#and having to rely on outside help to fix ANY problem....

[veatomis]

And with the way i decided things went between elio and lucanis it just makes house dellamorte be all the more dead in the water... How are you as the first talon going to let a lower ranking member of the FIFTH HOUSE rescue the heir... How are you as the heir of the first talon going to let yourself be led around by a lower ranking member without expecting any political consequences... And when it comes for the time to do the ONE job you were hired to do you FAIL. As the magekiller you fail to kill a mage. And THEN the fucking fifth talon, who could only come because a member of his house helped save YOUR city, has to cover your asses again when fighting against the dragons of the god you failed to kill. You also decide to let said lower ranking crow help you achieve your position as first talon and IN FRONT OF ALL OTHER CROW HOUSES defer to him to make a decision on what to do with your traitorous cousin. And all of this could've been salvageable if you hadn't fumbled this guy so bad, if you had just locked that shit down when you had the chance you could've become the biggest power couple in all of antiva and also fixed the succession problem within your house but no, you were so lukewarm to this guy who fixed all of your problems he broke up with you without even really being together (and its not like you can really complain when your heart really wasn't into it). So now you're faced with the problem of you being first talon with one of the weakest political claims anyone has ever seen because the fifth talon's protege actually fixed the antaam problem and defeated TWO gods (three actually since if rook hadnt been there to get lucanis out of the blight boils he wouldn't have been able to try to kill ghilan'nain AT ALL) while you and your cousin were squabbling for your house and over a venatori woman not even that well known within the crows and for your grandma who let TWO other crow houses set up shop in her home turf to fix her problems. Lol. Lmao even.

[jingler]

Wizard 101 Dashboard Simulator (set in arc 1)

0 notes

⛈️ fuckfizzles Follow

Hot take but I shouldn't see any life wizards hogging all the health wisps after almost dying in a dungeon for the 50th time. Don't yall have your decks full of nothing but healing spells already 🙄

⚖️ bladesprinter Follow

why is it always the fizzle-addicts being lifephobic

⛈️ fuckfizzles Follow

Why's it always wizards from the weakest schools crying about schoolphobia

⚖️ bladesprinter Follow

mad because you fizzled again arent you

125 notes

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

what's this opaque wizard doing running around dragonspyre lmao

🧭 spiralexplorer38 Follow

OP are you......are you not opaque?

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

um.....no??? i'm translucent like everyone else

🎇 lenora-bitchcrow Follow

Is someone gonna tell them

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

TELL ME WHAT

🐮 mooooooooooshu Follow

How familiar are you with the name Malistaire?

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i think he was a year or two above me in the academy??? what does he have to do with anything????

🐈 marleyboner Follow

im just gonna leave this link for you op: https://spiralpedia.com/malistaire/dragonspyre

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

I'M DEAD???????

⛲️ wysting-away Follow

HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW

🔫 undeadstalker Follow

how is a ghost using spiralblr

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i'm translucent, not incorporeal idiot. and sorry it was kinda hard to tell when EVERYONE in my world ghosted at the same time.

✨️ chad-dickbringer Follow

I FINALLY FOUND THIS POST

⏳️ spiralingdownwardsfast Follow

Oh my titan I only ever saw this post in wandcaps

⛰️ goatedonmooshu Follow

need an update from op on how theyre handling being dead

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i still don't get why some ghosts get to be mysteriously hooded by a shroud and im just translucent me.

23.1k notes

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Honestly DNI if you support the Young Wizard. Since when is murdering banshees okay just because they're hanging out outside?

🌿 bearingclaws Follow

Imagine being so privileged you don't have to worry about being literally killed every time you leave your home because of Malistaire

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

I'm literally from colossus boulevard. And you know what? We made peace with the gobblers instead of just killing them for wanting a place to stay

🧨 themiddleagedwizard Follow

Ohhhhh my titans. You know WHO made peace with the gobblers FOR you? The young wizard. Anti yws don't even know how much they've done for them.

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Even if that were true, you telling me to shut up and be grateful a crazed child solider is slaughtering hundreds of people when I never asked them to do that is not helping your case lmao

🌿 bearingclaws Follow

It's always wizards from peaceful zones critiquing the young wizard and forgetting that we're literally IN A WAR. I don't even think the young wizard has a choice in it because they are literally a minor. Complain to ambrose about it but don't hate on people who are finally getting to experience some peace after malistaire completely fucked their lives over.

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Whatever keep relying on a child solider to fix all your problems but don't be surprised if they get addicted to all that killing and become the next malistaire

🧨 themiddleagedwizard Follow

You CANNOT seriously be comparing the young wizard to malistaire i

Expand

5,480 notes

❄️ iceytears Follow

being a goth but not a necromancer is so funny. sorry for the confusion I can't actually raise ghouls from the dead I just know that black eyeliner is hot.

273 notes

🐴 diegosdick-andballs Follow

at this point whoevers going to save the spiral is gonna come from some dumb world named dirt or some shit

🦄 uniquelymyway Follow

The original date of this post is crazy

🐴 diegosdick-andballs Follow

I forgot about this post holy shit?!

