#snark writes

[snarkythewoecrow]

exposure therapy

(7159 words) by snarkymuch

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Summary:

Tommy stood there like a beefy Disney prince, a sparkle of knowing amusement in his eyes, to which Buck silently responded by pinching his brows together and frowning—confused and curious about what Tommy seemed to know that he didn’t. “Well, if it’s okay with you,” Tommy said, “I think I’ll stick with Evan—I got a feeling he’s gonna be worth getting to know.”   And getting to know each other was something they very much did. xXx He’d spent so long thinking it mattered—always somewhere in his mind, the worry that a part of him was a lie—not sure of his own name—but now he got it. He did. Because when he’d left Pennsylvania, he’d done it feeling like a failure at being the Evan his parents had wanted for a son—and then years later, after learning of Daniel, the curse of his name only felt worse. And he’d expected it to stay that way—despite the copious amount of therapy he endured—though in his defense, he never knew that someone like Tommy had been waiting in his future—ready to say his name a million different ways until he learned to love the sound of it again.

An introspective look at Buck making peace with his name and himself, along with some realistic, banter filled sex between these two stupidly in love beefcakes, with some daddy kink sprinkled in for a treat

@theotherbuckley look it's finally done! lol

[iicaru2]

something about how wyll calls his romanced partner his “shining star,” and how i didnt know that at all, and the first time i romanced wyll HAPPENED to be in my first origin astarion campaign. something about him saying “to think i almost missed the light” to astarion, who at that point in time would still be in the process of manipulating him for protection/realize that hes a fool whose fallen for the literal fairytale prince a younger him once fantasized about marrying. something about astarion taking every opportunity he can to remark on how handsome and sweet wyll is, despite apparently despising heroes— and wyll doing the exact same thing, despite being a literal monster hunter. something about wyll having special unique lines for origin romances in his act 3 romance scene. how even if you dont romance him, if youre playing astarion and approach him at the epilogue party he is absolutely Delighted to see you and remarks on how much he missed you (and your hair, lmao). just something about two characters who have had their autonomy stripped away from them for years finding love and safety in each other. i dont think i can ever be normal about these two.

[floertoer]

[lordascapelion]

[francesderwent]

thinking about snarky cultural/theological commentary and. the thing about snark is this: it’s easy, and it’s instant gratification. it’s easy because you’re playing to a likeminded audience. you get the way they think, you know the sort of things they find ridiculous, and so you know what’s going to play well with them. it’s not that hard to come up with a zinger that’s going to earn you applause from your own side. it’s also pretty easy to make another human being who’s not on your side look stupid, because we’re stupid creatures and we all have plenty of exploitable weak spots. it’s preaching to the choir, and it’s preaching meanly to the choir. and then, your snark bears all its fruit right away. you get the glowing feeling of having scored points against the enemy while being patted on the back by your friends for being so brave. if you succeeded in being snarky, you get the rewards of snark that very instant.

on the other hand, seeking to share the truth you possess in a mode in which it could actually be received—that is, says St Thomas, according to the mode of the recipient—that’s hard, and it’s so far from being instantly gratifying that you may never see the fruits of it in this life. not only are you not thinking about your likeminded audience, you’re not even going to trot out the truth simply in the way you understand it and call it your best effort. rather, you have to try to get inside your interlocutor’s frame of mind and understand how the truth you know is going to fulfill their own priorities and longings. you have to understand them so well that you see the truth of their position, even if that truth is buried very very deep, and then see how that truth connects them to the truth you see. you have to be insightful, and compassionate, and so, so patient. you don’t get to score any points, with anybody. your interlocutor might still get annoyed with you and turn around and make you look stupid. but you can’t just say “I’m going to speak the truth and I don’t care who hears and how they take it”—you have to care how they take it, because the truth is relational, it’s given and received, not just spouted into a void. and frankly you have to care how they take it because you have to care about their salvation.

don’t get me wrong, there are times in every person’s life when they will be called to stand up and be counted, to put fumbling words to what they hold most dear even if they can’t make everyone understand. but I don’t know that it’s a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth, with no consideration given to who hears you and what they’ll hear in it—and it’s certainly not a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth in a mean and funny way. “instruct the ignorant” is a spiritual work of mercy. but instruct the ignorant does not mean “instruct the ignorant while making the knowledgeable laugh and/or high five.”

[vaguely-concerned]

the hossberg questline has me shaking solas by the shoulders like a ragdoll like 'for pity's sake the flowers are here the flowers ARE growing again tender shoots are finding their way back into even this dark and broken world if you would just pause for a moment and look and sTOP FUCKING STEPPING ON THEM FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES oh my GOD does the phrase 'self-fulfilling prophecy' mean anything to you or did you not have those back in the day. trick question bitch I know and you know you did open your eyes hope is here already hope is here if you could bear to let it in. I'm sorry it's not the saplings you loved once but they deserve the chance to live and try and thrive or fail too'

*merrill voice of keeping it so incredibly real* I think he's broken the thing he wanted to save. (*incredulous fenris noises of you pity him??*) *merrill being so incredibly valid and on point cont.* breaking the thing you love the most is not restricted to semi-gods but it sure means you can do it the worst anyone's ever done it little guy and then keep doing that for thousands of years

all jokes aside I do love this metaphor that winds through the whole game in both imagery and dialogue, right down to rook and their LI being depicted as intertwining flowers in the ending slides

[snarkythewoecrow]

so, I saw this post, marveled at @raccoonmoon's stunning art, then my brain did this twitching thing as it pondered @greekgeek24's headcanon about Dot, then I went and vomited a bunch thoughts at @buckybeardreams, then ran off to a word doc and created this, which couldn't have happened without these people and their combined awesome even if they didn't know it

anyway, have a little one shot about Steve, a dress, and the longing for things you can't always have--and the happiness you get when you can

Pretty in Pink

this picture is a quote from Norman Rockwell

[cracklinhaze]

for better or for worse, i've written another stan pines one-shot despite my other wips begging for me to finish them...

all these things i've tried, boy

"stan pines deals with the aftermath of sock opera as clumsily as he knows how. "

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 9 - Baby

This fic was entirely powered by Halo from Rea Garvey

Katsuki knows that something is wrong the moment Shinsou steps into his apartment and it has nothing to do with the brown folder he slams onto the table.

Katsuki eyes it warily and he wonders what's going on because even though he's one of the top three he still doesn't have enough clearance to know exactly what's going on with Shinsou's missions. And Shinsou takes his job too damn seriously to be doing this lightly.

But it's really not the file that tips Katsuki off, it's the look on his face.

"What crawled up your fucking ass and died there?" he demands to know as Shinsou flops down next to Katsuki on the couch.

“Undercover mission,” Shinsou says with a little nod towards the file. “Estimated to take around six months.”

Shit, that means they want him to go in deep and embarrassingly enough Katsuki’s first thought is that he’s going to miss him. Which is just stupid and not worth further exploring so instead he leans forward, reaching for the file, one eye still on Shinsou to see if he’s going to object.

