#like with prime there’s room to give him trauma and fuck up his life

[sadiecoocoo]

I wanna have a fic with lawyer Morty in there and just make him a little ray of sunshine but all my fics are either too dark and traumatic or too focused on a certain relationship to give room for side characters to have a long lasting appearance

[sarahowritesostucky]

Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 3

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas are intersex (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

3. Bucky

Steve unexpectedly switches from being Bucky's attending physician, to his dedicated heat Support.

It’s funny: the stereotype of alphas is that they’re always these domineering, bossy, even selfish people who walk all over other designations to get whatever they want. But Steve’s whole life pretty much revolves around doing for omegas. Meeting their needs.

There’s his volunteer work at the shelter and at ASHDOM, there are the single omega neighbors in his building who all know he’s a pushover and who come to him first whenever they need furniture moved or can’t get out to the store because they’re in heat. And there’s his job, which usually sees him working a bare minimum of sixty hours a week, often many more.

He does nothing but cater to omegas.

Of course, he’s paid well for it. Nursing is a chronically underfilled field to begin with, and omega specialized healthcare is even worse. Especially when it comes to staffing alpha practitioners. Steve knows for a fact that his salary is several grand higher than any of his his beta coworkers doing the same job, simply because of the additional therapeutic value that his designation can offer.

He’s a federally licensed heat partner, is certified in trauma and crisis intervention, and he’s one of the only alpha nurse practitioners providing omega reproductive healthcare in the borough. It makes his days long and his caseloads heavy, but that’s okay because it’s more than a job to him, it’s a moral imperative, something that’s been drilled into him since he was six years old and play-dominating all the other kids in his kindergarten class: you must take care of those who are weaker than you.

Steve’s been working on the OOBGYN ward around trauma patients for more than five years now. He knows the protocols, he knows how to keep himself under control and keep his patients safe. So it’s not exactly the shining pinnacle of his career when he has to page his subordinates—the nurses he trained for Chrissakes—to come and help him the fuck out with a patient he’s mishandled.

Steve would’ve highly preferred it be Hope (she’d give him less crap about it), but it’s Sharon who shows up first at the door. She comes into the room, no nonsense, holding a 1cc syringe at the ready. She’s unseen by Bucky, who’s still keening and purring where he’s got his teeth buried in Steve’s shoulder. Steve gives her a terse nod, and Sharon brusquely walks over and shoots the sedative up Bucky’s nose before the omega even knows what’s happening.

Ninety seconds later, he’s out like a light. “Midazolam,” Sharon says.

Steve nods. That buys them at least thirty minutes to get everything set up right. Bucky’s mouth has detached from his skin, and Steve carefully lowers his limp form back down onto the bed. There’s blood smeared on his lips and chin—Steve’s blood. Steve swallows hard and ignores the answering pulse of blood in his dick. He’s all keyed up, body thrumming, primed to fuck or fight.

Sharon’s a professional, so she doesn’t look at his crotch, but she does wrinkle her nose and give him an unimpressed look. “What the hell, Rogers?”

Steve avoids answering, embarrassed. “Come on. Help me transfer him. Clock’s ticking now.” He climbs off the bed and Sharon undoes Bucky’s IV. They bring up the bed’s side rails and unlock the wheels, then begin the slow process of pushing him out of the room and down to one of the on-ward heat suites. “Don’t lecture me,” Steve warns, not in the mood to have his rookie mistakes pointed out. There are plenty of them.

He forgot blockers. He intoned. He scented. Fuck, did he posture? He probably postured. He certainly got too close, let the omega get his fucking mouth on him. Christ. Steve shakes his head at himself. He’d let his soft spot for Bucky put him in a vulnerable position, and now a traumatized patient has latched onto him right at the onset of the first heat he’s had in years.

Those are not the things the hospital pays Steve thousand of dollars extra for.

Well … actually they are, but they weren’t supposed to be in Bucky’s case. Steve is his attending. He’s not supposed to take on the role of alpha support, too. It’s not allowed.

“Who should I be paging?” Sharon asks as they wheel the bed down the hall and around a corner.

“Get Banner,” Steve grunts, not happy with it. He doesn’t want to give up the case to another doctor. All his instincts are screaming at him to keep Bucky as his, to keep the control and authority he has over the omega’s medical care. But he’ll get in big trouble if he doesn’t sign this off to another physician before they seal themselves up in a heat suite.

“Is he on call tonight?”

“Yeah.” Banner is a good doctor, a beta, and a great human being. Steve trusts him more than almost anyone to do what’s right for Bucky as his attending. “Give him my case notes and Bucky’s treatment plan,” he tells Sharon as they arrive at a heavy door with a small, shuttered window. “And get a hold of Sam if he’s around. Tell him I have questions. Tell him the kid latched onto me.”

Sharon raises an eyebrow. “You mean … your neck?”

“No, not my neck,” Steve snaps meanly. “I mean physiologically.”

Sharon shoots him a peeved look from her side of Bucky’s bed, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows that Steve’s not mad at her.

He’s furious with himself for letting it happen. It’s embarrassing. Steve’s supposed to be experienced. The second that Bucky started posturing and losing language complexity and calling Steve ‘Alpha’ over and over like that, the second he’d started keening like that, Steve should’ve put distance between them. He should’ve been well out of the room by the time the kid began scenting and slicking, not still sitting right on the damn bed, letting him do it all over his scrub pants.

They wheel into the suite and Steve looks from Bucky’s lax body over to the suite’s low bed. It’s just an institutional grade mattress on a box platform, large and durable and easy to clean. It’s sterile and standard, just like the rest of the room. Nobody’s brought up any nesting materials yet.

If Steve had done his job right, Bucky probably wouldn’t have hit heat until tomorrow. The hospital staff would have already received the requisition forms and prepared the suite especially for Bucky’s stay. Instead, it’s empty and stripped bare, sterilized from the last omega who used it.

There’s a fridge stocked with water and calorie dense snacks, a four piece handicap-accessible bathroom with a walk-in tub. There’s the large platform bed, and there’s a breeding bench over in the corner. Steve glowers at Sharon when he sees it. “Why is that in here?” he snaps. “Jesus, Sharon, get it out.” He glances at Bucky, irrationally afraid of the kid waking up and seeing it.

“The last patient booked into the room was Ace,” Sharon says, unamused. “You sure you want it out?” She nods at Bucky’s prone body. “He’s dynamic dysphoric. You might need it. I can fill out a req for the seeding machine if you—”

“No,” Steve bites out, trying hard to remain professional and not yell at his head nurse. “No. I’m not doing that to him.”

Steve knows what Sharon’s thinking: light sedation and heavy restraint, complete mechanization of Bucky’s heat. It’s what a lot of doctors would do, once they got a look at Bucky’s case file and issues. Just to get the whole process over with in less time, with less effort.

But Steve can’t stand the thought of forcing Bucky through his treatment like that. It would terrify and humiliate him. Steve would rather work through every step with Bucky than force him onto that bench. “Get it out of here,” he orders.

Sharon doesn’t argue, just removes the bench and herself from the room. When she returns, Steve is staring at the naked vinyl mattress with distaste. There’s nothing soft or safe or warm here. He doesn’t want Bucky to wake up to that. “Stay with him,” he tells Sharon. “I’m gonna run down to supply and get room prep.”

He leaves her there with strict instructions not to touch Bucky. Now that the kid’s latched onto Steve as his heat partner, he won’t take well to physical contact with anyone else. “Fucking stupid, Rogers,” Steve berates himself again as he takes the elevator down to the supply room.

He grabs a pushcart and loads it up with an assortment of blankets that the hospital offers. He throws in a bunch of squishy pillows too, then heads over to grab a presenting form from the selection of different mounting pillows. He chooses one in a forgiving foam material. It has detachable cuffs in front, which after a moment’s hesitation he decides to bring along, just in case. He grabs a soft microfiber cover for the form so that it’ll feel warm and comforting against Bucky’s body. Steve doesn’t want to leave a single hard fucking edge in the entire heat suite, if he can help it.

He does spare the sex toys a glance, but it feels wrong to select anything now. If Bucky needs it later Steve can talk to him about it, have one of the nurses req whatever items Bucky wants.

He moves fast, anxious to get back to the suite and make sure that he's right there by Bucky's side when he wakes. He stops at the pharmacy and swipes his ID badge against the dispensary that stores samples of all the heat technicians’ scents. He scans his fingerprint when it prompts him, then types into the keypad that he wants to withdraw two vials. The machine whirs and delivers the manufactured amounts of Steve’s own pheromones. Steve swipes them up out of the slot without any patience and starts shoving the cart back towards the elevators.

Sharon raises her eyebrows at the heaping amount of supplies that Steve rolls in with. “O-kay,” she says, and heads for the door. “I’ll fill Hope in. Banner’s on his way. He said maybe twenty minutes. Sam’ll be on morning shift and I left him a message that he should come by.”

“Good.”

“Steve?” She turns and looks back at him once she’s out in the hall. “This is also part of your job. Don’t beat yourself up too hard, kay?”

It’s on the nicer end of the spectrum of things Sharon would say, and Steve forces his face into a grateful sort of wince. “Thanks, Share.” He shuts the door behind her and flicks the switch on the wall that locks the door and lights up the red occupied light outside of the suite. He presses the intercom button. “Check.”

“Check,” Sharon confirms from her side. “I requisitioned you guys’ meals for the next seventy-two hours. Banner will call in once he’s here. … Hope’s paging me. Good luck.”

“Bye.” Steve releases the button and turns back around. He looks at Bucky, who’s still unconscious on the hospital bed. Steve walks over and chews his lip, regretful that they’d had to use a sedative. He knows the boy probably won’t be appreciative of that when he wakes.

Steve is aware that he’s got dried blood on him. He can feel it, tacky and starting to crust, pulling uncomfortably whenever he turns his head. He grabs the first aid kit from the room’s small supply cabinet and takes it into the bathroom. The mirror over the sink shows it all, and Steve winces at the mess. It looks worse than it is, probably.

He wets a gauze with antiseptic and bites the bullet and slaps it onto the spot where the skin is broken. He clenches his teeth and hisses at the sting, cursing quietly. A few, careful wipes and it’s mostly cleaned off and he’s able to see the individual teeth marks. Steve’s lips quirk despite himself. Kid had gotten him good.

It’s close to his glands, and Steve wonders if Bucky was consciously aiming for it. Probably not. Steve knows the boy was probably raised to try to force himself into sexually desiring omegas and betas only, probably females, and never alphas. Guiltily, Steve feels a little bit of a thrill at the idea of getting to be Bucky’s first sexual encounter with an alpha. He’ll be the first partner Bucky’s ever had to help satisfy his needs in a natural way.

He doesn’t count the people who assaulted Bucky. Even if they were alpha (and he has reasons to believe they were), they don’t count. They’re dirt, less than nothing to Steve. He’s going to make sure he wipes them out of existence from Bucky’s mind. He’ll make them less than nothing for the omega too, given enough time to take care of him the way he deserves.

Sighing, he gives his bloodied neck a few more careful wipes. It’s not bleeding anymore and he doesn't bandage it. He needs to leave that part of himself open and available to Bucky. If it’s something the omega wants, then Steve isn’t going to keep it from him. Steve’s been bonded a few times over the years, usually in sessions with his neediest patients. Detoxing off the high when he discharges them from care is never fun, but he knows how to get himself through it. If Bucky wants that connection with him, he’ll be more than happy to allow it.

Steve just wants to make him feel safe and good.

He puts the first aid kit away and starts making up the bed. He puts sheets on it, then roughly dumps all the blankets out into a kind of spread out pile. Still open for rearrangement, though. He doesn’t know if Bucky will want to nest it himself when he comes to. He lays all the various pillows out around the perimeter of the mattress. The mounting pillow gets set up by the head of the bed, out of the way. Steve doesn’t want to do anything that Bucky might interpret as demanding or coercive. Not right off the bat, at least. This is all going to go according to what Bucky wants and needs, not Steve.

Sharon buzzes through the intercom, announcing that she’s leaving bath towels outside the door. Steve retrieves them and sticks them in the bathroom for later. He checks the fridge, which is indeed stocked with water bottles, high-sugar fruit juice and cups of peaches packed in syrup, little portions of cheese and two ounce packets of almond butter—all good things for an omega to nibble on through a cycle. He pulls out the almond butters and sets them on the counter to warm up. He roots through the supply cabinet until he finds a box of the little spray caps that fit to the pheromone vials. He opens one, pops the cap on, then goes about spritzing it on various places on the bed. He doesn’t go too nuts, not wanting to overwhelm the omega when he—

“Steve?”

Steve whips around so fast, he almost trips over his own clogs. He sees Bucky, pushing up to sitting in the hospital bed and looking confused. “What happen’d?” he asks groggily, rubbing his face.

Steve sticks the vials in the fridge and hurries over to Bucky’s side. “Hey,” he says soothingly. “You got a little frantic back there, buddy. The nurse gave you something to calm down so we could get this room ready for you.”

Bucky seems to become more aware of his surroundings, and that he’s no longer in his hospital room. He looks past Steve, all around the heat suite. Then his attention fixes on the large bed. Steve sees his nostrils flare and his pupils shrink to pinpoints. He begins to shake his head a little. “No,” he whispers. “Please. Steve, please don’t make me.” He whimpers and his hands fly to his stomach, a cramp clearly passing through him. “Oh man,” he whines, distressed.

Steve had expected this. He’d wanted to have Bucky on the larger bed by the time he woke up, all snuggled and safe in a cocoon of soft things. He reaches out and touches the bed instead of Bucky, fingers stroking the boxy weave of the hospital blanket that covers Bucky’s leg only inches away. “It’s going to be just fine,” he tells him. “We’re in a private suite. It’s like your own little hotel room, see? You’ve got everything you need right here.” He points out different things. “There’s snacks in the fridge and the tv’s got all the streaming apps you could want.” He smiles. “Hell, the bathtub has jets.”

Bucky’s eyes do flick over to the bathroom’s open door, if only for a moment. But he’s quickly back to whimpering and wrapping his arms around himself. “No,” he says, staring at his knees instead of Steve. “S’wrong.” He shakes his head and mumbles quiet words to himself: gross, pathetic, unnatural. Horrible, wrong words that break Steve’s heart.

Steve feels that familiar flash of anger zip through him at the reminder of how horribly Bucky’s been treated his whole life. But that’s not productive, so he squashes the anger down and instead tries to think calming, soothing alpha thoughts. He long ago learned in his training that when helping an omega through their heat, an alpha’s thoughts influence their physiology, and their physiology influences their actions. Everything Steve does in this room now has to be geared towards helping Bucky feel safe and taken care of. Everything.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down on the very edge of the bed. Bucky seems hyper aware of his proximity but he doesn’t tense up or try to move away at all, which is a good sign. Steve lets his hand drift closer over the blanket, towards Bucky’s knee. “When you met with the counselor, with Clint? Did you guys talk about it? About being male omegas, your cycles?”

Bucky’s face looks pained and he still won’t look at Steve, but he nods smally. “Yeah.”

“I’d bet money that Clint didn’t use any of those words you just said, when he talked about it. Do you think those things about Clint?” This, at least, seems to get through to the kid. He peeks up at Steve, and Steve gives him a gentle smile. “I’m friends with him, ya know. He’s a cool guy. I actually think you two would get along.”

Bucky shrugs, unwilling to engage. He’s pouting still and Steve wants so badly to pull him in against his body and surround him with the pressure and reassurance of a hug, but he knows he has to do this on Bucky’s timetable. The omega is calmed out of the frenzy he was having when Sharon sedated him, but a cc of Midazolam up the nose tends to do that.

“I’m alpha,” Steve says gently. “So of course I can’t know what it’s like to go through a heat, not personally. But I’ve helped a lot of people through theirs. They’ve told me all kinds of things. Some sort of dislike it. Most enjoy it to some extent. But nobody has ever told me it’s wrong or unnatural.”

It’s a lie. Steve has had one or two other patients who felt the way that Bucky feels, dysphoric patients who were traumatized by abusers in similar ways, but Steve also knows that that’s not what Bucky needs to hear right now.

“Hey,” he says, finally sliding his hand far enough over the blanket that his fingertips brush Bucky’s lax ones on the bed. Bucky’s eyes fly up to him. “I know you can’t just change your viewpoint overnight. I get it. But it’s important that you understand that nobody else shares those negative thoughts about your body or about heats. I’m certainly not thinking them.” He tilts his head forward and asks, “What did Clint say about it, when you guys talked?”

Bucky is reluctant to tell him, but eventually he murmurs, “He said it’s intense, but it’s just our bodies’ way of feeling good. … He said it’s better when you’ve got somebody with you to help.” His cheeks are getting flushed, probably a combination of embarrassment and the effects of his heat. “He said he’s married to his husband and they love each other. That makes him like his heats.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Phil. He’s a sweet guy. He’s actually one of the hospital administrators. We all go out for drinks together sometimes.” He’s trying to normalize everything, trying to make Bucky see that being omega and having heats is just another part of life that people go through, either on their own or through someone they know. “I have to say, I’ve always been a little bit jealous of the week of heat leave you guys get every month. It seems pretty awesome.”

Bucky looks at him like the words ‘heat’ and ‘awesome’ being used together don’t compute. His face flushes darker, and this time it’s almost certainly from embarrassment. “It’s gross,” he mumbles, looking away from Steve with a little scowl. He pulls his hand away from Steve’s on the bed and tucks his legs up under the blanket, hugging his arms around them. “Being like that, needing sex and having no control over yourself,” he says, spitting the words out like they’re bad, contemptable things. “Like an animal. S’pathetic.”

Steve sighs. Bucky’s got a long road of therapy ahead of him, that much is obvious. “It’s okay for you to think that, Honey, but you gotta know I’m gonna keep telling you how wrong you are.” Bucky looks back up at him at his assertive tone, and Steve nods. “I’m alpha, so I think omegas are lovely. And I’ve always thought it’s amazing what your bodies can do. It’s primal, sure. It’s powerful. Beautiful.”

Bucky pfts air between his teeth, disagreeing.

Steve lets his hand cover one of Bucky’s where he’s gripping his knees. “Especially to somebody like me. Seeing an omega in heat is a beautiful, natural thing. And every time I get to be with someone, when they let me help them feel good, it’s just the best thing.” There’s reverence in his voice instead of lust, and he can see the emotions passing over Bucky’s face as he takes that in. The disbelief starts to morph into a sort of cautious acceptance. Or at least that’s what Steve hopes it is. “I’m sorry you had people telling you otherwise for so long,” he says. He dares to curl his fingers over Bucky’s hand, and something loosens in his chest as the omega lets him. “Now you’re in the real world, though. Now you get to see how much everybody thinks you’re normal. Just another part of life. A great part of it, in fact.” He gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze. “So, will you let me spend your heat with you, Omega?”

Bucky’s irises flare and his lips part. Steve would be willing to bet the kid has never been called ‘omega’ with anything other than vitriol. And now Steve has said it like a title of honor. Bucky swallows thickly. “... Okay,” he says, voice barely there. Afraid maybe, but trusting. He’s trusting Steve, and that makes something golden and warm flare deep in Steve’s chest. “If it’s you,” Bucky adds meekly. “Only you.”

Steve smiles sadly. He’s not sure if Bucky fully remembers everything that’d happened in his hospital room earlier. “Yeah, Honey,” he reassures him. “I’m gonna stay with you the whole time. Just you and me.” He squeezes their fingers together. “It’s gonna be nice. I promise.”