🍖 gobblinthatass Follow

20.3k notes

🛡 meetmeatthearena Follow

I know that ambrose isn't a deathphobe but it's very funny how from an outsider's perspective it definitely looks that way. Like welcome to my academy here's all these beautiful buildings and trees for the other schools meanwhile the death school is just like. Hole.

🎩 strongermarleyboner Follow

op casually forgetting the balance school exists

🛡 meetmeatthearena Follow

I don't think ambrose even knows the balance school exists

4,346 notes

👻 krokpenceee Follow

Introducing Krokpenceee Heals

So I noticed how unhappiness can really plague us. Sometimes the spiral throws so many hit spells at us. It prevents us from being happy and free-spirited. I really want to reach out and help people break free of certain negative patterns in their lives, so I’ve created Krokpenceee Heals. I am an extremely intuitive and empathetic individual. I will never judge or disclose any of your problems to anyone. I will help you transcend confusion, and self-limiting beliefs so that you can be the best version of yourself. 

🔥 dragula-fireblade Follow

aren't you the krok whose family owns a mander slave

12.4k notes

🍑 youngwizard-official Follow

malistaire's not gonna know what's coming when i hit him with my massive dong

🎃 darkcavelurker Follow

why is this the only post on the young wizard's spiralblr

🧵 stitchbitchly Follow

Probably too busy doing the gangnum style over the corpses they create

[shizuturnspages]

HII I'm the anon who sent the darling who isn't from teyvat request!! I hope u don't mind me request because ur writings are just chef kiss! :3 i don't have a specific request but can i have a darling who's generally clingy or dependant on them emotionally with Ororon, kinich, and xiao? feel free if u still wanna do the outsider darling!! no need to rush :3

Of course! I'm not doing the outsider darling specifically, but rather as a clingy darling in general

Ororon

Ororon thrives on being needed, and having a darling who’s emotionally dependent on him makes him absolutely euphoric. He’s always had this primal urge to protect, and your reliance on him feeds directly into his instincts.

❥ Overwhelming Presence: Ororon never leaves your side. He’s always there—whether you want him to be or not. If you even hint at feeling upset or unsure, he’ll be there in an instant, wrapping you in his arms and growling at anything or anyone that dares to make you feel uneasy. “I’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry about anything, ever.”

❥ Possessive Tendencies: Your emotional dependency makes him feel indispensable, but it also makes him paranoid. If anyone else tries to comfort you or be there for you, Ororon sees it as a direct threat. He doesn’t say anything to you about it, but the person in question might mysteriously disappear or suffer an “accident.”

❥ Reassuring Manipulation: Ororon uses your emotional neediness to keep you close. He’s constantly telling you that no one else understands you the way he does. “You don’t need anyone else, darling. Just stay with me, and I’ll take care of everything.”

“I like that you need me. It makes it easier to keep you safe. Don’t ever change.”

Kinich

Kinich sees your emotional dependency as a perfect way to bind you to him permanently. He’s already a schemer by nature, so your need for comfort and reassurance gives him endless opportunities to solidify his place in your life.

❥ Emotional Anchor: Kinich is always there to lend a listening ear or a comforting hand, but it’s never entirely selfless. He subtly reinforces the idea that he’s the only one who truly understands you. “No one else could possibly know you the way I do. Trust me; I’ll never let you down.”

❥ Subtle Isolation: Kinich makes it so that you don’t feel like you can depend on anyone else. He’ll plant little seeds of doubt about others in your life, all while positioning himself as the only constant you can rely on. “They don’t seem to care about you as much as I do. Have you noticed that?”

❥ Protective Scheming: If you ever express discomfort or sadness, Kinich is quick to fix the problem—his way. Whether it’s orchestrating a confrontation or quietly sabotaging someone who’s hurt you, he handles it all behind the scenes. You’ll never even realize the lengths he’s gone to just to see you smile.

“You’re so dependent on me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You belong right here, with me.”

Xiao

Xiao isn’t great at handling emotions, so when you become emotionally dependent on him, he’s a mix of overwhelmed and secretly touched. He’s spent so long keeping his distance from mortals, and now here you are, completely reliant on him—it’s a combination of terrifying and intoxicating.

❥ Protective to the Extreme: Xiao takes your emotional dependency very seriously. He sees it as his duty to protect you from everything, including your own feelings of sadness or fear. If he could, he’d take on all your pain himself. “You don’t need to feel this way. I’ll make it better. Just… don’t leave.”

❥ Awkward Comfort: Xiao struggles with words, but he tries his best to comfort you in his own way. He’ll stay close, offer quiet reassurances, and eliminate any external threats that might be causing you distress. “I may not know how to help, but I won’t let anything hurt you.”

❥ Devotion Turned Obsession: Your dependence on him becomes his everything. Xiao starts to see himself as your sole protector, the one thing keeping you grounded in this world. His protective instincts quickly spiral into possessiveness, and he’ll grow angry if anyone else tries to take on his role.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay. As long as you need me, I’ll stay. Even if you don't, I'll still be here.”