Shinsou only watches him, those unnerving eyes on Katsuki as he flips through the debrief and yeah. This fucking blows. Shinsou really has to deal with the absolute scum of the earth in his line of work.

“When do you start?”

“Why do you think I’m going to take it?” Shinsou drawls out and ah.

So there is a problem. One that is holding Shinsou back.

“Are you stupid? Of course you’re going to take it,” Katsuki gives back, because there is no way Shinsou is going to reject this. They specifically asked for him because he’s the only one who can do it, because he’s just that good at what he does.

He’s the best, really.

Katsuki would hate this admission a lot more of he were in direct competition with him, but lime-light heroes and underground ones are so fucking far apart, they might even be playing entirely different games.

“I just—” Shinsou clenches his teeth and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands.

“You just what?” Katsuki snaps out because he hates when Shinsou does that, when he starts to say something and then censors himself for no fucking reason at all and Katsuki is just about at the end of his patience and ready to kick him right in the thigh when Shinsou looks at him.

Katsuki was not prepared for the fear on his face.

“What if I go too deep?” he whispers out, wringing his hands. “What if I—end up liking it?”

“Are you fucking stupid,” Katsuki gets out because he can’t believe this bullshit and he kicks Shinsou in the thigh for good measure, too. He wasn't quite prepared for the way Shinsou’s long fingers wrap around his ankle, but then again, he's also not struggling to take his leg back, so there’s that.

If Shinsou wants to hold on to something Katsuki is certainly not going to complain if it's him.

“Are you seriously telling me that you’re considering refusing a job practically tailored to you because you think you might cross a line and turn into a villain?”

Shinsou blinks at him.

“Maybe?” he then offers, almost carefully and now this, this is all wrong because Shinsou Hitoshi is a lot of things but he’s never ever careful, not around Katsuki.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Katsuki almost cheerfully says and he lets his hands spark for good measure too as he gives Shinsou his most unhinged smile.

True to form, Shinsou doesn’t even seem bothered by it and now that’s more like it.

“Bakugo, I’m being serious right now,” Shinsou sighs out and Katsuki can tell that he is, can see it in the tightness around his eyes and the hunched up back and the slight shaking in his hands.

It only adds to the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’re being a stupid piece of shit, is what you are,” Katsuki shoots back and leans forward, right into Shinsou’s space, so there can be no doubt that he listens to what Katsuki has to say back.

“You did not transfer into the Hero Course to now turn into a villain. You did not survive Aizawa-sensei’s bullshit training to now turn into a villain. You did not rise fast in the underground community to now turn into a villain. What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you even know yourself?”

Katsuki’s words do not have the intended effect, he can tell, because he can still clearly see the doubt in Shinsou’s eyes.

“But what if—what if I find out I like it?”

“Shinsou, Denki asked you once if you could make him cheat successfully during a test and you were so enraged by the mere suggestion that you nearly killed him during the next training session. You are not going to like any of it,” Katsuki nods towards the file. “It’s going to be brutal and it’s going to suck ass, and yeah, it’ll probably leave you off worse for wear and with a need of several new therapists but it’s not going to turn you into a villain.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Shinsou, why are you a hero?” Katsuki demands to know, flexing his fingers to get his own quirk under control.

Shinsou just makes him so goddamn angry and the fact that he doubts himself like that makes Katsuki want to smash his face in.

“Not for a very noble reason, if you’re fishing for that,” Shinsou says with a sigh as he leans back against the couch and Katsuki snarls at him.

“Tell me the goddamn reason!”

“Out of spite, really,” Shinsou mutters and then huffs out a little laugh. “I’m a hero because everyone only ever said all I would be was a villain. I’m a hero to spite everyone.”

“And that is why you’re going to stay a hero,” Katsuki immediately says, because for all that they both like to talk around their issues, they also know each other and it hadn’t been hard to suss out Shinsou’s reasons for heroism.

Shinsou only looks at him with one raised eyebrow and Katsuki huffs out an annoyed breath.

“If you were just a bit weaker, you wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t need to have this conversation because there was no job offered to you. You’d be a goddamn villain. But you’re not; you’re made out of steel and fire and spite and that’s why this job is not going to do you in. It’ll only make you want to try even harder. You’ll be a better hero for it.”

“Six months is a long time,” Shinsou lazily drawls out and finally the tension has left him. “I’m going to come back all wrong.”

“So what? Come back all wrong—but come back—and then spend the next six months piecing yourself back together. We all do it after missions that go a little too deep, a little bit sideways. Sometimes with help, sometimes without.”

Shinsou’s eyes slide over to him and Katsuki knows exactly what he’s thinking about because Katsuki’s last fucked up mission wasn’t that long ago and some nights he still wakes to fire in his bed and smoke in his room.

Shit happens. They get over it. That’s just how it goes. It’s gotten easier, getting over it, with Shinsou there to meet his more volatile reactions. Piecing himself back together has been easier when someone’s there who’s not afraid to cut himself on all of the shards.

“It’s not that easy, I’m not exactly—” Again, Shinsou cuts himself off, clearly frustrated with himself and Katsuki rolls his eyes because he knows what Shinsou wanted to say.

I’m not exactly easy to get along with, even on good days.

“Quit being such a stupid idiot,” he huffs out. “Fuck, you act as if I don’t know that you soften yourself for everyone but me. You smooth all of your edges over when you’re with the others.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you don’t do that shit when you’re with me,” Katsuki confidently says, because there is no way the vitriolic, cutting, sarcastic piece of shit he gets on an almost daily basis is what anyone nice gets to see.

And Katsuki likes it like that, thank you very much.

“I don’t,” Shinsou admits and Katsuki nods.

“So it’s easy. If you come out of that mission fucked in the head, you come to me. I’ll piece you back together, no matter what. You know where to find me.”

It’s an offer, as much as it is a promise, because there is no way Katsuki is going to let Shinsou shatter because of something like this.

And if he has to piece him back together from scratch then he’ll fucking do it, too.

~*~*~

Hitoshi stares off into nothing. He’s so—empty that his hands don’t even shake. There’s blood dripping into his eye from the cut he didn’t let the paramedics look at and his entire body aches but it’s nothing that’s incapacitating enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, so Hitoshi had simply slinked off at the right moment and now he doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to feel, really, and so he simply continues to stare off into nothing.

It takes him a while to fish his phone out, but he does, eventually, and he distantly marvels at the fact that it’s charged. His handler must have done that, because he was the one who gave it to him during the short debrief they just had and Hitoshi’s hands still don’t shake as he pulls up his contacts.

He should probably call his parents, but he can’t quite bring himself to do that. Aizawa understands too much and Yamada would just fret about his everything and Hitoshi is not ready for that. He can’t have anyone fuss over him, or look at him with that deep understanding in their eyes and so he clicks on the one contact who is not going to do either.

“What?” Bakugo’s gravelly voice rings out and Hitoshi blinks when he remembers that it’s the middle of the night and Bakugo likes his sleep.

