "stay here."

What the hell is he on about? Damn, he needs more sleep.

"Simon," I call to him louder. "Wake up."

I reach out and gently poke his cheek through his mask. His eyes open wide at the contact and his breathing gets heavier. Slowly, with a shocked expression of my own, I slowly pull my hand away from his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to... freak you out. You ok?" I ask with a gentle voice.

"Fine," he says, shaking his head then letting out a heavy sigh. "Just not used to people touching my face."

"Right. Fair enough," I agree then get up from the couch to make my way to my room.

The smell of pancakes cooking wakes me in the morning. As I roll to get out of bed, though, I nearly roll on to Selene. She yawns at my sudden intrusion then gets up to stretch.

"Good morning to you too." I smile at her then run my hand over her back and up her tail, causing a small chirp to leave her. "I smell pancakes... but do you think your dad is making more bacon too?"

She blinks slowly at me in response and I give her a quiet laugh then truly make my way out of bed. When I reach the kitchen I pause in the archway for a moment.

Johnny's here. Making breakfast. And Simon's nowhere to be seen.

"Lass! Good morning! Simon had to run to grab a few things to make sure all five of us would be fed properly today," he chuckles then yawns. "I knew he'd call me over early so I showed up a few hours early. Hope you don't mind?"

"Not my house," I shrug and step up to the counter I continue to sit on while Simon cooks.

"Isn't it?" Johnny asks with a smile as his focus returns to the pancakes.

Unsure what he means by that, I hop on the counter and change the subject.

"So... what are the other two like?"

"Other two? Oh, you mean Cap and Kyle? Cap's a bit of a, uh," he leans towards me, like he's sharing a secret, "workaholic. I'll have to make some strong coffee all day to make sure he stays awake," he chuckles then straightens. "Kyle is a secret trouble maker, but he's a sweet heart. Would adopt and love all the kittens in the world, if given the chance, I think."

"What do you mean 'secret trouble maker'?" I push with an eyebrow raised.

"He's not as open about his chaotic nature as I am," Johnny says with a wink.

I nod, accepting his answer and glance around the kitchen. The kitchen feels... weird... without Simon here.

"Missing him?" Johnny asks suddenly with his eyes on the pancakes but a knowing smile on his face.

"Who?"

"Your alpha. Who else?" he asks with a laugh.

"My... hm. Well, is he, though? We haven't really... discussed any of that," I admit with a slight frown.

"You knew who I meant, though." He's got this smug look on his face, like he's just outwitted someone.

"Johnny, besides you, Simon's the only person I've actually met in the area," I remind him flatly.

Johnny's smug looks falters.

"True. Didn't think about that. I wanna go back to what you said, though. Haven't discussed what?"

"Him officially being my alpha and all that. I tried to initiate the conversation last night but I mentioned-"

My mouth snaps shut, remembering Simon's reaction to how Salvation handled the heats of the omegas they care for.

"I mentioned some things about Salvation and heats, but he... didn't take it well. Sliced his finger and just seemed so angry," I explain with a frown. "After we cleaned up the cut and I banaged it, he told me that all three of you would be here today. That all of you would listen to my story."

He stays silent for a while, removing pancakes from the pan and adding new batter.

"I won't ask for specifics. I'm sure I'll hear about it at some point, but, lass." He turns to me fully. The expression on his face reminds me of a puppy. "We're here for you. All of us - me, Cap, Kyle, and epsecially Simon. And there will be more on that list when you're ready."

Part of me wants to argue, but the rest of me just can't deny the adorable face he's making. So I sigh and nod my head.

"I appreciate it. I don't understand why that needs to be said, but I do appreciate it," I tell him softly and pick at the hem of the shirt of Simon's that I wore to bed last night.

"What's wrong, 13?" Simon says from the front door.

I can't see him and I can't smell him, but that was definitely his voice. Johnny smiles at me and nods in that direction so I slide off the counter and make my way to the front door.

There's multiple grocery bags hanging off of both of Simon's arms and I have to supress a laugh at the sight of him.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, voice serious.