[gohyuck]

you&i

image from user themightyjen on twitter

pairing: jeno x reader and they are exes but they get back together sort of (i mistakenly used a previous work of mine’s earlier pairing when i first posted this!)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: right under 1.5k, this was a quickwrite

notes: liam payne died so i started listening to one direction again and you & i just had me Thinking long and hard... also f1 mentions lol

It is a bizarre cliché, really, and you wish you could laugh at Jeno’s outstretched hand as he wordlessly begs you to follow him out onto the fire escape. Your building is not at all up to code, and you have to force yourself through one hardly-cracked open window to make it out to where he is, having climbed up from the outside. In a completely unsurprising move, he has an overloose black leather jacket on, though it doesn’t stay that way for long — he ignores you ignoring the hand he’d put out to help you through the window and instead puts it to use shirking the leather off and throwing it over his shoulder like some two-bit greaser. 

He dangles a Corona bottle — yeuch — from his other hand, and he treats it quite gingerly. Jeno’s projecting his feelings onto the delicate glass, because of course he is. He’s a shrink’s wet dream. Not too troubled, not too troubling, but still itching to hurt and be hurt. You expect that Jeno’s “fixable,” but neither you nor him expect you to be the one to go about doing any fixing. 

“Want some?” He anticipates that you’ll shake your head, can visualize the peach moscato in your fridge door at this very moment, practically tastes how too-sweet it is. You so badly want to grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig of what really is dry bready water just to spite him, but you can’t justify the assault on your taste buds. 

You shake your head, already dreaming of the peach moscato in your fridge door. That’ll be a treat after this whole thing. You, of course, are pushing your emotions away — your psychiatrist will love and hate the debrief that’s coming to her within the next 24 hours. 

“We’re like day and night.” You want to expand on your thought, but it seems impossible to verbalize beyond this vague utterance. Fuck your life. Jeno nods, bites down on a corner of his mouth before taking the kind of swig you’d briefly daydreamed of. When he puts his other hand down right by yours, your breath catches on impulse, but only for a second. 

“They bleed into each other sometimes.” He tells you this as if you’ve never experienced the sunset. You wish you could laugh at him, but that would be cruel, unusual, and untrue. Jeno, for all his pompous exterior, is the day in this make-believe situation. Of course, the two of you are more similar than you are different. Of course, if one of you actually acknowledges this fact, the other will refute it. Maybe you’re projecting now. His leather jacket and building climbing and Corona drinking self is such a caricature that he circles back to being unequivocally real to you. Unequivocally yours. 

“They’re broken up in the same way we’re broken up.” You try your resolve. 

“Are we broken up?”

“We could probably make it if we try.” You fold a corner of your lower lip into your mouth, tucking it gently between the harsh rows of your teeth. This is a tell, though of what, you remain unsure. Jeno thinks you’re being honest when you say this, but there’s something inherently duplicitous to even having thought it. Do you mean ‘making it’ as in ‘making it as a pair of exes’ or in some other more ephemeral way? He tries his luck. 

“Do you think they ever fight like us?” 

The reason for your most recent break up is, of course, some fight over something that must have been extremely important to both of you in completely separate ways, but neither of you can genuinely recollect the entire experience. For one, he’d been high, and you’d been drunk. Neither of your problems are too far gone to kick, but everyone relies on something or the other to get them through particularly rough weeks. It was rare that your vice intersected with his; it was rare either got out of hand. 

And yet. A joint may be the only thing conspicuously missing from him at this very moment, actually, but you don’t doubt that he has rolling papers in his back left pocket even now as he leans his ass against your building’s run-down brick walls. 

“The day and the night? I think they can’t stand each other.” You reach for his beer, and he gives it up with ease. He’s nothing if not giving. Your chest hurts, there’s a reason you don’t smoke. Jeno reaches around and puts his jacket over your shoulders as you take the tiniest of sips, and you settle into it like you’d slip into conversation with an old friend. Jeno’s pinky finger extends, and you feel the dull coolness of his faux silver ring press almost imperceptibly at the bottom of your own fifth finger’s second knuckle. 

He pulls a pack of Golds from his back pocket — you’d been wrong about the weed stuff, it seems — and you pull a cigarette out when he flips it open. Jeno’s eyebrows pull together, but every feature of his drops simultaneously when you simply turn it upside down and put it back in. The designated final smoke, for good luck. Your ex — ex? — pulls it together quickly enough, and you do him the service of pretending. 

“You can’t stand me?”

The defiance mingled with disbelief, confusion, genuine apprehension all come together into the kind of cocktail that can only break your heart. Jeno hasn’t even fished out a cigarette yet, his brilliantly red lighter undoubtedly still in his jacket. He really wants a straight answer from you. 

“Two Ferrari wins in a row, in the double header,” You just say, every other word tamped down on by an impenetrable force. “I still haven’t canceled my F1 TV subscription.”