Well, he already woke him up, might as well keep going.

“I need to see you,” Hitoshi rasps out, his throat still sore from being choked out earlier that night and there’s only a brief silence on the other end of the line.

Yeah, Bakugo probably didn’t expect it to be him, considering his mission wasn’t due to end for another two weeks or so.

Things just went a little sideways and Hitoshi had to improvise.

“I’m keeping your cat company,” Bakugo finally says. “Fucker’s been lonely without your ugly mug around.”

“Fucker’s been way too spoiled with you, he used to be fine with being alone,” Hitoshi shoots back, because this is what they do, and the normalcy wraps around him like a warm blanket. This is something he doesn’t have to think about.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Bakugo grumbles. “You’re going to come home or what?” he then asks and instead of answering Hitoshi hangs up and simply starts walking.

He doesn’t have to think, his feet carrying him home without issue and he doesn’t even get to open his own door, because Bakugo is right there, standing in the dimly lit hallway with grey sweat shorts and one of the stupid muscle shirts he likes so much and Hitoshi almost slumps where he stands.

“They let you go home like this?” Bakugo asks judgementally and motions at the entirety of Hitoshi.

“Slipped away before they could get to me,” Hitoshi admits and takes one unsteady step forward. “Gonna let me in or what?”

“This is your goddamn apartment,” Bakugo says but he steps to the side and allows Hitoshi to shuffle into the hallway. “You’re early. Didn’t expect you back for at least another two weeks.”

“Shit went sideways,” Hitoshi mumbles and he remembers how the breath stuttered out under his hands.

He feels as if he might be sick any moment now.

“Yeah, that happens,” Bakugo mercilessly says and takes Hitoshi’s hand, guiding him towards the bathroom.

“No, you don’t—understand,” Hitoshi gasps out, his hands suddenly trembling so hard that it shakes his entire frame. “I killed two people.”

Bakugo warily eyes him and Hitoshi almost flinches back.

“Yeah, that happens, too,” Bakugo almost cruelly says and Hitoshi wrenches his hand out of Bakugo’s grip. “I read the file, remember? You were supposed to kill if shit went sideways.”

“But these weren’t sanctioned,” Hitoshi says, voice faint and trembling. “I just—did it. How can I still be a hero like that?”

“You did it because you were supposed to keep your cover. You were supposed to do whatever it takes to make this mission a success,” Bakugo says, suddenly all calm in face of Hitoshi’s mounting panic and Hitoshi wants to hit him so bad.

“They congratulated me on a job well done,” Hitoshi hisses out because he thinks for all that happened, he’s still convinced that that is the most fucked up of all.

“Remember my mission?” Bakugo suddenly asks him and it’s surprising enough that it derails Hitoshi’s spiralling panic. “Where I made a decision and a family died?”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi mutters because of course he remembers that. Bakugo almost spent a month at his place after that, and some days Hitoshi is still talking him down from a panic attack.

Bakugo is lucky Hitoshi’s sleep schedule is shit already, because otherwise he would have killed him for the frequent night calls.

“It wasn’t a good or bad decision. It just was a decision. And they keep praising me for it. Someone congratulated me for a job well done on live TV mere hours afterwards. They were still searching for the bodies then.”

“I remember.”

“So. Shit is fucked up. It’s fucked up all around, you’re not special in that way. Yeah, you killed, so what? That’s part of your job, even more so than mine. Now, the real question is: did you like it? Did you like any of it?” Bakugo asks as he leans forward right into Hitoshi’s space and Hitoshi rears back as if Bakugo had socked him in the face.

“No! Fuck, I hated every second,” Hitoshi almost yells out and he did.

He played his part and he played it well, he knows that, it’s the only reason he got deep enough to get all the people he was supposed to get, but he hated every second. His skin kept crawling every time he had to aid in one of their crimes, he almost threw up more than once and he has lost so much sleep he’s not sure he can ever make up for it.

Bakugo only shrugs.

“So, you’re not villain material. Wasn’t that what you were so worried about? You’re still a goddamn hero and your work on this mission only proves it.”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if there could have never been a moment of doubt that it takes Hitoshi’s breath away and that’s all it takes. Bakugo’s steady trust in him is what does him in.

Hitoshi’s breath starts to come hard and fast, more sob than breath, really, and he sinks to the floor right where he stands. He buries his face in his hands, hot tears sliding down his cheeks but Bakugo is there.

“Shh, that’s it, baby, deep breaths,” he mutters, kneeling down to wrap his arms around Hitoshi and then he simply holds him until Hitoshi’s eyes run out of tears and his breath returns to normal.

“Better now?” Bakugo asks and Hitoshi snorts, because he can’t believe that the honest answer to that is “Yes”.

“Can I take a look at that cut then? You keep getting your blood fucking everywhere,” Bakugo says, voice annoyed, but softer than it normally is and Hitoshi knows that it bothers him and his endless need to keep things tidied up and clean.

“If you have to,” Hitoshi sighs out and allows Bakugo to pull him up and shove him into the bathroom.

He is notably less careful with Hitoshi now, as if he’s no longer waiting for Hitoshi to break and he supposes that’s fair. Hitoshi’s pieces are all over the floor already, anyway, so there’s nothing left Bakugo can break.

He can only put him back together now.

“Sit down, you towering freak.” Bakugo points to the toilet and Hitoshi plops down without comment.

“Thanks,” Hitoshi mumbles as he watches how Bakugo whips out the first aid kit and he’s not even sure what exactly he’s thanking him for.

Probably his entire existence.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bakugo dismissively says as he dabs at the cut on Hitoshi’s brow non too gently. “You did the same for me.”

“Would do it again, too,” Hitoshi admits, and he pointedly does not think about the sick feeling in his stomach when he imagines Bakugo going to someone else after a mission goes wrong.

Hitoshi feels as if it’s his privilege to see Bakugo all torn up and help him through it and he wonders if Bakugo would hate that, or if he thinks the same.

“Same,” Bakugo quietly says and Hitoshi thinks he might have his answer right there.

They fall silent while Bakugo works and Hitoshi marvels at how much steadier he already feels. He knows that a shit ton of nightmares are in his future, and probably just as many hours with a therapist, but if Bakugo is there, it might not even suck so much.

“I think you should move in,” Hitoshi says apropos of nothing when Bakugo puts butterfly stripes over the cut and his only answer is a huff before Bakugo leans in and presses a kiss to his temple, making Hitoshi tingle all over.

“I spent the last month here because Fucker kept feeling lonely,” Bakugo says without meeting Hitoshi’s eyes as he turns away, busying himself with putting the kit back together.

“I might feel lonely, too,” Hitoshi drawls out, his eyes fixed on Bakugo and so he sees it when his posture loses some of his tension.

“If you wake me up with one of your stupid nightmares, I’ll blast you to hell,” Bakugo tells him instead of giving him a real answer, but this is better.

This is right.