"Nothing. Was just talking to Johnny. Let me take a few bags," I insist as I reach for his left arm.

"It'll put me off balance. I've got it," he says as he pulls his arm away. "Thank you, though," he adds like it's an after thought.

Then he shoos me to the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen. When he's done putting away the groceries, he joins me.

"Why did you think something was wrong?" I ask immediately from underneath the blanket he let me use last night.

"I could smell your distress," he says simply as he motions for me to come closer.

Confused, I slide closer and lay on my back with my head on his lap.

"You could... smell- I wasn't distressed, though." I frown up at him as his hand begins smoothing my hair back.

"You can't smell anything. Can you?" he asks softly.

"I can smell the pancakes just fine."

"I mean others' scents. You can't smell others. At least not well."

I consider what he's asking. It took being right up to him or wearing his clothes for me to know what he smelled like. Cinnamon and cedar, I can smell it now. But I don't know what Johnny smells like. And I couldn't tell him what anyone else smells like either.

"13," he calls to me and gently turns my head so I look directly at him. "What's going through your head?"

"I'm broken," I say softly. "I always knew I was, but... you're right. I can't smell anyone. I can only smell you if I'm close, like right now, or wearing something that you give me. I don't know what Johnny smells like-"

"Take a deep breath. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Do it with me," he instructs and begins doing so.

My eyes prick with tears but I follow his lead. When my eyes no longer hurt and my chest doesn't feel like there's cement in it, he speaks again.

"You're not broken, sweetheart. You've just been through things; a lot of things, I'm sure. Those things have not been kind to you. But I'm here to help you now. I'm here," he assures me, his hand still gently gliding over my hair. "Why you don't take a nap while we wait for the others? I'll stay right here with you, if you want."

His offer is tempting, but doesn't he have things he needs to do before Kyle and 'Cap' arrive?

"I think I'd rather shower then just... exist on the couch for a while. Until they get here. Selene can keep me company when I come back out."

Simon studies me for a moment and lets out a heavy breath.

"Alright, but if I detect even a hint of your distress, I'm either kicking down whichever door or coming back out here and-"

"Are you about to threaten me, the distressed omega?" I ask with a small smile.

"Yes," he nods. "I'm threatening you with being held and comforted."

Oh. That's... a different feeling. Set that aside for later, though...

For now I just get up, leaving the balnket on the couch, and make my way back to my room to gather clothes. I catch a glimpse of Johnny in the kitchen on my way through the house. He looks... so sad, but his focus is on the pancakes.

What I went through when I was with Salvation... was it really that bad?

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname @jeanzoriley-cod

[rowenllyn]

Batfam meets Carrie Kelley

Ok, I need the main timeline Batfam to meet Carrie Kelley.

And not in a writers just throw all the different timeline robins into one family, or a crack social media fic. I need proper post-Dark Knight Returns Carrie to universe travel or something and meet this Bruce Wayne and his family. Like, her life is wild. She is a pre-Tim Robin. She got introduced before Jason died?! Her characterisation is built up off Dick, off the original concept of Robin, as a symbol and nothing more, not really a mantle, but an idea. She is a whole different kettle of fish from the modern Batfam and modern interpretation and retconning and rewriting of the Robins, the Robin mantle and the Batfam, not even getting into the fact she's from the 80s. She actively lives in the 80s, like Reagan is president, modern technology is non existent and all that.

Like, from an outside perspective, Carrie's Robin is the leader of a guerrilla paramilitary Batman cult and vigilante organisation, with hundreds of "Sons of Batman". And sure, Bruce is behind the scenes, teaching and truly organising, being supported by pirate-coded, one-armed Oliver, but no one else knows that. To the outside world? Carrie's the big boss. And she's this tiny little pipsqueak in scaly shorts who just so happens to swear like a sailor or a goon on Gotham Docks. It's hilarious. The Batfam would be so confused and concerned about this girl. She has almost no training before going out, she literally got boot-camped in the like 2 weeks Bruce had between meeting her for the first time, where she proceeded to jump in the batmobile, set his arm and sass him, and him then having to go fight Superman and have a heart attack and fake his death.