Bucky blushes and squirms and won’t meet his eyes again, but he’s clearly pleased. He turns to look back over at the large, low bed. “Can I …” he starts, hesitant. “Can I go over there?”

“Of course, Sweetheart. It’s yours.” Steve pats the back of his hand comfortingly and then pulls away, getting up to go over and root around the fridge and make himself seem unobtrusive. “Why don’t you nest around a little bit? Make the blankets how you like.”

Behind him, Bucky is silent. Then Steve hears him get off the hospital bed, followed by the soft rustle of him climbing onto the suite’s bed. “... I don’t know how to nest,” comes quietly from behind.

Oh god. Steve lets his eyes slip shut for the barest second, at that heartbreakingly vulnerable admission. Once again, he’s struck by the intense urge to squeeze Bucky up in his arms, tight and secure and possessive forever. Focus, Rogers. He inhales deeply and fixes his face back to a cheerful neutral. He turns. Bucky is sitting in the very middle of the bed, legs folded under himself, looking like a lost little duckling in a sea of blankets. “Sure you do,” Steve says encouragingly. “It’s whatever makes you feel good. Whatever feels right.” He gestures to the various blankets and pillows. “Just start moving ‘em around. You’ll find what works.” He watches hopefully as Bucky bites his lip and considers his advice. He tentatively reaches for one of the pillows and switches it with another, fluffing it. Steve’s chest warms. “That’s it,” he encourages. “See? You know what to do.”

Bucky’s cheeks get more flushed and he tucks his lips in at the praise. There’s more confidence to him as he starts to pick up different pillows and move them, stuffing the edges of blankets around in various places.

“Rogers,”

Steve whips around towards the door at the sound of the intercom. He glances back at Bucky, who has tensed up at the interruption. “Keep working on it,” he urges kindly. “I have to step out for a second and talk with your new attending. I’ll be right back to see what you’ve done.” Bucky whines low in his throat, displeased at hearing that his heat partner is leaving him. But he obeys and goes back to arranging the blankets, and Steve is so proud of him. “Good boy,” he praises, then goes to step out into the hallway.

“Doctor,” he says respectfully once he’s out in the hallway with Banner. “Thanks for coming in. I’m sorry about this.”

Bruce smiles benevolently, if somewhat sleepily. “Happy to help. I gave his chart a look and read through your notes. It sounds like you made the right call to switch to his support.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah.” He knows that Banner could very well scold him over his mistakes, but instead he’s just letting it be. It’s a relief. “He just woke up from the sedatives a few minutes ago. I’m talking him through some nesting now, getting him settled in.”

Banner nods and brings his clipboard up to look at it as they talk. He scans Bucky’s chart, flipping between the pages. “Acute symptoms started about forty minutes ago?”

“Yeah.”

“What symptoms did you observe?”

Steve feels his neck get hot, and he brings a hand up to rub at it. “Um, well he slicked all over my pants.”

Bruce’s gaze falls assessingly to the large wet patch on Steve’s right thigh. He nods and writes on the clipboard. “Anything else?”

“Aggression, impulsive sexual touching, scenting, verbal regression, posturing,”

“The whole nine yards,” Bruce murmurs, nodding and finishing up with his writing. He looks back up at Steve. “Nothing to cause concern though?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. He rated his pain for me earlier. Just seems to be experiencing a typical level of cramping.”

“That’s good. Given the state of his infection days ago, I’dve been worried of something more severe.”

“That’s really cleared up,” Steve says. “A lot of the inflammation we saw there was actually his body rejecting the hormonal implants. Once we removed his suppressant and IUD, things really calmed down.”

Bruce nods, still flipping through the pages. “Okay. Still make sure to palpate his stomach. And conduct an internal before things get too wild in there.”

Steve fights back a wince. “Doc, he’s a very recent rape victim. I don’t think he’ll tolerate the speculum.”

“Then don’t use one,” Bruce says plainly. “If he can’t accept your fingers and you need a script written for benzos, we can do that.”

Steve tenses at the reminder that he’s no longer Bucky’s attending. He’s not the one who gets to make the decisions for Bucky’s care anymore. “Okay,” he agrees, anxious to get back into the suite and back to Bucky. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know.”

Bruce agrees and they part ways, and when Steve has locked himself back into the room, he turns and is met with the sight of Bucky working away at what’s quickly becoming a textbook nest. Steve beams. “Hey! look at you.”

Bucky spares him a glance, but then he huffs and he’s back to working away at getting the blankets just how he needs them. He’s like a cat: focused, satisfied and then frustrated and then satisfied again as he tries to get everything just right. It’s adorable. “They smell like you,” he mumbles, not looking up from where he’s working away. He means the blankets.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah I scented them. Is that okay?” Steve waits for Bucky’s approval. When he gets a quick, silent nod, he’s satisfied. “This looks real good, omega” he approves, watching Bucky nitpick the final little details of the nest. Steve doesn’t miss how the mounting pillow hasn’t been moved from its spot at the far end of the bed. He bites his lip, thrilled that Bucky hasn’t rejected it. He could’ve tossed it from the nest entirely, but instead he’s kept it. Steve’s under no illusions that the kid doesn’t recognize the item for exactly what it is. When Bucky stops nesting and starts squirming, Steve holds his breath and asks, “Omega?” He waits for Bucky to look him in the eyes. “Can I come into your den with you?”

Bucky’s eyes go a little fuzzy at the request, dazed and pleased at being pursued by an alpha when he’s ripe like this. “Alpha,” he says plaintively, in lieu of an answer.

Steve hums and steps forward. “So good,” he praises. “Bucky, can I take my clothes off?”

“I …” Bucky’s eyes flick over him nervously. They land on the wet patch on his scrub pants and hold there. “Oh,” he breathes, face going slack.

“Yeah,” Steve touches the spot where Bucky had slicked all over him. “You remember that?” he asks. “Rubbing your bottom on me?” Bucky emits a high keening sound, distressed, but Steve shushes him and tuts. “No, baby. It was so amazing. You made me really happy when you did that.”

Bucky’s eyes flick up nervously. He looks like he can’t believe it. “I did?” he asks.

“Of course. It’s what your body’s supposed to do. It means you're healthy and aroused. That’s completely normal.” Bucky frowns a little, clearly still having intrusive thoughts about his nature. He whines and shakes his head, displeased, and Steve hurries to take a step closer to the low mattress. “Hey. Look at me, Honey. Please?”

Bucky squirms in place, rocking his hips in little unconscious movements. He looks up at him, and there’s awareness in his eyes. Awareness and fear. Steve can see how Bucky is perfectly aware of how differently he’s acting now, because of his heat. And it’s scaring him. “Steve,” he says, voice trembling. “Please. … I don’t think I can do this.”

“I’m right here, Buck. It’s okay. This is safe, remember?”

His lips tremble and a single tear falls down his cheek. “What’re you gonna do?”

Steve tries to give him the most reassuring look he knows how. “I’m gonna undress,” he says gently. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to have sex with you. We’re just gonna have some skin contact to start. Is that okay?” He waits for Bucky’s unsure nod before he pulls his scrub top over his head and tosses it aside. He’s wearing a white tee shirt underneath and he quickly removes that as well. Then Bucky’s inhale sounds, sharp and audible, his lips parting as he sees Steve’s body bared to him for the first time. Steve hums, pleased at the reaction, and pushes his chest out. He lets Bucky look his fill. The way the omega is sitting there, breathing open-mouthed and rocking faintly in place as his need builds, makes Steve’s balls feel heavy and full. He toes off his clogs and socks, then hooks his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his scrub pants. “You can undress too, if it’s what feels good,” he tells him. “I only want you to do what feels good for you.” Bucky just sits there and stares as Steve's scrub pants fall and his cock is revealed, half hard and obvious underneath his briefs. He rubs himself once from over the fabric, watching how Bucky's eyes track the movement. "Gonna take these off," he warns, not wanting anything he does to feel like a surprise to the omega. When he straightens back up from taking off his briefs, his cock hangs thickly between his legs.

And Bucky's eyes are riveted. “Oh,” he breathes quietly, all modesty and shame momentarily forgotten as he stares at Steve’s alpha body. “Steve,” he whispers.

Steve smiles, feeling incredibly tender towards the young omega. Bucky won’t be the first virgin he’s ever supported, but he might be the most vulnerable. Steve puts one knee up on the mattress, carefully cataloging Bucky’s reactions with every move he makes. He lowers his hands down into the mess of blankets, brings his other knee up, crawls forward slowly. “I’m coming into your nest with you, omega,” he says softly. “Your den. Where you decide what happens, right?”

“... right,” Bucky breathes, distracted.

Steve’s lips curl. “Can you undress for me now?” Bucky makes a small, hurt sound in his throat, but he listens and pulls off his hospital gown. Steve’s dick jumps against his thigh as he finally gets to see the boy’s naked body. “Oh, Sweetheart.”

Steve saw him that night in the ER, of course, but he’d been bloodied and bruised, wracked with seizures and burning up from infection. Steve hadn’t been able to look at him as anything other than an emergency that night. Bucky had been a body, broken and hurt and needing to be repaired, and Steve had done his job. Now, it’s amazing how much of a difference there is. Bucky is clean and healed and Steve can really look at him.

He has a natural tan to his skin. He's toned, with long, lithe limbs and muscles that are still partially hidden by a layer of baby fat. His chest and arms are strong, especially for an omega, but his hips round out nicely like they should, and his thighs are thick and welcoming. His belly is slightly distended, swollen from his heat. Everything about him makes Steve’s mouth water and his pulse thrum hard in his veins, pleased.

Bucky’s body is that of a fully-matured omega male, already having prepared itself for pregnancy and childbirth despite the years he was forced to take suppressants. Steve breathes a sigh of relief to see it. “Bucky,” he says honestly, wanting him to hear the arousal in his voice this time. “You’re so beautiful. Look at you.” He reaches out as if he’ll touch, but he doesn’t. “You’re perfect.”

Bucky flushes deeply at the praise and at being so closely scrutinized. There’s still a tension in him that’s unnatural, a wariness that serves to remind Steve that the omega was violated barely more than a week ago. Steve knees up closer to him and mirrors his position, sitting back on his heels, maintaining that small distance that reminds Bucky that this is his choice. He reaches out and puts a hand on Bucky’s hip, sliding it up his side.

Bucky flinches, and then he keens in distress when he sees the hurt that flashes on Steve’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking ashamed. “Alpha,”

“Hey, no.” Steve tuts and curls his fingers in at the soft give of Bucky’s waist. “No, baby. Don’t apologize for this. You got hurt, and it’s scary. You don’t have to hide any of that from me. I want to know how you’re really feeling.” He reaches with his other hand and cups Bucky’s neck. He feels around and pushes in when he finds the glands there, hot and tight and swollen beneath the skin. The scent of fresh slick hits the air when he pinches down on it, and Bucky whines loudly. “Shhh sh sh,” Steve hushes. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky whimpers and trembles, but calms down quickly with Steve’s hand massaging at his glands so pointedly. His eyes slip shut for the briefest of seconds, showing his trust in Steve, and something very close to a moan leaves his lips. It’s quiet, barely there, but Steve hears it. “Steve,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Oh …”

“What do you want to do, Honey?” Steve asks. “You want to get on your back? Why don’t you do that and feel those soft blankets against your body, huh?” He encourages Bucky to lie back and is incredibly relieved when the omega goes without a fuss. “Good boy,” he coos. “That’s just right. Yeah, isn’t that nice? Did such a good job on making this nest, Omega,” he praises. He sits back and crosses his legs and gives Bucky a moment to settle in. “There you go. Mmhm. Bet that feels real good on your skin, doesn’t it? Don’t worry now. I’m not going to touch you for a little bit. Just want you to get comfy in your nest. You gonna do that for me, Sweetheart?”

Bucky nods, scent calming more and more as he realizes that Steve isn’t lying, that he’s really not going to fall on top of him and force anything on him. His eyes open and flick over Steve’s face uncertainly. “What do I have to do?” he asks, emotionally vulnerable now but still with a degree of lucidity in his voice. It lets Steve know that he’s still dealing with his patient: a trauma victim. Bucky isn’t lost to his heat just yet.

Steve starts up a low, comforting rumble in his chest and keeps his hands on the tops of his own thighs. “Nothing you don’t want to,” he reassures him. “We’re here for you, Bucky. To make you feel good, and safe, and pleasured. I’m not going to do anything to you if it doesn’t make you feel all of those things, okay?”

Bucky almost looks like he’s going to cry at hearing Steve’s kind promises. He looks like a child who’s afraid to trust, who’s had promises that they’ve believed in yanked away before, many times. “Are you sure?” he asks, fearful.

Steve smiles sadly and grips his own thighs to keep himself from reaching out. “So sure,” he says. “Let’s just sit here together for a minute, okay?” He looks up at the ceiling and speaks to the StarkPhone assistant, “Hey Jarvis: play ‘sexual healing’ playlist.”

“Playing ‘sexual healing’ playlist.”

Steve looks back down to Bucky just in time to catch him wincing at the stupid name of the playlist. They share a chuckle over it, and then the music that Steve uses for people like Bucky starts to fill the room. There’s not actually any Marvin Gaye on it. Far from that, the instrumental music is somewhere between ethereal and sensual. It’s enticing, soothing, and Steve has always found it to be a good fit for patients who need help relaxing into their heats. “How’s that?” he asks Bucky, smiling down at him.

“Nice,” he says, inhaling slowly and letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxes, and exhales.

Something deep in Steve’s chest unspools at that huge sign of trust. This is good. This is going really well. “Okay,” he murmurs. More quietly than last time, he says, “Jarvis: dim lights to thirty percent, soft orange glow. Adjust room temperature to patient’s basal body temp, minus twenty degrees.”

This time Jarvis follows the commands without replying. The room becomes warm and glowing and comforting, like the inside of a womb. Steve sits still and allows Bucky to take time to relax fully. The omega’s scent is improving, softening and ripening into a healthy tone. Steve’s body responds to it, but he ignores his own reactions and watches Bucky intently. In the low light, his body gleams beautifully. The faint sheen of perspiration that coats his skin makes him look delectable. Steve wants to taste him so badly.

“I’m gonna get something,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb Bucky from how he’s relaxing. “Not going anywhere, just a second.” Bucky makes a vague noise of assent, eyes staying closed. It makes Steve smile fondly.

He goes to the supply cabinet and gets a bottle of unscented oil. There’s a pin valve on the bottom of the container that he locks onto one of the pheromone vials. He squeezes in some of his pheromones then pops the vial back off, giving the oil bottle a good shake to properly emulsify everything. Having Steve’s alpha scent rubbed all over his skin will help relax Bucky, and it’ll help calm some of his body’s inflammatory heat reactions down.

Steve climbs back into the nest and sits next to Bucky’s prone body. He lets his eyes rake over the rise and fall of his chest and the smooth planes of his belly. He stares at what’s visible lower down; a small thatch of dark pubic hair just above his penis, everything else naturally bare and smooth. Steve can’t see his actual sex from here, but he can see the shine of slick that’s leaked out of it, smeared onto his inner thighs and gleaming in the room’s low light. It’s enticing to say the least.

Steve knows he’s not supposed to judge his patients’ bodies, but there’s no denying that Bucky is ideally attractive, right down to what’s between his legs. His little cocklet is short and soft. It’s fattened up thick but not erect. That’s to be expected. It’s rare that Steve sees a male omega who is able to get fully hard. Their bodies don’t produce the right hormones for it, especially during their heats. Bucky’s uncircumcised, the head of his little dick fat and flush beneath the foreskin. Steve knew all of this already, but somehow it all still feels novel. He’s looking at him differently now. Not as a doctor but as his alpha support, as someone who’s going to make love to his body, if Bucky wants it.

When he looks back up to his face, Bucky’s eyes are open and he’s watching him with an inscrutable expression. “Are you okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods silently. “I …” his eyes flash down to his dick and then away. “Um…” He squirms and presses his thighs together, ashamed. “It’s not, um, I’m not …”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “Bucky, no. You’re so perfect, Honey. You literally look like the classical sculptures of male omegas.” Bucky seems to be slightly reassured by this, which Steve knows is a minor miracle. He can imagine the sorts of things Bucky’s been insulted with over the years, all the ways his so-called family has told him his omega body is wrong. “Can I touch you a little, Sweetheart? Are you gonna let me touch this gorgeous body?”

Bucky shivers, eyes wide. He seems stunned that Steve likes the way he looks. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Good boy,” Steve praises. He squeezes out some of the oil and rubs it between his hands. It’s a dry massage oil, designed for omegas who’re in heat, their skin overly sensitive to stimulation. Steve reaches out slowly, telegraphing his intentions. He lets his hand sink down to rest on the top of Bucky’s thigh. He feels the omega shiver from the touch. He squeezes, digging slow and deep into the muscle, then releases the pressure and rubs firmly up and down, over and over. “Is this okay?” he asks. “Me massaging you?” It’s one of the most common techniques he uses for trauma victims, and Bucky seems to be responding to it favorably, if the lazy, pleasured look on his face is anything to go by. “Mm? Good?”

Bucky nods, staring at him through heavy lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he croaks. “It’s nice.” Between his legs, his little cocklet is just barely peeking out, a thin bead of moisture pearling at the slit . Steve notices with a slight smile, but of course he says nothing.

He brings up his other hand to deepen the massage. “That’s good,” he praises. “That’s what we want.” He keeps up the massage, doing one thigh and then the other, then moving down to his shins. Bucky makes a painfully erotic sound once Steve has pulled his foot into his lap and is digging fingers into his arch. Steve hums, continuing on.

Eventually Bucky seems calm enough that Steve sets his feet aside and encourages him to spread his legs so that Steve can move to sit between them. Bucky seems to know what’s coming, keeping his eyes pointedly closed as Steve eases his hands back up his legs, over his knees, and then up to the tension in his inner thighs. “Shh,” Steve soothes, rubbing back and forth. “Relax, honey. I’m just gonna examine you. Eyes and hands only, I promise. Take deep breaths.”

Bucky tries to listen, it’s obvious. But his breath still hitches when Steve brings both hands to his lower stomach and begins palpating the area. He peeks down at Steve, “What’re you doing?”

“Just checking,” Steve murmurs, focused on what he’s feeling underneath his fingers. “It’s normal for your uterus to swell during heat, but I don’t want to feel any hard spots.” He hears Bucky grunt in embarrassment, probably at being reminded of his own anatomy. “Shh, you’re okay. Everything seems fine.”

“... Steve?” Steve looks up and sees Bucky’s pinched expression. “Um, remember when you said I might not be able to have children?”

His heart squeezes at the obvious vulnerability in Bucky’s voice, how brave he’s being by asking. “We were worried about that, before,” Steve admits. “But your body’s been responding well to the treatment.” He notches his thumbs in at Bucky’s hipbones and strokes him softly there. “We still have to get your cycles regulated, but I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to carry a pregnancy just fine one day.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush and he looks a little overwhelmed at the words. “... one day,” he repeats meekly, and Steve smiles gently at him.

“Yeah Honey, one day. Not today. Not until you’re ready.” This seems to ease Bucky's fears, and his scent sweetens into something even richer than before. He smells like he feels safe, and that makes Steve preen in satisfaction. He’s making his omega feel safe. He rumbles low in his chest and watches how Bucky reacts to the sound. He slides his hands down to Bucky’s knees and encourages him to bed his legs up. “Can I see the rest of you?” he asks.