“You’re really into it, no matter what you say.” He’s certainly right, but you refuse to let him know just how often Forza Ferrari Siempre really comes into play for you. Jeno, with his head in your lap as you take a swig of absolutely horrendous Big Red from a mug he’d made on a pottery date (“it’s good luck” your ass). Jeno, pacing around his dining table while he mutters about how Charles Leclerc suffers more than Jesus. Jeno, pulling you into his arms after you give him a Ferrari-red lighter on a whim. 

“I just like watching car crashes.”

“I still have the lighter you gave me.”

Both of you speak at once, stunned immediately into confused silence. A sob gets caught in your throat early enough to where it becomes a snicker, and Jeno sniffles into a snort of laughter, and suddenly you’re face-first in his chest and he’s giggling into your hair. He says something about being incapable of remembering what your fight was about, and you whisper that you know he’s smoking cigarettes so he stays off of weed and off of paranoia. You appreciate him. 

“We could switch vices,” He gestures towards the beer that’s in your hand. “Ever think about lighting up?”

“I’d rather die.” Your eyes turn up with the corners of your lips.

“We could make it if we tried.” Jeno shrugs, and his hand finally settles onto yours, a weight you’d sorely missed. Stupid, stupid argument with very real implications. 

“You and I?

“I can more than stand you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone of voice is jovial but his gaze is steady. His implicit question hangs in the air, the begging of reciprocity only unbecoming if verbalized. You turn your hand over under his and lace your fingers together, jagged and messy. 

“With all this teen angst in our twenties, we should probably start sitting down instead.” Jeno isn’t going to get too far through your general sense of levity, but he knows that you’ll murmur apologies and promises to him later tonight. You’ll make good this time, and so will he. 

“I’ll pour out your moscato if you put on the highlights from last week’s race.” He tilts his head towards your open window, and you set the Corona down at your feet, knowing full and well that neither of you are finishing that now. He’s made some amends though — you’ll work on the cigarette smoking, but at least it doesn’t affect how he treats you — and you recognize that you need to do the same. Jeno is sound to your silence. 

“Pour it into the sink, if you can.” 

Your boyfriend seems stunned, comically so as he pauses to look back at you while only halfway into your apartment. You follow up with some rib about how you still have Big Red in your fridge, stifling a laugh at his own wince, but his overarching surprise reigns supreme. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re sure — his eyebrows do it for him. You nod, knowing all kinds of questions deserve answers.

“We can make it if we try.”

[lieutenantfloyd]

I absolutely adore the way you write for Cyclone. I was wondering if you'd be open to writing about Beau where his wife is having a bad day and she's just really in her own head and not really paying attention and he helps pull her out of own head in his own quite steady loving way

Beach House - Cyclone x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: When life gets to you, your husband Beau helps in the only way he knows how—by being there.

Warnings: domestic fluff, light angst, husband! Beau trying his best.

Author's Note: Thank you for this request and the kind words!

Read on AO3

Beau had never been good at these kinds of things. Let anyone who knew him tell it, he was all firm looks and practical advice. Not a warm and forgiving bone in his body.

But he had a good head on his shoulders. A strong pair of hands—not soft, but always warm and just as steady—that he was ripe to use whenever he felt the situation called for it. Beau was not a gentle man, but he was one who fixed problems.

Tonight Beau stood in the kitchen, holding a mug uncomfortably in those same hands he silently prided himself on and had spent the day using to sign off on papers he still didn’t feel quite qualified to handle. The steam rising from the mug taunted him in his staring, a steady stream not too dissimilar to the thoughts running through his mind. He glanced around the too quiet house as if that would give him some direction. He could hear the clock ticking away in the hallway and the faint sound of the ocean and wind funneling in through the open back door. There was no TV in the background, no dinner baking in the oven. And most of all, no you.

When the door slammed shut on the rare occasion Beau arrived home in the evening earlier than you did, you hadn’t said a word as you flung your bag onto the strategically placed hooks in the hallway—all Beau’s doing—and kicked your shoes off with the last bit of energy you had. They landed vaguely under the hall entryway table—a bright addition to the space you had suggested—and headed out the back door, still yet to speak a word.

That was two hours ago.

Beau, again, was not a man to hover. Dawdling away idle time was a sin of great measure in his book. There was always something to be done, and in his commanding mind, idleness was akin to laziness, and laziness akin to failure. Yet in the two hours you’d been outside, a myriad of tasks had been completed. A new bulb in his bedside lamp. The complete reorder and organization of the kitchen junk drawer. New linens put on in the guest bedroom. All quiet things, chores and charges he knew had been on your list for weeks or, in the rarest of cases, had been asked of him mindlessly over dinner when both of you were set in avoiding the topic of your respective days.

Still, those tasks had only made a dent in the overall load of life lately. Not one of them had helped him forget that brief flash of complete fatigue he’d seen in your eyes.

