#the entire thing is sadness and trauma it's GREAT

[nukenai]

This is two parts of a thing I wrote, and I really need to write the thing in between them at some point. It's from my TFP fanfic but I'll get into the embarrassing details under the cut, lol.

So while TFP was airing, I was going through some really extreme life trauma! I wound up actually really effectively dealing with that by (mentally) writing my self-insert fanfic and gave myself Even Worse Trauma in that (soundwave accidentally blew up my house, I wound up in government custody, and thrown in with the Autobots to stop being a burden on the state. tldr I found comfort in Ratchet and no one else)

Anyways, a while ago I decided to write what was going on when the base gets blown up and everyone has to evacuate. Those episodes were VERY STRESSFUL FOR ME, WHEN I WAS ALREADY FUCKIN GOIN THROUGH IT. THANKS TFP. LOVE YOU!!!!!!!

anyways here's part 1:

And just like that, Smokescreen was gone. Right before he disappeared back into the Groundbridge, he glanced back at her. But he didn't say anything, and then he was gone. He had something more important to take care of.

There was always something more important than her.

She was left in the middle of a cold, dark forest. Alone. Ratchet decided she would be safer with Smokescreen, for some reason, and now she was alone. Like Ratchet was, too, somewhere else. Probably a thousand miles away.

She sat down, not caring for the condition of her long skirt. What else was she supposed to do? It was dark, and she barely knew which direction was up. Obviously, she couldn't use her phone. The Decepticons were surely tracking everything.

It was all gone. The base, the bots, her friends... Anything she could have thought to call home or family. By that point, probably all of Jasper had been leveled. What else could possibly remain?

Left with nothing, she leaned forward until her forehead hit the dirt. At the very least, she could wait and see if Smokescreen came back. Somehow.

Morning came, and no Groundbridge reopened. No one came for her. She couldn't even be sure how long she sat there and waited. Did the sun rise and set again? Did she sleep for three straight days on the ground in the woods? Nothing made sense and nothing felt real.

The sun was up. Whether it was the first or fourth rise, she had no idea. She stood, dusted herself off with the least amount of effort, and started walking.

She picked one direction to walk in, but it didn't seem to matter much. All around her were unfamiliar trees. But, she tried to think. It was later in the year but still warm, so she couldn't have been too far from the west coast. Had Ratchet tried to keep them relatively near each other? No one else knew any of the coordinates, and it all happened so fast...

The sound of an engine sent her into a panic. It always would, probably - her first thought was always Soundwave, even if it was almost never him. Almost. This time she froze against a tree, hoping whatever it was wouldn't see her. Even if it was someone like Fowler, she would rather be alone in the woods.

Soon the sound was almost overwhelming, and a huge shape blotted out what could be seen of the sun through the trees. It was a ship - definitely not as large as the Nemesis, but big enough. But it couldn't land in all the trees. Did that mean she was safe?

She bolted, not caring about the direction.

The ship followed her.

After a few seconds, she started thinking. If it were a Decepticon, they wouldn't exactly care about the trees. Humans meant nothing to them. She would've been a pile of ash by then, right?

The edge of the treeline came into view. Beyond it she saw an open field, surely open enough for the ship to land. Well, she thought. If I'm dead, I'm dead. It doesn't really matter.

She watched the ship land. It was a pretty impressive display, but she refused to let herself feel anything about it. It wasn't like she could tell if it was Autobot or Decepticon - it was just a ship. They all looked the same.

A figure emerged from a lowering hatch.

Tall - he was tall. That was the first thing she noticed. Taller than everyone except Optimus, probably. But maybe taller, with those shoulders.

The imposing blue and red frame, decorated with biolights, stared down at the little human in confusion. He leaned forward, and something on his chest came into view--

A biolit Autobot insignia.

Despite it all, she sighed in relief. "Hello there, Sir." She said, waving, trying to be polite. "I don't think we've met."

The Autobot cocked an eyebrow. "I detected an Autobot life signal in this area a short time ago, but it seems to have disappeared. And I've found only you. I assume you are a native of this planet?"

His voice made her flinch. Deep, powerful, authoritative. Automatically her body stiffened. "Y-yes, Sir. That was probably my friend Smokescreen. He was with me, but went back through our Bridge. I don't know where he is."

"Hmm." He slowly lowered himself even more, coming to rest with one knee on the ground, his hand on the other. His bright eyes peered at her. "So, little creature, you know Cybertronians? You don't seem afraid."

A bot of such a size being so close to her made her take a step back. She felt like she was about to fall over. "I-I'm part of Optimus Prime's team, Sir."

He recoiled.

"Um, my name is Nuke. All of us..."

"Are scattered, according to my scanners."

"Yes Sir, that's right."

"Hmm." He got to his feet again. Every one of his movements seemed slow, but it could have just been his size. "Interesting. I assume you will need assistance in locating your comrades?"

"Considering I was abandoned here, yeah."

He looked offended, but Nuke couldn't tell if it was by what she said or how she said it.

So she tried to change the subject. "Um, what's your name, Sir? If I can ask?"

"Ultra Magnus." He said plainly. "During the War for Cybertron, I was Optimus Prime's first lieutenant."

"Hell of a title," she said out loud, entirely not meaning to.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, sir!" Immediately she switched on her attempt at formality. "I would be, um, very appreciative if I could come with you, if you're going to search for my friends."

"Friends? Like this Smokescreen who deserted you here?"

Yikes. She bit her lip. "It's complicated, I think, Sir. Maybe he had something more important to take care of." Truly, the details were fuzzy. She was sure she saw him go back through the Groundbridge, but that was, what, a year ago at that point? "Our base is probably lost. He might've gone back for..." She trailed off, unable to bring herself to think about it.

He hummed in what was probably displeasure at the explanation. Nevertheless, he nodded. "I suppose if you have knowledge of this planet, and of the Autobots who most certainly need my assistance, I should take you with me."

"I'll behave!" She blurted, flinching when he glared at her. "I mean, I won't touch anything in your ship, I promise! And Ratchet taught me some Cybertronian, so I know how to read dangerous labels! Sir!"

His attention was piqued at the medic's name, and he almost smiled.

To Nuke's absolute shock, Ultra Magnus stooped down again and put out his hand. "...You look tired, Soldier."

She stared. This was an unfamiliar bot, an unfamiliar hand. "Not me, Sir," she clarified. "I'm no soldier." But, she thought, he definitely recognized Ratchet's name. He wore the insignia. Optimus' first lieutenant... That sounded real. Then, somewhere deep in her memory, she could've sworn she had even heard his name before.

And she was so, so tired.

Like so many times before, a cold Cybertronian hand was the greatest comfort she could've felt at that moment.

Just a second, she thought. I'll close my eyes for just a second...

That's the end of that and I really do need to write what comes immediately next. Except I haven't yet, so have this unfinished nothing from when everyone is at the new base. Lol. I'm so good at this.

It was like a switch was flipped in her brain. She didn't want to be near anyone. Not even the humans.

"Nuke..." Her name again, in that sad voice. Those blue eyes. It could've been so many people, but it was the human one.

She was curled up in the corner of their new base. Some building, she forgot what it was called. Her clothes were still dirty, and she felt like she wasn't allowed to close her eyes. They were focused on a single screw on the wall. In the wall. She wondered if it held the entire building together. And she wanted to rip it out.

"Smokescreen wants to see you."

She would've flinched if she wasn't frozen by whatever was happening to her. All the gears in her brain had ground to a halt, and she was hugging her knees to her chest like she'd float off the earth if she let go.

I wish, she thought. But she couldn't move at all.

Heavy, heavy footsteps approached. A booming, stern voice came from high above them.

"What's happened to her?"

Jack sighed and finally stood, taking a step back. "I think she needs a doctor."

"Shall I call Ratchet?"

"Not quite what I meant..."

Ultra Magnus was an imposing figure, even among the other Autobots. His giant frame carefully stooped lower, getting as close to the floor as he reasonably could. He peered down at the small, huddled figure. "Nuke."

She reacted. She didn't mean to, but she did. Only her eyes moved to look at him, but he noticed.

He was the only one who had ever been interested in saving her.

His hand was outstretched to her. Just like before. He gently prodded at her, but stopped short of actually picking her up. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how. Humans looked like such fragile creatures, after all.

She moved. For the first time in what felt like hours, one of her arms released its vicegrip around her body and floated away from her to touch the cool metal of that Autobot's hand.

Ultra Magnus, of all bots, a few of them had said. She didn't get it. She barely knew him.

Jack watched in confusion as Nuke stood, shaky. He had already sent his mom a text - She's not better. I think she needs help. - but it was no use.

Nuke and Magnus didn't exchange a single word. She simply stepped into his hand and was lifted, very carefully, to his right shoulder. She found a space for her hand and held onto him.

Magnus gave a quick look to Jack. He still wasn't sure what to think of the younger humans. They seemed fine, with their Autobot partners.

What had happened to this one?

He stood fully and turned away. Despite how small she was, he could feel her weight

on his shoulder. One hundred and ten pounds, he estimated. Very light for an adult human, according to the quick rundown of data Ratchet had given him. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel concerned.

The quietest little one had been abandoned, and found comfort in him. Why?

How?

He brought her to Ratchet, but she barely reacted. He felt a slightly tighter grip on his shoulder.

Ratchet looked up at them both. He did everything in his power to hide the expression of grief begging to break free on his face. He saw her shake her head, and felt something in his spark. A very bad feeling.

Her eyes were blazing with distrust. Fear. And maybe some anger.

She'd wanted to go with him. He knew that.

And still, he...

He screwed up. Badly.

Permanently.

But he had to make it better.

"We're all safe, now," He said quietly, moving his hand a little but not quite reaching out to her. "And we have Optimus..."

No, wrong move. Optimus was the reason she had been unsafe.

Nuke was staring down at Ratchet for the first time in her life. It had taken her so long to get over the initial terror of Cybertronians - these hulking monsters stomping around her world, ruining it. She found that one who was just as lonely as her despite everyone's efforts. The one who wanted to go home more than anyone else, but couldn't. And he let her sit on his shoulder, and would chat with her about this and that. Cybertron. Frustration with technology. Humans...

Neither of them liked humans very much. They had that much in common, at least.

But she was looking at a stranger, now. Not the standoffish, but kind Ratchet who had lifted her so many times in his hands. Not the Ratchet who always knew the right thing to say when her nights were particularly bad.

This Ratchet had left her behind. Gave up the moment Optimus was thought to be lost. Sure, his hope returned with Optimus. But she could never forget staring desperately out Smokescreen's back window as they drove through the groundbridge.

Because Ratchet had his back turned.

I get better I promise it just takes a couple orange robots is all. It's fine it'll all be fine (I absolutely do not get better before TFP ends and everybody goes back to cybertron. oops. OOPS! WHOOPS! TRAUMA! anyways)

[our-inspire-verse]

Just keeps going round and round eh?

[vexwerewolf]

I’m suddenly getting swathes of Lancer hate across my feed… Has something happened in the fandom? “Union is ______ how could they paint them as even remotely good. They allow _____, and I hate the devs they are ______. The whole thing is just 40k with communist veneer”.

Like am I taking crazy pills…? I thought that all of the problems were literally like right there on the tin “we are a utopia in progress! We will obtain it by any means possible even if it means being everything we say we are not/fighting against. As the player you decide what is right. How much will you ignore for someone else’s idea of utopia?” Like doesn’t it mean all the tools to actually change are there and that is the HOPE aspect of all of this?

(Sorry if this in incoherent grammar is a weak point and I pulled something in my back simply standing up. Now I am sad and crook backed in spasmodic pain)

This isn't an argument I feel super enthusiastic about stepping into, because it gets the most annoying sort of people in your mentions eager to maliciously misrepresent what you say.

However, yeah, there are some pretty terrible readings of Union floating around. I'd invoke "media literacy" because think that a lot of this comes from people not really holistically engaging with the fictional future history of Lancer, but also from a sort of dogmatic purism that requires future societies to be flawless, else they're irredeemable.

It is important to note that ThirdComm is the direct descendant of two highly imperfect societies. FirstComm was formed as a response to the Three Great Traumas of discovering the Massif Vaults (and thus that they were the inheritors of a fallen world), the wars over the Massif Vaults, and the discovery of the lost colonies, all of which collectively showed humanity how close it had come to total extinction.

FirstComm decided that it had a responsibility to ensure that humanity never risked extinction again. It manifested this by trying to colonize every habitable planet it could find, pumping out ship after ship to seed the cosmos with as much human life as it possibly could. This led to problems when it encountered civilizations like the Karrakin Federation and the Aun, who had been carrying humanity's torch just fine by themselves, thank you very much.