Bucky trembles and tenses, but he nods, shifting the tilt of his hips as he draws his knees up for him.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, knowing how hard it must be for Bucky to reveal this part of himself to anyone, let alone Steve. “That’s so good, Bucky. Thank you.” He strokes Bucky’s calves, soothing him. “Close your eyes if you need to. I want you relaxed for this.”

Bucky whimpers but he does let his eyes slip closed. He’s trying. He’s being so brave and strong and it melts Steve’s heart. Steve takes a moment to get some more of the massage oil on his hands. He leans over Bucky and smears the oil on either side of his neck, right over the glands, giving him his scent. He puts some just below his nostrils as well and Bucky moans softly. Steve sits back. He looks down.

Bucky is pink and healthy looking, swollen from the heat and soaked with a healthy amount of slick. Steve pushes gently on his shins to get him to bend his legs more. This tilts his pelvis up and exposes him to Steve’s view.

Bucky looks like any young male omega should. He lacks a clitoris because his body developed that part of his anatomy into a penis when he was in utero. His sex is fairly similar to a female's, with pronounced outer lips where he would’ve formed his testicles, if he hadn’t developed ovaries instead. Steve’s breath catches a little when he sees the boy's muscles clench, a thick gush of slick seeping out of his cunt. Jesus wept. Bucky whimpers and squirms, but Steve hushes him, telling him that he’s good, he’s fine, his body’s doing what it’s supposed to. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” he says softly, giving Bucky the chance to refuse. “I’m going to put my fingers inside to feel you.”

While it’s clear that this is very upsetting and hard for Bucky, he still seeks comfort in Steve, trying to be good for him. “Alpha,” he breathes, eyes clenched shut and face screwed up. He reaches down, searching for Steve’s hand.

Steve gives him his left one and squeezes their fingers together. “Right here, Honey. It’s just you and me, in private, taking care of each other. Nothing bad, right?”

Bucky nods tightly. “Y-yeah. Right.”

Steve smiles up at him, pained but so, so proud of how well he’s doing. “C’mere,” he coaxes, scooting up in the sheets and pulling on Bucky until he has the boy’s hips up in his lap. “There you go. That’s so good, Omega. You know just what to do. So smart.” Bucky responds to the nonsensical praise, his whines losing some of their stress and instead becoming more seeking, questioning things. Steve makes it his mission to soothe those sounds with his own. “I’m going to touch you now, Buck. Two fingers. It shouldn’t hurt, but if it feels uncomfortable at all, you tell me right away and I’ll stop.” He waits for Bucky’s nod before continuing, then traces the edges of his folds, gathering slick on his fingertips. Everything externally looks good, and the little Steve can see of his delicate entrance looks normal, if a bit heat swollen. The remains of his recently-torn hymen are still there, healed but jagged edges of soft tissue that evil, vile rapists created. Steve grits his teeth and forces his thoughts away from that, not wanting to think about what they took from Bucky, not wanting Bucky to become upset from an unpleasant shift in his scent.

Any physical trauma to the vaginal tissues will have healed in an omega his age by now, Steve knows, but that’s just the physical. Physical wounds always heal the fastest, and hurt the least. There are other, deeper hurts that Steve needs to help him with.

“Okay,” he whispers, setting his fingers to Bucky’s entrance. “A little pressure, no pain. Remember what you do if there’s pain?”

Bucky’s face pinches where he’s lying with his eyes firmly closed. “Tell you,” he murmurs, and Steve praises him with a deep rumble of approval.

“That’s right. Good boy. Okay now, deep breath.” He waits for Bucky’s chest to rise in an inhale before he applies pressure, and slips into his body.

Bucky’s lips part and he gasps, but it’s just reflex. He lets his breath out and sighs, making a little sound in his throat like he’s surprised that it actually didn’t hurt. “Oh,” he says.

Steve hums, pleased. “Nothing bad,” he repeats. He crooks his fingers, feeling with purpose along the omega’s walls. It’s tight inside, incredibly hot and tight like a virgin omega’s cunt should be. Steve keeps his arousal to himself as best he can, though he knows his scent will give some of it away. At least Bucky is keeping his eyes closed to relax, so Steve doesn’t have to worry about the boy seeing the undoubtedly devastated expressions of arousal that flash across his own face.

He’s alpha, and even though he’s undergone extensive training, there’s no helping certain things. Steve’s cock is hard and it’s not going down any time soon. He swallows thickly, focusing on the exam he needs to be conducting. Carefully, watching Bucky’s body and face for any flinches, he strokes and feels along his internal walls. Nothing abnormal stands out to him, though when he uses a different technique to feel closer to the entrance, he does notice the enlarged slick glands that he’d known were there.

They’re much better than they’d been on that night in the ER, at least. No longer raging with infection, able to be touched without causing extreme pain. Steve feels and identifies the structures, impacted from years and years of illegal suppressant use. Carefully, he eases into using more pressure, rubbing firmly.

Bucky groans and presses his hips down. “Oh god,” he complains, brow scrunching a little. “What is that?”

“Pain?” Steve asks, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Sore. Oh. Like a bruise.”

Steve hums knowingly. “You have four glands here, two on either side. They’re how your body gets wet, but right now they’re probably impacted.” Bucky makes a hurt little sound in his throat and asks what that means. Steve explains it to him. “There was a lot of old infection in them and that all needs depressed now that your body’s producing slick again. I’m gonna massage them to try and get the bad stuff out, okay?”

Bucky’s chewing his lip, making it red and swollen and very tempting for Steve to just crawl back up his body and kiss the abused flesh. “... okay.”

Steve decides to do the anterior two first, as they feel harder. “Here we go,” he murmurs. “If it hurts more than slightly pressing on a bruise, tell me. Don’t ignore pain. I’ll stop if we need to.”

Bucky nods tightly, expression strained. But he whispers, “I trust you, Alpha,” and Steve’s heart swells two sizes bigger in his chest.

A few minutes of firm, focused touching on the glands is all it takes to have them releasing. Liquid gushes over the back of Steve’s hand as the pressure gives and Bucky moans in relief. The smell of old, stale infection hits the air, sour for a moment before it dissipates. Steve uses his free hand to rub soothingly over Bucky’s lower belly. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Against the sheets, Bucky nods his head blearily. Steve turns his hand and finds the posterior glands, and works those until they release as well. The amount of slick is incredible, and Steve knows that it must feel so much better for the omega now that all that poison is out of him. There’s immediately more room inside his channel, the glands back to being soft and spongy like they should be. Steve gives them a few more gentle strokes to be sure that all that backed up slick is out. “Good,” he rumbles low in his chest, proud of how well Bucky handled that. “That’s just lovely, Honey. Good job.”

Bucky peeks his eyes open, looking down to where Steve still has his fingers buried inside his body. His entire face is flushed and he’s breathing open-mouthed. “S-steve,” he slurs, searching Steve’s eyes out with his own. He’s a little wild, a little needy, and Steve responds, removing his fingers from the drenched clutch of his cunt and coming up to lay over his body instead. He puts his face close, giving Bucky eye contact and reassurance and an open invitation to scent him. “I’m here, Buck. I’m right here with you. What do you need?”

Bucky grunts with discomfort and hides himself against Steve’s neck, which of course Steve allows, turning his head to the side to give him better access to his glands. He cups Bucky’s head with his clean hand, encouraging him with deep, soothing sounds. “That’s good, that’s just right, Honey. Do what feels good. Whatever you need.”

Bucky keens, embarrassed but clearly loving the reassurance Steve’s giving him. He latches onto Steve, mouth on his glands and legs around his waist. He humps up against him and sucks needily on his glands. “Mmph, mm…”

Steve can’t help the guttural moan that escapes him at such contact. It feels so good. “Okay, Sweetheart, okay,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut as his dick throbs and blurts out precum against Bucky’s stomach. “Yeah, okay.” He loses control for a few seconds as his hips press down on Bucky’s soft body, but he reigns it in after a few thrusts.

Bucky complains with a noise, humping up for more as he mouths over Steve's neck. His teeth scrape and then catch, and then he bites down on Steve’s glands. Hard.

Steve grunts loudly at the flare of pain. The skin breaks and his scent wafts into the air, strong and different from before as Bucky’s saliva gets mixed into the wound. He hears Bucky’s muffled sound of enjoyment as his mouth fills with the taste, eagerly suckling for more. “... oh, fuck,” Steve moans. He digs his fingers in against Bucky’s shoulders and pants, trying to hold on, to stay calm.

He knew this might happen. Patients with needs as complex as Bucky’s are prone to biting. They naturally seek out the connection and pleasure of a bond, instincts overriding their minds as they seek the comfort they so desperately need. Bucky chirps happily at the burst of pheromones that he’s gotten, rubbing his face back and forth in the blood. “Alpha, Alpha,” he breathes, clinging onto him and humping up, getting his slick all over Steve.

Steve practices his breathing to try and stay calm. He pets Bucky’s shoulders and his hair, taking deep, grounding breaths. He’s careful not to pull away, not to deny Bucky access to any part of him. The pain from the bite is gone and the euphoria is setting in, making his skin tingle, his balls throb. He can feel his knot becoming erect. Bucky is rubbing his cunt along the length of his cock, and even with his training and his certifications and his long-practiced self control, even Steve has limits.

“Hang on, Honey. Hang on now,” he says, voice low with forced calm. He shifts on his arms over Bucky so that he can get a hand at the back of the omega’s neck. He squeezes. Bucky instantly goes limp, mouth releasing from Steve’s skin with a moan as he goes slack against the blankets. Steve pants for a moment, just calming himself down. “Okay,” he says, eyes closed. “Okay baby. Just ... just gimme a minute ..."

He's been bonded to seven people in his life. It never gets easier.

The euphoria is wonderful, all-consuming, an intense physical pleasure that’s different from pure sex and is very emotional—like doing narcotics and molly at the same time. It makes it very hard not to lose his control and simply fuck into the nearest available orifice. Which right now is Bucky’s soaking wet cunt. Grunting, he forces himself to pull back. He rolls off of Bucky and gets off the bed.

Bucky’s keening protest is near-instantaneous. “Alpha!”

Steve rumbles loudly to calm him down. “Stop. Omega. Be still.” Bucky whimpers but listens, and Steve sits down on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Talk to me,” he coaxes, waiting for Bucky to calm down enough to communicate. “How you doing, Sweetheart?”

Bucky looks pleadingly up at him, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. “S-steve, I’m—I need…”

Steve’s heart clenches in sympathy. It’s not easy for an assault victim to say that they need to be fucked, especially when they have as much shame and dysphoria surrounding their gender as Bucky does. “Hey,” he says lowly, leaning over and sliding his hand up Bucky’s chest. “It’s okay to ask for what you need. What do you need, Baby? Tell me.” Bucky trembles and shakes his head, upset, so Steve cups the front of his throat and presses slightly, just enough to be dominating. “Tell me now, Omega,” he says, using his Voice to make it easier for him. “Tell Alpha what you need to feel right.”

Bucky moans and thrusts his hips up uselessly. He looks to Steve, relief in his eyes. “Alpha,” he croaks. “You, please. Want you.”

“Want me how?” Steve presses, not in his Voice but still domineering. He lets his fingers dig into Bucky’s glands, sees Bucky’s blood-stained lips part in a sigh of pleasure. “You have choices,” Steve says. He’s regained some of his control now, is more clear headed as he tells him, “We don’t have to have sex if it’s not what you want. You can use my hands, or my mouth. There are toys. I can have the hospital staff bring—”

“No!” Bucky whines loudly and squirms against the hold on his neck. Both of his hands fly up and grasp at Steve’s wrist. “No, no, Alpha, please. I need… I–I n-need it.”

Steve frowns, debating whether he should push and make him say it. After a moment of watching Bucky struggle and plead uselessly, he decides that no, he’s not going to force him to voice what it is he wants so badly. They both know what it is, and the last thing Steve wants is for Bucky to feel any sort of shame right now.

Only pleasure. That’s what he’d promised.

So, taking a deep breath, Steve gives himself over to his role a little more. He’s got Bucky’s consent, or as much of it he’s able to, given the state he’s in, and now he needs to be what Bucky needs him to be. He needs to be his Alpha. “Stay still,” he orders firmly, giving a little jostle to Bucky’s neck where he’s holding him. “I’m gonna get something. Don’t move until I come back.”

Bucky whines in complaint the entire time that it takes Steve to pad over to the fridge and back, but when Steve returns, he still hasn’t moved. Steve rumbles approval in his chest for Bucky to hear. “Good boy,” he praises, sitting down on the bed and helping Bucky to prop himself up, too. “Here. Drink.” He guides the water bottle to Bucky’s lips, helping him even when the omega brings his own hands up to hold it. Steve doesn’t trust the poor thing not to spill it all over himself. Steve gulps down what Bucky doesn’t finish, tossing the bottle off to the side somewhere. His eyes stay on Bucky, trailing up and down his naked body. “You’re so beautiful, Buck,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace the side of his cheek, his temple.

It’s true. Bucky’s whole body is flushed and tense. He’s sweaty, trembling with his need for touch and stimulation. When Steve cups the front of his throat again, the omega’s eyes slip shut and stay shut. He purrs. Steve rumbles in response and uses the moment that Bucky has his eyes closed, relaxed, to stare selfishly at his body.

His little cock is thickened, a perfect, fat little nub that’s almost thicker than it is long, chubbed up and leaking little droplets. But that’s nothing compared to the mess that’s coming from his cunt. He’s soaking wet down there, a combination of shiny clear slick coating his thighs and the sheets, and thicker arousal creaming right at his entrance.

Steve growls as he’s slammed with the hot urge to stick his face down there, tongue deep inside his cunt and swallow everything the omega has to give. He looks away for a second to get himself under control. When he looks back, Bucky’s eyes are fixed on him. “Omega,” Steve grits, forced control darkening his tone. “I want to try something. Something to make you feel good. But I need you to tell me if you want it.” He watches Bucky carefully, watches his mouth and his eyes, feels the thrum of his pulse underneath his hand. He scents the air to gauge his reaction as he says, “I want to put my mouth on you. I want to eat you out. I want to make you cum that way.”

Every sign that Bucky could possibly give him that he wants it, he does. He jerks in Steve’s hold and keens, hands grappling all over Steve’s hand at his throat, up his wrist and his forearm. “Yes!” he gasps, crying a little bit in shame. Steve scents the smokey tint of it in his scent, polluting what should be nothing but pleasure and acceptance. Bucky is ashamed that he wants an alpha to touch him this way. “Sweetheart,” Steve coos, thumbing away one of the tears. But he leaves it at that. More tears follow. Steve knows he can’t expect miracles today. Bucky can cry about it if he needs. He can squirm and flush and cry while Steve pleasures him with his mouth, so long as he comes.

That’s what therapy’s for.

Steve pushes him back to lie flat on the bed. He bends over and kisses him, keeping it shallow and gentle even when Bucky gets a little bit desperate and tries to get more. Steve tuts and pushes him back into the blankets. “Be still, ‘mega,” he commands gently. “Alpha’s gonna make it better, you’ll see.” He pulls some of the soft things in from the edges of the nest, rucking them up close around Bucky’s head and shoulders, making a tight little barrier where he can feel held, safe and snug. “Okay,” he says, satisfied by how Bucky goes a little lax in the cradle of the blankets. “Yeah, there we go.”

“Alpha,” Bucky says softly, looking lost. He’s completely dependent at this point, so incredibly vulnerable that it makes Steve's cock ache.

“Sweet boy,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. Alpha’s gonna make you feel good now, okay?” He waits for Bucky to give him a slow little nod. He pecks one more kiss to his bitten-red lips, then starts trailing down his body, one kiss at a time. He’s sorely tempted to waste some time sucking at the omega’s chest. His little pink nipples are so perky and flushed, and Steve just knows he could get his breast buds to swell up so beautifully if he only paid them some attention.

But Bucky hasn’t consented to that, and Steve hasn’t asked, and he has to be very careful of treating Bucky’s body in only the ways he gives consent for and can tolerate. Bucky’s been through so much pain and he’s been forced into things no omega should ever be forced into. His experience now has to be positive. It has to.

Steve sinks down between his legs and stares at his wet cunt. He’s pulsing with arousal, his entrance contracting rhythmically, pushing out more of that cream. Steve releases a guttural moan at the intense smell of it. “Fuck,” he breathes. There’s no amount of training that could help him resist this.

He covers Bucky’s cunt with his mouth, lapping across his slit. The taste of his arousal is sharp and amazing, made even more so by the fresh effects of the bite to Steve’s bonding gland. He groans against his mound and holds him down roughly at the hips when Bucky jerks wildly.

He’s crying out, sobbing wordlessly and thrashing up against Steve’s mouth. “A—Alpha!” he gasps, sounding like he’s protesting as much as he is begging. “Oh, oh, oh!”

Steve tongues into his hole furiously, over and over again, fucking him with the muscle. He can feel Bucky fluttering around him, his body trying so hard to clamp down onto something. Steve hears the growing displeasure and desperation in the boy’s keening cries, so he reaches to push his little cocklet down flat and starts thumbing rapidly back and forth under the head.

Bucky screams and starts to come.

As soon as Steve realizes what’s happening, he moves his mouth up and takes his cock in his mouth, replacing his tongue with fingers in Bucky’s cunt. It throbs and pulses around them, milking him, drawing out the orgasm. Bucky’s hips grind up against Steve’s face and hands, and Steve can only work him through it, listening to his desperate sobs and wishing he could be kissing his face, too, whispering encouragements into his mouth as he falls apart so sweetly.

“That’s it,” he says when he’s finally let Bucky’s cocklet slip from his mouth. He’s speaking against the swell of his belly, still rocking fingers inside him as the boy twitches through the waning pleasure of his climax. “That’s it, Omega. Take it, take it. Just feel it.”

Bucky’s sobbing quietly and shaking from his core as Steve finishes guiding him through it. “S-steeve,” he keens, upset and needing reassurance. He pulls at Steve’s shoulders, urging him back up his body. Steve goes obediently, eager to calm him down now.

“Shh sh sh,” he soothes, kissing all over his face and then down to his neck. He sucks his glands on one side, pinches with his fingers on the other. “Good, you’re so good Omega. That was perfect. Alpha’s so proud of you.”

The scent of Bucky’s shame is stronger now than it was before, but it eases up the longer Steve goes on, reassuring him with touches and words and chest-deep rumbles that he’s done exactly what he’s supposed to, that he was good to take his pleasure that way and that his Alpha is so, so happy with him now.

“So good,” he kisses into his skin, scraping his teeth over the swollen glands but restraining himself from anything more. “So good for me, Bucky.” He comes up to lie over him and look down at his face. He’s beet red and tear stained, and he’s never looked more beautiful to Steve. Steve smiles softly as they both calm down, and he thumbs at his wet cheeks. “Did that feel so good, Sweetheart?”

Bucky’s lips tremble and he nods and cries a little bit more. “Yeah.”

Steve coos. He kisses him, calming him down. When Bucky’s scent is almost free from that shame and embarrassment, he pulls back and smiles down at him. “Do you have any idea how perfect you are like this?” he asks softly. “Any idea how much I want you right now?”

Beneath his body, Bucky shudders. He looks wonderingly up at Steve and whispers, “No.”

Steve hums, then lets the sound develop into a mature rumble deep in his chest. He gets off of Bucky, pulling back and getting up on his knees, sitting back on his heels. He watches Bucky, keenly aware of how the omega’s attention drops right to the proud jut of his cock between his thighs.