They don’t talk about things, not like other people probably do, but they get it. They get each other and Hitoshi thinks he might take this over some heart-to-heart bullshit every day.

“Fair,” Hitoshi shrugs and forces himself to get up.

He still aches all over, the last fight really hitting him now and he can hear his bed scream at him from all the way across the apartment.

“You coming or what?” he asks over his shoulder when Bakugo simply stares after him and by the time Hitoshi has shed his clothes and slid under the covers, Bakugo is right there with him.

He doesn’t crowd him in, doesn’t try to press closer, seemingly understanding what Hitoshi needs without him having to say it and just for that Hitoshi tilts forward until he can press his forehead to Bakugo’s shoulder.

“Good night,” Hitoshi mumbles, sleep now dragging him under rapidly and for the first time in almost six months he gives in easily.

“I’ll be here,” Bakugo says and the promise wraps around Hitoshi like an extra warm blanket.

That first night, Hitoshi doesn’t have nightmares, but even after that, Bakugo’s words hold true for every single one that follows after. He’s always there.

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[snarkythewoecrow]

anyone want to see a tiny snippet of a bucktommy thing that I'm pretty sure will be developed to fit into the current one-shot I'm writing? perfect, in that case, have a snippet :)

Buck groaned, palms pressed against the shower wall, the spray hitting the back of his head as he bowed his neck, allowing him to stare at the chrome temperature adjust. Water streamed off his cheekbones, nose, and chin. He spit out the water that continued to try and drown him. “Just stop—stop it, okay?” The words were kitten-weak—and despite the protest they contained, he didn’t move away from the hands sliding along his spine, the calloused thumbs that were forcing the fibers of his muscles to relax in a way they hadn’t in days. “Evan.” The tone was flatter than the corn fields in Iowa, and it felt antagonizing, though only because it felt like letting go—letting go of the guilt and moving on. Inevitable but necessary—and he didn’t think he was ready. Sometimes, people just died—calls went wrong—but punishing himself felt right—hiding in the hurt seemed like his penance for failing—and that was more bearable than the pain of acceptance and the peace forgiving himself would bring. “Why won’t you just stop?” “Because you deserve to feel good—because you’re doing that thing where you feel guilty about being taken care of—and because stop it isn’t your safeword”

[crimeronan]

eda and darius are especially hilarious because they are The Same Person. have we ever talked about this. i know i've been thinking about this for Years now and i can't remember if i've actually written any meta about it.

these are both ornery closed-off emotionally repressed adults with 10,000 personal issues and zero social life except for their weird gremlin roommate whom they treat like family even though the weird gremlin roommate is a giant pain in the ass. they both get followed around extensively by literally The Most Annoying Children In The World who refuse to take an "i'm a negligent burnout who should never be responsible for kids" hint until the kids finally manage to be so annoying and so relentless and so genuinely goodhearted that the ornery adult is like FINE. this is my FUCKING CHILD NOW. I GUESS. go on to become the child's mentor and then the child's parent or at least to blur the lines between those two. teach the kid about an area of interest they're hyperfixated on. complain mutinously the entire time they're doing it. constantly talk about how they're going to bed and/or want naps and/or don't want to work. engage in insane rivalries with extremely dangerous people sometimes for thematic plot reasons and sometimes just for the fun of it. can turn into giant really hot monsters made of magic. fail to let anyone in on what they're thinking or feeling or planning even on pain of death. truly both start out as completely miserable burnt-out bastards who then regain the life in their eyes when they start hanging out with their random pseudo-orphaned children with turbo autism.

like. listen to me. They Are The Same Person. you think they aren't because darius looks like this high-fashion super cool spy dude who managed to lead a coven without raising suspicion for 30 years and eda is an alcoholic nightmare lady who sleeps in a nest filled with animal bones and digs through actual trash piles for a living but I NEED EVERYONE TO UNDERSTAND. THEY. ARE. THE. SAAAAME

[wickerwax]

to wit -- too witty (Codywan First Kiss Bingo #5)

(Shout-out to @panravenc who made a post about sick codywan headcanons that got me thinking about how I would play it! ^^)

Cody strode on deck with his helmet already in place and precisely on time, and Obi-Wan’s attention snapped onto him like a piqued nexu.

Item One: Cody was, until now without fail, a minute or two early at a minimum.

Item Two: Cody tended to prefer his helmet off when they were having this sort of intra-ship meeting, especially in hyperspace, and especially when he had more reason to glare people down than he needed access to his in-helmet comms.

Item Three: His dear Commander had the very slightest unsteadiness in his gait, which was practically screaming something is wrong.

He nodded to Cody, who signalled him to start. His suspicion went into the stratosphere and onwards immediately. When he reached out to get a sense of him, Cody’s shields felt wobbly, and there was a throbbing sort of discomfort leaking through.

Still, he wasn’t about to have an argument about it here with witnesseswhen Cody was clearly trying to fly under the sensor-net.Obi-Wan went through the updates they had – reiterated the ETA on the drop into sublight, the overview of the supply list, and requests for changes to be passed on the the Quartermaster first. Consolidation helped avoid mistakes.

Also Quartermaster Cross (apparently short for I Will Be Cross-Referencing This And It Had Better Match Or I’ll Be Taking The Difference Out Of Your Bones) was a dedicated and extremely efficient man, and Obi-Wan had no interest in making his life harder so – to him, first.

Cody sent text-comms to his ‘padd a couple of times, and nodded along, but did not speak, did not remove his helmet. He had clearly locked his knees to keep from wobbling. Obi-Wan wanted to offer him a seat but no one else was sitting and, given the entirety of the situation, the likelihood of being not only ignored but getting Cody’s active and monumental disapproval had him hesitating.

He wound the meeting down neatly, incredibly relieved that it was a short thing today, and requested (face in his ‘padd, voice deliberately absent, nothing odd about today!) that Cody stay behind for a quick conversation about a small incident in the training rooms.

Since the training rooms were the only place where incidents happened on a semi-regular basis and mostly consisted of ‘someone got elbowed in the nose again, please remind the men to be aware of their surroundings’ it was neither an unexpected nor interesting request.

The deck cleared but for the nav’ staff, and Cody, and Obi-Wan gave him a friendly gesture and said, “Office?”

The brightness in his voice and his narrowed eyes – facing only Cody – was as close as he could get to calling Cody on his bluff without making anyone else similarly suspicious. Here, anyway.

Cody paused for a long moment, then nodded slowly. Obi-Wan, with a smile like a bantha-heeler on a good day, herded Cody into the halls and towards their joint office.

He deposited Cody in his chair, keyed the door shut, and headed over to the kitchenette with his suspicions locked and loaded. “Helmet off, my dear.” he said, setting the jug to boil. “I’m quite sure it won’t be doing you any favours.”

Silence behind him.

Obi-Wan pulled out preferred mugs for the two of them, opting for comfort. “I’ve only those terrible fake-citron splemsip packets unfortunately, but they do help. Can’t expect a fresh citron-anything with supply lines being what they are.”