SecComm was an Anthrochauvinist fascist state. The book defines it thusly:

We can see a lot of Anthrochauvinist historical romanticism in the mech naming schemes of Harrison Armory, SSC and IPS-N - the fact that Harrison Armory names its mechs after great military leaders of pre-Fall Earth history, IPS-N does the same with naval figures, and SSC uses the names of Earth animals. Even the GMS Everest is named for a mountain on Earth. It's very Cradle-centric.

Anthrochauvinism was, to be clear, largely just an excuse for colonialism and hegemony. Atrocities could easily be justified under by stating that whoever they're being committed against were a threat to the Continuance of Humanity - a term that SecComm got to define.

It's also at this point that we have to zoom in from broad sociopolitical points to address one very specific piece of history: the New Prosperity Agreement. This was signed to prevent the outbreak of a Second Union-Karrakin War, and mandated that the Karrakin Houses would maintain privileged levels of autonomy within Union, and that they would be granted colonial rights to the entire Dawnline Shore. This agreement, struck in 3007u, basically defines much of the current political situation today.

ThirdComm was a final and inevitable reaction to the atrocities, abuses and excesses of SecComm. The unspeakable horrors of Hercynia were the spark, but I need to stress how little Hercynia actually mattered in the larger Revolution - at the start of NRfaW, it's explicitly stated that almost nobody in the galaxy even knows where it is, let alone what happened there. The Revolution was a generalized response to SecComm's tyranny, with no single rallying cry.

The Revolution might also have failed entirely, but for a critical error by Harrison Armory: pissing off the Karrakin Trade Baronies. After getting kicked off Cradle, the Anthrochauvinist Party organised a fleet at Ras Shamra to try and retake Cradle. Simultaneously, however, they were attempting to secure protectorate agreements to steal worlds in the Dawnline Shore out from under the KTB. Putting these two together and making five, the KTB assumed that the fleet was pointed at Karrakis, and started the First Interest War.

The First Interest War initially favoured the KTB. They smashed the fleet above Ras Shamra and simultaneously conquered the moon of Creighton in the Dawnline Shore. However, they underestimated just how ruthless Harrison I was - he "retook" Creighton by relativistic bombardment, and then conquered four of the 12 worlds of the Dawnline Shore with mechanised chassis, a technology the KTB had not adopted and had no counter for.

To prevent further loss of life, Union was eventually forced to broker a peace agreement that saw Harrison I handing himself over to Union justice in return for Harrison Armory's continued sovereignty, and the KTB joining Union as a full member state.

So, with that historical context out of the way, let me get to the second part of this absurd essay I'm writing.

Third Committee Union isn't a civilization that arose from whole cloth. It's shaped by five thousand years of Union history, six thousand years of post-Fall history, and six thousand years of pre-Fall history before that. It is, ultimately, an extremely well-thought-out and well-worldbuilt fictional polity, in that all of its imperfections come from traceable root causes in its history.

Why does ThirdComm permit the abuses of the KTB? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with Harrison Armory and make horrific concessions.

Why does ThirdComm permit the expansionism and cryptochauvinism of the Armory? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with the KTB and make horrific concessions.

Nobody in CentComm likes that Harrison Armory are empire-building expansionists. Nobody in CentComm likes that the KTB has a hereditary nobility and enforces blockades against planets that rebel against it. The problem is that ThirdComm is, in historical terms, still relatively new. They've been around five hundred years, and compared to the 1600 years that SecComm was around and the 2800 years FirstComm existed for, that's not very much.

ThirdComm is attempting to decouple itself from the Cradle-first politics of its predecessor, and to amend the many, many atrocities committed in the name of Humanity. It is not easy to do any of these things. SecComm was defined almost entirely by the fact that if it didn't like what you were doing, it would send in the military as a first response. Every time ThirdComm chooses to do the same, its legitimacy erodes, because the mission of ThirdComm is to prove that diverse, vibrant and compassionate human civilization can exist without devolving into war and bloodshed. ThirdComm always tries diplomacy as a first response because if it doesn't, millions of people could die.

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 3

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: yooooo, finally an update!! thanks for waiting everyone~ i actually took a small break because my friends and i had a beach outing and that was great!

previous / masterlist / next

you feel like you had the longest dream in your entire life the moment you slowly open your eyes and reveal the white plain ceiling with matching beeping sound coming out from the machine.

it takes a second or two to realize that you're in a hospital.

like a seemingly newborn, your half lidded eyes traveled across the room until it reached the sight of some peculiar white haired male with his face buried on your arm, sleeping uncomfortably while sitting on the cold hard chair.

you could feel your whole body ache when you tried to move some parts of your body to stop it from numbing when you noticed some kind of empty feeling—like something was missing.

it did not take you a while to realize that your stomach feels so empty right now, and you know it's not because you're hungry, but because you couldn't feel your baby anymore.

an anguish screech escapes from your mouth when you realize that the baby isn't part of your body anymore. tears stream like a waterfall as your body automatically sits up and hugs your lower body, specifically your stomach, because you cannot accept the fact that your baby has been taken away from you.

this immediately woken satoru up and started to console you. “hey, hey, y/n! i’m here. i'm here.” his voice was soft and comforting but there's a hint of shakiness due to your sudden outburst.

“satoru, my baby! i can't feel my baby! my baby is gone!” as an upcoming loving mother, it hurts you so bad that you'd rather die than to accept this.

the sound of the machine keeps on loudly pulsating, meaning that your heart rate is rising quickly and it's dangerous for you to get stressed since you just came out from the operation.

“y/n! the baby is fine. our baby is fine. they were being cured by the best doctors so don't worry.” pulling your body close to his, satoru caresses your hair and keeps on murmuring some comforting words to calm you down.

but it seems that his actions were no avail when he saw your lower stomach bleeding. feels like his own blood had disappeared, his pale face becomes more paler when your extreme sadness cry turns to extremely painful cry.

his body seemingly moves on its own and presses the button to call for help while still managing to calm you down.

“where's my baby? g-give me back my baby! satoru, do something!” it pains satoru to see you like this. a whole crying mess who cannot even digest the fact that her baby was in intensive care so they can become better.

suddenly, the door in your room opened, revealing the doctor and their nurse—shoko was there too. they immediately inject you with midazolam to calm you down and it works almost instantly. satoru watches your body go limp as your wound continues to bleed.

satoru and shoko were instructed to wait outside as they transfer you to another room to tend your wounds. after you were scouted to exit the scene, satoru fell on his knees and leaned his back on the wall.

god, what did you do to deserve this kind of thing?

letting out a soft sob, satoru prayed once again—something that he just learned yesterday. he prayed that all of your pain, burden, suffering, and all must disappear because satoru couldn't list any single reason why you must suffer like this.

“you should go back at least for now, gojo. i’ll handle things here while you freshen yourself up.” shoko suggested but satoru just shook his head, refusing to leave your side.

“don't be a fucking stubborn. you still have other things to do, don't forget that.” shoko hissed.

“but i need to be by her side. i need to be there to support her whatever i can.” satoru slowly let himself up and looked shoko straight in the eye.

“do you think she still needs you to be by her side? oh please, not after what you had done.” the doctor rolled her eyes as she toys with the unlit cigarette on her lips.

for some reason, satoru was having a deja vu, it was like they're in her clinic once again and they argue where you heard things that you shouldn't have. as much as satoru would like to shut her down, he's worried that you might hear him say nasty things that he didn't mean to say.

“shoko, please…i know you're mad at me and you wanted to be hostile towards me. i actually don't care if you hurt me or insult me, just not now. i need to stand by her side and i don't need you to tell me what to do.” satoru stood up and his gaze on shoko became hard.

the doctor just tsked and decided to drop the conversation for your sake. there's a whole silence in the atmosphere when satoru suddenly thinks about your little breakdown earlier. you're looking at your child and he is too. he really wants to go to the baby but he thinks it would be better if the two of you are together.

satoru was excited to see his baby, sure. but something inside stirs up something that he personally couldn't explain. was it because he remembers your conversation when he first knew of your pregnancy? that he found himself unable to answer your questions during that night?

but whatever the reasons are, satoru was ultimately willing to ignore it and just focus on becoming a better husband and now a new father towards his child with you.

the strongest sorcerer of his generation, the one and only satoru gojo, the pride of his clan, your husband on papers, your most hated person, your child's father—swore to himself that he will treat his son as his own flesh and blood, not as the heir that will dethrone him from being the pride.

and most of them all, he swore to himself that you will be treated way, way better than everyone, specifically and especially him. satoru will patch up the wounds that he had caused you.

but not all wounds can be treated by a mere bandaid.

an hour had passed and now you're once again in your room, but this time, you're more than calm as you finally understood the situation—thanks to shoko who patiently explains everything to you.

like right now, she's standing by the end of your bed while satoru was on his seat just like the first time you saw him in this hospital. shoko carefully and softly explained what was going on with you and gave you some sort of assurance.

“you suffered from placenta abruption which caused your placenta to detach from the inner walls of your uterus. it unables the baby to receive oxygen and nutrients with the placenta detached. that is why the doctors had no choice but to put you into a cesarean delivery so it can save both of your lives.”

“and about your baby, don't worry, they're in safe hands. currently in the neonatal intensive care unit where the baby is under process of developing it since it came out during your six months of pregnancy and is premature.” she continued.

then, shoko put a hand on your shoulder, slightly massaging it to give you some comfort. “worry not, y/n. we're not going to let anything hurt your baby. they're safe here and are guarded with blessings and restrictions so no other curses or unauthorized people could touch your child.”

all this time shoko speak, your head was hanging low and it seems like you're having a hard time digesting everything. but you still get what she meant by putting you under a cesarean because it's the only way to save you and your baby's life—which you're incredibly grateful for.

“c…can i see my baby?” your tone was quite hushed, probably because you hadn't really talked to anyone after what happened to you.

shoko gently shook her head and gave you an apologetic smile. “i am so sorry, y/n. but you need to rest first and we, the doctors, recommended you to not move too much since it can open up your cesarean stitches once again.”

to everyone’s relief, you nodded at her words, like you agreed to get better first before seeing your child.

“alright, i gotta excuse myself now. i have an appointment later this afternoon.” shoko gives you a smile before sending a knowing gaze at the man beside you, saying ‘you better not forget that you still have other things to do’ look.

“mhm. take care and thank you for helping me during all of this, shoko.” you replied tried to return the same smile but it only reached a have, you just wished she could feel your sincerity towards her.

“i don't accept thank you’s, yet. i can only accept it if i see you in a much better condition. so if you want me to say you're welcome, then get better.” her words make you giggle a little but you take that as a note.

giving you a one last smile and a secretive glare at your husband, she finally left the scene…and that leaves you two, you and your husband. silence engulfs the whole room, only the sound of your beeping monitor keeps on echoing and adds awkwardness to the atmosphere.

you take a small peak at satoru who's looking at an empty space somewhere, looking like he's in a deep thought. you're not sure if you want to talk to him or not, but taking the preceding events from earlier, you see no reason.

on the other hand, satoru was lost in his thoughts because he's trying to construct everything that he needed to say to you. he's kinda bad at impromptu when it comes to you and mostly forgot his points and other subtopics because he's being blinded by the emotions that keeps on distracting him.

satoru also noticed your small gazes towards him and it feels like you're not planning to talk to him first, so he finally initiated a conversation.

“do you feel any pain in your body?” he asked you.

however, it took you a while to answer because you're not sure if your following responses are gonna be normal, sarcastic, or not answering at all. but you choose the first one because the two other choices would most likely put you into stress and makes your healing process becomes slower.

“my tummy hurts but i'm fine…and i'm also hungry.” you replied, that's it.

satoru was glad that you're answering him…well. anyway, he smiled at you and carried on with the conversation. “if the pain gets worse or it causes you discomfort, you must tell me immediately. and about that hunger, we still need to wait at least eight hours for you to eat something heavy. but for now, you can only take liquids and…the doctor said you could eat oatmeal and eggs—maybe we should get that. the doctor also to avoid greasy food and it would take at least six weeks for you to recover, and then…what are the other things he said again?”

while satoru was busy yapping, you slowly think that he's speaking to himself more than he's speaking to you because of how concentrated he looked and it somehow brings some sort of warmth in your chest because he really tries himself to remember all of the things that the doctors had prescribed him for you.

“satoru…” you called out to him, but he's still busy talking about do’s and don'ts and keeps on going while you occasionally call his name.

“satoru.” he's still busy talking.

“...satoru?” yep, still talking.

his yappings are getting too long and you're running out of thin patience, so you hold into his arms and that makes him look at you and stop talking instantly. breathe in relief, you finally stopped him from his own shenanigans.

“i—i’m sorry, i talked too much.” satoru awkwardly chuckles to himself, but you just shrugged it off. “anyway, what is it?” he asked.