And that's the other part! They would lose their mind about what the hell is going on in her world?? Vigilantism got outlawed?! People got forced to retire, leave the planet/country or face consequences. Oliver lost an arm?? Clark is an arm of the United States forces, acting as an attack dog pointed wherever Reagan wants?? They fought and Bruce had a heart attack and died?! Well he didn't stay dead, which is actually in character, but what the fuck Carrie?? And I just need her to be so nonchalant about everything that happened to her but also absolutely amazed by the technology and how many family members Bruce has. Also, seeing Bruce young is wild. She only knows old man grump Bruce, the true I work alone Batman. Seeing this Bruce and his family would be wild to her.

Also, the way that she would react to Bruce would be so interesting. Cause all of his kids are in fact his kids, yeah, even Steph to some extent, but Carrie? She's his Robin first, his student second. And his child never. Can you imagine the "good soldier" conversation? Whether that be her mentioning him saying it to her or her finding Jason's plaque (which by the way was Alfred's doing, which adds so many more layers to it) and being all like, awww it's lovely. And everyone else is horrified, including Bruce, cause he's realised that that is not how he should compliment his children and that is not a healthy means of declaration of care. But for Carrie that is true and it is what she is and she appreciates it. Because she is not his kid, and I don't think she really wants to be, she has parents, though they clearly don't pay too close attention to her if she's able to jump out windows and fight crime regularly, but she still has existing parents that fill that position in her life and Bruce is much more a martial arts sensei or a favourite strict teacher to her.

Like, she cares about the dude and all, but when they're sat around and Dick or one of the family members starts prodding Bruce about feelings and his personal life or whatever, she gets awkward, cause that's not her business. That's like seeing your teacher at the supermarket. She sees Bruce in the cave, during training and when he's giving advice, he's not a real person with a life, he's an NPC in her life, she jokes that he already fulfilled his dead sensei anime plot device when he faked his death for Superman, so now she sometimes ignores him when he's being pigheaded and pretends he's a ghost. BUT! That would be so confusing for the Batfam, cause yeah, he's their teacher too, their trainer and mentor, but he's also a parental figure in their lives, there's more to him and how they perceive him and having one without the other would confuse them so much. So when they see she's awkward about him being emotionally open they take it as a sign that they need to try hard and bring her into the fold, teach her how to get her Bruce to open up and she's just fully like, nuh huh, absolutely not, I don't wanna know any of that.

I just really want Carrie to be explored more in canon and in the fandom, beyond just an easter egg appearance, she's so interesting and so underexplored.

[violetflowers55]

Hot & Cold - Chapter 4

(Dr. Phosphorus x fem!reader)

Synopsis: As much as you want to move on from last night, Phosphorus is making it really hard by looking so hot during battle. He even ends up saving you during battle, so you thank him later on in the bathroom.

Notes: Deviation from canon timeline and events from here on out.

CW: graphic violence (not as graphic as the show), more burning. very minor smut

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

Alexi pulled up to Nina and The Bride’s location, and everyone rushed into the decrepit mansion looming ahead of you. Inside, you found The Bride, chained up and duct taped.

“It’s a trap of some sort!” Phosphorous shouted.

You all fanned out, preparing for an ambush any moment. After seeing no signs of anyone, Flag ripped the tape of The Bride’s mouth to ask where they were.

“They’re gone!” she shouted.

They bickered for a moment until G.I asked her where Nina was. G.I ran to find her while Phosphorus melted the chains of The Bride.

“Circe and the Sons attacked you… and then they just left you here alive? Why would they do…”

Realization hit you all at the same time.

“Everyone, back to the castle, now!”

You all ran back to the van and got in, this time trying to accommodate for Nina’s new bathtub. Alexi sped off towards the castle, literally running one of the Sons over when you arrived. The Bride and Flag went out guns blazing, casually walking as they shot down the Sons. One guy with a machine guy tried to shoot down Phosphorus, and you watched as he stood to the side and melted the bullets before they even got near him. He lunged forward, punching through the guy

“Shish Kebob!” he laughed as he set the guy on fire.