Taking a deep breath and trying his very best to wipe any trace of an opinion out of his voice, Steve asks, “What do you want now, Omega?”

Art: @hopelessartgeek

A.N. This ended in a stupid spot because it was getting too long. More to come!

Story Masterlist

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Tags: @scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @sapphirebarnes, @Yoruse, @autumnrose40, @alexakeyloveloki, @gretasimp, @kandismom, @ivoryangel1290, @mrs-rogers-barnes1, @iloveshawnieboi, @m0k0k0, @sousydive, @sapphirebarnes, @kandis-mom, @juicyfruit-22, @bloodrosefuryao3

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

*jingling keys in front of you* you wanna tell us more about the gorobot au sooooooo bad (please lol i'm obsessed w it. ur brain is huge)

*bats at keys* oh all right you got me

soooo remember what i said about gorobot having forgotten a lot of stuff because of his long coma? well, basically, he's forgotten nearly everything to do with akira. he's also forgotten everything to do with third sem, but that's for other reasons. (the trauma of his personas being split from his body made hereward split back into loki and robin hood, so now he's forgotten everything associated with hereward. his memories end with his death in shido's palace even though he did experience third sem.)

so, goro's memories have a big akira-sized hole in them, with one exception because he does have one singular memory of akira, though the details of it are sparse and it has an almost dream-like quality to it. it's a memory of the two of them in the jazz club, where akira invites goro to dance, and despite his reservations, he says yes. this memory is goro's one respite in the hell that is shady group. he replays this memory over and over again, always trying to recall more details, and always failing. he becomes obsessed with the boy in this memory, the one thing that seemed to make him happy in his previous life. though of course he also hates himself for this obsession, since he has no right to akechi prime's lover, since he isn't really akechi.

still, that memory of akira is the singular thing that keeps goro anchored to some kind of sanity during his time under shady group.

like i mentioned in the previous post, eventually akira does find goro (probably through also joining shadow ops or smth idk) and their reunion is so funny/dramatic bc they're like on opposite sides of the room when their eyes meet and akira is like. is that goro??? it can't be he's dead it's been years i've accepted that he's dead but that looks like goro. and meanwhile goro's system is getting quite literally overloaded with memories that are being triggered by seeing akira and it triggers an emergency shutdown to avoid his systems overheating AKA he passes out in the middle of everyone.

and so goro gets carted away all dramatically and akira is like oh my fucking god that's goro and he's dying in front of me right when we're able to reunite he's going to die. and he's trying to get to him and asking them if goro's going to be okay barely keeping it together enough to be coherent and they're like "oh yeah im sure he's fine he's a robot" and akira is like... "he's a WHAT???"

anyway akira obviously is right at goro's side until he wakes up and goro is still remembering everything (it's still not everything but it's a lot to handle still. it's a bit much to remember oh, the guy im lowkey obsessed with, which I have this really sweet jazz jin dancing memory with, i also tried to kill him. multiple times. that's fun and cool for him to deal with. but he doesn't remember everything yet, for example, he still does not remember the glove. ;-;).

akira is like "i was so sure you were going to die don't scare me like that" and goro is like "don't be stupid i'm a robot i can't die they'd just repair me" and akira is like "speaking of oh my god i can't believe you're a robot-" and goro is like "i know i'm an affront to humanity it must disgust you to look at this laughable copy of the man you once loved" and akira's like "-that's SO FREAKING COOL" and goro's like. "what."

cue soooo much arguing over whether gorobot is the real deal, whether akira gives a shit, and whether goro is deserving of love, etc. because of course akira thinks gorobot deserves the entire world and more and also he thinks goro becoming a robot is the coolest shit ever.

(but also akira isn't very validating of goro's feelings and doesn't want to accept that he *has* changed quite a bit and if he wants to love this version of him he's going to have to accept that.)

so they both have a lot of growth to go through....

[astramachina]

Writerly Questionnaire

i was gonna snatch someone's open tag but @the-golden-comet (ty!!!) hit me with one so here we go. this is probs gonna get long and I apologize in advance.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I was probably writing two page "sensationalized diary entries" when I was 8, but my first foray into proper "I am writing a piece of fiction" was at around 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Kind of but not really? I do enjoy reading a good romcom every now and then despite never having written one (and not intending to YET), but I mostly read horror and sci-fi which are my two genres of writing choice.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

When I was younger I really wanted to be able to emulate Terry Pratchett's prose, but the more I wrote the more I realized there's no real emulation when it comes to one's own authorial voice, just bits and pieces of all of whom we've enjoyed along the way. Nowadays I don't really care for the idea of comparison, but if it's a must, Grady Hendrix's approach to blending horror with humor is golden.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

98% of active writing magic occurs in my bedroom, at my desk, mostly on my laptop because it's the only piece of tech with a word processor. When I'm feeling feisty, I'll light a scented candle (apple & cinnamon) and instantly give myself an allergy.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

MUSIC. Or taking a shower. Or chillin the backseat of a car with my headphones on. Growing up I had painted the words "movement inspires creation" on my closet door because car rides really were the prime way to summon The Muse.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Oh, absolutely. Sometimes it's more obvious than others! For example, Define Home to Me is a folk horror set in a fictionalized version of the town I grew up in. In The Unbinding, it's all about the familial tension that permeated my developmental years. I love writing modern day gothics for that very reason.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

My characters? Queer. Usually POC. Sometimes disabled in ways that makes them moving through the plot impossible. A lot of the times there's some scathing commentary against colonialism and imperialism, trauma, generational nonsense, and so on. Do they surprise me? Yeah, actually. Like hey what are YOU doing here, this is supposed to be a story about space monsters and weird gas stations out in the American West, ain't nobody got time to study the decay manifested by settlers on my culture, the fuck.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

UHH probably Ricky Kronbach? He's a fandom OC which means I'm able to play with him while being unbound by cohesive narratives. I can put him in a blender and he'll still manage to flip me off. He's a brat. He's a weirdo. He's everything to me. Non-fandom wise, probably Verne from The Singularity Project. He may be a side-character and a... anti-hero? Kind of? But he has my entire heart because my god he's a hot freaking mess of a human being.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Probably Mike. He's a cool dude and by far the most normal. We'd talk about plants and watch The X-Files in his living room.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Nick Miller from The Unbinding. He may be the MC but boy is a massive dick that needs to get his ass kicked into gear.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

I'm a very story-centric person, so a lot of the times story comes before the character. I'll have a solid plot and setting and when the time comes for a vehicle to move through said story, I get to work on the character. It's one of the reasons why I only wrote fanfic for so long! I'm bad at creating interesting and unique OCs so a lot of the times they're just some guy (gn), though they do tend to grow and sometimes throw fits when certain events want to take place that do not match their personality.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Not to me cringe on main but for a good two years I realized that the main love interests in multiple of my projects were 1) dark haired 2) blue-eyed 3) British. I'm still bewildered by this. Other than that, family trauma. LMAO

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

Depends on the project! TSP is a very special case in which I see half of the characters as actual real people. Other times I go with "actor faceclaims" so that it makes writing feel like a movie.

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Fuck if I know. I just like doing it. It's this pit in the center of my chest that needs to be put the into word or else I feel like I'm going to explode.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Give me those deep-dives into lore speculation. Or if it's something on the more risque side of things, I was feel a deep sense of satisfaction when commenters slip into the TMI scale of things.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As the guy who makes people feel things while reading. Regardless of what feelings those might be.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Foreshadowing (usually accidental) and setting descriptions.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

"It's like I'm reading a movie," is something people have been telling me for well over a decade. Which is mainly the reason why part of TSP's story is visual! I want to try just how well the medium translates through my specific lens.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

The entire range of human emotion. I recognize that not everything can be (or should even be, for that matter) a banger. Some stuff is shitty, and I will hate, and I will feel unsatisfied, and will make me never want to write again. Other stuff makes me feel like I deserve at least some kind of award, even if the award is "a nice cup of coffee with a lemon loaf". Sometimes I'm proud of it, sometimes I'm not. Sometimes it's fun, and sometimes it's not. Not only is it alright but it is necessary to slip and slide along that spectrum. Which is to say-- I am satisfied whenever I engage in the craft.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Hell yeah I would. I'm my own audience first and foremost.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write for me, myself, and I, and actively choose to share that with others. I did my time of trying to write for a wider audience to appeal to the mainstream industry and that just ended up with me hating every damn moment of it, so here I am. Horror and sci-fi aren't as popular as other genres which usually translates to limited reach, but man, those who match my freak will match it, and that is all that matters.

I SAID THIS WOULD BE LONG. not gonna tag anyone's notifs so i'm leaving this baby as an open tag!

[kariachi]

I awoke of a mood. You know how I have an AU where Ben doesn’t transform into Way Big during Malware’s attack on Galvan Prime and Galvan B? I wrote Ben’s pov of the consequences.

It’s not pretty.

~~

Ben is prone to messing up dialing up alien shapes. He’s known to shift his hand as he locks choices in, changing what he’s gone for. Especially when he’s acting on the fly, especially when he has a time limit. But it’s not too much to worry about. The Omnitrix won’t let its wielder die, is programmed to be aware enough of its surroundings to alter and activate a selection itself to preserve the life of its wearer.

The Omnitrix isn’t programmed to worry about other people.

That is the part that jumps unbidden to Ben’s mind about five seconds after Big Chill’s wings flare open and halt his fall. He needs the time to catch his breath, for his heart rate to fall enough to think, and as soon as he does he all but gives himself whiplash searching the sky for Kevin. Kevin, who’s still falling. Who has at least a thousand foot lead on his way to the ground. Ben doesn’t even need a thought then, folding his wings as soon as he sees him and dropping.

The air roars past, filling his ears. His heartrate jumps back up. He’s not gaining. Kevin is falling faster. The ground is coming up-

Ben doesn’t know if he hears the impact, or his mind filled in the blank.

He only barely opens his wings as he approaches the ground, just enough to not splat himself. He’s calling Kevin’s name when he does, brain jolting in a million different directions. Is he alive is he dead how bad is it it must be bad- There’s blood and he’s begging, this can’t happen-

Never has a single nasally, strained, but emphatic “fuck” sounded so sweat to someone’s ears.

Ben wants to hug him, to cry into his shoulder because he was terrified, it still terrified. But there’s so much blood, and he knows Kevin’s shoulder isn’t supposed to be at that angle. Barely he manages to restrain himself, murmuring reassurances to Kevin as he forces his heart rate to calm. Pulls himself back together. He’s a hero, and he has a job to do. Save the day, stop Malware, yes, but most importantly in this moment get help. He transforms back into himself, makes the hard effort to take his time and care as he dials up XLR8. Gently strokes a splayed lock of bloody black hair, swearing on his life that help will be there soon, and is gone.

No bet the first set of Galvan security forces he comes across will be talking for millennia about the encounter. About being told directly where a critically injured person was, ordered to abandon their posts and see him safely to medical care. About the top hero in the galaxy refusing to go forth and save their planet until he’d seen them head out.

It takes all the spare effort Ben can manage to focus on dealing with Malware from there. To keep his worry about his dearest friend, practically family, from doing anything more than hover in the back of his mind. Did they get to him in time? Had he bled out? How long would it take for him to recover? Would he recover? The whole thing was senseless- Far from the sort of thing you want running through your head when you’re fighting for two worlds and reliving old traumas.

But he wins. The day is saved. Malware is defeated. Exhausted, Ben transforms back. And the first thing he does is head for the nearest person who looks like they know what they’re doing and ask after where the injured have been taken.

Kevin is still being worked on when he gets there. Osmosians are difficult, mutants even more so, and they’re having to bring in a specialist from off-world. Until then, they’re doing the best they can. Ben manages to glimpse down the hall as he’s lead to the nearest waiting room, sees Khyber’s hound curled up in front of a door, and spares a moment to wonder if he’s there too. He can’t bring himself to think he’d deserve it, and the thought slips quickly from his mind as he’s lead away. The chairs are far too small for him, so he moves some aside and settles on the floor. Throws a prayer to the heavens- he’s never been religious but if there was ever a time. Considers if he should find and do Jewish and Savaran ones as well, starts searching on his tablet, before deciding not to risk messing it up.

The wait is long, as the others arrive before he gets any news. It’s clear they asked after him, were told he was there, from their relief at seeing him alive and well. From the innocent way they ask if he knows where Kevin is. Ben can’t bring himself to answer, to say it out loud. As if that may break whatever nebulous spell rests over the room. Like if he says something, anything, it’ll draw the wrong attention, someone will come out and say they’ve lost him. Even moreso when Gwen keeps asking, as it sinks in that Kevin is injured, that he’s who Ben is waiting for.

Her questions get more worried, more tense, the longer he sits silent. Before it would have broken him, she was his cousin, he loved her dearly, until that day she’d been his dearest friend. Now the sound of her voice grates in his chest. All he can think is how she did this. They’d joked, they’d laughed, but, she was the one who decided freefall was the answer. She decided Kevin deserved this. Deserved to be in a hospital room, broken and bloody, waiting for somebody who’ll be able to help him to arrive, hoping he’s alright till then.

There’s nothing, he realizes, that he wants to say to her that doesn’t involve cursing and his fists.

Ben isn’t keeping track of time, can’t bring himself to, and so he doesn’t know how long it is before Azmuth finds somebody to explain the situation. Before he pats his leg and goes off to aid in the recovery efforts. Grandpa Max leads Gwen to sit a few feet away, letting her cry into his shoulder. Rook takes the spot beside Ben. Bless him, because he’s the one that realizes somebody needs to let people know what’s going all. Who calls Kevin’s mom. Who calls Argit.

They both manage to get there before the specialist, Grandpa Max trying to joke about Kevin’s mom ‘breaking the laws of physics now’. It lands like a dropped wedding cake, and he avoids their eyes from that point on. The two demand an update from the staff, the only one the lot of them have gotten (he’s stable, they can’t be sure of anything yet, he should have died but he hasn’t-). As soon as she has all the information available, Kevin’s mom sits beside the entrance to the hallway. It’s obvious she’s trying to pretend she’s not crying, unwilling to show weakness in front of the rest of them, and Ben is caught between the desire to go an apologize, to comfort her, and being frozen with guilt. How can he face her, someone who’s already been through so much, when he failed to protect her only living child? When he’s perfectly fine and Kevin’s like that? He can only take comfort in the fact Argit is stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder, staring down the hall like it’ll make any news come quicker.

When the specialist finally arrives- an Osmosian themselves- the first thing they do is pull aside the doctor overseeing Kevin’s care, Kevin’s mom, and Ben himself. They want a rundown of what’s happened and Kevin’s mom is owed the knowledge. Ben doesn’t want to say it, he knows it’s irrational to be scared to but that doesn’t change how he feels. But the specialist- Healer Oeler- promises to do their best, is patient in explaining that it may help with his care, but Ben wants to the best for his friend. Even if the words keep lodging in his throat.

“My cousin shoved us into freefall. I- I couldn’t catch him.”

Kevin’s mom tenses like a bowstring when he says it- he can’t blame her, he’s felt the same way for what feels like half his life but can’t have been more than a few hours- even as Oeler nods. They ask how high they fell from, Ben tells them Rook would know better than him. He’s excused, asked to send Rook over as the doctors try to calm Kevin’s mom, assure her they were and would do everything possible to see him to a full and speedy recovery. Rook goes to the little group, gives his report, pats Kevin’s mom on the shoulder before he returns.

It’s not until the doctors have headed off down the hall that she moves from her spot. Everyone but Rooks tenses when she turns back to them, an expression befitting Kevin at his worst on her face. Grandpa Max rises, tries to intercept her as she storms in he and Gwen’s direction, and gets socked in the gut for his trouble. Gwen is half-up by this point, but that doesn’t stop Kevin’s mom from hauling her to her feet by her hair, tossing her away from the wall before rounding on her.

There’s a lot of screaming then. Screaming, snarling, crying from Gwen, and it’s clear that if it weren’t for constantly having to shake off their grandfather the woman would be proving why all the adults call Kevin ‘Eva’s boy’ rather than Devin’s. Rook tries to stand to intervene at one point, but Ben lays a hand on his arm to keep him in place beside him. He doesn’t blame her. He wants to do the same thing, he just doesn’t have the temper and disconnect from family to do it. Instead it’s Argit who finally calms things down, waiting until she’s gotten a solid blow in on Gwen before coming to talk her down. Ben can’t hear what he says, nothing nice from how Gwen and Grandpa Max glare at him, but it works, and gets her back to her spot by the hall.

If nothing else, they’re all treated well by staff. They’re brought food- weird food, but nobody is in a state to argue. Myaxx comes by to hand out blankets- apparently from her own stash. A nurse checks Grandpa Max, Gwen, and Kevin’s mom’s injuries from the fight. The other people waiting for news on injured loved ones are quick with well wishes and distractions, several making sure to come up to them before they leave and reiterate that they’ll be wishing for the best.

None of their group leave. Even when Azmuth comes out and offers them board, none of them can bear to go. Hours pass. Grandpa Max falls asleep, curled up on the tiling, but the rest of them can’t manage. Even with Rook assuring Ben that he can rest, that he’ll wake him up the second there’s news, and the same conversation happening by the hall, it just won’t happen. Can’t happen. As such Grandpa Max is woken by the clatter of everyone but Argit rushing to their feet when he announces Healer Oeler coming. The lot of them must look a wreck standing there, wide-eyed and mussed, but the doctor has no room to judge when they look just as tired. They scan the room before focusing their attention on Kevin’s mom.

“It will be a long recovery, and we can’t be sure he’ll recover without aftereffects, but he will recover.”

The tension in the room leaves in a flood. Gwen starts crying again, not that Ben can tell easily through his own tears. Kevin’s mom says a prayer in what he assumes is Hebrew, and Argit repeats it as best he can with her. Grandpa Max pulls Gwen back into his arms, squeezing her tight, while Rook gives Ben’s shoulder a companionable squeeze. The sentiment repeats on loop in Ben’s mind. Kevin is going to recover, he’s going to be alright.

He's had a lot of grateful moments, but nothing yet that would beat that one. Like a bomb’s just been disarmed in his heart.

He can’t say what he would have done if they’d lost him.

Healer Oeler informs them all that the decision has been made not to wake Kevin up yet. His injuries are severe (there doesn’t seem to be a limit on what percentage of your bones you can break at one time, or how many organs can be damaged in one incident) and he needs to rest before he can have any visitors. Nobody argues. Nobody leaves either. Instead, they curl up on the floor in pairs- Ben still has no desire to interact with his cousin, and won’t for a long time- trusting in the staff to wake them if anything happens.

Ben doesn’t get woken up when Kevin does. Apparently his mom takes priority, which he supposes makes sense, and she took Argit along, which makes even more sense. It’s only once they’ve made sure he’s okay, and he’s had the chance to rest some more, that anybody comes and gets Ben. He’s tempted to wake Rook, it would make sense for everyone to come in twos, but can’t bring himself to do it. Something in his chest demands he do this alone. A penance, of sorts, for what he couldn’t do, for having to leave him all by himself.

He does a double take when he steps inside, Khyber’s hound lain beside the bed- and it’s obvious they had to dig something out of storage to fit him- like it belongs there. It immediately bolts to attention when he enters, growling.

“Down, girl. Behave.” To Ben’s surprise the hound calms at Kevin’s words, though it continues to watch him warily. Still he manages to pull his gaze away as he approaches and see Kevin for the first time in too long. His heart plummets into his gut at the sight of him. He looks like absolute hell, like- Well, like he’d fallen from the sky. Most everything Ben can see is one big bruise, the rest covered in bandages and casts. When Kevin flashes him a grin, it’s missing teeth. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Ben tries to say something, but only manages a watery sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, tears welling in his eyes again. “I’m sorry.” Kevin frowns at him.