“satoru, i was wondering…how did i end up here? all i know is i was in my room, i feel my tummy hurts really bad and it got me so worried about my baby. then all of the sudden, there's blood seeping down on my legs then everything black out.” you said.

“well…” then satoru proceeds into another minutes of yapping about what happened based on what they had said to him back then. you'd understand that yuuji and megumi were planning to cheer you up by a surprise room visit when they smelled blood and that made them instantly realize that something was going on with you. so they called shoko and yaga to break into the room, and there they saw you lying in your own pool of blood.

nodding slowly, the question that was formed because of the preceding events were finally put into the end. “oh, so that's what happened. anyways, do you think yuuji and megumi could be here tomorrow? i wanted to thank them.”

“sure. i’ll come with them tomorrow. but now, let's get you some light foods so you can sleep tonight.” satoru stood up but he froze as his feet were not walking. you watch him turn back to you while you give him a confused look.

“will you be alright being alone for like…five minutes? i’m just gonna be quick and get you some food. i promise i’ll be back before you know it.” you just let him do what he wants and just continue watching him. satoru looked at you for a long seconds, rather seemingly so hesitant. but you told him you'll be fine and just do his thing, so satoru assured you once again that he'll be back then uses his teleportation.

now, you're alone (for a while) in this room. your thoughts wandered towards your baby who you knew is in the same building as yours. you really want to run towards that room where they are located but you forcefully shut yourself because it'll just make things worse. you're still in the process of healing and you want to be at your strongest when you're with your baby.

but something was still arguing inside your head. it's the desire to run towards your child and the desire to get better—

“y/n.”

“shit!”

something—no, someone was suddenly in the room. it was satoru who's pouting at you like a puppy who got lost. his sudden appearance makes the beeping machine beside you go wild as you curse out profanity because you're that shocked.

thankfully, your heart beat becomes normal again and nothing bad happens. but you'll be sure to send out a death glare to your husband who's still pouting.

“what the actual fuck, satoru?! do you want me to die of a heart attack?!” you glared at him, still your hand is at your chest.

“i'm sorry about that. but i cannot bring myself to leave you like that even for a minute.” he said.

“i told you i'll be fine. you don't need to guard me 24/7 anyway, so go and grab or do whatever you want.”

“no!” satoru whined…and that surprises you, because this might be the first time you saw him whine like a child, especially without any involvement of alcohol or sugar to activate this kind of his system. this was just a new sight to you.

“then how are you going to get some food?”

“i’ll just have them deliver it here.”

“seriously? you're going to order and deliver oatmeal and eggs?” your eyes were wide at his crazy idea. like yeah seriously, for an oatmeal and eggs? he could literally get it from a convenience store.

“what? i'm gonna order some food for myself too, you know.” he pouts, again.

“okay, you order your food online. and we'll get mine at a convenience store.”

“what? no! i told you i don't want to leave you alone.”

“then i’ll come with you. we'll go and buy my food together if you're really that worried about leaving me alone.” you said sarcastically.

“what the hell is that suggestion? absolutely not!” satoru gasps. he's so dramatic.

“well then, i’ll just starve!” you huff at him before turning your head away from him.

“i—wait, i'm sorry. i really can't force myself to be away from you. i'm just scared that when i'm gone even for just a minute, s-something might happen again and i’m not there to help you out instantly.” the sad look on his face is back, similar to what he looked like when he confronted you in the hallway.

after hearing his explanation, you turned back to him and said, “there are things that come unexpectedly. you cannot also force yourself to stick with just in case an emergency would occur, you'd be there. for all that i know, you still have other things to do, like you have your priorities.”

“but you're my priority,” he said seriously. well that caught you off guard.

“whatever, just go and get me some food.” you brush it off.

“...”

“...ok.”

the night ended with satoru eating his ordered food happily while you were still glaring at the man because he really stick to his words and ordered your food online instead of just running to a convenience store or buying the hospital once. although, it makes you wonder, how is there a plain, plain! oatmeal and a boiled egg that has been selling online?

well, whatever it is, at least your hunger has lessened and your relationship with satoru has gotten…at least a little better.

[part 4 is up tomorrow! and you know the drill, for those who would like to be added to the taglist , just comment — ©luvvixu2024]

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @aish777 @tttttttf @username23345 @slyhersophia @netyxms @rirk-ke @lvstru @roscptalsaa @labelt-san @shinruo @yaninnaacu @testrella @sad-darksoul @kurookinnie @mountvesuvu @chwesuh-imnida @cole-silas @elernity @buttermilktea11 @berenevenstarzetaestelar @maddie-jayne @yozora7154 @kawaiivillainess98 @jiupark @forourpoets @aishies-stuff @numblytemporary @souyasplushie @hotsauce247 @catarinemirandax @aerithsthingss @h1gh4ru @ssetsuka @jskodn @khoiyyu @the2ndl @veryverysadauthor @vebbiewuzhere @kouyoumarryme @dreamyescapesfromreality @local-mr-frog @haesify @openthenyoor01 @blkmystery @slowlyshycomputer @babybarbs12 @thickemadame @bleppt @leavem3al0n3 @arminloverlol @roscpctals99 @megumisthirdog @shirabane @skepticalleo @sheismaryy @tragicgirl444

a/n: istg guys i'm trying my hardest to get y'all tagged but some really did not appear when i @ your blogs huhu. but don't worry, that won't stop me from tagging y'all, so i am just going to manually mentioned you on every chapter update ;)

[calliesmemes]

YET ANOTHER ROUNDUP OF ASOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to be a bit silly <333

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ I am not merely a clown; I’m the entire damn circus! ❜

❛ I will bite you if you continue this behavior. ❜

❛ Being a dramatic ass bitch isn’t a personality trait; it’s a lifestyle! ❜

❛ Trauma? Oh … you mean, my lore? ❜

❛ why must I cite sources? is it not enough to just say ‘trust me, bro’? ❜

❛ sorry for being a perfect sweetie and a genius it will likely happen again. ❜

❛ forget about touching grass; I need to touch WATER I NEED TO GO INTO THE OCEAN I NEED TO DIVE INTO THE SEA!!! ❜

❛ I’m attracted to men with muppet energy and no i will not be explaining. ❜

❛ you want me to make friends with people? the thing that killed julius caesar? ❜

❛ what’s your birthstone? mine is rock bottom. ❜

❛ I absolutely hate that I’m not bioluminescent. Pathetic. ❜

❛ ohhhhh my god i have got to stop mourning the past or whatever. ❜

❛ you expect me to act like a normal human being? I’m wearing a turtleneck! ❜

❛ i don’t struggle with same sex attraction I’m actually very good at it. ❜

❛ unfortunately i often find out without even getting the chance to fuck around. ❜

❛ I’m bisexual which means that I’m attracted to anybody who can defeat me in physical combat. ❜

❛ all anyone needs to know about me is that i’m a dumbass and i love women. ❜

❛ sorry but philosophers aren’t impressive i came up with stuff like that when i was 12. ❜

❛ I pay my own bills; I can cuss all I want! ❜

❛ I don’t have rizz; I have sad eyes and a weird presence. ❜

❛ my demons are chasing me and they’re doing the Naruto run. ❜

❛ honey we are ALL doomed by the narrative. it's not that serious. have some fun with it. ❜

❛ dating me is like interviewing a psych ward patient. ❜

❛ being a girl with very large brown eyes comes with great responsibility. ❜

❛ i’m autistic in ways that you can’t even begin to imagine. ❜

❛ being a loser may be a phase to you but its a lifestyle for me. ❜

❛ entering a magical portal in the woods would fix me. ❜

❛ I’m lonely but not in a hot mysterious way; more like in a pathetic way. ❜

❛ life is so unserious just say womp womp and move on! ❜

❛ you’re vibing? In this economy? ❜

❛ just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass. ❜

❛ my primary motivators are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ❜

❛ sorry about the chaos; I needed attention. ❜

❛ WHAT IS UP GIRL you look foreboding and malicious! ❜

❛ baby i can be your problematic bi wife. ❜

❛ i don’t think any of you understand how important i am to the plot. ❜

❛ what if we are both red flags? what then? ❜

❛ any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ❜

❛ my hobbies include being right, being gay, and being a hater. ❜

❛ i have a phd in Loving The Color Pink And Also Glitter. ❜

❛ being a menace to society is a full time job and I am dedicated. ❜

❛ my life has been a bouquet of oopsie daisies. ❜

❛ i survive on spite, anxiety, and blasphemy. ❜

❛ if you’re not obsessed with me, why would I wanna be with you? ❜

❛ the hottest thing a man can be is a little afraid of me. ❜

❛ my love language is being a hater. ❜

❛ i don’t get enough credit for acting far less insane than i actually am. ❜

❛ the A in my name stands for always right. ❜

❛ Jesus is my homeboy but God has a lot to answer for and I will continue to be rebellious until he does so. ❜

❛ I’ll see a man with long hair and then remember that I’m not above temptations of the flesh. ❜

❛ i’m going to be honest with you I’m not going to be honest with you. ❜

❛ stop asking me if I’m ok I’ll literally make out with you. ❜

❛ part of my masculine charm is that I’m literally insane. ❜

❛ are you sure those are demons bro? or are they consequences from the choices you made? ❜

❛ i do not identify as a boy or a girl. i identify as a nuisance, an irritant, a fool, and a problem. ❜

❛ praying on someone’s downfall isn’t enough i need to participate in it. ❜

❛ we all need to chill. i won’t do it first but it’s something i noticed. ❜

❛ not to sound like a Victorian woman suffering from hysteria but going to the sea would fix me. ❜

❛ the silly goose convention called; they asked if you could be their keynote speaker. ❜

❛ i deserve unrestricted access to old castles and old churches i want to know all the secrets. ❜

❛ doesn’t matter if you’re cringe or based we’re all just here to suffer. ❜

❛ I’m no longer comedic relief I’m now serious panic. ❜

❛ this is getting difficult to romanticize. ❜

❛ done healing my inner child. next up is my inner teen. her highness needs a sword. ❜

❛ i am God’s silliest experiment. ❜

❛ i’m very vulnerable right now if anyone wants to take advantage of me. ❜

❛ sorry i overshared do you still think im hot? ❜

❛ I can yap for days and still maintain my air of mystery. ❜

❛ good luck sending me mixed signals; I don’t even understand normal ones. ❜

❛ not all of your life decisions have to be smart. some can be purely for cinematic value. ❜

[msmiseryxoxo]

he holds me in his arms, it’s no good

rick grimes x fem!reader

🎧 American Tradition- Nicole Dollanganger

Rick Grimes takes you in after the fall of Woodbury. Having lost everyone, you form a special relationship with the man. After the virus shakes the group, The governor comes back with a vengeance. You flee with Rick. As you get closer with him, you want him to see your relationship very differently.

4.7k (sorry)

Disclaimer and A/N- Some canon divergence. carl is fine but let’s just say he is with michonne until they reconnect. Judith is fine too. A bit of angst. This idea came to me in a dream!!! Not proofread

CW and Tags- Angst, age gap ( reader is in her early 20s) unprotected p in v, fingering, Loss of virginity, a lot of intimacy,, protective soft rick who is a bit reluctant,loss of loved ones ( mentioned) trauma bonding, cute nicknames,can’t think of any more lol

It’s a cool Georgia morning. The stomp of Rick’s boots makes the leaves sound extra crunchy. Cicadas hidden in the trees chirp as the two of you scavenge for shelter. It’s been 3 days since the destruction of the prison. As you and Rick walk along a highway, your hands interlock your hand in his hand.

As far as being in the apocalypse goes, you’ve had it pretty easy. You’ve always had somewhere to go, and people to rely on. You were in college when everything started, states away from your family. You’ll realize early on that you’d never see them again, and disturbingly, you tried to forget them altogether. This path of thinking was clearly unhealthy, you knew, but this entire situation was dysfunctional and not ideal, to say the very least.

You were at Woodbury for a while. You were eternally glad and gracious, because you knew if you went out into the outside world, you would die immediately. You couldn’t shoot a gun, the thought of running made you ill. After the fall of Woodbury, Rick Grimes and his group in the prison took you in. As you always fit a domestic role, Hershel taught you to plant and raise pigs. You would spend your early mornings and afternoons tending to the pigs, and hanging out with Rick.

The two of you would talk about mundane things, the movies you used to like, the weather, and how fast the pigs were growing. You saw the glimpses of his troubled nature here and there, but he was really trying. That's all he could do, was try. He put in effort to be a good father to Carl and Judith.