Fuck, that’s hot.

Distracted, a bullet hit you square in the chest. You looked up to see a 30-year-old loser with a gun standing in front of you. A mixture of shock and horror spread across his face as he watched the bullet fall from your chest, like he had just thrown a coin at you.

“Ow,” you said, walking towards him. Really, it felt like an extra hard flick, but that still pissed you off. For the first time since you had been incarcerated, you let your skin turn to steel. He kept shooting as you walked towards him, but every bullet bounced right off you. As you got closer, he started to run, realizing his gun couldn’t hold you back. You reached out your hand, extending your metal whip from your wrist and wrapping it around his neck. To your delight, he screamed like a baby as you pulled him close. Using his own gun, you shot him point blank in the chest. Poetic justice.

A shout came from behind you as another basement dweller tried to slam the back of your head with the butt of his gun. You whipped around, relishing the fear on his face before you uppercutted him. Your steel hand sliced through his jaw deep into his head. His limp body fell to the ground with a squelch as you removed your fist. God, it had been too long since you took out some asshole men.

Another battle cry started to approach you, but was cut off before he reached you. You turned to see a Phosphorus burning straight through the head of a guy holding a grenade. Releasing the guy, he looked back at you, admiring your new look.

“You should really wear that more often.”

Even in the middle of a fight, he couldn’t stop flirting with you. Before you could retort, bullets began raining down on you. The two of you took cover with the others behind the water fountain.

“You know, most people say thank you when someone saves your life.”

“Not now!”

“That’s ok, I can think of a lot of ways you can thank me later. Wink” he whispered in a low voice, pointing at his face.

Luckily, G.I interrupted the conversation.

“Are these Nazis, General?”

“Yeah G.I. These are Nazis,” Flag answered, seemingly happy G.I’s obsession with Nazis could be put to good use.

A grin grew across G.I’s face as he began shooting like crazy. His abdomen detached and he flew up in the air. Seeing him switch to three guns on each arm, Flag shouted at everyone to hit the dirt. You knew he wouldn’t injure you, but you followed suit anyway. G.I spun around, shooting endless bullets, laughing gleefully over finally being able to shoot Nazis.

Suddenly, with a flash of purple light, he exploded. You gasped as the air cleared to reveal Circe.

“Well, that’s enough of that.”

She blasted the bunch of you by the fountain, sending you flying a few feet. She flew straight for the princess’s bedroom. You started to rise to chase after her, but Weasel beat you to to it. Just as quick as she flew in, she fell back out the window with Weasel on her. Laying on the ground, he viciously scratched away at her back. Phosphorus walked over to her and lifted her chin up.

“I love a good barbecue,” he said before pressing his palm into her face.

Goddamnit, why does he have to be so hot while torturing people?

“You wanted monsters, you got monsters,” The Bride said while Flag watched on in horror.

Eventually, the two stopped and Circe was secured to be sent back to… wherever she was going to go. The princess ran out of the castle, heading straight to Flag and throwing her arms around him. She kissed him, very passionately, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Thank you,” she broke away from him to address the rest of you, “Thank you all so much. I do not know how I can repay you for saving my life.”

“You don’t have to do anything, it’s our job,” Flag responded.

“No, I must do something… a banquet! Yes, we will throw you a banquet to thank you all.”

“Ah, I’m sorry Ilana, but I need to get Circe back to America and these guys back to Belle Reve.”

“We just saved a princess’s life, and our thank you is going back to prison?” Phosphorous angrily chimed in.

“Hardly seems fair,” The Bride agreed.

“Maybe next time we should just let her die. We’ll just go back to prison either way,” you added.

The princess giggled, amused by everyone’s antics. “Surely they have earned one more meal of non-prison grub?”

“Jesus Christ, fine! We’ll stay for the banquet. But we’re leaving right after.”

Everyone made little noises of excitement, even The Bride. Ilana hugged Flag, then ran back to the castle, presumably to order her servants to prepare a banquet. Flag turned to you, looking at your blood-covered hand and blood-stained clothes.

“You need to clean up first.”