“Don’t-”

“I couldn’t catch you, I tried so hard but I just wasn’t fast enough, I’m so sorry-”

“Benji.” The nickname catches him in his tracks, and he wipes his eyes as he meets Kevin’s. “I know the math. You weren’t gonna catch me. It’s okay. You tried, that’s enough.” Kevin hefts a little laugh, cringing as it jostles his injuries. “Even Mom and Argit don’t blame you, and with Mom’s temper that’s an accomplishment.” Ben manages a little laugh of his own.

“You know she beat up Grandpa and Gwen,” he asks, heart twisting a bit at the mention of his cousin and the broken look that darts across Kevin’s face at her name. He forces himself to give a little smile again.

“I’d heard. Shiners for the ages, apparently.”

“Yeah…” Ben licks his lips, and carefully sits on the edge of the bed, mindful of the hound and the risk of jostling his friend. “Kev… If there’s anything you need, anything I can do, just say the word, okay? I’m here for you, man.”

“I know.” Closing his eyes against the pain of a deep breath, Kevin sighs. “There’s some shit I loaned Gwendolyn- a few books, one of my jackets- think you could grab them for me? I’d really rather not…” The sentence trails of, but Ben knows what he’s talking about. He’s been thinking about it himself, even before the guy’s mom tried to take a chunk of Gwen.

“That’s probably the best move,” he admits, heart twisting again at the tension that drops off Kevin’s face. He can’t possibly have thought he’d take his cousin’s side on this of all things… Forcing a smile, Ben pulls out his tablet and opens the notetaking app his own mom had convinced him to install. “Just let me know what exactly I’m looking for, it’ll be at your mom’s place by the time they let you out of here.” Giving Ben a heartwarming grin, Kevin reaches down to give the barest scritch to the hound.

“You’ll know the jacket, but she’s got my copy of The Passage, if you see anything by Dean Koontz it’s mine, and now I’m thinking of it-”

Ben takes meticulous notes as Kevin goes down a list of the things he’s loaned to Gwen over the years that he wants back, immediately. A list that ends up leading to talk of music, movies, anything and everything. A solid distraction from the horrible situation that lasts until Rook appears at the doorway, knocking on the wall outside before he comes in. Kevin’s in an easier mood now, responding with a smile to his questions and well wishes and Ben makes his way out with a wave and quiet note that the hound doesn’t seem to give two shits about Rook being there.

When he makes it back to the waiting room, he finds Argit and Kevin’s mom blocking Gwen’s path, refusing to allow her to go visit him. He can’t bring himself to feel bad for her- not now and not in future- and while there’s a twinge of pity that she doesn’t seem to have realized just how badly she fucked up, that there’s no coming back from here, it doesn’t stop him from stepping forward and pulling her attention to himself.

“Hey, we’ve gotta head home once Rook’s done in there. I need you to help me find this stuff Kevin wants back.”

After all, no matter what Kevin says, he failed him horribly, and he intends to do everything in his power to make up for it. Family be damned.

[astriiformes]

Thinking about this after a conversation with some friends yesterday but I feel like a huge reason Percy is an unusually perennial fave for me (I latch onto fictional characters frequently, obviously, but it’s rarer that a special interest returns in full force after it fades, or that I maintain that same level of deep emotional connection to every character I’ve projected on) is because I got into Critical Role when I was I was 1) exactly his age and 2) going through the absolute lowest point of my life, mental health-wise, and it altered my brain chemistry in ways that mean I am now bonded to him through trauma forever

Like, I started watching Critical Role in 2017, when I was 20/21, the same . semester I ended up having a complete mental break and had to drop out of school for the second, much more serious time. I even have a distinct memory of it being one of the earliest things I watched to cheer up after getting out of the hospital, in a hotel room on the drive back home towards what had suddenly become an extremely uncertain future.

And then like. It just continued. Until this most recent story, all the Critical Role fic I’d published was written late, late at night in my mom’s basement, a living arrangement I eventually had to bail on because my relationship with her grew far too strained. I put together the first draft of my Percy costume similarly, half at her place and half at my dad’s (after I switched to sleeping on his couch instead) for a convention almost exactly month before I wrote the suicide note that sent my friends into action to help and ended up resulting in my move to Minnesota (--a move which, while it absolutely saved my life, also ended up giving me debilitating guilt about “abandoning” my younger sisters back home, so. Hmmm. No coping metaphors here or anything.)

The biggest thing keeping me going at that point was actually my own D&D game, but that obviously primed me to have a lot of Critical Role feelings, too, and it was definitely the main work of fiction I was watching/having feelings about throughout most of that whole extremely messed-up period. Percy’s for sure one of my favorite character archetypes to start with, but I think [gestures] all that is another reason he became such an Eternal Favorite Character

Which. Oh boy. What a character to have be load-bearing, mental health-wise but. Sometimes you just need an extremely fucked-up guy, I guess.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 7/2021) - Banquet Invitations

The Eggpire is busy with preparations for the coming feast. After discussing with the Egg, Antfrost and Bad have decided that it would be best for the Egg’s reputation to clean up the Blood Vines over the server.

They go around, offering invitations to a few important guests...

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Nihachu

Foolish

Philza

Wilbur

Ranboo

Badboyhalo

Captain Puffy

---

- Ponk continues to work on his project, and plays an audio sneak peek of his upcoming story:

“Who is Ponk? A question that holds many answers, none quite right, yet all showing a glimpse into a grander truth.

To sum: he is a traitor. Corrupted by a lust for power, and the burden of uncountable betrayals. To others, he is a life-giver and trusted ally. In many ways, he is all these things, within the ever-shifting alliances and world-changing events that occur within the SMP. Ponk is always there in the forefront, influential in ways both obvious and subtle. 

But before all this, before the reign of the Egg, or the massacre at Manberg, he stood as one of the founding seven. These tales I will share with you today are those of the bygone times...before two Lemon Trees burned away his heart. Before his once-friend took his arm. A time even before he wore a mask.

Now gather close, and listen to these old man’s words, and let us delve deep into the legends that have brought us to where we are today...”

- “Tip Tup” visits the Arctic to see Phil and finds out that Avondeten has died. He is heartbroken. Top Ten Tip Tup Trauma Moments.

- Tip Tup and Phil hold a funeral for Avondeten. Tip Tup hired Fundy to give a funeral speech in Dutch

- After the solemn speech, Tip Tup chows down on Avondeten. Rest in peace. 

- Tip Tup and Phil get a rabbit and talk to Ranboo.

- Tip Tup is an endocrinologist.

- Tubbo arrives. That’s a Top Ten Tip Tup Tubbo Moment.

- Tip Tup blips out of existence. He is no longer in tip top Tip Tup shape.

- Tubbo is in a hole. They attempt to get him out with no luck.

- Tubbo makes noises. 

- They push Tubbo out of the hole with water and Tubbo gets into a boat with Ranboo and spins around. Tubboat.

- They find a baby slime. Tubbo names it Squishy Fuck.

- Phil, Ranboo and Tubbo hang out in the Arctic. Tubbo tells Phil about his Soviet radiation horror dreams.

- Bad makes plans to give out invitations to people for the Red Banquet. 

- As they prepare for the feast, Bad and the Eggpire have been trying to clean up the server. The Egg has a poor reputation. They discussed it with the Egg and decided that they were coming across too intense, so they have been making peace and cleaning up some of the Blood Vines as a sign of good faith. The Egg has given them permission.

- He demonstrates this by removing a vine.

- Antfrost comes over. They notice that Foolish and Sam are online.

- They remove the Blood Vine off of the flower shop. The Egg approves.

- They head down to the spider spawner and the Egg Room. Bad explains that they may have been been a little too hard on people. 

- Antfrost shows him the Red Banquet decorations. Bad says they may have to clean up a bit in the Egg Room.

- At the end of the Red Banquet, everyone will come away loving the Egg. Everyone will be happy. 

- The Egg doesn’t mind that it was covered in a colorful shell. It’s like putting on new shoes. 

- The banquet is going to be “mind-changing!” So much fun! They head back up to find Sam, thinking he might be at the prison.

- They go over to the prison. The Egg just wants to get along with everybody. The Egg doesn’t hate; it appreciates.

- They meet Sam at the prison entrance and say hello. Sam is holding a clock. Bad and Ant invite him to the banquet. It’ll be fun -- they’ll chill, they’ll party, maybe have some bacon. They tell Sam the party will be held underground near the Egg.

- Sam is skeptical, but Bad says that the Egg wants to say sorry and make things right. Sam starts to come around to it. 

- They hand him a block of redstone as a temporary invite. They don’t have proper physical invites at the moment, but Sam says he’s down to go to the banquet. 

It’s a “burying the hatchet” type deal. Sam thinks he would like that.

- He hands the two of them several books and quills, explaining that he confiscated them from Dream and they can have them.

- They’ll bury the hatchet in the ground and turn over a new leaf.

- A baby zombie on a chicken runs over. Sam swiftly kills it.

Sam: “There, now no one had time to get attached.”

- Sam says he has a lot of work to do, and he’ll see them soon.

- Next, Bad and Ant decide to reach out to Foolish. They meet with him at Snowchester.

- They’re there on the Egg’s behalf, and would like to extend to Foolish a heartfelt apology for stepping overboard, and they’re there to bury the hatchet, say sorry and give him an invitation to a party.

- Foolish points out that they celebrated Tommy dying in his hotel room. Bad and Ant want to let bygones be bygones and apologize for going too far. The Egg has recognized that it has done wrong.

- Foolish says that while he doesn’t quite accept their apology yet, but he’ll give them one final chance. Bad says they just want to turn over a new egg.

- Foolish says that if anything happens, he will not hesitate to split the Egg open with a lightning bolt. Bad assures him that there will be no surprises, just dancing, partying and food. It’ll be a fun feast.

They give him a temporary invitation.

- Bad and Ant leave. Bad accidentally calls Antfrost “Skeppy” in a slip of the tongue and then explains that he was just thinking about Skeppy, whether to invite him too.

- They wonder if Puffy is available.

- They clear out some more Blood Vines. There’s just been a misunderstanding, and everyone’s making the Egg to be some kind of monster when really, the Egg just wants what’s best for the server. 

- Puffy logs on and they speak with her at her house, inviting her to the banquet too. They say it’ll take place down by the Egg. They explain to her that they just want to make amends and bury the hatchet.

- Puffy says she’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. Bad hands her a temporary invite.

- The food will be to die for! Not literally, though, of course...

- Puffy says she’ll be there. They’ll talk to her later.

- They leave. Bad is excited for the banquet. 

“I promise that everybody who shows up...is not going to be the same when they leave."

(The lore section of the stream is over)

- Bad and Antfrost play around with Drista’s staircase and notice all the pranks on Bad’s mansion

- Fundy logs on and goes AFK on the Prime Path. Bad and Ant get the idea to prank him by pushing him towards the museum. They dig a hole down to bedrock and push him in, then fill in the hole and return to the surface, leaving him down there.

- Fundy appears on the surface while they’re not looking, appearing to still be AFK, and the two are perplexed. They do it a second time.

- They get suspicious and start digging down as they notice Fundy’s nametag isn’t showing. They reach the bedrock and Fundy is nowhere to be seen. They return to the surface only to find Fundy has reappeared there again.

- They dig a new shallow hole and put Fundy in it, only for Fundy to move again while they’re not looking.

- Ranboo logs on and comes over and covers the hole with grass. Out of sight, out of mind.

- Bad boxes Fundy in with blocks with signs on them so that if Fundy breaks the blocks, they’ll be able to tell.

- They check a couple times, but it seems to have worked, and Fundy moves no longer. They decide it must be lag.

- Bad goes to watch the Sad-ist animation but then Fundy reappears on the surface while they’re not looking again, and all of the blocks and signs seem to be intact.

- They put Fundy in the hole again and Bad adds more signs.

- Bad reacts to the Sad-ist animatic with the video playing in the corner of the screen so that he doesn’t look away from Fundy.

- The first time, the volume on the video is too loud, so Bad tabs out to set it up again. Antfrost was supposed to watch Fundy, but when Bad tabs back in Fundy has appeared right in front of him. 

- Bad boxes Fundy in again with diorite and stands on top of it so that he’d hear if Fundy broke any blocks and reacts to the animatic a second time.

- Though blocks can be heard breaking during Bad’s second watch, when Bad tabs back in to check on Fundy, Fundy is still there. Antfrost left, though.

- Bad opens the box. Was that torch always there?

- He covers the box back up and goes to end stream, satisfied. But before he does, he checks one more time. The torch is gone.

- The next time he looks, there are two torches.

- Bad stands on top and breaks the roof. Fundy’s head has turned to stare straight at him, unmoving.

- Bad repeatedly places and breaks the block. Fundy’s head moves to look at him whenever the block is broken.

- Bad breaks the block one final time. Fundy turns his head slowly to look at Bad for a moment before logging off and disappearing.

- Bad runs away to end stream.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[emo-and-confused]

au//// When someone’s causes you emotional damage or trauma, thin flowers raise from your skin. Most people have, on average, three groups. The people of the DSMP typically have a few more than the average. However, Tommy has significantly more, and people don’t realise.

Tommy’s first set of flowers raise when he’s only seven years old. Phil neglected him for his oldest brother, leaving Wilbur to raise him. The group of five flowers raise when Phil misses his seventh birthday in favor of going on an adventure with Techno. The flowers are green and white, and cover his upper thigh, raised slightly from the skin, the marks being tender and feeling slightly like a petal. He doesn’t tell Wilbur, even as his brother holds him while he cries. He knows what the flowers mean, and he doesn’t want Wilbur to feel even worse for him. Even when wearing shorts, the flowers aren’t visible.

(A small flower is added to the group of five on his thigh when he leaves for the Dream SMP, Wilbur promising to come and meet him soon, while Phil and Techno don’t say anything. The flower hurts a little more when it grows in, and the green petals have a mixture of pink swirled in. He still doesn’t tell anyone)

Tommy’s second set of flowers is smaller, during the Disc Saga with Dream. Two flowers raise from the skin along his shoulder blade, both a shade of green usually associated with the admin he’s at war with. He didn’t feel too hurt by the war, but he felt enough of it. He understood though, even if Dream had invited him to his land, Tommy guesses he was just too much to handle. But Tubbo kept him grounded, so he didn’t back down from the war. They were his discs anyways. The sleeve of his shirt covers the flowers; he keeps it a secret.

Tommy’s third set of flowers bloom when Eret betrayed them for the Dream Team. Six flowers bloom across his chest, hurting while they raise. He had liked Eret, he had thought they were friends. Now he can barely look at the guy without remembering the feeling of betrayal, the words “It was never meant to be” ringing in his ears as he remembers Dream killing him and taking his first life (a new green flower is added to his shoulder blade). He trades his red and white shirt in for a bigger size, so the flowers don’t show through the shirt.

Tommy’s fourth set of flowers grow when Sapnap kills Henry. It hurt more than when Sapnap killed Harold, because Henry’s death was intentional. He liked Sapnap at one point, but they had an unsteady friendship. Henry’s death caused a single cream coloured flower to raise at the skin on the right side of his ribcage, creating a constant reminder of the death of his pet.

Tommy loses sight of when the flowers start to bloom after that. He stops remembering which grew in chronological order, and instead only remembering why they grew in the first place.

More neon green flowers raise across both shoulders as Dream continues to mess with him, sometimes the colour of his discs showing up at the ends of the petals. He adds length to his sleeves, and makes the neckline of his shirt a little higher. It’s okay, no one needs to know. He’s not weak, he’s not sensitive (he knows the amount of flowers he already has say otherwise).

The flowers from Eret hurt less as time moves, the king redeeming himself slightly. The flowers don’t fade, he doesn’t think he ever will, but the pain is almost completely gone.

(When he comes across the Final Control Room with Techno, the pain comes back. It doesn’t leave for a week.)

Schlatt causes a grey flower to raise on the back of his neck. He was Tommy’s idol, and he really thought they were, or could be, friends. But his and Wilbur’s exile proved otherwise. His hair covers the flower easily; he doesn’t have to try hard to hide it.

Quackity’s betrayal of L’manburg for Schlatt makes two small blue flowers bloom right above Schlatt’s grey one. It hurts but is almost completely forgotten when Quackity joins them in Pogtopia later.

He gains five brown and yellow flowers from Wilbur during Pogtopia, covering the left half of his stomach. Four more are added when he blows up L’manburg, one more is added when he sees his brother begging his father to kill him. A huge green and white flower is added to those on his thigh. He doesn’t wear shorts anymore to keep it hidden. All of them cause him pain.

Techno causes four pink flowers to run down his right arm. His brother told him to die and spawned withers. It hurt a lot, but he continued to hide. The flowers were thinner than the others, and he starts wearing a white long sleeved shirt underneath his iconic red and white tee. It hides them perfectly. No one questions the new fashion choice.

Seven yellow and black stripped flowers bloom across his heart when Tubbo exiles him. His best friend exiled him and sent him away for a mistake that he didn’t mean to make. The prank had gotten out of hand.

In Logstedshire, the green flowers across his shoulder blade multiply and grow darker, and he has to ask Ranboo to get him the red and white hoodie he has stored in his home, back in L’manburg. He prepared for this, he knew he was going to be covered in flowers one day. People just didn’t like him. Ranboo doesn’t ask why, he doesn’t see the dark green flowers through the white shirt sleeve.

Dream finds out about his flowers. He’s the first one to ever find out. Dream manipulates and gaslights and abuses him, and he almost jumps into the lava so many times. When Dream blows up Logstedshire, no new flowers are added, but the preexisting ones burn. He almost jumps off the pillar he made. (He doesn’t).

When he finds Technoblade’s cabin, he starts to heal. His flowers hurt less and less as the days go by, but they never leave. They never fade.

But then Dream blames him for blowing up the community house, and he and Tubbo fight after Tubbo gets his disc from the enderchest. A new black and yellow flower is added to the bunch over his heart.

Then he chooses Tubbo over Techno. His best friend over his brother. Both have caused flowers but Tubbo was always there. He doesn’t feel like he’s betrayed Techno; he never agreed to L’manburg getting blown up. And Techno sides with Dream, causing more pink flowers to be added to his arm. He understands though, he did chose the opposite side. It doesn’t matter if his brother was the first one to hurt him.

Fundy and Niki both cause flowers; Niki’s two purple and Fundy’s two orange ones intertwining with each other on his ankles. Niki burned down L’mantree and Fundy sabotaged their war supplies. It’s okay though; they might want him dead but he fucked up in the past. He understands their hatred of him.

Other miscellaneous flowers are spotted across him, and his gives up on trying to remember who all hurt him. His skin is painted with thin petals of all colors, from so many people.

When L’manburg’s been blown up for the last time, Dream’s TNT running out and Techno’s withers being dead, and Phil standing with the two of them looking at their work, Tommy is tired. He struggles to breathe normally, but he doesn’t cry. He’s past that.

Dream looks at him, his mask lifted up just barely enough to see the smug smile on his face. Tommy looks down, looks at the destruction. He’s so tired.

“How many were added?” Dream asks. Tommy knows what he means. Tommy doesn’t respond.

Everyone is listening, just like they did at the community house. They’re confused, but they let it play out, not intervening. They never do.