On one particularly hot night, the two of you bare your soul to one another. You were feeling particularly sad because it was a hot and humid afternoon, you were sticky all over and covered in bug bites. It was late summer, the time of year when the outbreak had started. While digging a hole to plot a new plant, heavy glops of tears ran down your face, and small sniffles were let out. You had your face in your hands, as tears fell into the planter. Rick has been watering the plants, whistling. Rustling around, he didn’t notice your soft cries, at first. And when he did, he immediately dropped the watering tin and jogged to you.

Hey, hey what’s going on? what happened, you alright sweetheart?” He showed great concern in the tone of his voice, looking tentatively into your eyes, as you tried to wipe your tears away with your sleeve. Pulling you in for a hug, you’re hit with his dusty musk, his scent grounding you, calming your nerves. You shiver under him as he holds your head in his forearms and hands.

“ I don know if it's any consolation, but m always he’re for you.” He says ever so softly. He places his lips, softly, on the top of your head.

You manage to let out a hushed “ thank you” into his shoulder.

He whispers an “ anytime” while still holding you. It's more intimate than anything you've ever done. His forearms, muscular and defined, entangle you lightly. An unspoken bond was formed, and your understanding of each other was taken to a new level. You continue to sniffle into his linen-lined shoulder.

You two were like that for a while. Touch had begun to be a rare commodity in the end times so you cherished it with every moment you had. A simple high five had left your hand with a stinging aftershock.

The air around you two shifted, and you began to see him differently. He obviously caught your eye even before you said one word to him, but the feeling was starting to be mutual.

Rick was at war with himself. His wife had just passed, he had a baby daughter to look out for and this wasn’t necessarily the time for a crush on a girl decades younger than him. But he couldn’t deny how you made him laugh at the silliest things, and how you scared the devil out of him when you clumsily fell or scraped your knee. You simultaneously make him anxious, and tranquil. The very sight of you gives him relief, makes him forget his situation.

The two of you sit down on the grass. He grasps your hand as you spill out what's wrong.

“ Uhh. I dunno. Guess I've just been feeling weird lately. The weather makes me feel sad. Reminds me when it first happened. Last time I spoke with any of my family members it was months before the outbreak. I never kept in contact. I really regret that, should have.” Your voice steady now that you feel a breeze coming in. You pull out patches of grass in pinches.

“ ts alright. I got in a fight with Lori, that was the last time I saw her until I woke up from my coma” He explains and smiles, looking ahead at the prison, the rays of red sunlight illuminating his face. You swear he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, comparative to a painting.

You never wanted to ask him about her, you’ve only heard whispers of the man’s wife. You didn’t want to think about that, and you didn’t want to think about Rick thinking about her.

He gets up and offers his hand. “C'mon, lets go wash up” As he walks you to the prison, you rest your head on his shoulder.

That was a few weeks before the virus. It was hard to be in the dark if any of the people you began to bond with were alive, close to dying, or not.

Then the governor came back. Gunshots rang around the prison. Your shoulders hung up with fear as Rick approaches the governor's army. Hershel is killed. You grab a gun and shoot whoever is charging at you. Rick catches you and yells for you to run. A blur you could hardly remember. Flashes of quick movements feel like forever, until Rick grabs your hand.

The two of you escape through a fence, as Rick watches Carl run with Michonne.

Rick couldn’t think of anything right now, except for protecting you. He knew Michonne and Carl would be safe with one another, all he needed to pay attention to was you. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight.

Traveling for days on end without a sign of a safe shelter began to take a toll on both of you, especially Rick. He didn’t know when he would see his son or his newborn daughter. He still had to bring you to safety, figure out the next course of action.

The only thing he had to calm the storm was you. He was glad that it was you that he ran with. Your protection and safety were the thing driving him, he needed you just as much as you needed him. To pass the time, the two of you would whistle and hum and sing your favorite songs. You’d began to sing “Take Me Home, Country Roads” while practically skipping.

“Hey slow down, kid, can’t keep up with ya” He chuckles while jokingly warning you.

“I'll stop if you sing with me” you giggle, as you find solace in constant moments of distress.

His eyebrows furrow and he scoffs. He starts singing, horribly so, to get you to stop skipping.

A peace of mind was needed. You come across the library hidden in the trees near a country club. Rick looks at you spotting it, as you try not to mention it. You know it’s probably run with walkers, and it’s not a good idea to go.

“Let’s check this out. We won’t be long but maybe they have a couple things” He sternly points out. “That okay with you?” his drawl comes out a bit at the end of the question. You give him a slight smile and a nod.

“Good” He takes your hand and as a force of habit, you look both ways while crossing the street.

“You don’t have to do that, you know that doll?” He giggles. The two of you giggle too much in the apocalypse.

“ I know but I kinda want to,” you explain to him.

He looks down at you and softly whispers, “You’re like sunshine,” You can barely hear what he says, but based on the stoic expression on his face, you probably shouldn’t ask him to repeat.

The two of you stroll to the library while Rick checks for walkers. You’ve only ever killed a handful, but you know you needed to be useful so you had your hand on your knife holster.

He holds the door open for you and gives you the all-clear. With a gun in his hand, he scans the place for walkers, listening for any low groans. He puts his gun back when he doesn’t see any. A hand caresses your back as he motions for you to go ahead.

You wander the adult fiction section of the library. The books on the shelf are collecting dust, which makes you quite sad. You browse the A section and come across Sense and Sensibility, one of your favorites. Rick comes up behind you.

“ Hey, can I take this?” You look up at him.

“ Yeah, of course, take whatever you want sweetheart” He whispers. You swoon at the use of his pet name and get embarrassed at yourself for it. It’s horrible that you smile at every interaction you have with him, but you know he doesn’t think of you like that. It would be silly to think otherwise. You shove your feelings down and feel something turn in your gut.

He walks over to the T section and grabs a copy of The Hobbit.

You scan the employee break room find gauze in a first aid kit and decide to put it in your backpack.

“Alright, let’s get outta here. I think I see a neighborhood some way” He says again in a low tone.

You tiptop in front of him as he moves his gun around looking for walkers while exiting. You walk in each other's silence while on your journey to a simple house without any walkers nearby. He offers you some peanuts out of a pack he found in the library. You take them.

You and Rick settle in. It’s homey and has no residents, so it’s absolutely perfect. You take your boots off to make minimal noise, as you roam and try not to make creaks on the wooden floor.

“Be careful, yeah?” Rick settles on the couch, body spread out, stifling a groan. The image of him laid out like that is almost pornographic. He licks his lips, his shirt is lifted up a bit and you can see his defined biceps, hands on top of his head, his stomach peaking out. You close your eyes for a second and imagine yourself sitting at his feet, hands on his thigh while he pets your head. You shake the image immediately and roam upstairs.

All of the bedrooms are intact. You walk into what seems like the primary bedroom. You descend down the stairs to alert Rick and give him the all-clear. He is peacefully asleep and silent. You walk over to him and grab his jacket. A hand plays with his hair softly, as you admire his sheer beauty. The shape of his nose, his pale piercing eyes, and his dark coiled hair.

You settle down on a rickety old chair, watching over him as he rests, draping his jacket over you like a warm blanket. All you can think about is how grateful you are to have Rick here. It truly was the best-case scenario, him with you. You watch him sleep peacefully as you beam at the image of Rick finally resting.

While fast asleep, Rick could feel your eyes on him and moves his mouth in a slight twitch. The only reason that he’s able to close his eyes is because you’re there. His little angel. You read your book as the light peaking through the window begins to dwindle, and the air gets cooler. He wakes up after a couple of pages. He sluggishly gets up and gives you a sleepy smile with half-shut eyes. You offer him water you filtered while camping out in the forest. He thanks you for the water while guzzling it down, water dripping down his chin, he wipes it all over. You tell him that you saw some board game upstairs in the main bedroom. He follows you up.

The both of you settle on the bed, sitting up. He can’t stop staring at you, like he’s about to devour you. You walk over to a small bookshelf holding Connect Four, monopoly, and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you want to play?” You ask considerately.

“Uh… your pick” He runs his hands over his hair.

You take out the deck of cards, looking at it tentatively.

“Ya know I've never played any card games”

He clears his throat and responds. “Really, well we’ll start real simple. Uh, let’s play War. It’s easy, you’re a smart girl so you’ll catch on quick,” he chuckles.

You’re on the edge of the bed near the bed frame, you take the deck out of its case. He leans in closer to you as you inhale his musk. You hand him the cards as your eyes linger on his hands.

“ Alright so here’s what we do. So basically,” You do not pay attention to what he’s saying. A nod is given, you say that you get it and you’re ready to play. To be quite honest, you don’t care about the game. All you really want is to pounce on him.

Surprisingly, Rick catches on. He sighs, “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to. Looks like you clocked out” He gives you a slight smile.

“Nah, I want to but I got something on my mind, it’s really nothing,” Your gaze shifts to the wooden floor.

“Well spill, this a good time as any,” Southern definitely drawn.

“ Well, when we were in the prison, before the virus, before the governor, that stretch of time where everything was fine and felt like normal?” He nods along. “ I used to crush on this guy. It was pretty bad, I knew he didn’t like me like that. But god, he was enigmatic. He was so dignified yet so sweet and caring.” You’re overwhelmed. And a liar.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t be thinking about him in that way. Wrong guy, wrong time to feel that way about anyone.” You sniffle.

Rick is absolutely clueless. You could tell he was trying to list off all the boys that were around your age.

“ I’m sorry to hear that. He was so stupid to not return those feelings. You’re such a sweet girl. A girl like you deserves the goddamn world. I know it might just be the two of us for a while, but I want to give you that world. It’s you and me ok?” At first, he’s angry at you, it’s irrational he knows. The only man he wants you to think about is him. Then a wave of protectiveness crashes over him. Your eyes begin to sting as his words hit harder. Tears stream out and roll down your cheek, as you let out soft hiccups. His arms grip you so tightly, it seems he might never let go. His warmth spreads all through your body like white hot fire.

“ I never ever want to see you cry like this. It hurts me to see you like this. My heart shatters to pieces when I see you sad, sweetheart.” He pulls away and looks into your eyes while he lectures you. He gently strokes your cheek and wipes your tears away. Your heart rate slows down and you’re grounded. He holds you again, his touch seeming to be familiar now. He’s held you like this before but it’s home now. A deep, disgusting feeling of guilt hits, you despise yourself for lying to him.

“ I have to say something else Rick,” A low whisper.

“Say it then, doll” He whispers back, as you brace yourself.

“Rick. I like you. Not like a friend, not like a daughter. I don’t want you to see me that way. I want to be close to you all of the time, I get weird when I'm not near you. I need you, Rick. But not like that.” your fingers tussle with his belt loops as your eyes wander around the room, down at boots, unable to meet his eyes.

Rick took a second to respond. Inching back, He sighs and runs his hand through his dark curls, conflicted. He pats his thigh, not knowing where to go next. Finally, he replies.

“oh yeah, and how do you like me?” He gazes into your eyes, maintains eye contact while you want to make yourself smaller.

Words can’t seem to come out of your mouth, as all

you can manage to spit out is a “ I.. I..”Rick inches closer to you and begins gently grabbing your arm and placing pecks along your collarbone.

In between kisses, he asks, “is this how you like me sweet girl? Ya need me like this?” he holds your jaw, while he gnaws softly on your lips. you coo out “Oh oh ohs” Hands move up and down your stomach as he grabs your waist.

Your kisses are sloppy and glossy, as he practically inhales you.

“You like me like this huh?” He sets you on your back as he towers on top of you. His knees entangled with your legs, you moan as he keeps kissing your neck. The scruff of his stubble nuzzle into the softness of your neck.

“Baby, I need to ask if you want this, tell me to stop and I'll stop.” He gazed at you for an immediate answer. Of course you want to, you’re hesitant to respond.

“ I-I want to, but i should probably let you know i ain’t never done this before,” You say softly. It’s all new to you. Of course things have happened in college but you’ve never gone that far before.

Rick stops in his tracks. His dick is hard and pressing against your clothed sex. He can’t say no to that shine in your eyes, and the way you clutch onto his arms.

“uhh, alright. I’m gonna take it real nice and slow sweetheart, ok? that alright with you?” He asks with his accent accelerating with the question.

“Okay Rick,” You nod, with a slight expression of worry on your face.

“I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry baby,” He reassures you and seals it by running his calasse-ridden hands down your body then clutches your hand, fingers entangling.

“I trust you.” A shimmer in your eyes.

He descends down the bed, eye level with your pussy, pulling down your shorts, leaving you half naked in your underwear, a wet patch forming. His eyes wide in utter awe, mouth agape at the dark spot at the middle of your panties. He massages your clothed cunt, rubbing in circles to see how you’d react. Quiet, mousy gasps escape your lips.

“Can I take these off sweetpea?” He purrs in a low voice, like honey.

“Of course.” You respond in an eager whisper. He pulls down your underwear and flings them across the room. The two of you smile at this action, your cheeks turning warm from embarrassment, as you hide your face from your hands.