He twisted around to find Cody hesitating over his helmet, hands hovering. “My dear,” he said, gentle as a summer twilight, “I know you’re not feeling well, Cody. Let’s see what we can do about it.”

The release hissed, and Cody’s face appeared. Colour burned too bright across his cheeks and forehead and he was visibly sweating, his short curls lank with it. Shadows made hollows of his eyes. “Can’t – throat hurts.” he croaked. Sniffed. Congestion made it horribly bass-note.

Obi-Wan took him in and paused. “I think we might need more than splemsip.”

Cody made a sharp negative sign.

He huffed through his nose. “You have my solemn word vow to only forage through my personal supplies for flu relief.” Obi-Wan considered that for a moment, then added, “If it gets worrying, I will be telling Helix. I’m not losing my Commander to some common cold.”

He finished making the drinks and carried them over, delivering the splemsip directly into Cody’s hands. “Force, Cody, being in full armour can’t be comfortable. Or helping.”

Cody gave him one of his favoured blank-adjacent looks. This one said, I did what I had to do. Obi-Wan poked him gently in the shoulder and watched him sway far too heavily from very little provocation, then raised a slow eyebrow.

His Commander faltered briefly, then settled into the glare of a mantled hawk as he sipped at his medicinal citron drink.

Heaving a beleaguered sigh at his stubbornness, Obi-Wan investigated the state of supplies in their office. First, he unearthed a spare robe which he deposited on Cody’s lap with a suggestion that it might prove more comfortable than armour for the time being. Rustled up some mild painkillers – drew a complete blank on decongestants, but hopefully the drink would help with that.

When he excavated himself from the tiny ‘fresher with the pills, Cody had managed to remove his armour – stacked rather more messily than his wont – and was swathed in Obi-Wan’s spare robe over his blacks.

“Well done for seeing sense, Commander,” he said, amused. “Can I also tempt you to relocate to the couch?” It wasn’t sleeping length, but any amount of reclining had to be better than the hunching currently occurring. Poor Cody’s spine was in danger of getting stuck like that should the winds change. He was stoically refusing to make a face for the old adage to apply to, after all.

“Undressing wasn’t enough for you, General?” Cody rasped, though at least less painfully than earlier. He was smirking, but the lines around his mouth still read like aching.

“Anything you wish to do is enough, Cody darling, though I believe that conversation is best left for when you aren’t actively running a fever.” He fetched water, offered it and the painkillers. “These should help.”

“Is that true?” Cody asked, not moving to take them.

Obi-Wan blinked at him. “Well, strictly speaking they’re for pain, but they do tend to reduce fevers when those symptoms are happening in concert-”

“Anything I wish to do, Kenobi.”

He drew in a slow breath. “Ah. Commander, I-”

Cody stood up abruptly – and wavered, wobbling on his feet as his body objected to the motion. Obi-Wan moved without thinking, ducking under his arm and looping his own around Cody’s waist to take his weight. The metal cup clattered loudly on the durasteel, covering the much softer rattle of the pills in their soft tabs. The water was a loss, of course, although he was more concerned about it being a slip hazard. He tightened his hold.

Even through two thick layers, Cody’s skin was notably warm. “This is really not – Could we get you situated before -”

Cody’s fever-hot palms closed around his shoulders. He stopped speaking. He – well, he hadn’t meant to bring up the bantha in the room – hadn’t expected Cody to feed him so blatant a line, if he was honest. Had been playing his part according to Cody’s lead for months now, wary of crossing lines without invitation.

The weakness this cold was having on Cody’s balance and ability to reliably keep his knees locked hadn’t extended to his hands it seemed, for he had pulled them flush together and – while it was a very pleasant thing to be pressed against his very attractive Commander, now wasn’t the best time for it. Obi-Wan would have made like an eel except he was the only thing keeping either of them upright.

“I feel dreadfully manoeuvred, darling.” he tried to joke, and lost it to a wheeze when Cody dropped his face into Obi-Wan’s neck and clutched hard at him.

“The things I want to do to you, General.” he growled. At least half of the growling was congestion.

Obi-Wan patted his back consolingly.”As I said, my dear. Post-fever?”

Cody made a noise that, in a healthier man, would have taken him out at the knees. As it was, his knees were the only ones responsible for neither of them being on the floor, and his poor Commander followed it up with a nasty coughing fit.

“Right. Cody, if you don’t let me set you up on the couch at least, I am going to carry you through the halls to a bed and let your brothers’ gossip chain do what it will.” he said firmly.

“I will never forgive you, sir.” Cody choked out, breathing all rattles and lost bolts.

“I will accept your enmity if you are well enough to perform it.” Obi-Wan shot back. “Can you even stand unaided? Cody? Would you let a single one of our men get away with that?”

To his credit, Cody gave standing a valiant try. He unpeeled himself from Obi-Wan and planted himself like a reed with particularly flimsy roots, but the intention was admirable. If foolish. He wobbled dangerously.

Obi-Wan watched with steely eyes and lowered brows. “Now, let go of my tunic.”

Cody’s eyes were brilliant with frustration. His mouth curved downward. “I don’t think I should.”

“He can be taught!” Obi-Wan ran his hands along Cody’s arms and stepped back in to brace him. “Sitting down while I comm Helix, or am I parading you across the ship with as much style as I can muster?”

“I have quite literally dragged your ass out of your horrible little womp-rat nest when that dodgy-”

“Yes, yes, sometimes the biology gets knocked about unexpectedly but we still see the medic-”

“That is not-”

Obi-Wan took a moment to brace himself properly, then hauled Cody up into his arms. Cody yelped, then groaned. “High noises still bad.”

“Why, what a shock that a bug capable of overwhelming your robust immune system should be resistant to the vicious medicinal efforts of splemsip.” He shifted Cody’s weight slightly, then nodded. “If you pull the hood up, perhaps everyone will just think I am transporting a very lost fellow Jedi.”

“Sir-” Cody squeezed his eyes against the throb of his headache and slumped into him, arguments subsiding.

“Cody, if you want to have the conversation you implied earlier, I am going to insist on you using my name when we’re off-duty. And you, my dear, are so deeply off-duty.”

He nudged the keypad with a little bit of Force use, and slipped into the hall. His senses were on high-alert and he thanked the Force that their office wasn’t so far from his rooms. He only had to duck into a side-hall to avoid being seen the once, and he tucked Cody’s head against his gently while waiting for the coast to clear, worried over the thoroughly crackly breathing.

Jabbing at the door control to his rooms, he swept Cody in and got him situated on the bed. “Don’t move,” he said, pointing threateningly at him as he clicked his comm off his belt and sent off a message to Helix to request assistance for flu symptoms in his quarters. “I’m going to get water again, and this time you’re going to behave and drink it.”

“Behave is not-” he broke off to cough again, then resumed doggedly, “-not what I thought I’d be doing in your bed, Obi-Wan.”