Tubbo moves closer to Tommy as Dream does. Techno and Phil just watch with the rest.

“I asked a question.” His voice makes Tommy shiver and represss memories of Logsted. “How many flowers were added since I last saw?”

Tommy’s reply is simple: a shrug and a quiet “too many”.

Dream moves before Tubbo has a chance to stop him, and Tommy doesn’t try and defend himself. Dream’s axe slashes at Tommy’s hoodie, cutting away the fabric and revealing the flowers that cover his arms and stomach and shoulders and back. The axe cuts at Tommy’s jeans, the denim peeling slightly and showing a sliver of flowers at his thighs and ankles.

No one knows what to do, no one knows what to say, as Dream reveals the pain of the sixteen year old. None of them have as many flowers as that. A lot of them have more than three bundles, but no where near as many as those on Tommy’s skin.

Tommy just closes his eyes, and breathes in. He turns around and walks away, hearing Dream’s laugh coat the silence in the destruction of the broken country. It’s not until he’s at the stairs of the Prime Path that he hears yelling, everyone accusing others and shouting for revenge at Dream.

Tommy doesn’t notice when he gets to the bench, he doesn’t notice when he sits down and watches the sunset. He only becomes aware of reality once more when he feels Tubbo’s presence behind him.

They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. The silence is comforting.

[justfandomtings]

Character study of William murderface

Cw: child abuse, ptsd, trauma, internalized homopobia,ect.

Throughout the show, murderface has been presented as a shitty person that is untalented, leeches off of his friends/ fame, and honestly just seem to have gotten lucky when getting into dethklok.

Which is true, but I want to look in a little deeper why he's like this. (Note:this might be kinda head cannonish. I have some examples from the actual show but since we never got a deep backstory for murderface or get many murderface centric episodes I'll be filling in some empty spaces.)

Murderface in the show

Murderface is extremely self loathing and has had moments where he just goes so hard in on himself.

Season 1 episode 1

We see this in the very beginning when he refers to himself as the 'fat one.'

It could've been played off as a simple joke, which it was in the show for the audience watching. But in the show's universe and for the character, this will be an occurring thing.

This continues in

Season 1 episode 3

It's murderface's birthday and the boys throw murderface a party. During his party murderface is shown complaining and being stand-offish. You would think the last thing he would want is a party, yet he still sends out invites to his bandmates. (Note: noticed how the invites were sent right after murderface left the room? Idk it just seemed like he was embarrassed or scared his bandmates would laugh at him for wanting a birthday party. He even tried to act non chalant when the invite said "come if you want, who gives a piss." when they did throw him a party he still came)

When the boys pulled a little, kinda mean but harmless prank on him, literally giving him the gift of nothing. Murderface was fucking hurt, like genuine tears almost left this man's eyes when he come into his room to get his thing's and 'run away'.

Of course the boys did give murderface an actual gift, which honestly had a lot of thought and effort put into it. This makes murderface cry a tear. (Of blood but you know still a tear)

This is the example of the boy's showing they care for murderface. But even after this big gesture murderface will continue to believe the opposite.

The show continues and we get the first and honestly only backstory for murderface.

Season 1 episode 6

When the boys get a band therapist, we find out the tragic murder/suicide of murderface's parents. His father killing his mother then himself with a chainsaw, this whole thing happens while murderface as a baby sits in his highchair unaware while eating his cereal. This flashback makes murderface kinda sit there in shock as he pisses his pants.

(Note: murderface has said in the show that his appearance was the reason his parents are dead. If that really was the case, why didn't his father kill him or at least killed him after he killed his mother? Why did his father just kill his wife and himself? Never laying a single hand on murderface? Will get back to that later.)

Season 1 episode 9

Bringing up this episode may be confusing to some for bringing this up since it doesn't focus solely on murderface. He doesn't even get that much screen time this episode. But I would like to point out his actions in that episode.

In this episode the boys adopt a young teen boy they name fatty ding dong and raise him as their son for probably couple of weeks. While the boys all had their...interesting way of raising him. Murderface had the most physical fights with fatty ding dong. Mostly when we misbehaved. Like hitting him, shocking him non stop with a tazer, beating him for eating his civil war boots ect.

I just like to point out that murderface was raised by his grandparents. We'll come back to more of that later in the post.

Season 1 episode 11

The band gets reunited with their families and what we see from murderface and his family is that they are very violent towards each other. Murderface tries to choke his grandmother when looking in at her mouth as she chewed. Pickles and Nathan had to snap himself out of it, murderface apologized saying it was his fault for looking to deeply.

Like that was some kind of trigger from his past that made him black out and get violent.

He was also highly against buying his grandfather a wheelchair, only doing so because the boys agreed to be nice towards their family to get them to leave.

Even when they were spending time with each other, they never touched each other William kept his distance. Only ever touching if it was fight related.

In the same episode we see why, Stella was so physically abusive towards murderface, spraying fucking pepper spray into his eyes when he did..nothing? He wasn't aggressive or was even part of the issue. She just attacks him because she had to change his diapers?

This belittlement and physical abuse continues everytime they are together on screen.

So to bring back up season 1 episode 9. With how murderface treated fatty ding dong we can assume that's how we was being treated while under the care of his grandparents. Children soak up things like a sponge. Whether you think they remember it or not. Many psychological reports has shown that children will mimick and repeat behaviors and actions their caretakers do. If it's right or not, children will do things because that's what this adult dose. That's what they see at home. It's normal to them if that is the environment they grow in. Even if the child feels like something is off or wrong. They won't know exactly what is wrong or why because it's all they know.

So if this is how murderface was raised, which highly may be the case since we see Stella physically abuse murderface even as an adult. He might have actually thought this is how you raise a child, this is what you do to a child when they misbehaved. Nobody in his life has corrected murderface or explain to him that this way of discipline isn't ok or even discipline to begin with, it is abuse.

So, we are to believe with the information we have now. Is that murderface was most likely abused as a child, probably all the way up till he was able to get away from them and join dethklok.

With this information we can apply this to his behavior in the show. A side effect from child abuse is suicidal behavior. Throughout the show Murderface would now and then casually commit about hurting or killing himself.

Season 1 episode 2

Murderface casually states if it'll be brutal enough for him to just take his life after Nathan deltes another record. Or when the boys kindly ask him to stop eating beans, he gets oddly emotional and says he'll just starve to death then.

Another effect from child abuse is eating disorders and obesity.

You already know this a big part of murderface's character. There are times where he's seen constantly eating junk food, to eating nothing and just drinking coffee, to the doctor pointing out the back of his teeth are decaying. And murderface informs him it's from throwing up his food.

He also gets teased for his weight being called chubby and fat, ect. Murderface has a hard time with his weight, his excessive eating may even be seen as an unhealthy coping mechanism.

Other effects such as aggressive behavior, low self esteem, dissociation, ect. Is also shown within the show.

Season 1 episode 15

Murderface gets into a motorcycle accident and is sent into the hospital. This near death experience gets him on a religious journey. Maybe to find answers to certain questions or possibly wondering where he was going to go if he did die? Is he a good person, why do certain things happen to people, what's the meaning of life?

He asked the guys if he really deserved to live. Does he really deserve to be brought onto this world, being a part of a pretty good and rare type of life.

The boys being emotionally closed off don't really answer his question. They honestly brush it off but they do go along with murderface on his spiritual journey.

He eventually chooses no religion, but I feel that near death experience stuck with him. He either decided that life was too short so might as well live it, or a more cynical view on life. That it's meaningless then who cares if he died?

Season 2 episode 11

This is probably an episode where murderface was the most sad and self loathing. (This and another episode I can't wait to get to) after his concert, he felt pretty shitty with the outcome and had lead him to feel that he does not deserve the life he has now and wonders why he even shows his face. Just wanting the spot light for one.

Which is really interesting. Because comparing season 1 with the other 3. Murderface in season one had...fans. There were people who genuinely liked him. The prime example is his birthday episode.

When he had a solo, just like in season 2 episode 11. People were cheering his name. Practically screaming at the rooftops for him. So what happened?

We already know that murderface is the least liked member of the band, but even then he still had fans. Hell people committed terrorists attacks just for him on his birthday.

Maybe it was just a loud minority? Who knows, but if in the show as time went on less and less people had him as his favorite or even just liked him would probably get him really insecure.

After the concert failure, Charles let's him host a Nas car event. Which I'd think would've gone actually well if you know, the dethklok curse wasn't a thing.

Also as murderface was planning the event people around him didn't really support him or help him out. Which is mostly murderface's fault, he has a lack of focus and doesn't really plan things through. This is a good reason for partners and others outside wanting to work with dethklok not want to work with murderface. It costs money and a lot of time to do all the things related to dethklok. And murderface's flakeyness is a valid reason for business and others to not have faith in him when related to these things.

BUT! (This is a little bit of projection here) as someone who also has a lack of focus and hard time to get things done. That doesn't mean I don't want to do said thing, that doesn't mean I want to waste others time. I simply have a hard time focusing, I need structure and that little reminder to get things done. But the difference between me and murderface is that I'm not a billionaire.

I am not apart of a popular metal band, with all the money in the world, with a manager that will clean up every little mess I make.

I have more risk, whatever I fuck up will effect me. I will suffer the consequences. Murderface won't. (Also he's a fictional character..so reality won't have any affect on him lol)

But yea, I believe if murderface would suffer from his consequences then he'd be a bit more on things. Also I feel murderface's mental health issues play a huge role in things.

His fear that he's not good enough, eating disorders, ect. Can really mess up your focus.

So, now to the infamous episode. Dethvanity.

Season 4 episode 8

In this episode Murderface in nominated for the most brutal looking award and this. Fucks. Him. Up.

So much so that he actually hallucinates his bandmates and Charles calling him ugly and other things that they never even said.

When he goes to the plastic surgeon, he tells him. A complete stranger, that he hates himself. For murderface to actually admit this deep issue that he's been keeping deep down. For him to show vulnerability to a stranger is pretty sad.

When he goes to Nathan to borrow money, he tells a story of a 'boy' that was so ugly that he's driven his parents to murder suicide. Again he's calling himself ugly and blaming himself for his parents death. (Were going to get back to that too.)

After murderface gets the surgery he days dream about what would happen if he was beautiful. Finally being accepted and able to say fuck you to all those that were shit to him.

Of course, it doesn't end like that. He's face gets infected and is even more ugly than before.

This episode was pretty messed up. Murderface didn't get what he thought would give him validation, he looks down on himself more, and he is humiliated front of 100s of people.

This whole shit show probably validated all the negative thoughts he had for himself.

Next we'll talk about his internalized homopobia. Murderface...is definitely..not straight. He's not gay either he does have sexual attraction to women but his uncomfortably and very interesting moments and visions say he might like more than just that.

Season 2 episode 5

Murderface has a weird thing with eating 'penis' shaped objects or watching other eating said shaped objects.

He has a lot of weird moments where he gets really close to one of his bandmates and just whispers something in their ear. Specifically Pickles and Skwisgaar.

He just said fuck it and tried to bang toki while they were in the submarine.

Had hallucinations of cutting between women, men, animals, even his own grandmother and was distraught when he had a small moment of admitting he way gay.

There's no real specific reason why or how murderface is this scared of being gay. But I feel it may also be with how he grew up. He was probably been told it was wrong to be gay and how immoral it was to like men and you'll burn in hell if you do. Also being gay wouldn't be 'brutal' or 'manly'.

And not to shit on metal heads but you know. They're not the...most..exclusive group of people.

I think murderface is scared to accept he's gay because his grandparents made him feel he would be a bad person if he was or get kicked out of the band if he was.

So, after all I laid on the table, let's wrap this up. Back to the blaming himself of his parents deth. I believe, Williams parents didn't kill/murder themselves because he has ugly. I like to think the opposite, I believe his parents actually dearly cared for him. I think his father had some serious mental issues or something else pushed him over the edge.

It could be anything really, maybe his dad was crazy, maybe it had something to do with the curse. I like to think they both cared for him his dad just..idk snapped.

I'm assuming murderface's grandparents are his dads parents. And seeing how they treated murderface they most definitely treated his dad the same.

Or, it wasn't murder/suicide at all. Buckle in because it's all tv theory over here. I have a hard time to believe that murderface remembered, in such detail in fact. How his parents died, in the flashback he looks to be 7 to 8 months? Traumatic event yes, but there's no way a baby can remember such a thing.

I think, Stella lied to murderface about how his parents died. I think it was just some evil twisted thing she said to make murderface feel terrible about himself. His parents probably unfortunately died in say a car accident or health related issues. But the main thing is how guilty murderface feels, how terrible he feels that he thinks he was the reason he killed his parents when that's far from the truth.

It was either an unfortunate accident or his father killing themselves. But it is not murderface's fault.

The physical abuse from his grandparents, the guilt of believing he's the reason for his parents death, his aggressive internalized homopobia, lack of support, the bullying from his bandmates, body issues/eating disorder, and it just keeps going.

It's no fucking wonder why the man is like this. Don't get me wrong, murderface is an asshole and is responsible for most of his actions.

But that's still a lot of shit for someone to go through.

That's all I have, this is really long. But I hoped you like this little thread. There's still more to his character but this is long enough.

[dreamsclock]

PLEASE continue the total control au, I am begging, you’re such a great writer!

:’) THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON !!! this is so sweet — just for that you get an extra little snippet :D click the read more to get tommy and the dreamon having a midnight discussion about forgiveness and the real dream !!

warnings: possession, mentions of exile/manipulation/abuse, trauma, mild body horror at the start (the dreamon twists its head the wrong way but that’s it!), general creepiness from the dreamon

“How much of it was actually him?” Tommy whispers to the dreamon one night, finding it awake and attentive.

It doesn’t turn to face him at first, twisting its head at an impossible angle to study him, before the rest of its body turns as well. Tommy resists flinching at the sight, forces himself to stay very stubbornly unmoved. The dreamon grins, eyes alight in a lifeless sort of way, and Tommy feels a chill crawl down his spine.

“Tommy.” It’s bizarre to hear Dream���s voice pouring out of a creature that’s now so obviously not him, bizarre to hear familiarity in a chasm of a body that’s inhuman. “Shouldn’t a child like you be asleep by now? It’s late.”

Tommy doesn’t snap or act defensively, because that’s what it wants from him, and he’s never been very good at following orders, verbal or not. Instead, he crosses his arms, meets its expression with a steely gaze. “Shouldn’t an old prick like you be dead by now?” He asks, and it chuckles.

“That’s the Tommy I know.” It cracks its knuckles, eyeing him in amusement. “I’ve been around far longer than you, and I’m sure I’ll be around long after I crush the life from you, too.”

Disgust fills him, along with an ancient sort of dread. Tommy swallows.

“Answer my question,” he snaps, instead of playing along, “now.”

The dreamon lifts one eyebrow. “How much of it was actually him?”

“Yes.”

“Depends on what you mean by him,” it replies, examining him closely, “depends on who you think the real Dream is.”

Tommy swears viciously under his breath in irritation that’s slowly getting the better of his fear. “Give me a straight fucking answer. Was that Dream that tortured me in exile and in the final showdown, or you?”

“That was me.” The dreamon smiles, showing razor sharp teeth, and then it’s advancing on him, eyes dark, grin a death sentence. “And it was me that destroyed L’Manburg for the last time. It was me that pushed Schlatt to drink at the revolution, and me that pushed Wilbur to blow up L’Manburg.”

Blood running cold in his chest, Tommy backs away, scrambling for a weapon, but the dreamon is too quick, too merciless - within a blink, Tommy finds himself backed against a wall, eyes wide in panic, weaponless, with the dreamon towering over him.

“It was me that built Church Prime with you,” it continues, shadows curling over it from every dark corner in the room, “and me that went on that silly little playdate with Wilbur. It was me that married Fundy, me that offered you the trade for the disks for L’Manburg.” 

“What?” Tommy whispers, in disbelief.

“The Dream you’ve known since the very first war is a lie,” the dreamon laughs, “the Dream that messed around with Sapnap and George? The Dream that helped Tubbo repair his house after the war? The Dream you began to look up to again after the war, despite him having your disks? That was me! You haven’t seen the original Dream since he disappeared for months!” 

The dreamon shoots him a superior sort of grin, and Tommy can’t help but feel like it knows it’s already won. 

“I’m the real Dream, Tommy. The good and the bad. None of you really know a different Dream. I’m all there is.”

Tommy swallows, shell-shocked, frightened. “You’ve- You’ve been around that long?”

“He left to try and fight me off,” the dreamon tells him, entertained, “and failed, miserably. What makes you think he’ll ever be successful this time?”

It backs off, but Tommy stays pressed against the wall, hands shaking, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

“The Dream you get back, if you get him back, won’t have any of the memories that I do.” It tilts its head at him, and Dream’s eyes glitter through the broken remains of the mask, eerie, knowing. “But you will. Tell me, Tommy, how much are you going to be able to forgive and forget when it comes to Dream?”

Tommy is silent, damningly so. The dreamon presses its advantage.

“I mean, Dream didn’t do those things, but his body did.” It raises a hand sharply, and Tommy sees TNT in his mind’s eye, sees the glint of irritation under Dream’s mask, and flinches back, raising a hand defensively. “You’re proving my point as we speak! Even if Dream comes back, Tommy, will it change anything at all?”

It hangs between them, heavy, choking, and Tommy feels tears, unwanted and unwelcome, rise up in his eyes. 

The dreamon hums. “That’s what I thought.”

“It’ll be alright,” Tommy whispers, to the dreamon, to himself, “when he comes back. I’ll be better. I won’t associate him with- with any of it.”

“Oh, Tommy,” the dreamon says, parroting Dream perfectly, right down to the amused condescension, “lie to yourself all you want, but don’t lie to me.” It grins, bright, blank. “You’re my hero, after all.”

My hero. A chill has Tommy fleeing from the room, unable to escape the disgust that crawls over his skin. It had been bad enough thinking Dream had viewed him as his hero - to know that it’s the dreamon wearing his body like a costume that thinks it instead is unsurprisingly worse. 

And it stings, because he knows it’s right. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to forgive Dream. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look him in the eyes again without feeling that familiar fluttery anxiety and fear in his chest. 

Doesn’t that make him bad? Fearing someone who doesn’t even remember why?

It’s a long time before sleep comes, and when it does, his dreams are filled with nightmares of exile, a man with unblinking green eyes and an empty smile blowing up everything he cares about over and over again.

[butchniqabi]

not to constantly bombard you with altered carbon asks but who are your fav and least fav characters and why? this show is so fun i love talking about it but youre the only person i know thats into it

omg okay okay, so for the worst characters im not going to put like. the bancrofts bc theyre intentionally written to be evil people etc etc but without further ado:

ALSO HI MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE SHOW TEEHEE

faves:

-quell: she's played with such raw power and strength? rene really put EVERYTHING into that performance omg. plus she the way she can still radiate joy and inspire people...literally i would be a quellist

-takeshi: okay so. envoy-era takeshi is like "omg hes my boyfriend hes so devoted and caring and healing from trauma" and post-envoy tak is like "wow what a fucking mess! *puts him in a jar*" like as much as i hate to admit it....he really is an interesting mix of manipulative and sentimental? like he does these little things because he cant stop caring about people! "i dont have any friends" takeshi said, surrounded by friends.