“ Is that all for me?” He strokes your thigh and you nod your head, all doe eyed.He parts your legs open, his hands move up toward the entrance of your sex. A vulnerable feeling creeps up as the hair on your limbs stand up.

“Imma make it even better,yeah sweet girl?” He nibbles at the inside of your thighs.

Arousal settles in the low part of your stomach as he fiddles with the entrance of your pussy. He is excruciatingly slow, building tension.

He palms your exposed sex with his big hand. The cold metal of his wedding ring around his finger is cold against your wet warmth. You don’t think about that, as all you can focus on is the sound of his guttural grunts and shock at your perfect pussy. His pointer and middle finger move in circles around your clit, not entering you just yet. You moan as he slips his ring finger into your plush entrance. You let out a cry as his finger plunges in and out. The sensation of his silver ring against your hot sex adds to the stars you see. He looks to you, wide-eyed, asking for confirmation to add another finger. You nod.

He adds another finger, stretching you out slowly. Sounds of your wet squelch fill the room, along with small squeals and low whispers of “good god” coming from Rick. He didn’t think he could ever make a girl this wet until now.

“You take my fingers so well, baby.” Arousal coils in your core. Your heart pounds as your head feels hazy. He curls his fingers toward your sweet spot, as a scorching sensation of hot waves come over you. His fingers feel your pussy pulse, as the intensity of stimulation increases. Your legs jerk, slightly as you give into pleasure. “Rick, ’m coming.” You breathlessly sob out. A wave of electricity crashes over you, you’ve never came that hard before.

“That’s it, sweet girl, you can come.” He growls. Simultaneously, as he fucks you with his fingers, he brushes his lips up and down your stomach. He finally takes his fingers out of you. The tent in his pants is firm against your pussy. Sweat sticks to your neck and collarbone, as he grabs your chin and kisses you like an old vintage movie. Your eyes closed, arms desperately holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Deep, wet, kisses, lips barely touching, slight brisks of your soft lips against his. Your face is hot as his erection presses deeper against you. A damp patch soaks through his jeans. You slightly grind yourself against his knee, without shame.

“ We can stop here, we don’t have to go all the way,” Rick reassures, with a slight breathless rasp.

“No, no, we can keep going. I want to keep going.” You desperately plead for him not to stop there, in a soft sweet voice.

“Ok. we’re doing this. remember, tell me to stop and I will.” He sternly asserted. He fumbles at his belt, a bit desperate to take it off. The clink and thud of his buckle hardens your nipples and pools arousal in you. You don’t realize that you bit your lip until you taste metallic on your tongue.

He pulls his boots off, along with the rest of his clothing. He gestures to help you pull your shirt up, and you let him.

His cock springs out of his boxers, all pretty and pink, hitting against the low part of his stomach. His length leaks out precum at the tip. He’s pretty well-kept, considering the situation at hand. You bask in the sight of him, his curly pubic hair wild at the base near his heavy balls.

You stare in awe at how gorgeous he is. His beautiful entrancing eyes so pale and blue, his luscious curly hair, his defined arms. You smile up at him and he laughs. You would do anything for him. You would kiss the tip of his boots if he asked, and that’s the problem. Rick lingers on your lips, brushing his fingers against them. He spits on his hand and rubs his length, he does with what he has.

“Gonna be a big stretch, ok baby?” He lines his tip at your entrance. “Alright, here we go.” He slowly stretches you with his thick length, your pussy swallowing him whole. He hisses a groan.

“ Oh God!” You mewled.

“ Ahh fuck baby, you’re so goddamn tight. Gotta pace ourselves.” He mostly says that to remind himself to take it slow, the last thing he does is want to hurt you. It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, you’ve been told, and of course maybe it’s a little unpleasant, but Rick's touch and the earthy scent of him is intoxicating. You feel full, like you were each other’s missing piece to the puzzle.

He isn’t even halfway in, and you’re doubting your own ability to take all of it. He cradles your head, his fingers sprawled over the side of your face.

“Mmm, so feels full” You sob out.

“ I know honey, I know.” He coos at you. He starts thrusting in and out at a slow pace as you acclimate to this full feeling. You're so wet, your pussy resists and almost pushes him out, but he’s so huge and you're so tight, his cock is almost stuck. Lewd sounds of him pounding sweet juices leaking out of you.

Your fingers clutch the bedding, your hot all over.

“ Feels so good baby, God this pussy is gonna drive me crazy.” His voice sweet and heavy like honey.

“mmhmm” You’re already quite fucked out, and you can’t seem to think about anything but him. Him, him, him. You buck, signaling for him to go deeper.

His strokes get sloppier as he moans into your ear. He mumbles low “I love you I love yous” continuously as he kisses you all over your cheek. His calm, daddy demeanor unravels as your walls continue to spasm and flutter against his cock.

In the heat of the moment, you aren’t totally sure if he really means it. The two of you have shown affection, the evidence supports what he says.

“You really mean it? You love me?” You whimper, gazing straight into his eyes. His tip kisses your cervix, but you feel nothing but utter bliss.

“ More than fucking anything.” He enunciates each world with a thrust. He’s close, you could feel it in his rapid strokes and in the way his arms hold onto you for sweet release.

“Rick I’m so close please” You plead for him to go deeper, faster.

“I know honey, I feel it.” He says through gritted teeth, pumping in and out of you. He gently rubs the sides of your lower belly, as he drills into you, the both of you feel crashs of euphoria.

“Cum on my cock, that’s it baby ,” Rick groans out, as your pussy convulses against him. His cock stays in as you feel him twitch around you, he leaves a lingering kiss on your forehead.

He pulls out, asking you if you want it on your stomach. You nod as you look through your eyelashes. He’s on his knees now, jerking his cock, cum spurting out on your stomach, He closes his eyes and groans out. He moves off the bed and grabs a shirt folded onto a chair, wiping his release off of your stomach.

He jumps back on to bed next to you, as you bask in each others presence, bed creaking in response. He looks to you, almost studying the structure of your face. You turn to him, running your hands through his hair.

“ Thank you. for, well, doing that. I liked it a lot.” You giggle. He giggles in response, rubbing his temples.

“Any time. Well maybe not, but we should do this again.” He gazes at you and smirks . Still half naked, he opens his mouth to say something, he hesitates.

“ Ya know what I said, I mean it. I meant it when you came crying to me. I love you and I need you. I know you think you can’t live without me, but I can’t live without you. can’t imagine it sweetheart.” The scruff of his beard scratches your chin as he pulls you in for a soft kiss. You curl up against his chest, breathing in his musk. You drift off into his the tight hold of his arms, feeling as if he’ll never let go, and you’re ok with that.

ty for reading!! not stoked about how this turned about but wtv

dont ask me how long this was in the drafts for….

[esoteric-crow]

hey actually isn’t there something kind of really sad about the fact that the hardest difficulty (that isn’t just like. hell or hell. which is just ‘haha hehe Blow up.’) is called Dante Must Die. i think about it a lot. i can’t quite put my finger on why it makes me miserable but maybe someone else can.

but you know what i CAN talk about and i DO have actual fully formed thoughts about?

regenerating like crazy is great. but isn’t there something kind of inherently fucked up about the fact that, because of the regeneration dante and vergil have, neither of them will ever have tangible evidence to themselves or others of their suffering? asking themselves, was it really that bad? did it even happen at all? no matter how much you put vergil through hell and how afraid he is inside, there will never be a mark on his skin that says “i have suffered”. the world leaves no proof, nothing to take home from this experience aside from a more broken mind. vergil doesn’t say his feelings, or even allow them to surface properly, because that’s a kind of vulnerability he cannot handle. the only way he could perhaps earn someone’s sympathetic care is by expressing what he has suffered through, but he cannot verbalize that. and he looks perfect. unmarked by time or trauma. there isn’t a single part of his body that could scream out for him that something horrible has happened that he cannot figure out how to deal with alone.

and dante is just as poor off. and he’s very difficult to figure out emotionally to a passerby. dante purposefully puts on a happy face every day, and to the majority of the world, it’s convincing. there’s certainly no evidence to themselves contrary. not a scratch on him. but he is like kind of constantly getting the ever loving fuck beat out of him. stabbed and jabbed. when you look at him, you see happy, sweet, goofy dante. for all the years of pain he’s gone through, there isn’t a single marred inch of his skin that could tell you even a day of the agony unless he told you. and why would dante do that when he can pretend it simply isn’t happening until he’s alone and can sit with the terror that’s constantly in him and the loss he’s been living with, over and over losing people and being surrounded by the ghosts of their presence. whether the ghost is a wayward descendent, a gun, or just a lingering smell of ash in his childhood home. but that will only be private. he can be the walking dead, he can treat himself like shit, but his body refuses to show anything for it. and he’s certainly not going to die.

obviously, the same thing can be said for the opposite side of the spectrum: scars can be a constant reminder in the mirror of what happened that you cannot erase, always to some degree a part of you. among other stuff. so both sides of the coin are full of The Pains and The Anguishes.

on a side note, i really like when people give them like, one scar. i don’t really have a favorite one that people give vergil but i really like dante with just the one bigass gnarly one in the middle of his abdomen from the rebellion gettin jammed in there. his One scar. a treate. like it defies his regeneration somehow.

i love making a scarred up guy. i have plenty of scars n marks myself, and i feel like they should definitely be more normalized, so like, no this post isn’t anti scars or something. they’re normal and not ugly or whatever the hell people try to say. this side note is probably entirely unnecessary, but i’m tired and i’m worried about someone misunderstanding me i think. anyway i’m trying to say ooh scar angst yeah but sometimes No scars is also fucked up too. that’s the point here.

to sum up: i believe there can be something Fucked Up and angsty to be said about the fact that the sparda boys heal perfectly fine, but only externally. it is 3am. this is not articulated as well as it could be i don’t think. aaaand post.

[aidomor]

✦Home ✦

Tartaglia x fem!reader

Contains: Fluff, sadness, internal conflict, feelings of worthlessness, family love, being In a hospital, trauma, and love.

Ajax is injured from his last mission,and he tries to make it home while injured D:

Large dents marred the pristine pile of snow, his boots hammering against it as fast as his failing body allowed. He just wanted to make it home, to be with the people he cherished more than anything. But his thoughts fractured as sharp pain shot through his wound, stealing his breath. The flawless blanket of snow was no longer unblemished. It was painted with streaks of crimson and smeared with the erratic prints of his march. An aching thought pestered his soul, he ruins everything that he touches. The snow was tainted with his touch, including the lives he had stained.

He loathed himself for the way he tainted and tormented everything he laid his hands on, and he understood now why no one could truly understand him. His knees buckled, his limbs dragged heavier with every desperate step. But then he saw the chimney of his family's home. It stood against the bleakness, a warm beacon, a cruel temptation. Home. He longed to collapse by the fire, to apologize for the agony he had brought his parents, to hold his dearest in his arms and promise never to hurt them again. The selfish yearning clawed at his mind, even as he tried to suffocate it. He didn't deserve their forgiveness. He didn't deserve their love. He was nothing more than a weapon and  he had no right to feel the heart pounding erratically within his chest.

His resolve shattered with a slicing pain that ripped through his stomach. He started to lose strength and the blood seeping from him faster pooled beneath him like a shadow. It was almost poetic, he thought bitterly. He had always hidden his emotions, locked them away where they couldn't betray him. But his body? His disloyal body bled so freely, so openly.He staggered forward, each breath more ragged. His house felt so close yet impossibly far.

His knees grew utterly wobbly, his legs like fragile rubber beneath him. The sensation of movement seemed to vanish completely as his body betrayed him entirely, and the next thing he felt was his back colliding with the snow. The impact should have hurt, but he felt nothing. His body is numbed due to exhaustion. . The only thing he could register was the snowflakes softly landing on his face.

Snow had always been a symbol of warmth to him. It reminded him of the people he loved, the fleeting moments of joy they shared beneath the falling sky. His heart is terrified, how could it be lifeless, cold and hauntingly still.He closed his eyes, letting the snowflakes touch his sun kissed cheeks. . their delicate touch feels as it could erase his dark life. He  imagined them cleansing his vicious, tormented soul.

He heard her soft and desperate voice echo in his mind calling out to him. Her voice was a balm, a blessing. It smothered the pain that wracked his body, soothing him in ways nothing else could. She had always been the one to gather the shattered pieces of his heart, molding them back together with her gentle whispers and unwavering love. Her voice called his name again and again, like a lullaby pulling him into peace.

What a perfect way to leave this world

"Ajax! P-please wake up. Please, stay with me!"