“Post-fever, Cody, so you’re already not behaving.” He brought one of his stashed hydro-packs over. “I should have thought of these earlier really, the straw will be easier.”

Cody took it, nearly pouting as the fever got hold in earnest and his reticence slipped. “I’d rather suck something else.”

“Have you been storing these up?” Obi-Wan asked, perching on the edge of the bed and reaching to press the back of his hand to Cody’s forehead. “Oh, darling, that’s definitely Helix territory. Drink your water.”

Bright-eyed, and in the process of glazing over, Cody gave him an awfully endearing attempt at a sultry look as he stabbed his straw into the bag. “Don’ need to store anything. Look at you.”

Charmed, Obi-Wan ran his hand through Cody’s sweat-damp curls. He leaned his head into the touch as he drank, eyes sliding closed. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

His door chimed.

Slipping away for a moment, he returned with Helix grumbling behind him. “Of course it would be you, Cody.” he said, “Half the battalion gets sniffles from some lurgy incubating since our last campaign and Sir Never-Gets-Sick over here drops like a ton of duracrete.”

“Your morning has been busy then?” Obi-Wan said, “With any luck, that other half is immune or threw it off before it took, and not just taking longer about showing symptoms.”

“Sniffles.” Helix repeated. “Hardly even worth mentioning but for the volume. Couple of the Maintenance boys have a low-grade fever, gave ‘em some reducers, they’ll be right as rain. Our dear Commander, as I hear, is well past that.”

Cody, supine on the bed, made an irritated noise. It sounded a lot like a washing unit trying to chop wood. “’m not dead, unconscious, or missing from this room.”

“Give it time,” Helix said darkly, checking his temp. “What was the plan if the General hadn’t interceded, Cody? Crawl into a vent shaft for the MSE droids to find during the night cycle?”

“Thought I’d skip right to the airlock actually.” Cody returned snidely. Coughed. “Why’s there three Generals now, I didn’t think this was that sort of dream.”

Obi-Wan dragged a hand over his face. Helix barked a laugh as he sorted through his medications. “It is not that sort of dream, Cody. Should I step out, Helix?”

His CMO shrugged, preparing his shot. “Do you want the good General Kenobi and his twins to leave, Cody?” He leaned over the bed and poked at Cody’s arm.

“I want the floor to stop moving.” Cody said faintly. “When did the General get twins? I thought we had – ow, fuck, Helix!”

“Sensitised pain reception, that’s unfortunate.” Helix mumbled, mostly under his breath. “Avoid bumping against shit, vod.” He scooped up the half-drunk hydro-pack abandoned on Cody’s chest. “Sir, I need you to take these pills and finish this pack. That’s an order, copy?”

His eyelids were drooping again. “Copy, sir.”

The pill-swallowing was an experience best left to the imagination. Cody’s very unhappy throat made it into a production that took both Helix and Obi-Wan to hold him through – the pills themselves and the coughing fit that followed.

“They really are better ingested than anything I have right now that’s intravenous,” Helix said regretfully in the aftermath. “But he should be able to sleep now, and it should get him through the worst of it.”

“That’s fine,” Obi-Wan walked him back to the door. “I’ll work from in here for the day, and I can always sleep on my couch if necessary.”

Helix gave him a slightly sarcastic salute. “I’d say don’t get sick but that would only encourage you.”

He laughed, “I’m not quite that contrary, Helix.”

“Dubious, sir, I’m dubious. Comm me if he gets worse.” Helix said, and left.

Cody was starting to drift in earnest when Obi-Wan returned to the bedside, propped up on all the pillows he could find to ease his breathing. “Back?” he yawned, wincing.

“I’m back, yes. I’m going to sit at the couch and get some flimsi done, so just tap the wall if you need anything. I’ll hear it, don’t worry.” He traced Cody’s tired, familiar face with his eyes. Every line of him was precious. “I’ll come in to bother you about drinking enough, but otherwise I highly recommend trying to sleep.”

“No- wait,” Cody flailed a hand out. Obi-Wan caught it in his. “I don’t – Obi-Wan, I don’t want to have dreamed – before.”

He threaded their fingers together and squeezed comfortingly. “Which before? I’m happy to confirm what I can for you. For example, no twins.”

A smile curled slow and lazy across Cody’s face. He squeezed back with his too-hot hand. “The talk. We’re gonna talk, right?”

Obi-Wan found his own smile, quite irrepressibly, unfolding in turn. “Yes, darling.” he whispered, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Cody’s hand. “We’re going to talk as soon as you’re not any level of delirious.”

Cody had gone wide-eyed. The fever-flush brightened across his cheeks. “Obi-Wan.” he said, longing.

“Not a dream,” Obi-Wan told him, turning his hand over to kiss his palm, to brush his lips over the sensitive pad of each finger. “I promise. You just have to get better first.”

“Suddenly I feel the urge to be a model patient,” his bedridden Commander managed, though what slipped through his shields right then was categorically not that. “You probably won’t recognise it.”

He snorted and returned Cody’s hand to his lap, patted it. “Get some sleep, Cody. I’ll be in periodically – we’ll see if I don’t give you an aversion to nurses for the rest of your life first.”

@codywanfirstkissbingo hi hello! Number Five! I used my free space as 'hand kiss' and that should be bingo twice over xD

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

october 1, 2021 4:15 p.m. grant's house

[juhani] hello? grant, can i call you tomorrow? it’s late.

[grant] no, you can’t. i know it’s 11 o’clock where you are right now, and i don’t really care. you answered, so you’ve trapped yourself.

[varpu, faintly] juha, if you don’t talk now, he will never call you back.

[juhani] i want to speak with you, of course i do, it’s just–

[grant] fantastic, because that’s what we’re doing. we’re talking! i have 30 years of stuff to get off my chest, and i'm sure you have your own piece to share. not sure where to start, but.

[juhani] may i ask you a question? what did you overhear at dinner the other night? are you upset i'm moving? is that it?

[grant] i mean, that stung a little after the whole “i’ll be around to build a relationship with you,” thing, but i gave you my express permission to go home, so it’s whatever. we are both adults, so i am not going to fault you for making adult decisions that improve your life. i'm more upset by you claiming you didn’t tell me about your plans or include me in the moving and wedding stuff and whatever because i'm difficult.

[juhani] that’s not what–

[grant] oh, come on. don’t kid yourself. you said it yourself, anything involving me is like pulling teeth. i heard it loud and clear.

[juhani] well, when i tell you things, you never react well. it always goes precisely like this conversation is going.

[grant] really? never? because i remember being pretty positive about your proposal and about you contacting me in the first place and about coming to dinner to acquaint myself with varpu’s kids and about meeting varpu a while back…

[grant] what i react poorly to is you leaving me out, you calling me difficult, you complaining about me in front of impressionable people, etcetera.

[juhani] i don’t want to leave you out.

[grant] that’s what varpu said, too, but i didn’t believe her, so why would i believe you?

[juhani] i have no idea how to interact with you. i've apologized to you, told you i regret the events of your childhood. nothing works.