He didn’t know what had happened that day. If anything, he was the type to expect you to come to him with any problems, complaints, or just a random story instead of relying on close looks and guesswork. Too much expended energy, he told himself. But tonight you hadn’t offered, hadn’t sought him out in his office or on the couch to ramble on about all those small details with that bright eyed look while he listened with a far more rapt attention than he’d ever dare to admit to. No, you just…left. It was an act all too familiar to not bother him, though if anything that was his MO, not yours. Maybe that’s why it ate at him more and more as the minutes passed. You hadn’t offered up a word, and he just didn't know how to ask.

So there he stands, back against the counter and still holding that mug, the warmth of it against his hand doing little to make up for what should be flowing through his bachelor pad-turned-marital home. Beau was a well rounded man, prideful in that. So he bit the bullet and stepped out of the back door.

The slight chill in the air reached him first, then did the cotton candy sky and the now louder sound of waves. It would have been a beautiful night in San Diego if the weight of everything wasn’t looming over him, but again he steeled himself and forged ahead.

Sitting in a metal deck chair just beginning to rust was you, knees pulled up and expression as unreadable as you always joked his was. Your arm rested on your knee and your head rested atop that, face turned towards the horizon and the ocean you could just make out beneath it.

Beau paused, debating his next move, then took a step forward. The weathered boards creaked under his weight, and you finally glanced up. You didn't say anything, just watched him almost curiously for a second before going back to the view.

That wasn’t a rejection, so permission it was.

Beau stepped quietly over to you, posture as straight and expression as unreadable as ever. He cleared his throat and held out the mug.

"No milk," he says simply, "Just honey."

You glanced at him again then. Only now does he see that your eyes are tired, and it takes more effort than he’d admit to bite back a curse.

Eventually you reach out, taking it with the smallest of smiles. It doesn’t lift at the corners, but at least it’s a start.

"Thank you," you say, voice quiet as your fingers wrap more firmly around the mug, as if the warmth of its contents is shaking the frigidity from your being in real time.

Beau nods firmly, letting a beat pass before he takes a seat in one of the adjoining chairs scattered around the deck. Now a few feet away, he lets out a sigh and settles in to stare vaguely where you are, though really he’s lost in thought.

“…you can say it,” he chimes in after a moment.

He didn’t even need to look over to see your brows furrow, and a part of him finds some kind of amusement in your expression—purely because he can tell it’s forced.

On a good day, you picked at him. Nothing genuine or even that specific, just liking comments made about his firm disposition. He’d gotten more and more into the habit of sighing lately, something he hadn’t even noticed until one day you chimed in about his “old man habits” from your spot across the living room. It’d earned you a hardline scowl then, which only spurred you on more, much to his complicated amusement.

He’d expected another comment then—or at least what’s what he told himself. Your jokes and well meaning annoyances were expected, not wanted. But now that they were missing he couldn’t help how his instincts screamed for him to fix it. That’s what he does, after all. He wanted to ask what happened. To have all the necessary details typed up, filed, and pushed across his desk by the end of the hour. But that's his own wants speaking, not what you needed.

So he sat.

You sipped your tea at irregular intervals, and the sun fell lower and lower right on schedule. He checked his watch, and fought the urge to sigh at nothing. There was a ribbon of discomfort in the silence between you, but nonetheless he persisted.

Time passed. Minutes first, then larger chunks. He stopped counting around the thirty minute mark because it truly didn’t matter. Instead he focused on what did. The tangible. You were breathing deeper, taking longer sips of tea that even he had to admit must be somewhat refreshing. You looked better, too. Maybe not perfect and far from happy, but less like the sky was falling. Less like everything you both knew had been pulled into question. He finally lets the sigh escape.

"…your age is showing," you mumble.

There she is, he thinks. And damn it if he doesn’t feel a hint of amusement tug at the corner of his mouth

He glances over. "Bad day?"

It’s your turn to look at him now, eyes just a little brighter. "Yeah."

“I figured,” He nods firmly. Almost simple in gesture. Accepting.

You watch him for a while longer, eyes tracing over his features in a way that felt like home to you after all these years—second nature, in a sense.

"It’s not a big deal, just a bad morning then things piled up and…yeah. By the time I got back I didn't have the energy to explain it all, and then I felt stupid for thinking about it that much at all."

"You're not stupid,” he says firmly.

You know that. Of course you know that. But on certain days logic just seems to go out the window.

“Yeah. Yeah of course, I just…” You trail off there, and he jumps right in.

“If it causes you to shut yourself off like this, it’s a big deal,” he says, adding on with those words said in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

You nod faintly, blowing on your tea despite the fact that it hasn’t been anything but lukewarm in half an hour.

“I just don’t want you thinking it’s your job to fix it.”

It’s his turn to pause at that, he briefest of looks flashing through his eyes, something you would’ve called hurt if you didn’t think you know better.

“Anything to do with you is my job. You’re my wife.”

You looked at him again, more directly this time. Blowing on your tea once more to give you a minute to think. Something in your own expression flickered, his words being something you always knew to be true but at the same time never spoken aloud, at least not directly.