Her words cracked with desperation that if it was a weapon it would leave him with a permenant scar. yet they were still so beautiful. Even in desperation, her voice sounded like a whispered lullaby meant only for me, soft and trembling, yet sharp enough to carve her name into my dying soul.

He felt the faint warmth of her touch on his face, and for a fleeting moment, he thought she was real. The idea terrified him. How cruel for something so pure to exist in a moment like this. His chest ached, his heart sinking into the abyss of his guilt and longing. With great effort, he opened his eyes. Her angelic face was there infront of him. flushed with fear and  streaked with tears. He wanted to reach for her the softness of her face, to brush the tears away from her pretty face. However, his body refused him. He tried to furrow his brow to show her he was still there, but even that was beyond his strength. Darkness crept in beginning to blur her image, swallowing her voice. even as the void claimed me,i could still feel her etched into my very being.

If he could smile, he would. Her voice lingered and it sank deep into his soul. He was filled with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. The last thought in his mind as everything faded was a simple, bittersweet truth.

He stood in the shadow of his own despair, a soldier worn and convinced of his worthlessness, until her soft voice called out for him, not to save him but to remind him he was always meant to rise.

The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and clean, but it tugged at something buried deep within him. It reminded him of too many nights spent in the hospitals and the memory of wounds that never fully healed. His chest ached with every breath, each movement smooth but heavy with pain. Blinking against the harsh light above, his gaze shifted to the needle in his hand, connected to an IV stand by his bedside.

A faint warmth pressed against his arm, stirring something deep inside him. When he turned his head, his breath stilled. His dear slumped in the chair beside him, her head resting gently on the edge of his bed. The sight of her is so soft and Peaceful. the dull room enhanced to be colorful in his eyes.

His heart is rough it is used to enduring pain. He didn't know it's capable of beating erratically, not from injury but from her. She undid him effortlessly. The strength he built up all those years for himself goes softly around her. He reached out his trembling fingers slightly as they brushed through her hair.

He tucked a strand behind her ear,  she stirred as her eyes fluttering open. For a brief moment, he forgot the ache slicing his body and forgot everything but her. She was his heart and truthfully his entire world. Her soft eyes were looking at him filled with emotions muttering a hushed sound of his name. He smiled and carses her cheek. His rigid body felt weak , he felt as weak as a man could ever be.

He's home

--

The grin on Ajax’s face was absolutely unshakeable, his heart so full of joy that it was practically spilling over. His little brother Trucer couldn’t stop poking Ajax’s tummy, claiming that he's trying to ease his "pain" as he put it. But Ajax was far from bothered. In fact, he's suprized that it actually worked.

“Big brother, I’m sure you’re all healed now!” Trucer giggled sweetly, his eyes twinkling with excitement. He turned to Ajax's wife with a curious gaze. “Why is your nose and eyes all red? Should I poke them too?” he pouted, his little head tilting in thought.

Ajax couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “It’s okay, dear. Don’t look so sad. I didn’t die,” he teased, but she wasn’t having any of it. she gave him a stern glare and shot back, “Don’t make me even start, Ajax.”His lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes never left her, warm and adoring. “I like it when you care about me. It really aches my heart in alot of good ways.”Her eyes widened in surprise. How could he be saying such things while still lying in a hospital bed? “You’re unbelievable, Ajax. If I could, I’d hit you!” she scolded.

He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, groaning in mock agony. “Ugh! Stop attacking me with all your love, or I might just die.” Before she could retort, Trucer hopped up onto her lap, and  she wrapped her arms around him, rocking him back and forth in her lap as he giggled. Ajax watched, his heart swelling at the sight of his family. His little brother being so adorably sweet and his partner whome he is so desperately in love with, holding Trucer with such warmth.

He sighs, the sound heavy and weary, as though it carried the weight of every unspoken thought. Her eyes lift to his, immediately scanning his face, searching for any signs of pain. The way she worries makes his heart ache and his lips curl into a fragile grin, one that trembles with the bittersweetness of the moment. He’s so happy he might break.

"Are you alright?" she asks softly, her voice tender yet laced with hesitation. Her eyes studying the faint smile that lingers on his face and he slowly nods. Yet, the movement is almost reluctant and his gaze never left hers."Your smile is really pretty," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper as gentle as the touch of a flower’s petal against his skin. "You never fail to remind me," he replies ,but his voice is fragile as though the words might shatter between them."Are you truly alright, Ajax?" she presses again, her fingers brushing lightly against Trucer’s head as he drifts to sleep. Her other hand finds his, her touch warm and gentle, though her own uncertainty trembles beneath it.

"Being away from you is unbearable," he confesses, his voice raw and unsteady. "I miss you, and I miss everyone, but when I’m alone… the thoughts creep in. They wrap around me like shadows, whispering things I can’t push away. I feel like I’m drowning in them, like they’re dragging me somewhere I can’t escape."Her brows knit together as her chest tightens, each word piercing her heart like a fragment of ice. "You can’t fight them alone, Ajax. You don’t have to. Let me carry some of it for you. I’ll be here... I’ll always be here."

He lets out a quiet broken laugh, the sound as hollow as the darkness he tries to describe. "You don’t know how much you’ve already done," he whispers, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly, enough for him to believe that she's real."Even just your voice… it quiets everything. You’re the only thing that feels real. I love you so much it hurts. Sometimes I feel like I’m clinging to you just to keep myself from disappearing and I feel selfish"

Her hand squeezes his gently, her thumb brushing softly against his scarred skin. "I love you more" she whispers, her voice trembling as her heart aches for him. "More than anything. And I’ll always hold you. Always." They fall into a silence that feels more like a conversation, their gazes locked, their breaths synchronized. In that stillness, their hearts and souls speak in ways words never could, a connection deeper than the weight of sorrow.

The door creaked open with a soft urgency, and Ajax’s mother rushed in, her breath trembling as she caught sight of her son. Her eyes, wide and brimming with tears, clung to his face as though she feared he might vanish if she looked away. She fell to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she cupped his face and kissed his forehead. Over and over, she muttered prayers, her voice cracking with gratitude. Ajax’s eyes softened, glowing faintly with a flicker of life she hadn’t seen in what felt like years. For a fleeting moment, he looked like her little boy again, fragile and precious.

“Where’s Dad?” Ajax asked, his voice quiet yet laced with expectation.

She froze, her smile faltering as a shadow passed over her face. Her eyes twitched which is a telltale sign she was lying. “He’s… he’s just outside, getting some air,” she replied, her tone forced into lightness. “He’ll be back in a minute.” Ajax tilted his head, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He could see through her as clearly as she could see through him. With a sigh, her shoulders sagged, and she lowered her gaze.

“He… he excused himself,” she confessed, her words slow and deliberate, her voice heavy with emotion. “He said there was something in his… eyes.”Her brows rose and fell with a subtle gesture, one that spoke volumes. Ajax’s lips curled into a bittersweet smile, one that tugged at his heart more than it comforted.

“Dad’s the same as always,” he murmured, his voice heavy with a quiet ache that seemed to echo in the stillness. “Afraid to let me see him cry.” The words lingered, weighed down by a bittersweet truth that tugged at his heart.

Memories filled his mind, the way his father couldn’t meet his eyes the day he was sent to the Fatui, and the haunting sound of muffled sobs slipping through the walls late at night. It was a sound that had stayed with him, a testament to a love too deep to fully express. He was his father’s son, after all, bound by the same weight of silent devotion and unspoken sorrow.

His mother’s throat tightened as she nodded, her tears shimmering. She leaned closer, pressing another kiss to his hair, as if her touch alone could shield him from a world that seemed intent on breaking him. Her love was fierce, desperate, and unwavering. A mother’s unshakable devotion, fragile yet unbreakable, as though her touch alone could shield the boy she had always seen as her greatest light.

Carefully, she gathered Trucer from the lap he rested in, her hands gentle yet deliberate. “Your legs must be numb, dear. Let me move him somewhere more comfortable,” she said softly, her voice quivering with a tenderness she struggled to conceal. But before she could rise, his wife shook her head, her hands fluttering in gentle protest. “No, no, it’s alright! . I don’t mind. I think of Trucer as my little brother.”

Ajax’s mother gaze softened with warmth as she reached out to stroke her hair, her touch light and affectionate. A tender smile graced her lips, filled with approval and gratitude. Knowing her son had someone who loved him so deeply. someone who brought light into his darkened world, filled her heart with comfort. “It’s alright, dear. Take care of Ajax for me.” She stepped toward the door, but before leaving, she turned back and said, “Your father truly loves you, Ajax. He never stops talking about you, and he’s never left a single letter of yours unread.”

Ajax’s heart stirred at her words, a light flickering within the numbness that consumed him. He felt his chest tighten, not with pain but with something closer to joy, a reassurance he hadn’t dared to hope for. His father didn’t see him as a burden. His father loved him.. unconditionally but silently. The weight of those words filled the empty spaces inside him, threatening to spill over in tears he was too weak to shed.

He turned his gaze to the angel before him, her radiant presence consuming him. Their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them, a connection so deep no words were needed. Her smile was gentle, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to embrace her with all the gratitude and love he couldn’t express. But his body, fragile as glass, betrayed him. For now, he simply beamed back at her, letting the warmth in her gaze wash over him, mending the fractures in his soul.

⭑꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ⭑

physics is killing me and thank you for reading💗

[josnhoes]

Platonic!Yan batfam with young adult reader. Part 5

[Part 4]

Note: Reader is 18-22 years old. Gn reader

Content warning: being treated like a child, being looked down on, obsessions, soft yandere but still a yandere, reader has memory issues and it's ambiguous as to why, delusional batfam, batfam as a whole basically view you as a child younger then Damien despite you being older, dissociation, abduction, drugging, so many lies

Focus Bruce Wayne (all his POV)

-----

Bruce hadn't wanted you to ever see the cruelty of the world. It's why he and your siblings worked so hard to prepare a room for you in the manor as swiftly as they could. You were too good for Gotham, maybe even the world. He wanted your integration into the family as seemless as possible. Painless too. But maybe he should have listened to his youngest after that first visit of his.

Damian had been insistent you couldn't handle life on your own. That you needed them to care for you, which he agreed with! He just also knew he couldn't just take you. They were heros they couldn't just abduct you. He told Damian and the others to treat you like a feral cat. Stay close but give you space, step in when need be and let you warm up to them. And look what happened.

You were barely here mentally. The trauma haze and shock yet to leave you, if not made worse by the lie *he* told you. You'd forgive him once you were better, you'd realize he was just doing what he had to do as your father. The risk of you going home was too great now.

He remembered the panic when you woke up in the room the family had made for you in the cave. He had been there in costume. The sight of him had managed to calm you. He was glad for that, it meant you thought of him as safe. You shouldn't considering he lied to your face.

The lie was simple one, easily kept up by the entire family. The mugging you had seen planted a target on you. The woman you tried to save, her parents were well-known crimelords in Star City, and they blamed *you* for their daughter's death. A hit was out on you; so you had to stay here with them until it was safe.

The news had made the shock you were in worse, making your mental state deteriorate more than when you'd first arrived. But he was happy to see the moments where the fog lifted, where you opened up to them again. Once he was sure you were attached, he'd let them all meet you outside of the costumes but that was a while away.

By the third day you'd gone from a husk to a crying mess. They'd all tried to consol you even himself. He made a promise that soon things would get better. And they would! You'd join the family, he'd spoil you with anything and everything you could dream of. You'd be in the manor properly and not in the cave.

Your sadness was a knife in his heart. Like any good parent, he just wanted you to be safe and happy. Bruce knew that for now, safety was key. Still he wouldn't lie again and say he wasn't envious when one of your siblings got you to smile. So far Damian and Jason had been the ones managing to get you to relax best. The nickname Sparky had taken over among all of them.

There were a few moments where your panic would rise up, you'd demand to know when you could go home becoming hysterical at the idea of losing your job and subsequently your home. He knew you wouldn't lose your home since it was here with them as for a job? You were still so young you didn't need one. Still, you'd work yourself up so much that whoever was near had to drug you. The tranquilizer was a gentle one. You were only out a few hours and much calmer when you came to. The downside is you forgot a lot that happened, though for now, that was a blessing.

He couldn't wait for you to meet his father figure, your grandfather Alfred. Sure, you'd met him when you first got here, but you didn't remember it. It's probably for the best, considering you'd likely have put the 2 and 2 together before he was ready for you to have that information.

Bruce reached over to your resting form and fixed the blanket that had fallen off of your shoulder. Soon, you'd take your place in the family, and no one was having an easy time waiting for it.

[whineandcheese24]

hot take: 8x05 was not actually a good episode

it was certainly an enjoyable episode, and it's definitely my favorite episode of the season so far. but if you take off the shipping goggles for a second and just actually analyze the content, it's not great.