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

You opted for a full shower to fully cleanse yourself. The showers at Belle Reve sucked, so you took an extra long time in the shower, enjoying the normal water pressure and steaming hot water. You even treated yourself to their fancy shampoo and conditioner. After all, you helped save the princess’s life. You’d earned fancy shampoo.

When you fingertips started to wrinkle, you forced yourself to step out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You stared at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair and inspecting the fading burns on your neck.

A knock on the door interrupted you. You shouted back that you were in there, but the door swung open. Phosphorus walked in, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell Phosphorous?! I’m in here! What if I was on the toilet?”

“Then at least you wouldn’t be wearing that towel,” his words were teasing, but his tone seemed serious. He stood by the door, hands in his pockets.

“Ugh. What do you want?”

“You never thanked me for saving your life,” he moved behind you, looking at you in the mirror.

“Because you didn’t save my life.”

“Really? A grenade exploding right on you wouldn’t put you out of commission?” He moved closer, placing his hands on the countertop on either side of you. Yet, he didn’t touch you. Somehow, that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more than if he was touching you.

“Injure me, maybe, but it wouldn’t kill me.”

“Mm. Then you can thank me for saving you from being injured,” he leaned in close to your ear, still staring at you in the mirror, still not touching you.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“It’s ok if you can’t say the words. I can think of a few ways you can thank me,” he slid his hands towards you, finally touching you.

You gasped as he ran his hand up your stomach and cupped your breats. Even through the thick towel, you could feel his heat. He pressed a kiss right below your ear, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror, watching for your reaction. Seeing your slack jaw, he pulled your towel down, groping your bare breasts. You moaned as you felt his handprints burn into your skin. He pressed his pelvis into your behind, exciting you even more. Then, he suddenly stepped back, disconnecting from you. The sudden lack of touch was dizzying.

“You’re welcome,” he said as he moved toward the door, the teasing tone in his voice returning.

“Thank you,” you managed to get out as he opened the door. You thought maybe that would get him to stay. As he left, you could’ve sworn he was actually grinning. He closed the door behind him, leaving you wet and horny.

“Goddamnit,” you cursed him as you unwrapped your towel to get back in the shower, deciding to put the detachable showerhead to good use.

[weeping-statue]

Hi! This is abit more of a darker/triggering ask so if it makes you uncomfortable thats 100% ok and u can skip this! but i was wondering if you could write antonio (idv) comfort fic with a reader whos struggling with sh or trya recover from it Please! Have a good day/night! ♡

“The knife isn’t always the best option.”

Contains; Self harm; bullying, comfort, sensitive topics; Antonio; Naib; Norton; Alva; and Victor;

Alva's can be platonic or romantic.

Key; Anima mia=my soul

You were doing so well, but bottled up emotions shatter easily during stressful times. When your loving boyfriend realizes you’ve started again, he’s heartbroken yet nonetheless supportive.

Antonio

He would refuse to leave your side after it comes to light that you’re hurting yourself again.

He loves you a lot and losing you is out of the question.

Antonio knows exactly what to do in these situations, since I feel like he’s either gone through this before on his own or with someone else.

Antonio had you in his arms while sobbed on the floor. A discarded knife tinged red and a clear reminder of your failures.

“It’s alright, Anima mia. You’re not alone, and you’re not in trouble. I’ve got you, everything will be okay. This will pass.” He reassured you, making small circles on your back, and gently kissing your head.

His words only made you cry harder, you wanted to stop feeling guilty. You just wanted to stop letting him find you this way.

Maybe if weren’t such a disappointment you’d be able to do the simplest thing.

Antonio knew what was probably going through your head at that moment and smiled, “Do you know how proud I am of you? My love, you never fail to impress me. I look up to you in some aspects, and you give me a reason to wake up in the morning. It’s a feat very few can achieve. Let me take care of you for tonight at the very least, I’ll grab us dinner and run us a bath. How does that sound?”

You nodded and turned your head away from the blade that just seemed to taunt you. Instead opting for staring at his shirt in shame.

Naib

He keeps a close eye on you 24/7

You’re always being monitored, even if it’s extremely subtle or obvious.