Beau takes his own breath. He wasn't good at this. He didn't know how to throw out words of comfort or even positive emotion explicitly. Those things didn’t occur to him. But what he had was time and attention to detail that rivaled none. He could notice a shoelace tied wrong from across the room just as well as he could tell when to shut up. Which he did then. Letting you work through your own thoughts in a silence that wasn't absence, but presence. All from a man who loved you more than life itself. That, he figured, had to count for something.

You both sat like that, together for a long while. Candy pinks gave way for deep blues until somewhere down the street, you could hear a party being thrown.

Finally meet the neighbors, you thought. Another task on your list that had gotten pushed back and then forgotten. You’d lived here for years, made the place your own in a way Beau never got around to in all the time since he’d bought it after being stationed. He’d kept the place bare enough to be functional, white plates that screamed economical and a few extra places to sit so he could pretend he ever had people over if anyone asked. It was smart. Boring maybe, given the hopelessly neutral grey-beige-brown theme he fell victim to in the name of practicality. But really it was nice enough. Then one year you moved in after a long and somewhat unprompted situation, and in with it came comfort and colors and nights spent together just like this. He was reluctant, of course he was, ranging from mild grumbling to straight up vetoing your idea to repaint half the house together next time he was on leave. Life went on, and he was still Beau, though things…changed. The dishes in the cabinet were still that same white porcelain but the towels in both bathrooms were fluffy, vibrant, and definitely not purchased at the Navy Exchange.

There was a metaphor there. Beau didn’t think about it.

The tea cooled, and most of the house now was a softest blue hue.

Eventually, you shifted. Setting your mug on the ground then leaning over just a bit so you can rest your head against his shoulder. Beau tensed--an old habit he never could quite shake--before he began to relax just enough.

He puts an arm around you, pulling you a hair closer with his hand on your middle as steady as ever before he speaks.

"I mean what I said," he speaks, slow and quietly, "I’m here, doll. I'll always be here."

You let out a breath at that, finally steady and sure yourself.

"I know you are.”

His grip tightened, assured at your words but he didn’t smile, not exactly. Instead, when you glanced up you spotted him looking first, the faintest hint of affection in his eyes—something you’d happily tease him for at a later date once tonight has blown over.

taglist: @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @bella-law @callsignaries @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @xoxabs88xox @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @paola-carter @barbiewritesstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @nyx2021 @teti-menchon0604 @kmc1989

[celaenaeiln]

i mean this in the most neutral tone, but, im genuinely confused with this eldest daughter syndrome dick thing? as far as i know, he never lives in the manor with other batsiblings and personally take care of them except damian, and just "yeets" from any possible trouble or tension within the siblings or when they have issues with bruce

No worries I totally get it! And I'm here to deliver!

First, to be fair to Dick, no one lives in the manor aside from Damian and sometimes Tim.

Dick lives in Bludhaven, Steph lives in Gotham U? She's been in and out of comics but otherwise her own house. Cass lives in Leslie's clinic, Tim alternates between the Titans and the manor, Jason lives anywhere that doesn't have Bruce, and Duke lives with his uncle.

However that doesn't mean they don't all rely on him.

I think the confusion comes from scenes like this-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #10

Where it seems like Dick just left Tim to deal with Bruce on his own. But-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #10

Dick called him. When Tim when to him for advice, he gave him advice but also knew it couldn't just stop there. So he called Bruce to get it through his thick head that he's allowed to be happy. If there's anyone that can change Bruce's mind on anything it's Dick.

Which brings me to my next instance of Dick acting as the mediator and emotional burden lifter of his family. When each batkid dies (or almost dies in Dick's case), Bruce grieves in a different way. With Jason he took it out on criminals, with Tim he took it out on himself, with Dick he took it out on criminals and heroes, and with Damian, he wanted to undo what happened. He torments Jason about it, goes too hard on the criminals, gets worsened by Barbara, gets helped a little by Selina but also feels a billion times worse about Damian's death so-

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

He locks himself in a simulator for days trying to see and fix where he went from when Heretic killed Damian. Nothing gets through to him so Alfred pulls out the Big Guns - he calls in Dick.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

"Richard just came in from Chicago to--"

"Talk some sense into me?"

"Yes, I've implored you to shut this...thing off and join the living, but you have turned a deaf ear for days."

"This calling in the cavalry routine is getting old, Alfred."

Since the dawn of Batman and Robin, Dick has always acted as the mediator for Bruce and the family. Always.

With Dick's help, finally, after days, Damian's saved.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

And Dick finally brings Bruce back to life.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

He took a destructive, dead-man-walking and breathed life and hope back into him to stop him from taking his grief and anger out on his family and criminals.

Also-

LOOK AT THE WAY THEY'RE SEATED. DICK IS LITERALLY BRUCE'S THERAPIST.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

Calling in the cavalry always works.

Of course there's times when Dick doesn't help mediate. But the issue is not that he doesn't want to or he pushes it off, it's that he can't. What the hell are you supposed to do when the mediator who mediates all your problems is themself broken?

Dick really wants to help Tim but he can't. He can't find it in himself to barely live right now because Donna-his platonic soulmate-is dead.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

He really can't.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

She was his sister too. Pretty much blood.