Hen and Karen's argument is entirely contrived, and shouldn't be an argument they're having after several years of Hen being a married paramedic. And while Aisha, Tracie, and Declan's performances were outstanding, the whole arc of Denny almost dying felt entirely out of place with the rest of the largely goofy and unserious episode.

Athena's arc I absolutely hated. I have issues with how Athena treats kids that I'm not going to get into right now, but the way she treated those girls was incredibly unfair given that they weren't even the ones who ran into Denny. This show has a habit of making genz (not kids, specifcally genz culture) the butt of so many jokes, and as a genz kid, it's not that funny. if this arc was to teach kids about the dangers of doing dumb teenager shit, they absolutely went about it in the wrong way

and as for Buck and Tommy's arc. it was super fun and super cute, but why is it just Buck, Tommy, and Eddie? Buck gets cursed with a dislocated shoulder and boils and no one else seems to care? I don't remember super well, but I do know that Bobby, Hen, and Chim, weren't super involved in that arc.

when the episode started I thought to myself "this is gonna be like another jinx (4x06) episode". Jinx is one of, if not, my favorite episode of the show because of the fun firefam dynamics and the silliness of it all. but what made it work was the cohesiveness. all of the characters are involved in the plot together as a unit. Eddie has his own little thing going on on the side, but it doesn't take away from his role as part of the firefam. and while the episode does get a bit more serious and dramatic towards the end, it maintains a steady silly atmosphere the whole way that feels, again, much more cohesive.

also, with jinx, the title makes sense. masks kind of makes sense because it's halloween, and buck has the whole boils thing going on, but the title is largely unrelated. I mean, wouldn't it make more sense for an episode titled Masks to relate to how Eddie is masking his trauma over Shannon and his sadness at having Chris gone? Or how Bobby is masking his trauma over his nde at the end of last season? Or even how Buck maybe hasn't fully accepted himself as Not Straight? But true to form with this season, there's really no overall theme with the title

8x05 has some really fun and adorable moments, and like I said, it's still my favorite episode of the season. But honestly, it's just because I like Bucktommy. they get a lot of screen time for a cute and funny plot and it's super fun to watch, but the episode as a whole is not really a whole. it's just a bunch of random unrelated one-off arcs strung together around the loose "halloween" theme with no overarching message, moral, or otherwise connector. and doesn't it just say so much that what's considered to be the favorite episode of the season (at least within this section of the fandom) isn't even all that great

[agentrouka-blog]

Asoiaf is so great with parallels and I am always thinking about the parallels between Sansa and Dany. Dany getting married off at 13 but the marriage being consummated and "happy" (in her mind) vs Sansa getting married off at 12 and the marriage not being consummated but still miserable and tense. Drogo being a rapist who "reforms" (lol) vs Tyrion's descent into becoming the sort of person who would do that to the sunset girl. Both girls thinking they're the last of their house (with Dany using it as motivation and justification for conquering/claiming her "birthright" vs others using it/using Sansa to scheme their way to her "birthright"). Embracing the (blood) magic of her family by "birthing" dragons (symbol of her house) vs being cut off from the (blood) magic of her house and having her wolf (symbol of her house) be murdered. Having a disgusting old man creep on her, with the kiss scenes being described similarly - trying to fight them off but initially being pulled in deeper (Jorah and LF). Really sad to think about. I really do believe that Dany is a very tragic figure, I wish her stans hadn't made it so impossible for me to like her

It really is horrible to see just what kind of objectification or sense of loss runs through their parallels, and at the same time what it highlights about them. These are young girls. And the are under constant assault.

The parallels to Sansa highlight the true vulnerability and hidden misery in the story, which Dany tries to pave over with her identity as blood of the dragon (and her literal dragons), and her denial about the repulsive nature of the men abusing her. It highlights the many ways this young girl was never ever spared, never loved or protected as she should have been. And like the male villains with whom she shares these traits, when she does gain power, she is not magically pure of heart and effective and wise and humane in her actions. She returns to the world what the world gave her, and it's harsh. Because while her aims may be good in her eyes, she never adjusted her understanding of justice or of acceptable tools. A very current phenomenon. A very universally human character, ultimately.

The parallels to Dany highlight the potential for power and agency that Sansa has been prevented from gaining so far, but also the ways in which the things she was shown compassion and safety. The ways she was loved or had the luxury to be innocent have made her resiliant and emotionally grounded enough to give that back to others without sliding into extremes.

They are both similar and very different, and in the ways GRRM spares Sansa while not sparing Dany, which can seem deeply unfair, GRRM is trying to illustrate something about the destructive power of unprocessed trauma.

Like, granted, he does with 75% of his entire cast of characters.

[shadesofecclescakes]

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (I)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

1.3K words | (1/5) chapters

Author's notes: Yes I came back just to jump on the Miguel train! :) I love Across the Spider-verse and I love Miguel. I just wanna comfort him and I’m sure you do too! Enjoy!

Also on AO3

--------------------------------------------

I.

It started as an agreement and then came the first session. Honestly, you’ve seen your fair share of trauma being a therapist for Spider-people, hell, you’ve even gone through it yourself. Losing Aunt May, Peter L. Parker, and then Harry… you were never the same again. Yet you learned how to cope, how to survive. You made trauma your bitch and it was all due to understanding your psyche. And… also because of your Ph.D. in psychology. So it wasn’t a surprise that your schedule was always packed with various spider-people from different dimensions. Everyone wanted to know your secret. Everyone wanted to know how you were able to move on. It was the same story—different variations, sometimes in a different order. It was plaguing their minds, some coped by burying their heads in their work, others just lived with the guilt. But a few, like Miguel, were always reliving it.

Miguel O’Hara. Spider-Man 2099. You didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was undergoing the same canon-event trauma as the other Spider-people. You didn’t know which ones since he never shared it in his first mandatory session. The only thing he was willing to share was his desire for a family and the mistake he made that cost an entire dimension to collapse.

Later, his sessions felt more like a briefing of your work, gauging the mental state of all spider-people to know if they're capable of working. You would always tell him the session was supposed to be about him but he would brush it off, saying he had too much work to do before leaving your office. And as always, you would watch his retreating back. His shoulders looked so broad, they could hold mountains—perhaps holding the weight of the multiverse could do that to you. A wise man once told you, “with great power comes great responsibility—strength, resilience.” But you knew what great power could also do to a man.

If the loneliness spewing from his demeanor wasn’t obvious enough.

Today it was your turn to enter Miguel’s office. Upside down, you tread along the ceiling, your hair obeying gravity and hanging limply in the air.

His office was mostly dark with an orange glow from the holograms in front of his monitors. You didn’t miss when he quickly swiped one of them away, his back stilling.

You were sure Miguel already knew you were here.

You lowered yourself with your web, turning your body upright until your feet reached the floor of the floating platform. He turned his head, not enough to look at you but enough to acknowledge your presence. His shoulders look wider— trembling even. 

Sadness? You stepped forward and he turned back to face the monitors, fingers tapping away against the orange holograms. No, it was anger.

Minutes went by of silence until Miguel’s hands dramatically dropped to his sides, sighing. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled lightly, stepping forward. “Our first session, remember?”

“Don’t tell me you were serious about that,” he spitted out, hands returning to the holograms. He was investigating an anomaly that appeared on Earth-55, it was probably that villain belonging to Earth-1001. Lately, he’s been jumping from dimension to dimension, and not because he had the ability to do so. Miguel’s been tracking him down for days and trying to figure out what could be causing the rifts in the dimensions. 

Meaning: he hasn’t been getting any sleep.

Miguel was a spider-man shouldering the very existence of all spider-people universes. With the connections of fate being as fragile as a spider’s web, a day of rest could be detrimental.

To feel as though you’re the only Spider-Man in the room while being surrounded by spider-people who understood you the most was a feeling Miguel was too familiar with. He never mentioned it in his sessions but you could see it in how he carried himself in front of his agents, how he stared at Peter B and Mayday, and how he looked when you first caught him rewatching himself with “his” daughter. Certainly, he was reliving his trauma.

“Of course,” you stepped forward until you stood directly behind him. His body stilled when your arms slowly encircled his waist. You could feel his muscles tensing. His fingers froze in the air. The orange glow from the holograms deepened like it was spreading to your bodies. “Weren’t you?”

You whispered and Miguel didn’t say a thing. Of course, he was warm like you imagined when you were preparing yourself for this. The scowl on his face often gave an impression that he was as cold as he looked. But he was very much alive like the rest of you—alive with emotions.

When you suggested he seek affection from someone to mend his trauma (that he never admitted having), he looked at you dumbfounded.

“Sometimes all we need is a hug, maybe a hand to hold to get rid of those troublesome feelings.”

And when you suggested that “someone” could be you, Miguel thought you were losing your sanity. It was no easy feat to convince him of the agreement. It took a few weeks until you got a very very annoyed “Okay” from him, probably to stop you from always bringing it up whenever you saw him.

It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

You rested your head against the middle of his back, arms tightening around him. You expected him to say something but he stayed silent, reddish-brown eyes staring into the monitors. It wasn’t just Miguel who was warm, but the space around you too—like the energy had shifted the moment you touched him. 

Your skin under your suit started to prickle as if it was being pinched. The orange tinge of the holograms slowly blended into a deep red, the temperature rising as sweat appeared at your temple. Miguel could probably feel your heart rattling against his back. But like a rock, his muscles tensed up and his hands closed into fists.

Everything in your mind was telling you to let him go but you held on despite sensing the anger rising within him. Since losing his “daughter”, Miguel had closed himself to affection. Usually responding in annoyance or anger if he were to receive it. He had accepted his destiny long ago of being a loner. And any ounce of affection reminded him of his loss—and what he could lose.

Miguel’s hand moved on top of yours. Hissing in pain, you pulled your arms away from his body and immediately looked at your hand. His claws had pricked you. Thankfully, there was no blood.

“Session’s over, doc. That’s enough.” His voice was laced with venom. This time he partly turned to look at you and your heart sank seeing his deep red eyes. The outline of his figure was stained by the burgundy hue of the holograms. Perhaps the trauma of Miguel O’Hara was deeper than you thought. Your spidey senses were telling you to get out of there. This time you listened.

“Okay,” you shot your web towards the ceiling, quickly propelling yourself up and out of his office. Miguel sighed, burying his head in his hands before returning to his work.

Next Chapter

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

While "the network wants an episodic kids show, the authors want an epic dark complicated narrative" would explain A LOT about ML's problems, I'd still like to note that there are kids' shows that can do both, going full range from "mostly episodic with a sprinkle of narrative" (Kim Possible, MLP), to "heavily narrative but with episodic breather/filler episodes" (Gravity Falls, WITCH, the Owl House), with many variants in-between.

Even the transition from "fully episodic" to "more narratively-connected" that ML attempted to do can be done successfully - the aforementioned Gravity Falls and WITCH were more episodic in season 1 and more narratively driven in season 2.

However, I'd say there are a few other key problems that can be inferred from what we have:

The show tries too many things at once - as you have pointed out repeatedly. Magical girl and rom-com, single-hero, duo and team stories, wacky comedy and serious trauma, even trying to give several characters a redemption and a damnation arc at the same time (and failing with either). Apparently, it's not just TF vs writers: it's writers severely disagreeing with each other (see Thomas and Vincent's opinions on Chloe), and also trying to one-up the fans. Also, simply thinking too much of the work, which leads us to...

ML's total lack of self-awareness. Another famous case of a show that was almost entirely episodic is Phineas and Ferb. They use the same formula (the brothers build, Candace busts, Doof makes an Inator and is thwarted by Perry) over and over for four seasons. And by mid-season 1, the authors have been making fun of the structure, lampshading it, spoofing and twisting it, playing with "What if" episodes and never taking itself too seriously. When ML tries to be self-aware, it becomes either insulting to the fans (Animaestro), horrifically dark (Chat Blanc) or plain cringe (Simpleman). This is exacerbated by Astruc's arrogance and inability to ignore critics.

Is it possible to make a highly complex, genre-busting, yet kid-friendly story and succeed? Yes. But it needs to be better thought-out - if not from the start, then at the moment the network allows one to deviate from the formula.

And if all else fails and the story becomes too complicated and too repetitive at the same time... Well, self-awareness and the ability to make fun of one's own work can turn a sad mess into a hilariously fun disaster.

P. S. Love your posts as always, you are the main reason I'm still in the fandom!

Thank you for the kind words! I'm so glad that you're enjoying my stuff and I agree with all the things you brought up.

A big part of the reason that Miraculous is so fascinating to me is that there ISN'T a single cause of the issues. There are so many valid ways to discuss the show's problems. It's a masterclass in bad writing and what not to do!