-trepp: ever wanted representation for black, workaholic lesbians with failing marriages? look no further. i feel like she is in many ways a refreshing character because i dont think you see many women with roles like "furious avenger with questionable morals falling into a deep obsession". plus she knows when to do the right thing and loves her family so much ;-; also i LOVED when anthony mackie played her it was v cute.

least faves:

-dig 301: i just....felt she was unecessary to the story? and that her presence didnt add much to the overall story (especially since she never talked about elder tech or excavations). plus her actress just rubs me the wrong way i know its not her fault but 😭😭😭 also the weird romance between her and poe....naur thanks

-jaeger: i felt like aspects of his character were just...hmmm not as good? like i know we cant have the backstory of every single character, but the fact hes just. cool with being being put on ice whenever theres not an immediate war/crisis? bro how deep does your nationalistic brainwashing go...i did however like the relationship he had with takeshi prime in season 2 where hes like "haha okay THIS time my son wont betray me :)" and then he does afwbdbdn

rei: okay now this one is controversial for me....because i WANT to like rei but the show doesnt give us much room to get to really know her. even as they create this image of rei as a deified idol in takeshi's memories, they still dont really give us much insight to her personality, her goals, how she survived the yakuza, etc. i think it would have been much more impactful if we Did know her better, saw how she clung onto her idea/memories of takeshi to remain alive, saw how growing up around crime and desensitized to violence made her view people (especially women) as commodities, and saw how her image of her mother began to change, then perhaps her betrayal would have been WAY more impactful. if we had gotten those little hints here and there about the true extent to which shes changed and how her obsession with takeshi was the only constant in her life, how she needed it to keep going, then maybe. maybe. but we didnt. and she isnt. and so shes not my fave 😔

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Teddy Bear Anon has purposed yet another interesting addition to the Immune AU which gives me plot ideas! In particular, a scene that would really help give past Dream a strong push into his character arc. 

I like to image that immune!Dream’s character arc starts with the death of immune!Puffy. Sure, maybe he’s not sad yet, but he feels something for the woman who declared herself his pseudo mother. It’s what helps to crack the shell enough for the rest of the immune gang to start weedling their way into his heart. Immune!Dream after spending enough time watching the group he, starts to realize that yeah, connections to other people isn’t a weakness. It really is a strength. It’s something that takes time for him to come to terms with because Techno seems like a testament to the fact connections are a weakness. He was unbeatable until his horse got kidnapped. His only connection, his only weakness. But then there’s Tommy who seems to represent the complete opposite. 

Where Dream represents strength from caring too little, Tommy represents strength from caring far too much. Now I’m a sucker for bamf Tommy, and I like to personally imagine that maybe the Immunes hold out for a year or two before they cave and try to make the portal. So Tommy has what really boils down to a two year training arc on top of already being a child veteran (I like to canonize SMP Earth as well because personal preference and it gives me even more room to make Tommy suffer. SMP Earth being canon? God, so much fucking trauma considering how the others treated him, a 15 year old child, like an adult.) Anyway Dream slowly realizes connections with one another are what kept the remaining Immunes alive, and he tries to force his younger self to understand that. Tries, but doesn’t really get far. Up until what everyone else calls The Fight.

Tommy’s always just kind of screwed around in fights as long as there’s only a threat to him. We know he has a tendency to throw if MCC is any indicator. But then they time travel and maybe they spend some time in the past trying to get the situation sorted and the past’s Dream maybe just kinda does something to Tubbo. Doesn’t even have to be big, it just needs to clock as a threat to Immune!Tommy who’s already lost his Tubbo and refuses to let his younger self go through that. So Tommy goes completely ape shit on the younger Dream. Sure, it’s only been two years for this Tommy. He’s probably, like, 18 or 19 at most. Still a child as far as a lot of people are concerned. He shouldn’t be stronger than Dream or Technoblade, and in the few cross group sparing sessions they’ve had he isn’t. He’s stronger than his younger self but no where near these two demi gods of combat. But then Dream suddenly registers as a threat to Tubbo in Immune!Tommy’s eyes and he makes the mistake of mocking Tommy while he’s at it. He knows that immune!Tommy lost his Tubbo and maybe the past Dream is lashing out slightly or trying to get some kind of foothold in Tommy’s psyche. He isn’t doing anything near what immune!Dream has done, but it’s enough to piss Tommy off. So immune!Tommy challenges Dream to a fight and Dream immediately realizes the mistake he’s made when Tommy starts to destroy him. 

Say even Techno’s there for some reason or another and he realizes what’s going down so he tries to calm Tommy down, joining the fight just as Dream is loosing it. The situation quickly turns into the first time Techno’s ever gotten his ass thoroughly kicked by Tommy, leaving everyone spectating baffled (Tommy’s younger self partly included). They’re certain this kid is going on some rampage and none of them can stop him but the moment Dream and Techno are both taken care of (wounded, not killed, the older Tommy is always careful about that. He even throws a splash healing on them with some indifferent kind of disgust that hides the fact he does still care to some extent even hurting as he is.) Tommy immediately just switches focus to outright doting on Tubbo, ignoring any muttered Clingyinnits in favor of ensuring Tubbo is fine. Tubbo is completely find and just as confused, but the point stands and neither Tommy ends up leaving Tubbo’s side for the rest of the day. The younger Tommy, after all, is the only one the older Tommy’s told the full story to regarding the future (even when he couldn’t trust his own family he was always able to trust himself with the secrets that mattered, so he prepares his younger self in case the worst comes to pass.)

The older Dream, immune!Dream, he doesn’t get involved. He sit on the side lines and just kinda laughs, the sound drowned out by Sapnap’s loud encouragements and Sam’s half hearted attempts to get Tommy to stop (he could have stopped Tommy immediately if he’d stepped in. Sam is after all the only person on earth Tommy listens to without hesitation, but Sam lets it happen and pretends he tried.) 

Immune!Dream just kinda smirks at his younger self later that night and mentions something about attachments really making you weak. After all, it’s not like the only time Tommy takes a battle seriously is when someone he cares about is in danger. It’s not like Tommy would turn the world into a seared ball for Tubbo, and Tubbo would do the same in return. It’s not like they’ve watched the people they care about temporarily rebuke the Crimson just to give the Immunes those precious extra seconds needed to survive in a fight. Attachments, they’re just a weakness.

The younger Dream doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s the first time he thinks about his older self maybe being right.

Before I go I wanna leave you with two more ideas for the Immune AU

First up, Wilbur is eight years older than Tommy give or take. Wilbur had Fundy when he was around 16 and Tommy was around 8. Tommy was the best damn uncle he could be and for a while Tommy and Fundy were really stupidly close. They were both apart of the raised by Wilbur club and Wilbur was trying his damn best. Fundy aged/matured (physically and mentally) faster than a regular person for a while. They believed it was because he was a fox hybrid and Wilbur was ready to lose Fundy too soon. When Fundy was equivalent to 18 in human years though his aging process suddenly slowed to a crawl and his tail split into two, at which point the group realized he was actually a kitsune and it was just those first 8 years that passed by quickly (and Wilbur had a lot of questions for the now missing Sally who he’d thought was a salmon hybrid, genuinely, but became exceedingly less sure.) His family knows he’s a kitsune, but Fundy hid it from most of the rest of the server. A good thing considering later events. 

Fundy was part of the Immune group for a while and I like to imagine that he and Tommy had a falling out during the Pogtopia era but after the egg started to take over they started bonding again and acting like, well, family. Unfortunately when it came time for them to activate the portal, Fundy ended up getting separated from the group and getting caught. The eggpire didn’t actually know Fundy was fully immune or a kitsune so he just kinda pretended to get infected, using his illusions to make his fur look crimson. I personally like the idea that Fundy at some point managed to get back to the time machine and being a little code wizard manages to get the thing working and yeets himself in. He shows up a little late but after fixing his appearance manages to catch up with the rest of the group.

Fundy is underrated. Tommy being a good uncle is underrated. Sam would absolutely adopt the traumatized fox baby in Eret’s honor. What’s not to love?

The last concept I wanna bring up that I really like is hybrid Tommy. Tanuki would be good since it’s another reason for the Sam Nook bit. Maybe Sam specifically picked Sam Nook since Tom Nook was Tommy’s favorite character on the grounds he was the only representation Tommy had ever gotten and it made the kiddo happy. However, I also personally really like phoenix Tommy and it would make an interesting plot point. Tommy accidentally losing his third life at some point and realizing he’s an immortal creature of fire would have led to him taking a protector role for his new family. He can’t die, but he can burn anything around him, why not send him out to get supplies when the worst the eggpire could do would be capture him. Even then he just literally cannot hear the egg. Which could lead to both some interesting comedic moments and some really good angst if Sam agonizes over his desire to protect Tommy and let him be a child suddenly being at odds with the fact Tommy is literally the best person for the job so to speak. Not to mention Sapnap, who I headcanon as a Blaze hybrid, would be even more attached the moment he found a new fire proof friend to burn forests with him. Regardless of which hybrid type he is, I could see him hiding it from everyone except for Fundy when he was a child and only ever admitting it later to the other Immunes once they become a found family.

Personally I like the idea of Tommy being part tanuki hybrid and part phoenix hybrid, but is that too mary sue? Is it just a little bit too cheesy to have him be both? I will never not try to incorporate phoenix Tommy into my fics but also tanuki Tommy would be such a mood for this au.

Like image Tommy just builds a den that’s in reality a vault/panic room a la Techno and he hides it under Church Prime since that is The Safe Spot in Tommy’s mind.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[feysandfeels]

Which TS songs remind you of the different couples in SJM’s books???

Boy do I ??

You are a blessed soul for asking me this, and know that I adore you. 

There is now a part II to this.

Feysand:

Begin Again: “I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn, and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again” Baby Feyre finding that love is not toxic, that love is supportive, that love can be wonderful. “You said you never met one girl who had As many James Taylor records as you But I do” but think of is as “he said he never met a girl who wasn’t afraid of his power, but i do”. Also also “Walked in expecting you'd be late But you got here early and you stand and wave I walk to you” because Feyre’s used to T*mlin’s mediocre ass but Rhys surprised her by being a decent human and treating her with respect, which makes her realize that she was starved for respect and that T*mlin was not giving her what every decent human being should get from the get go from their partner.

Ivy: Feyre slowly falling in love with Rhys, thinking about Rhys in the Spring Court between Night Court visits Also throughout ACOMAF how she battles with her ever growing feelings for the Lord of the Night, while feeling guilty about T*mlin, because they *just broke up*: “Oh, goddamn My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it's been promised to another Oh, I can't Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you” and “I wish to know The fatal flaw that makes you long to be Magnificently cursed He's in the room Your opal eyes are all I wish to see He wants what's only yours”.

End game: I can practically see Rhys singing this in the shower thinking about Feyre, when she decided to work with him and him thinking like “YES THIS HAS TO BE A SIGN”. His reputation precedes him and in rumours he’s knee deep, him and Feyre would be a big conversation, he has enemies, he has heard about her and she has heard about him. He thinks “she’s so dope that he might overdose”. She’s been calling his bluff on all his usual tricks so here’s the truth from his red lips!!!!!

Dress: “Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me Flashback to my mistakes My rebounds, my earthquakes Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me And I woke up just in time Now I wake up by your side My one and only, my lifeline”. Need I say more? I think not your honor. 

Call it what you want: “I said you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?” That’s Feyre’s whole arc, I rest my case.

Nessian: the happiness I feel about the fact that these two are together is just enough to make me smile on a Monday

False God - The song literally opens up saying “We were crazy to think Crazy to think that this could work Remember how I said I'd die for you” HELLOOOO?? NESTA THINKING ABOUT THAT SCENE IN ACOWAR?? but also feeling that she’s unworthy of Cassian and that there is no way in hell that he will love her with all that she is.

Don’t Blame Me - The power of this song lies in the I unapologetic- powerful-full on I give myself to you and I will do it over and over again energy it has. And this is the energy that Nesta has for Cassian (even when homegirl really tries to pretend otherwise lol boo you tried). The “through your love I found salvation” religious aspect of Don’t blame me is Nesta, because through Cassian’s love and presence she found the perspective she needed on herself. Also this book was a religious experience for me. Jesus fuck.

Sparks Fly: From Cassian to Nesta, with love. First of all Cassian would be a diehard swiftie (all of the bat boys for that matter, merch a the concert, what will we do if we get invited to the rep room?? fans. Az woud be like the quiet yet “no, speak one ill word of Taylor and that’s your end, she did nothing wrong she was framed and I have evidence”). Second of all “The way you move is like a full on rainstorm And I'm a house of cards You're the kind of reckless that should send me running But I kinda know that I won't get far” That’s him alright, that’s him knowing that Nesta is a force to be reckoned with and he wants nothing nothing but to be in that storm and live within the force of nature that she is. Thirdly “My mind forgets to remind me, your a bad idea You touch me once and it's really something You find I'm even better than you, imagined I would be I'm on my guard for the rest of the world But with you I know its no good And I could wait patiently But I really wish you would” 

Elucien: This is an Elucien blog. 

Lover - In all honesty wanted to give this song to Feysand, because they are my main otp and this song is the highest of the high from Taylor, but I can’t deny the fact that this song screams Elucien. “With every guitar string scar on my hand” I think is a beautiful parallel for Elain and gardening, “My heart’s been borrowed, and yours has been blue” this speaks of Gr*yson and Jesminda, “I loved you three summers now but I want them all” that’s Lucien speaking ma’am. “Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”, both of them about the bond. “And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me and at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover” we all know Lucien has a mind for dirty jokes and sass and Elain would always save him the sit next to her because he is the one who truly saw her and, in his distance, was the presence she needed while she figured it all out. Finally, The fact that the song has very clear wedding tones I think fits the headcanon, that more than a mating ceremony, Elucien would have a wedding, because it feels like something Elain would feel more comfortable with. 

Treacherous -“I can't decide if it's a choice Getting swept away I hear the sound of my own voice Asking you to stay”..... mmmmmm is this or isn’t it Elain getting closer to Lucien, but still wondering if it’s the bond or her, yet nonetheless surrendering to the fact that she wants him to stay. “This slope is treacherous This path is reckless This slope is treacherous And I, I, I like it” Elain doesn’t want an easy love, to simple do as the bond suggests she wants something that has twigs and branches and where she needs to question herself and truly ask what she wants out of life and this relationship. Also the softness of the melody juxtaposed with the vulnerability, brings a soft rawness that is Elain. 

King of my heart: Neither of them expected to feel like they could love with all the hope and unapologetic free falling feel characteristic of first loves, yet here we are. They rule their kingdom inside the room because they are discovering their feelings for each other away from prying eyes and people that have expectations on how they should work with the mating bond and all that. “Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury” Again, with the love away from everyone, feeling their world shift around what they are starting to feel for one another. “Is the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we're spending” did we say healing arc through love and support an “not expecting anything to come off this, but I just want to see you well” à la sjm?? I THINK WE DID.

Emorie: I’m working with crumbs here, delicious crumbs that will make a delicious emorie cake, but crumbs nonetheless.. I need more and I need it now.

I think he knows - My girl Emerie crushing hard hard haaaaaaaaard on Mor.

Cruel Summer - “I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh) And I screamed for whatever it's worth "I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard” this is prime PRIME PRIME ANGST, we will get from these two.  

Gwynriel: this is an edit because I'm not a hoe for these two (yet...trust me once I see Az heal this is the tag where you will find me) and I did not know which songs might fit them and then when I posted it I was like WAIT WAIT I KNOW.

Gold rush - Gwyn talking herself out of her crush on Az after finding out about the whole necklace and being like “I don’t want a gold rush”.

Daylight - Az is a Taylor hoe first, spymaster second. She just makes him feel things. But in all seriousness “Like daylight It's golden like daylight You gotta step into the daylight and let it go Just let it go, let it goI wanna be defined by the things that I love Not the things I hate Not the things that I'm afraid of, I'm afraid of Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night I, I just think that You are what you love” this is Az healing and being in better place where he can reflect on how he used to relate to love and romantic relationships, he now understands that love is not black and white but golden. He stepped into this notion of love and through it he found a beautiful relationship with Gwyn, he wants to be defined by the love he feels for her and the love he feels for his family, not by the things that haunted him, not by his mistakes, not by his trauma. He is golden, he is daylight, shadows and all he is daylight. 

Az + Elain: As a romantic end game they are not my ship, but I do stand by my pre-acosf position that these two would be really good friends

Out of the woods -  Where we stand after acosf I say that it is not far fetched that they might hook up and then realize that it’s not for them and that experience helps them access a new part of their healing: “They lost each other, but they found themselves”. The anxiety that this song mirrors is the anxiety of them knowing something doesn’t quite *fit* right, that they are both in turbulent times emotionally and this relationship is not giving them the peace they thought it would. They are paper airplanes, because they know that it’s not the right call for where they are in their own journeys if they want to heal properly and that neither will get what they truly want from the other one. The monsters who turned out to be trees, they are in the woods in this relationship, they were built to fall apart.. are all images that speak of the dynamic we could see of them, they try it doesn’t work and then after, when they are in better places mentally they will look back and be like “we dodge a bullet there didn’t we”.

Bonus: His necklace hanging around her neck, the image is clear there and so is the commentary. 

Az + Mor: formerly known as Moriel, the ship that used to reign my heart

Breath - This song is entirely from Az’s perspective once he and Mor talk about, well, everything. This is not how he had planned it, this is not how he wanted this to go, but “people are people and sometimes it doesn’t work out, but it’s killing me to see you go after all this time” referencing letting go of the romantic feelings he had for her. They were a crutch for him and now he has to face life and the things that torment him about it, without the protection and comfort his crush on her offered him. “And we know it's never simple, Never easy Never a clean break, no one here to save me You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand,” regardless of what you all want to think, they do love and know each other but shift in their dynamic will mean an adjustment for both of them... it’s not a clean break. “Never wanted this, never wanna see you hurt Every little bump in the road I tried to swerve”, also Idc about what you all think, Az never never never wanted to hurt Mor, if he knew his behavior was in someway affecting her he would have done something, and I think from the aftermath of him going after Eris on ACOWAR we can see that... also this might allude to him actually knowing that Mor is a lesbian and he has tried to make sure she feels safe around him and knows that he has her back agains the whole world if need be, regardless of her lack of romantic feelings for him. 

Feyl*n: honestly who knew there would be so many songs that would fit these two. Such bops for a crappy dude like T*mlin.

Exile - “I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)” He never even tried to learn to read her mind, he never turned things around and she gave so so many signs. The way he looks at Rhys like he’s his understudy, but no sugar he’s the principal actor and you got fired.

Getaway car - and I oop. Because that is essentially what they were both to each other. Feyre needed someone to give her security and financial stability, T*mlin needed someone to break the curse: “It was the best of times the worst of crimes”.

Bad blood - LOOOOOL. They used to be mad love and now they have bad blood.

Tell me why -  Imma just leave a collection of quotes here that well allude to them through the first act of ACOMAF: “I took a chance, I took a shot And you might think I'm bulletproof but I'm not You took a swing, I took it hard And down here from the ground, I see who you are” Feyre seeing T*mlin for the abusive person that he is, from the ground.. where his behavior put her. Also “I'm sick and tired of your reasons I got no one to believe in You tell me that you want me, then push me around And I need you like a heartbeat But you know you got a mean streak Makes me run for cover when you're around Here's to you and your temper Yes, I remember what you said last night And I know that you see what you're doing to me Tell me why” The if he loved me, why did he do it and the “it’s not a question of if he loved you but how” conversation she has with Rhys.

I could go on and on forever placing all T-Swift songs around acotar characters, but I think this is getting longer than we all anticipated.. or did we? we all know I am not ✨concise✨. Anywho, thanks for sticking around.