I actually think the fact that Dick doesn't live in the manor makes the fact that he still takes care of all his siblings and their problems with Bruce even more important. To calm and rationalize down Bruce and take care of his siblings, he's constantly flying or driving back and forth between different cities, dropping his cases and work, ignoring his problems, just to be there for them.

For another example, when Dick hears that the newest Batman is causing problems in Gotham and Bruce just abandoned Tim to deal with everything and Tim nearly got hurt, he comes all the way back to Gotham to rail Bruce out for doing that to him.

Robin (1993) Issue #8

When Bruce teams with Damian their relationship so tumultuous but once again Dick steps in.

Batman: The Return

"I need a partner who can stay focused and keep up."

"Bruce, come on! I made a career out of not doing anything I was told when I was Robin. He gave up everything for this. You can't just take it away...you can't cut him out."

He keeps Robin from being fired and continues being Damian's support system.

It's not just mediating though, Dick fully steps in to take care of the batfamily whenever Bruce absconds or there's trouble.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #24

He's like the command center of the family.

This picture just embodies his role.

Batman (2011) Issue #15

And as Bruce once said-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #22

He's really the eldest daughter and caretaker.

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Clueless is an Understatement

This may not be the original idea for Rayne that I had, but at the same time, it is an extremely adorable request that I could not refuse! Plus it allows me to try and write a character that is similar to Mash (I love his brainless antics). I hope that you enjoy this fanfic @jennapancake! Thank you again for the request! Gifs are not mine.

Summary: Y/N Burnedead, Mash's older sibling, followed him to Easton Magic Academy to help protect him on his quest to become a divine visionary. Along the way, they caught the attention of Rayne Ames, who is absolutely smitten by Y/N. The only problem: Y/N does not know how to take a hint.

Warnings: reader has some small injuries, mentions of blood, otherwise none (but if I miss something let me know!)

In a world where magic users dominate the population, there were two non-magic users who were hoping to change their fates and prove that magic was not the only thing that made a person worthy in the eyes of higher powers. The first one was Mash Burnedead: a boy who relied only on his powerful muscles in order to become the divine visionary and allow his family to live in peace. The other is Y/N Burnedead, Mash's older sibling who is also a non-magic user and just as strong as their younger brother. Y/N knew that Mash would face a lot of dangerous challenges and potentially evil foes during his time at Easton Magic Academy, so they took it upon themselves to take the entrance exam as well and help Mash on his quest.

At first, many of the other students wondered why a person as old as Y/N waited so long to join the academy, but they made up the excuse that they were simply too nervous to participate in the entrance exam until now. Of course this was far from the case due to Y/N's trust in their own muscular strength, but it was a necessary lie to keep people off of their backs. Y/N and Mash only allowed trusted friends to know their non-magic status, or the more accurate truth, they all found out after the battle with the Magia Lupis.

"Dude, I still can't believe you have no magic power at all! That is total side character ener-," Y/N smacked Dot across the face before he could finish his sentence.

"And yet you let a side character show you up," Y/N said as they dusted off their uniform. Y/N walked over to Mash and ruffled his hair, causing him to mumble as he tried to fix it. "Come on, you know I don't like my hair being messed with, Y/N."

"I couldn't help it, little brother. You are just too precious sometimes," Y/N said in a monotone and yet excited voice. "Don't forget we have our workout scheduled for 3 today after my classes are finished, and I can't wait to out rep you today."

Mash shook his head from side to side. "Only in your dreams, sibling."

Despite being a first year, Y/N managed to be placed in some upper level courses at Easton, one of which being the Study of Magical Creatures. Rayne Ames, a current divine visionary and the older sibling of Y/N and Mash's friend Finn, also helped to pull some strings for the older Burnedead. It's not that he doubted their prowess, and if anything, it was their power that Rayne admired along with their beauty and talents. However, some of the professors were still skeptical of Y/N and Mash when it came to their "magic" abilities, so he offered his support in their favor.

Today's class would be taking place outside in one of the open pastures by the school, with today's lesson involving herding and calming wild Wrivian's, horse-dragon hybrids that were the size of a small cottage. Rayne was waiting patiently for Y/N to arrive for class, and he caught himself checking his robe for any stray crumbs from lunch. He never used to worry about his appearance since he is usually well-kept, and yet ever since he met Y/N, he felt the need to look even more pristine when he knew they would be around.

Not that Y/N would notice the small details to begin with...

Y/N arrived a few minutes before class began, and Rayne waved at them as they approached. "Good afternoon, Y/N. Are you ready for today's class?" Rayne stated with a slight smile.

Y/N clenched their fist as they took on a fighting pose. "I was born ready, Rayne. Any challenge that these Wrivian's bring, I will take each one down with my fist."

Rayne let out a chuckle as he moved to stand beside them. "I thought you would say something along those lines."