It's why I'm able to run this blog. If it was as simple as, "here's the single reason why it's bad and here's how you fix that" or if the show never had any potential, then there wouldn't be much to talk about. But it did have potential and there is no single reason why it's bad. The causes are multitudinous as are the potential fixes! It feels like investigating some complex wreckage or an elaborate murder mystery in order to understand what the hell happened, which is really fun if you like talking about writing.

I find it much harder to discuss writing in an informative way if you only have good examples to draw from because that path risks stifling creativity. Just because a popular story did a thing well doesn't mean that story showed us the only way to do the things or even the best way to do the thing, but that's often the lesson people seem to learn. They see a thing that they like or even just a thing that audiences liked and want to copy it without understanding the full nuance of why they liked it.

A great example of this is Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender. He was such a well-written and popular character that all these properties started copying him even though the properties in question did NOT have a setup that worked for a Zuko. Praising Zuko won't really tell you all the ways that Zuko could have failed. Meanwhile, a case study of Chloe vs Zuko or even just a general discussion of Chloe lets you actually talk about the various styles of redemption arc and what you have to do to make them feel real. It's also far more interesting than talking how Zuko could have failed because Zuko didn't fail so why are we even talking about this? It's also far more interesting than talking about a bunch of properties that did redemption arcs well because that would require you to have seen all of those properties. But Chloe is from a single property and she did fail and people understandably have wildly different feelings about what the failure was because the writing was so bad, which means that digging into her writing is way more likely to hold your interest and teach you something.

This gif really does sum it up perfectly:

[Image description: scene from the movie Knives Out where the detective Benoit Blanc exclaims "It makes no damn sense! It compels me though" to explain his feelings on an ongoing murder mystery that he's trying to solve]

As does the old adage, "failure is the greatest teacher." Of course, no one ever said that it had to be your failure!

[whetstonefires]

I was really enjoying the recent 'Amanda Waller vs the Entire DCU' Justice League storyline, because Waller is one of my favorites and this story just kind of pulled out all the stops on her.

Sad her Brainiac Queen Oracle-bot 'daughter' didn't get a longer run; kind of like Slade Wilson the fact that Waller is a middle-aged parent who has not done any actual parenting for a long time informs her character in fun ways imo, so the superbot calling her 'mother' was great. Waller is so much fun, and very like with Lex Luthor it's always a delicate balance between letting her be cool and letting her eat absolute scenery. (Before inevitably eating floor.)

Her premise is very much like. What if Batman was just some guy, where 'guy' is gender neutral, and the terms are set that by 'just some guy' we don't mean sane and normal, we mean not in a position to become a fulltime superninja.

Her chosen weapon instead is bureaucracy.

Her backstory, which as far as I know is still current, is she was a normal middle-class citizen whose husband and one of her kids went out one evening and got shot to death in a Random Gun Crime.

To which she responded by going back to school, getting a doctorate in Political Science, and seeking employment with the federal government. Because this trauma led her to crave access to power.

(Because she spends so much time mixed up in questionable scientific research etc you'd think her 'Doctor Waller' was because she's in STEM, but no. Polisci.)

Also more like a normal person and less like Batman, she is not particularly hung up on protecting other people from suffering the way she did, except on the most abstract level where if the world is reordered to her schema, this will stop the Bad Things.

I love this. I love how much of a brass-bound bitch she is. How impossible she is to intimidate or convince to look 'up' to anyone ever. Every time we get to see Waller up against some objectively more powerful baddie and she cleans their clock or just ruins their day I am hooting and hollering. She's fantastic.

But. Just like with Lex Luthor, it is very important that she also sucks. She's selfish. She overreaches herself. Her plans get the people who trust her killed; she cannot resist taking advantage of her position for personal advancement--never anything as trite as embezzlement, either, it's always about power.

She has taken the Suicide Squad down with her so many times and yet she keeps getting appointed to head it up again because she Has Experience (and other people who try to do the job tend to rapidly get eaten by a sharkman or whatever), which is not exactly realistic but it's an exaggerated parody of how management positions do tend to work, so it feels believable.

She has so much contempt for supervillains, and yet whenever it comes down to the punch she falls into the lure of that same megalomania, and then things blow up in her face.

Is there something distinctly Problematic about the character whose destiny is to be repeatedly destroyed by her own hubris in seeking access to specifically institutional power a black woman? Little bit, yeah. But it also works so fucking well specifically because her lack of perspective about when she's gone too far becomes so much more sympathetic, when you know just from looking at her how many bullshit barriers she had to burst through to get where she is.

Anyway I always get excited when she's in things.

[moments-on-film]

Moments on Film: Carmy IS The Bear - Opening Scene Analysis

Hello friends. I hope your year is going well. If we have interacted or you’ve read my work before, hello again! If you’re new to my blog, welcome!

This is the final part I’ve been building to in a 3 part character analysis series I have written about the character of Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto from The Bear. In the first part, I analyzed how 🔗Carmy doesn’t know who he is yet because he’s never had the safety and freedom to discover who he really is by connecting with his true passion, art. In part two, I analyzed 🔗Carmy’s true purpose and how I believe his destiny is to set everyone up for success, leave the kitchen behind and step into his light.

I have rewatched The Bear multiple times, but nothing ever captures the wonder, intrigue, and immediate empathy I felt for Carmy after that fascinating opening scene in the pilot episode. I have been thinking about it since I first watched it and it has stayed with me.

Since the first time I saw it, I have always believed Christopher Storer wrote the opening scene of The Bear to provide a portal into the entire arc for Carmy’s character. Let me explain.

Think about what Carmy is doing in the opening scene. He’s approaching a bear trapped in a cage. He speaks to it softly and gently, shushes it, empathises with it, coaxes it out and unlocks the cage. Look at the words used in the script:

Trapped, locked away

Whimpers, cries from inside

Emerges

A mass of dirty, matted hair

Mouth bleeding and ill

Shivers

“Shhh…..shhhh…it’s okay…”

Sad, abused eyes

There was a cute animal in there once

“Come on….go….”

“I know.”

Why is The Bear so personified in the script? Why is Carmy talking to it like it’s a person? Carmy looks into its “sad, abused eyes”, and tells it,

“I know.”

In my opinion, in the pilot episode, Carmy encountering the Bear is more than a dream, it’s a premonition because….it is Carmy talking to his future self.

Think about everything we have seen him go through so far and read the scene below:

I think Chris Storer has given us the arc of Carmy’s character in the form of a fevered dream Carmy has while watching over a slow cooking pot of gravy while he sleeps on the metal counter.

Carmy is the bear in the cage. S1 set the trap, by the end of S2, Carmy has fallen deep into it, and I think in future seasons, Carmy will suffer greatly, then will make great attenpts to heal, get in touch with what he really wants and will set himself free.

The fact that the opening scene in the series takes place on the State Street Bridge is an indication that Carmy saving himself—letting himself out of the cage—will save his own life. This is the same Bridge where his brother Michael, trapped in the same cage he is caught in now, separately, but somehow together, saw no way out and took his own life. The symbolism is striking. The Bridge is the connection between the two realms, and the difference between life and death.

I also think that the words used to describe the bear mean that things will get so much worse for Carmy before they get better. Season 1 ended with Carmy committed to opening The Bear. Season 2 ends with Carmy caught in the walk in freezer of the restaurant, a literal bear trap of his own making where he is buried alive by his unprocessed trauma, and inability to thrive in the very place he was supposed to lead, and crippling pressure to turn a profit to pay off his debts. This is because in my opinion, the restaurant, his cage, is not his natural habitat. This is why everything in it always seems like such a struggle and so painful, forced and joyless.

I’m worried to see how things will get worse for Carmy than they already are. In the script, the bear is described as tapped, locked away, crying, whimpering from the inside, a mass of dirty matted hair, mouth bleeding and ill, shivering with sad, abused eyes.

From the moment I saw the drawing on the wall in the pilot episode, I said, wow, look at the bars, it’s a cage. Of course, I didn’t know until 2x6 that Carmy himself drew the sketch himself, as a Christmas gift for Michael, who was trapped in a horrible cage of his own at the time, which makes it all the more telling and poignant. There’s a reason why Carmy drew the sketch this way, even if it was subconscious, with the same bear trapped in a cage, which we see again in his dream.

Photo credit: moments-on-film (me)

At the end of season 2, Carmy is trapped, pacing the cage of the walk-in freezer.

I’ve been so worried about Carmy as a character since the first episode because it is so clear that he’s sick and badly needs help that he’s not getting. He has undiagnosed PTSD, and inner trauma that manifests physically in the form of nightmares, trouble breathing and terrible panic attacks that ravage his body. This has been so visceral to me throughout S1 and S2 that I wrote an analysis post about 🔗Carmy’s Vital Signs, and how they are dangerously visible on screen through Jeremy Allen White’s exceptional acting. The Bear in the pilot script is described as whimpering, crying and ill. If I am correct, this is where Carmy is headed before it can all turn around.

One other little clue that Carmy is metaphorically the bear from the opening scene, is the physical look of Carmy’s hair. From the pilot episode, Carmy’s hair has bothered me. He’s a 3 Star chef, trained with the best, and worked under the abusive chef in New York who must have had him and his hygiene under a microscope. It never made sense to me that his hair at times looked dirty and unkempt while his shirts were immaculately clean, pressed, and white. Below is a quote from an article where Jeremy Allen White talks about his hair as Carmy:

"I also wanted Carmy to always look just a little dirty. There’s a sink on set — everything was functional — and before most takes, I would get water in my hands and run it through my hair to get it looking kind of greasy.”

This always stuck out to me. He’s playing not just any chef, but, in the words of Sydney, “the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the United States of America.” A chef who clearly cares about cleanliness, who gets on his hands and knees to scrub the floor more than once with just his hands and a washcloth. Why would he want him to look dirty? But thinking of it now, if he too knows the arc of Carmy, which he has said Chris Storer has shared with him, then he understands that where we are headed is to witness him as the bear is described, emerging from the cage, “a mass of dirty, matted hair.” The slightly dirty hair is a physical clue into the journey he is on as a character.

I think in future seasons we are going to see a great deal of guilt and therefore self flagellation from Carmy to over correct his mistakes from S2 that is going to further impact his mental and physical health. As I mentioned in a prior post, just like his tattoo, he is constantly dancing on the knife’s edge, and literally putting himself in life threatening danger.

I also have predicted in prior posts that Carmy is going to push himself so hard that he has a major health incident that might finally force Claire (if she’s still around) to actually take note of how sick he actually is. I’m not sure if she’s going to be prominently featured in S3, but I would not be surprised if a health emergency forces Carmy into her life somehow. It never made sense to me that her (then) boyfriend is sick, she’s an ER Doctor, and doesn’t seem to really notice or care.

As I mentioned in my last post, Carmy’s True Purpose, I ultimately believe that Carmy needs to get out of the kitchen and into a life where he can be happy and healthy, and connected to his true life’s purpose. I do not believe that this means Carmy will abandon his found family, or that he will do anything to betray Sydney. I believe she’s his shining star and he will do anything and everything in his power to make sure she gets hers. I also believe they will be in each other’s lives forever because they are truly soulmates. This isn’t about anyone else, though, I think this is about Carmy coming to terms with decades of abuse, unspoken thoughts and feelings, buried passions, his precarious health situation, which is in fact, eating him alive, and letting go of his long held mantra to 🔗 “just keep going”, before it kills him.

Perhaps there’s a way to marry art with the restaurant. That doesn’t solely mean he is only drawing. Maybe what Carmy really should be doing is creating, planning and designing menus, traveling the world to discover new flavors and finding inspiration that can help the restaurant, and provide him with much needed creatively, peace and, yes, joy. Maybe the restaurant will become seasonal and he and Sydney can spend the off time traversing the globe and creating menus together. Maybe down the line he can get out of the commercial kitchen, and he and Sydney’s can revamp her catering company and they can create together is a different environment. I must believe we are headed for somewhere healing, positive and beautiful, despite the valley of despair that ended S2.

The character of Carmy honestly breaks my heart. In him I see someone who so desperately needs a breakthrough and help on so many levels. He so badly needs to discover who he is and what actually makes him happy before it’s too late. I think Carmy is subconsciously very connected to this. His dream, which started the series, continues to haunt me.

One great thing about Carmy’s life are the people who now surround him. In my opinion, he needs to be very careful about how he treats them moving forward. He has people who genuinely love him and who I believe have his best interest at heart. If he pushes himself to the brink and then decides to leave the kitchen for the sake of his health, I believe everyone would ultimately understand. However, no one can take the reins of his life and fix it for him. Only he has that power and create his own reversal of fortune.

If I am correct, for his character to follow the arc of the opening dream scene, all Carmy ultimately has to do is unlock the cage and set himself free.

How he will arrive at that point is the journey of The Bear.

©️moments-on-film 2024