[grant] do you regret it? because it kind of just feels like you’re doing the same shit again. abandoning me for your own self-interests. oh, and this time you’re replacing me with a brand new family you treat better.

[juhani] i'm not repl–okay, what would you prefer me do when you push me away? you told me i was difficult.

[grant] when did i say that? i mean, that's true, sure, but i would not say that to you. what i probably said that you’re misconstruing is that talking to you is hard because i'm not comfortable around you.

[juhani] and how long will it take you to be comfortable around me? i don’t know what else you want me to do. truly, i don’t, and it is not pleasant to be rejected endlessly.

[grant] well, i'd have to forgive you, but i don’t. if forgiveness was meant to happen, it would not be instant. you’d have to keep trying with me, even if i piss you off, even if i push you away. you’re my fucking father, it’s your job. you show up for your kid even if they’re horrible or annoying. you never turn your back on them. but, you know, you didn’t show up for the first 22 years you were around, so you’d have to try extra hard now to change my mind.

[grant] but honestly, i will never be comfortable around you. i've realized that over the last few days. i did actually think if you just kept trying, i'd relax and be less on edge, but nope. you could become an honest-to-god saint tomorrow, and i'll still be furious because nothing will make me understand why you couldn’t have been a decent person when i was a kid. like, when i needed you.

[grant] and i don’t get why you weren't. i don't. i'm serious. i can’t comprehend it. clearly, you have it in you to be a decent person. you love varpu's kids. you're fatherly towards them. you take them on vacation, you invite them to house and wedding venue tours, you tell them about and include them in your hobbies, you remember details about them, you smile at them without being forced, you go to their weddings and don’t flip out about them being queer even though you were viscerally disgusted with me when you found out–

[juhani] you shouldn’t bring them into this. it isn’t fair. and i've taken you on vacation before, for one.

[grant] i am being petty, but i think it's fair because i'm not shitting on them specifically. and yeah, okay, you took me on vacation once. you took me to finland exactly once, but i never met your family, and i remember nothing other than the plane rides.

[grant] and you shouldn’t do this. we don’t need to split hairs. you don’t need to crawl through that list of grievances and “well, actually” me as many times as you can manage. one vacation changes nothing. that does not erase all the times you sat there like a lame duck and ignored me or mocked me or let my mother abuse me. there is nothing for you to pat yourself on the back about.

[grant] nothing.

[juhani] so, what are you upset about now?

[grant] why?

[juhani] why what?

[grant] why are you like this? why were you a terrible father? why have no heart for me or my sisters? why did you save all your love for someone else’s kids?

[grant] oh, and how about cerise? you sure didn’t care about your bastard kids either, did you?

[grant] shit. i'm sorry. that just kind of came out. that’s not how i wanted to, you know, pepper that into this conversation. i was going to save that for the end.

[juhani] how do you know about her?

[grant] doesn't matter. it's a long story.

[grant] on that note, what is up with the secret daughter? how’d that happen? is she the only one, too, or should i be on the lookout for any other siblings? and hey, you only divorced my mother in the last few years, so you were cheating. how many times did you fuck around on her, and why would you? you wouldn’t divorce her because you were afraid of her, but apparently it's no big deal to cheat.

[juhani] grant, how can i answer you if you don't allow me to talk? cerise’s mother michelle is a doctor. your mother and i were both at a conference in detroit about healthcare outreach, and…

[juhani] i know it seems contradictory, given how long i stayed with your mother, but i was unhappy in the marriage. i met michelle there at the conference, and she was kind and intelligent, and i suppose the rest of the story should be obvious to you.

[grant] goddamn, man. i hate my mother, but that’s bold: sleeping with another woman right in front of her face.

[grant] did she ever find out?

[juhani] eventually. you remember how she was with the finances. she tracked all the money going in and out of the household. you couldn’t have one cent go missing without being accused of something, and she’d always blame it on some incident with her brother and start ranting about him.

[juhani] look, the agreement with michelle was that i'd stay out of her life and send child support, and she wouldn’t interfere with my family either. i used to lie and tell your mother the child support funds were going somewhere important, but she didn't believe me very long. she did finally question me and find out the truth.

[grant] and?

[juhani] in hindsight, her reaction reminds me a lot of the one she had when you lashed out at her during your graduation dinner. very little left her speechless, but that did. initially, i should clarify. she would go on to never let me live cerise’s existence down.

[juhani] and to answer your question, as far as i know, cerise is the only other child.

[grant] as far as you know?

[juhani] i cannot rule out further surprises.

[grant] jesus christ. my grandmother is right, all men are dogs, but you most of all.

[juhani] does it upset you that much?

[grant] again, i don’t like my mother, but if i needed any more proof that you’re more spineless than a sea sponge, this is it. you were so unhappy with my mother that you’d cheat on her, but you’d not divorce her when your kids were vulnerable.

[grant] you disgust me. you slept around and thought with your dick before you spared a single thought for the kids you let my mother abuse. or for yourself! fuck you. if you’re going to be that selfish, at least be selfish enough to prioritize yourself and leave the woman making you that miserable!

[grant] and now i don’t believe you when you say you wouldn’t leave her back then because you were scared of her. do you seriously mean to tell me it’s less terrifying to cheat on her than to just walk out of the house and never come back?

[grant] i did that, you know? when i'd had enough of my mother, i told her as much and then never spoke to her again. and guess what? wouldn’t you be so stunned to find out she’s never tracked me down, never tried to call or email to reel me back in? she left me alone after i told her to go fuck herself!

[grant] and technically, you know it's possible to leave her, too. what did you say about the divorce? that she just rolled over and let you do it and was fine with you just coughing up all the assets and dipping?

[grant] exhibits A, B, and C that she’s a coward, too. she thinks she’s the boss, but if you fight back hard enough, she gives up. you could have left her at any point in time.

[grant] god. oh my god. you stupid, spineless motherfucker. i thought i'd maxed out on anger. apparently not!

[grant] you really could have been a better father. you could have had your whole little life overhaul decades ago, and you could have saved the entire family so much pain. you, me, elizabeth, kelly…

[grant] i should have suspected as much, and i guess i did, but it's shocking to realize over and over just how useless you are as a father. i think it can't get any worse and then it does. you are a complete and utter failure as a parent.

[grant] this is why i can’t forgive you. you didn’t have to mess up so badly. but no. whatever you got out of the relationship was enough to convince you to sit there and watch my mother ruin all of us, and even thought you weren't happy with her, you got by with fucking other women and only regretted staying a billion years later when you noticed you had nothing of substance left in life but my mother. and that’s a pretty depressing way to live, isn’t it?

[juhani] i stayed because i thought we deserved each other.

[grant] with that attitude, maybe you did.

[grant] listen, i'll admit this, no problem. it’s no one’s fault that she is the way that she is. it’s not even yours. she’s abusive, and what she does to other people is her fault and her responsibility. she’s excellent, too, at convincing you to just go along with it and never question her. it's not that hard to get caught in her trap at first, and she will try her very best to break you. but at some point, you have to question anyway. at some point, you have to recognize you deserve better and do something about it.