Besos!!

BOOOONUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSS:

Obviously, Invisible String is for all my mated/soon to be mated boos, and I think Peace is a song that can apply to both Feysand and Nessian from Rhys’ and Nesta’s perspectives respectively. 

[tangent101]

Max Caulfield and Post-Storm PTSD

One thing I find interesting (and have done so myself) is speculating on how broken Max will be in a Post-Storm (either Sacrifice Chloe or Sacrifice Arcadia Bay) setting. While some people (usually those who killed Chloe) like to say "she'd bounce back!" the predominant view is that we have a shattered Max after this who needs a lot of therapy. So I thought I'd unpack this and look at why I look at this this way.

At this point I should add there is potential triggers here. I'll be examining my own PTSD and elements of Max's state of mind that may in fact result in her being in declining mental health in the wake of the events of Life is Strange.

First, let's consider what PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) is, and what causes it. And for this I'm going to start by sharing my own trauma. Because I have PTSD. I gained this after I saw a vehicle go out of control and hit two people and run over two others. The final person was trapped under the vehicle and they had to push the van at an angle to pull him out, do CPR, and... he was dead. Even if EMTs had been right there, he'd not have survived.

I suffer flashbacks thinking of this, though it's gotten better. I will flinch, visualize what happened, and feel nausea. I get tense over this and... well, it's not a happy experience to put it mildly. And I have what is likely a milder case of PTSD. I also developed it despite being in an environment that put me at a lower risk of developing it. And yes, I had minor twinges of PTSD writing this up. Two years ago I probably would have had an actual visualization and anxiety break. So you can get better with therapy and help.

But what specifically is PTSD? According to the website for the National Institute of Mental Health, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) develops in some people who experience shocking or dangerous events, with people who have PTSD feeling stressed or frightened even when they are not in danger. PTSD can occur within 3 months of traumatic events or even have you be fine and then crop up *years* later. And symptoms include flashbacks where you relive the trauma, bad dreams, and frightening thoughts which can disrupt a person's everyday routine.

People with PTSD are easily startled, can feel "on edge," have angry outburst, and have difficulty sleeping. They could go through avoidance of staying away from reminders of the experience and avoiding thoughts or feelings related to the event. Further, cognitive and mood symptoms include problems remembering key features of the event, self-negativity, distorted guilt or blame feelings, and loss of interest in enjoyable activities.

Okay, so how can you avoid PTSD? And how could Max avoid this? Well, factors promoting recovery after trauma include seeking support from friends and family, finding a support group, learning to feel good about your own actions in the face of danger, positive coping strategies, and learning to act and respond effectively even when feeling fear.

And this is the kicker. This is why Max is likely screwed as a result of the events of Life is Strange, especially in a Sacrifice Chloe setting. Because Max blames herself and her time travel for the Storm and all the weird shit that happened. She may very well believe that if she uses time travel for any reason, it will result in the Storm and a lot more people dying. And this will get in the way of being in a healthy environment to avoid PTSD.

First, consider friends and family. Max can't tell them what happened because she has absolutely no proof of what she went through. She can't prove her time travel because if she does then she dooms wherever she is and a lot of people die. (It doesn't matter if this is the case or not, she assumes it is true.) So Max is not going to confide in Warren or Dana or Victoria or anyone. She can't. And she's quite likely going to isolate herself because we have already seen at the start of the game, Max is a bit of a loner who doesn't have many friends.

In fact, her two "friends" are Warren (who she feels threatened by due to his attraction to her, as seen by his inclusion in her Nightmare sequence including learning he doctored photos of her to include himself in the picture, his peeping activities on the second day, and the honestly-creepy "Go Ape" thing), and Kate. Kate is going through her own shit and Max remembers Kate killing herself. Is Max going to unload her own issues on someone going through a lot of shit as well or is she going to swallow her problems so not to trouble her friend? And Warren is someone she feels nervous around and who has engaged in some activities that set up warning flags in her psyche. Further, when she told Warren the truth, he promptly blames her time travel on fucking everything up. In short, she trusted Warren and Warren said "you caused all this destruction." (Even if Max initially blames herself, he reinforces that point of view before Max jumps through the photo to save Chloe.)

Nor can I see her telling her parents. Again, she has no proof. Her parents are overprotective already. If she starts going off on this fanciful tale, are they going to believe her? Or are they going to assume their daughter is cracking and force her into therapy and possibly hospitalize her "for her own good" (and thus she ends up medicated and miserable, having lost her autonomy and agency)? It doesn't matter if they wouldn't as Max will worry this could happen. It is better to never say a thing. So Max internalizes everything. And we already see evidence that Max has done this sort of thing in the past. Max keeps her secrets close to her heart. She never told her parents of the time travel even when she could have had proof. So why tell them after Chloe died?

I have been overcoming my PTSD by revisiting it and working through it. Part of this was guided by therapy. Max would not be in a position to talk about this. And how could she? After all, she didn't find Rachel Amber's body (and we have no proof her body is uncovered in a Sacrifice Chloe setting). She didn't see the Storm. She didn't see most of the incidents. The closest that happened was being in the bathroom when Chloe was shot. And her story of what happened would change from the week that beta-Max was in charge and when Max Prime returned to the timeline. So even if she was talking to a school counselor? She'd quickly learn that her story changed and probably shut up and stop seeing them so not to give away her story.

Remember: Max cannot admit to the time travel because doing so means either killing hundreds of people due to the Storm or being locked away for being crazy because she has no proof.

Next, we have feeling good about her actions. For five days Max had hammered into her skull her actions have consequences. More, those consequences are predominantly bad. Far too often Max has to Rewind to fix things from her actions. If she can't Rewind? That means by acting, she's going to fuck things up. In fact, the fundamental aspect of Sacrifice Chloe states that her action to save Chloe caused all of this destruction. Max is going to second-guess herself constantly.

I mean, if she sees Kate on the roof again at a later point (because women who are the victims of crimes are often blamed by society for the crimes inflicted against them as seen time and time again with how we blame victims of sexual harassment and rape for the crimes committed against them, so of course her church and mother and aunt will continue to blame Kate for what she went through), will Max dare to act? If she does, then she might cause another Storm. She might cause damage. If Kate is on that rooftop again, maybe she was supposed to die. Who does Max think she is by trying to stop Destiny?

So yeah. Max is not going to feel good about her actions. She is going to second-guess herself. She already had that tendency at the start of the game, and Sacrifice Chloe hammers down the truth that action is bad. Better to do nothing and not interact.

We end up with Avoidance. Well, what is the biggest Avoidance? Photography. Max already has a murderer who kidnapped her associated with photography. She remembers being in the Dark Room, being powerless in the face of the man who murdered her Chloe. (Just like she murdered her Chloe. She might not have pulled the trigger, but she caused Chloe's death.) She will see Chloe's death and Rachel's death and her own suffering each time she looks at a camera and remembers Mark Jefferson. More, she knows if she focuses on a photograph she could end up traveling through time and causing the Storm. So she can't even enjoy pictures anymore because they are a threat.

That's not to say that the Sacrifice Chloe setting is all dark and dire. She does have music. She loves music. So if she puts aside the camera she might pick up her guitar and embrace music. (Hannah Telle, Max's VA, once speculated that Max would enter a career in music, probably due partly to her own musical inclinations.) So while she might give up her greatest loves, she might eventually embrace a future in music. I doubt she'd ever play in public but... that might be an outlet for a hurting soul.

Now, I've gone on at length about how dire things are for Max in a Sacrifice Chloe setting, but what about Sacrifice Arcadia Bay? Well, things end up a bit more positive in this setting because she can actually talk about going through some of these things. For instance, Max dug up a body with Chloe. She saw Chloe almost shot by Nathan in the bathroom. She saw Kate attempt suicide (whether or not she stopped it is immaterial to the suicide attempt). She learned that a trusted teacher and mentor was in fact a predator who was kidnapping young women, saw pictures of these crimes, and thus "suffers flashbacks visualizing herself in this setting." She can go to therapy and talk about many things she cannot in a Sacrifice Chloe setting and in doing so she can start to work through elements that could result in PTSD developing.

She can also talk to Chloe about what happened. Chloe knows about the time travel. She knows about almost dying (and Max witnessing Chloe's death multiple times). This gives Max a needed outlet for overcoming her own fears and concerns. But more importantly is this: Chloe is likely to tell Max to face down her fears. Chloe is the person who always pushed Max to try new things. And I honestly cannot see that changing as a result of what they went through.

Max also will learn to feel good about her actions. I mean, she chose Chloe over Arcadia Bay. This is the ultimate action, and while she may feel remorse for those deaths and that destruction... she also knows she saved Chloe and Chloe is by her side. She knows that her actions led to the capture and arrest of Mark Jefferson and saving Victoria Chase's life. Hell, it led to David Madsen (and probably a couple Arcadia Bay police officers) surviving the Storm because they were in the Dark Room at the time of the Storm. Her actions have consequences... and those consequences need not be dire. They can be beneficial.

So the Max of Sacrifice Arcadia Bay has a support group, she has access to therapy and can talk about some of the things she went through, she has someone she loves who believes her, she knows that her actions have benefit, she has someone who urges her to move forward. This isn't to say she won't have PTSD... but she is in a far better environment to overcome this to the point that in Life is Strange 2, we learn (in the Save Chloe timeline) that Max is submitting to galleries and that Chloe is still with her. So she's taking pictures and is in a good place in her life.

Now, what about Chloe? After all, Chloe went through some truly horrific shit herself. Chloe was almost shot by Nathan, she almost got hit by a train, she was threatened by Frank, she dug up the body of a girl she truly cared for, dozens of yards from where she was hanging out regularly, she saw a huge-ass Tornado wipe out her home town and kill her mother... yeah, Chloe's been through some horrific stuff, about as horrific as Max. More, she is in an unhealthy position at the time of the game.

But much of what benefits Max in the Save Chloe timeline also benefits Chloe. She can talk to a therapist. She has Max by her side. She has Max by her side and Max out-and-out chose her over hundreds of people. Joyce chose David over her, and for four years Chloe was in an unsafe environment. Rachel was... Rachel, and she was cheating on Chloe anyway. But Max... Max comes back, she saves her life several times, she helps Chloe time and time again, and at the end she chose Chloe over Arcadia Bay. That is big. That is bigger than big, it is... for once, Chloe was told "you are important." I mean, I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking of how big this is. Chloe has realized just how much Max loves her.

So... Chloe might develop PTSD. She is at risk of it. I think her triggers might similar to Max's - both girls probably will freak over thunderstorms for a while, and both may develop an aversion toward guns... at first I thought they'd differ but really, they'd align fairly well. About the only trigger issue Max would have Chloe doesn't has to do with photography (which is why Chloe is the person who'd help Max overcome any such issues).

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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[condorclaw]

The different ways the DSMP characters reacted to Tommy’s return and what they dealt with in his absence

I've been thinking about today's stream (shock of the fucking century), and mmm let's just take a moment to highlight how interesting the reunions are between Tommy and the others (Sam, Jack, Tubbo, etc.) by looking at their reactions and how they felt when they heard about Tommy's death. (Note: I have not watched Ranboo or Jack's streams that take place after this one. This is only detailing the information that occurred in Tommy's stream.)

Tommy’s death impacted a lot of people, with them going through many different stages of grief and coming to a realization of their own in terms of how they viewed Tommy or the server in general. His death was sudden and gruesome, with Sam being the only one to witness the evidence, ending up leaving quite a few skeptical if he really did die.

Tommy was resurrected by Dream, and now has to deal with the reality that life was moving on, which he wanted to follow. He wanted to go back to the way how everybody treated him, but him returning is essentially a zombie to everybody else. There were many different reactions to this.

SAM

"H-How are you here...?"

Reaction: Upon hearing Tommy was still alive, Sam was frantic in getting him out, and after Tommy left the cell, Sam remained in shock, even as Tommy yelled at him. Despite not understanding what happened, Sam was willing to try and make Tommy as comfortable as possible, even putting away his sword upon Tommy's request. He remained soft-spoken throughout the process of getting Tommy out, allowing Tommy to yell and vent his heart out, even if the words were reminding Sam of his failure.

Before Tommy was found alive: Sam was the one probably most affected by Tommy's death. He was in an awful state of depression, causing his words to be softer and his actions were less calculated. Sam deeply blamed himself for Tommy's death, telling Ranboo about the extent it affected him, even implying that he would kill the one who set off the TNT, since it's what caused him to take precautions in the first place. San revealed he was tormented by Dream to both Ranboo and Foolish, with Dream laughing at Sam upon him finding Tommy's body, and demanding Sam to come into the cell so he could kill him too. Sam blamed himself for Hannah's corruption, thinking of himself as a coward for not going into the egg room due to his trauma.

TUBBO

"You're not real."

Reaction: Tubbo didn't see Tommy approach at first, since he was busy with his hotel. When Tommy startled him however, Tubbo backed away as fast as his could, breathing heavily as he tried to get his words out. Tubbo asked Tommy to pinch him to prove he was real, which Tommy did. As Tommy talks to Tubbo about what happened and how he's feeling, Tubbo tries to retain as much information as he can through the shock that Tommy was alive after another fatal incident. When Tommy asks if Tubbo can leave him alone as he processes things, Tubbo agrees to do so, but tries to secretly follow Tommy around, needing to make sure he's real.

Before Tommy was found alive: Tubbo had originally been in denial upon hearing Tommy was dead, being rather familiar with Tommy's previous assumed death. He continued to work on his hotel with Ranboo, his new husband that he got engaged to when Tommy was in prison, even adopting a son, Michael, with Ranboo. Aside from working on the hotel and spending time with Ranboo, Tubbo made it his mission to discover who planted the TNT, his denial beginning to fade as he accepted the loss of Tommy. He began to look for every possible solution, even going as far as to suspect things that are entirely unrelated to the cause. He built a memorial for Tommy outside Snowchester, building a bench, placing a jukebox, and making a prime log in his memory.

JACK

"Bigger elephant in the room, why are you alive!?"

Reaction: Jack had been working at his own hotel when Tommy came to see him. The shock from Jack was immediate, insisting that Tommy was still dead, and stating that he grieved for Tommy, so he can't be gone. He becomes so caught up in his rage, he reveals to Tommy that he had been trying to kill Tommy for months. Jack states that he went to hell, but becomes furious when Tommy fails to acknowledge it, and just brushes it off. He insists that he did everything better than Tommy ever could, and declares that he deserves to die.

Before Tommy was found alive: Jack was initially happy upon Tommy's death, declaring that he had won the fight against him. As time stretched on though, Jack began to lament over his and Tommy's shared history, realizing that Tommy was his closest friend on the sever, and that he had been angry due to believing that Tommy valued the discs above everything else. He decided to let go of his anger, and wanted to start all over again. With this mindset, he burned down his old house, and was the one who told several of the server members about Tommy's death, including Quackity and Ant.

CONNOR

"I just got this house, like, two days ago."

Reaction: When Tommy entered his house, Connor was scared, seeing Tommy as a ghost and hitting him, which triggered Tommy. Realizing that Tommy was alive, Connor asked if this meant he had to move back into Ninja's house, and showed Tommy his diary, with the third page sharing that he missed Tommy. Because Connor was the only one treating him like he always had, Tommy told Connor about how touch triggered him. He tells Connor about what happened, which allows Connor to express his feelings of wanting to improve the prison system. He patiently listens to Tommy talk, not asking Tommy about what happened after Tommy shares his discomfort in talking about it. Before the two separate, Connor says they can talk about the system when Tommy's feeling better.

Before Tommy was found alive (note: I haven't watched the stream yet, so I'll be describing past moments from their relationship): Connor has always had an interesting relationship with Tommy, the two being on rather neutral terms with some sort of understanding between them. Connor and Tommy had conflict at the beginning, but there was care shown between them. Even after Tommy and Technoblade kidnapped and traumatized him, Connor expressed that he didn't feel like Tommy was bad, just conflicted. He was one of the few adults who didn't believe that Tommy should be punished for things he couldn't control. Despite their bickering and occasional frustration towards each other, Connor does see Tommy as just a kid who got caught up in something, and Tommy does care about Connor as a friend.

RANBOO

"You're, uh... You're here! Wow! That's, uh, that's cool."

Reaction: Upon Ranboo and Tommy seeing each other, they both stared in silence at first, even when Tubbo went to slightly hide behind Ranboo. Ranboo tried to initiate casual conversation with Tommy while trying to process his return, asking Tommy how he's been. The conversation would occasionally get interrupted as Tubbo tried to make little advances towards Ranboo, making him amused. Ranboo tried to ask Tommy about how he was alive, and tells Tommy how he learned about his death through Sam. Tommy expressed his discomfort, frustratedly asking Ranboo if Tubbo was now his new best friend. Ranboo tried to give Tommy an allium flower, but Tommy immediately burned it out of frustration, stunning Ranboo a bit. Tommy leaves after saying he's uncomfortable, leaving Ranboo behind as Tubbo continues on to follow Tommy.

Before Tommy was found alive: Tommy's death affected Ranboo greatly, making him question the morality of everybody around him, leading him to lash out at Sam for allowing Tommy to go anywhere near Dream, and making Ranboo believe that people were only sad about Tommy because he was dead. Ranboo especially reflected on his first meeting with Tommy, thinking about how he threw away the allium flower Ranboo had given him. Later he realized that Tommy had never thrown it away, and understands that Tommy did actually care about him. Ranboo thinks of himself as responsible for Tommy's exile, and has to juggle with these thoughts alongside keeping his new alliance from discovering his secret husband and son. Ranboo became very protective of Tubbo and Michael, helping Tubbo deal with his grief and conveying that Michael was the only constant happiness he has in his life.

QUACKITY

"T-Tommy! Welcome back, Tommy!"

Reaction: When Tommy approached him, Quackity had stepped back, believing that it was somebody else in a Tommy costume, and calling them horrible for wearing it. After he sees Tubbo watching Tommy closely, reality starts to settle in, and after Tommy talks about a specific experience he had with Quackity, Quackity becomes overjoyed at his return, telling Tommy about his business plan and becomes excited that Tommy will be able to see it. Quackity also asks about the revival book, which Tommy uncomfortably tells him about, recounting memories from his death. He says goodbye to Quackity after that, but before he leaves, Quackity gives Tommy a fish, joking that he "found Nemo". Before he leaves, he says the two should catch up sometime, and dashes away happily, with his last words being: "what the fuck, that green son of a b-".

Before Tommy was found alive: Quackity hadn't been seen much around the server, his last big interaction being with Jack when he learned about Tommy's death. Upon hearing that he died, Quackity tried to hide his feelings, insisting that the business came first, despite how sorrowful he sounded. Before that, Quackity had been a very positive figure in Tommy's life, willing to defend him against Dream's unfair rules and harsh actions. He had visited Tommy in exile, even becoming worried for his mental health at specific points. Quackity cares a lot for Tommy, and though he won't outright state it, he has a strong connection with him.

CONCLUSION

Everybody on the server has had different interactions with Tommy, and were all affected in different ways when he died. Upon him leaving the prison and turning up alive, they all had different reactions to his return, each relating to their own character and what they experienced while he was away. They all showed different kinds of headspaces, ranging from overjoyed to furious, and Tommy had his own thoughts on each of them as well.

TLDR: Everybody's interactions with Tommy made sense with their characters' histories with him, and all express different kinds of thoughts and reactions that people can go through.

Now let's get all these fuckers some therapy, let's fucking goooooo.