You’re the main reason why he wakes up in the morning.

Naib refuses to lose you.

“Put.. Put the knife down,___” naib carefully inched towards you like you were a wounded animal. He didn’t want to startle you and make the situation worse.

The knife shook in your unsteady hands, as you fought to make a decision, but ultimately dropped it anyways. Letting it clatter to the floor.

He quickly rushed to your side after it dropped, checking for any injuries. When he didn’t find any, Naib brushed some hair out of your face, resting his forehead against yours. “You can’t keep scaring me like this. What happens if you do go through with it? You’d really leave me all alone?”

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, at least you were being honest.

Norton

He already worry’s about you, probably more than he should, so this is just adding on.

He makes sure you share a room after the first time he witnesses one of your breakdowns.

It’s not that he believes you can’t take care of yourself, he just doesn’t want you to burn yourself out.

At night he’ll always wait for you to sleep first, and he watches you fondly or sadly, depending what occurred that day.

Norton and you had a rough day. It started with shitty matches, then rude teammates, and then a small argument between yourselves.

The reminder of it made him sigh. Finally after confirming you fell asleep he’d shift to spoon you. Taking his hand to gently run up and down your arms, being mindful of the scars that he learned to love.

“If only you knew how much I need you in my life, ___. I’m not good with words, but fuck, I love you so much.” He whispered to you, placing a kiss on the back of your head.

Alva

He’s more in tune with your emotions than yourself.

He understands that things can get hard, and doesn’t let it define you.

He wants to see you flourish, he is a mentor after all.

Alva will stay up with you until you fall asleep in case you’re afraid you might do something you’ll regret.

He also doesn’t mind cleaning your wounds, of course it makes him sad, devastated really, but it’s you, and he’d do anything for you.

Romantic;

Alva kisses away your tears, as he reassures you, your loved.

He makes sure that you bathed, and washes your hair for you.

He’ll hold you at night as well, letting you hide in his chest.

“It’s alright my dear, I’ve cleaned up all the blood, you can look now.” Alva says, and you finally open your teary eyes. Seeing him bandage up the last bit of your legs.

“Next time you feel this urge, or even feel upset, come find me. My door is always open to you.” It comes out firm but gentle, like he genuinely cares. Something no one has showed in this awful place a lot.

Your about to open your mouth but he shuts it down, knowing what your about to say, “No, you are not a bother, No I don’t care how late it is, and yes I do care about you. I love you, and it pains me to see you like this.”

“Alva, I can’t do this to you what happens if-”

“Then we’ll figure it out together. You and me.”

Victor

He cried the first time you came too his door bleeding.

Wick was right there next to you both nudging at your leg as he bandaged your stomach.

He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he could lose you either from the games or by your own hands.

It pained him deeply when he find used razor blades in your trashcan or a hidden knife under your bed.

He wrote you a letter a couple times begging you to talk to him.

Pouring his heart out to you that he needs you and loves you deeply.

On occasion Victor would knock on your door late at night wondering if he could sleep with you when his paranoia got too much.

A knock; then two more.

It was around 11pm and Victor had shown up again holding his pillow in one arm and wick in the other.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” You said lowly, since other people lived on your floor too.

He nodded and walked inside, setting wick down on the end of the bed.

“Do.. you mind if you hold me? I miss you, and I’m scared.” It was barely audible but you heard it. He could talk, sometimes, only when he felt it was necessary. So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he said this.

“Yeah, come on.” You ushered him to get into bed. Slipping in next to him and letting his head rest on your chest.

You felt his shaky and nervous fingers trace patterns over your scars. Delicately memorizing each and every one.

You didn’t mind, because you trusted him.

But deep down, it hurt you inside that you were causing him this pain. This worry.

I finally did it! I posted.

I’m hoping to post more soon

[arttsuka]

🫂 hug

[xxplastic-cubexx]

To be completely and utterly painful, my assumption was that Erik had either already died before Logan and Charles went on the run, or Erik was one of the people Charles killed during that seizure.

its actually wild how youve both decided to kill me today it's not even 8AM