[grant] but you didn’t. not until it was too late for it to mean anything.

[grant] i would never think i've done everything right, but in the end, i've respected myself enough to make better choices and do something about the situation i was in, and i've had to do that because the adults in my life weren’t responsible or organized enough to fix things before responsibility fell into my hands.

[juhani] you are a braver and a better man than i.

[grant] i'm glad i am, but do you know how exhausting it is to be brave all the time?

[grant] i am because you weren’t. it is entirely because you failed. you weren’t brave enough to give a fuck about yourself or your kids, so i've had to be brave my entire life. brave enough to survive my childhood, then brave enough to leave. and guess what? i don’t want to be brave. i just want to exist. and back then, i just wanted to be a kid.

[grant] just a kid.

[grant] i wanted to come home from school and play with my pokemon cards and hear my mom and my dad say, “hi honey! how was your day? we love you!" i didn’t want to live in fear of what horror would befall me each and every day.

[grant] fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. you stole my childhood. you stole elizabeth’s childhood. you stole kelly’s childhood.

[grant] you and my mother, but you could have done something. you could have given us our childhoods back. you could have done something! you should have done something!

[grant] you didn’t have to do everything right even. parents mess up, i know that, but you could have at least tried. the bar was on the floor. i would have over the moon living in a single parent household with a father who at least showed up to my hockey games if he wasn’t busy at work and gave me a hug every once in a while.

[grant] and you know what, you did more than steal our childhoods. because you couldn’t stand to sacrifice your comfort long enough to take care of your kids, we all have to live in permanent hell. i have to spend the rest of my life freaking out when someone walks up behind me or speaks too loudly or–god forbid–touches me! it took me years to finally learn not to flinch when someone high fives me! and kelly–i don’t know what she deals with, but i know her life can’t be peaceful.

[grant] again, i am not blaming you for what my mother did–i know she was not kind to you either– but i do blame you for not even trying to stop her or get away from her. you were an adult with power, and you didn't use an ounce of it. actually, you did use it, just not for good. you threw me specifically under the bus because it was easier to let my mother use me as a punching bag than you.

[juhani] you’re right.

[juhani] you’re right, grant.

[grant] i have nothing else to say, short of "fuck you" again. i think i'm done yelling at you.

[grant] no, wait, one last thing. what did you even see in my mother in the first place? what was so enticing about her that you’d stay with her so long and ditch your college sweetheart for her?

[juhani] i don’t know. i don’t know anymore.

[grant] i guess it was two people drawn to each other's misery.

[grant] great. well, that’s all, folks.

[grant] good luck with the new family. maybe you can make it right with someone else and enjoy a totally fresh start because you will never make it right with me, and i will never let you forget what you did to me and my sisters. and don’t lose varpu again, by the way. she is, like, far out of your league–so far it's not even funny–and you are lucky to have this second chance with her and to have a good relationship with her kids.

[grant] also, just so it's clear, i don't want to speak to you anymore after this. don't call me, i won't call you either, except in one circumstance. i'll consider it on the day my mother kicks the bucket. we can toast to the end of that chapter of our lives and hope that the haunting ends. because surely you have to feel a little haunted, too, right? i have a sinking suspicion that’s why you reconnected with me. you don’t care about me. you care about that fresh start, about making yourself feel better about wasting your life and fucking up everyone around you.

[snarkythewoecrow]

you don’t need money, don’t take fame (don’t need no credit card to ride this train)

by: snarkymuch (23,820 words) Complete

Read on AO3

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Explicit

Summary:

A whine unraveled in his throat. “This isn’t—why can’t you just—just go home!” Shaking his head, he twisted his fingers into Tommy’s shirt, refusing to let go, as an internal battle continued to be fought. “I don’t—I don’t deserve this!” “Shh, hey, easy,” Tommy said, tone taking on an edge of soft demand. “Breathe with me, Evan—because right now, the way I see it, me leaving? Not gonna happen—at least anytime soon. And especially when I think you’re full of shit.” He pressed his forehead into the crook of Tommy’s neck, fingers like claws in the man’s shirt, refusing to let go. If anything, he got closer—clung harder—not allowing Tommy to leave even if he tried.

xXx An exploration of what it means to love, including the fear that comes with allowing those ugly bits of yourself to seen for the first time and learning to overcome it. A story of snotty tears and broken bones, handholding and lashing out. A story of two people, who might be just be a little bit broken, but somehow use that to prove exactly what the power of love can do Buck struggles with the death of a teen on a call, and instead of going home and allowing his pain to be a punishment for his failure, he has Tommy hovering like a mother hen. Buck dissociates into what he refers to as his mental soup, and he lashes out and tries to push Tommy away, rather than allow himself comfort

@theotherbuckley @smurfenijsje12 @buckybeardreams @plotbunnypettingzoo

[stellamancer]

selfship coded. in reference to this so the very itti-bittiest hsr 3.2 spoilers. choosing to roll with this dynamic and characterization for sunday (roast).

"I never pegged you for a kiss up."

Sunday's ear wings quiver every so slightly before he turns toward you, expression smoothed over with a smile. A sense of deja vu washes over you, but you blink it away. As much as Sunday is working toward changing himself, there are still remnants of the Oak Family head, such as this practiced look. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says evenly. "I was merely giving the esteemed madam a compliment." 

"A backhanded one?" you ask dryly. 

"Is that how it seemed to you?" 

"I'm very used to the way you talk, you know," you say with a sigh. Or rather, you're acquainted enough with Sunday's unique brand of eloquently phrased snark that you could pick it out in a heartbeat.

Sunday hums. "Is that so?" 

You give him a deadpan stare and wonder idly if Mr. Yang would mind if you tossed him from the space station into outer space. Again, you sigh. "Besides, I don't think I know anyone as calm and collected as you."

While you think Sunday has been making an effort to genuinely learn humility, you know full well that he's self-aware— actually, had he not said that you would have nearly taken his words at face value. 

"... should I take that as a compliment?" 

Normally, the answer would be yes, right? For any other person, definitely, but for him... 

"No." The word comes out of your mouth unintentionally. You'd meant to give him a more vague, noncommittal sort of answer, but you suppose this sort of obstinacy is hardwired into your brain now. 

"Oh?"

Guess you need to own up to it now. "I think it'd do you some good to unlearn some of those control freak tendencies that keep you so calm and collected."

There's a familiar flicker in Sunday's gaze and he gives you a soft but strained chuckle. It’s obvious he doesn’t completely agree with the notion. You wonder if he’ll tell you outright. “I’ll… consider it.”

"No, you won't," you say immediately, clocking the lie.

His eyes widen a fraction, and this time, when he smiles, it’s a little more genuine. "I guess you're right; I won't."

You knew it. 

"But..." he adds slowly, his ear wings curling slightly toward his face as his voice grows soft. "I will try.”