The professor explained the task to the students, making sure to reiterate that no harm should be brought to any of the Wrivian's or they would fail the assignment. All the students broke off into pairs, which would make wrangling the beasts an easy task, but Y/N and Rayne faced more difficulties. Rayne used frontal attacks with Partisan to deflect the fiery breath from the Wrivian, the creature's emerald scales flexing as it weaved expertly through the air. Y/N took more of a distraction approach as they waited for the right time to strike.

"Y/N, they have a blind spot if you move to the right! Now is the time to tame this beast! Remember, avoid harm at all costs!" Rayne instructed as he launched the silvery swords of Partisan one last time.

"Kay', taming magic activate!" Y/N shouted the fake spell as they squatted and leaped into the air, easily reaching the Wrivian hovering in the sky. Y/N grabbed the Wrivian around it's broad neck, the rough texture of the scales cutting into their hands as their weight brought them and the creature back down to the ground. The cloud of dust and the immense crash had Rayne worried, not so much about failing the assignment but for Y/N's safety. I really have fallen for them, Rayne thought as he dashed to the scene. He expected to see the Wrivian knocked out from Y/N's brute strength, but Rayne was shocked to see that the creature did not have a scratch on it. If anything, it seemed quite happy as it expertly stole a cream puff from Y/N's cloak.

"Hey, that's my afternoon cream puff," Y/N whined at first as they looked up at the beast with a minor frown, but as the Wrivian let out a whinny at the sweet treat, Y/N sighed in defeat as their head drooped. "Then again, it seems to be making you pretty happy too."

Rayne gasped as he knelt down by Y/N, who was too distracted by the loss of their cream puff to notice the crimson liquid dripping from their hands. Rayne placed his hands on Y/N's forearms and lifted them up, his cheeks dusting with pink as he felt the muscles under their cloak. "You're hurt, Y/N. Please, let me take you to the infirmary and help bandage your wounds."

Y/N looked down at their hands and blinked. "Oh, looks like I am bleeding, huh? Oopsies." Rayne playfully rolled his eyes at Y/N's unawareness as he helped them to their feet, an arm wrapping protectively around their waist despite Y/N's ability to walk. Y/N's brows furrowed as they looked at Rayne. "Why is your arm around my waist if I can walk?"

"Just a precaution to make sure that you have no underlying injuries," Rayne replied.

"But you can see me walking, Rayne? Are you sure I need assistance?"

The two students finally arrived at the infirmary, and Y/N sat on one of the medical beds while Rayne treated their wounds. He started by cleaning the cuts and applying alcohol to the wounds, causing Y/N to flinch. "Ouchie, that burns a little." Rayne only smiled as his golden eyes remained filled with adoration. Once Y/N was all bandaged up, Rayne laid a kiss on each of their hands. "There, you should be fully healed in a few days."

Y/N tilted their head. "Was that a magic healing spell? Can you teach it to me?"

Rayne smirked as he ruffled his blonde streaked hair. "I could probably teach you the spell over dinner. Would you care to join me?"

"Well I would, but Mash and the others always go to dinner with me on this day of the week. I am making cream puff this evening, if you wanted to join, and the others would be happy to see you." Y/N rambled as they tapped their chin.

"We can bring the cream puff to them when we are finished, but I need your full attention to teach you this spell," Rayne said as he tried to find a way to spend time alone with Y/N. He adored the others yes, especially his brother Finn, but he had longed to ask Y/N on a date for some time now. There was something about them that was charming and adorable, and Rayne could not resist them. Y/N's eyes widened as they absorbed Rayne's words. "Ohh that makes more sense. I will see you then, Rayne." With that, Y/N hopped off the medical bed and left with a brief wave as Rayne started to devise a game plan for tonight.

............................................................................................................................

Rayne arrived at the dorm kitchens around the time Y/N had specified, a bouquet of their favorite flowers in hand. He entered the kitchen and was greeted by Y/N wearing a frilly apron that matched the one that Mash typically wore. They were currently whisking the eggs for the cream puffs with calculated precision. Rayne smiled as he leaned over the counter and presented the flowers to Y/N. "I brought these for you, Y/N, and I hope that you will enjoy them."

Y/N halted their whisking and took the flowers from Rayne, eagerly sniffing the fresh blooms. "These smell like the flowers back home, but I don't know if they will taste good in the cream puffs."

"They won't be going in the cream puffs, you dork. They are for you to look at and admire from afar." Rayne explained as he conjured up a glass vase. Y/N let out an exclamation of excitement as they tapped the vase to see if it was real before going back to whisking. Rayne rested his head in his hand as he watched Y/N make the cream puffs from memory. While the cream puffs were baking, Rayne took this as a sign to make his feelings known. "I am excited to try these delicious cream puffs, but I have no doubt that they will not be as sweet as you are."

"I always put four cups of sugar into the dough, and along with this custard cream, they will be the perfect amount of sweetness." Y/N assured as they plopped down in the seat next to Rayne. They perked up as they remembered the conversation they had with Rayne earlier. "Oh, you said you would teach me that healing spell? Unlike my brother, I can learn things pretty quickly."

An idea materialized in Rayne's head as he pretended to pop his knuckles. "Luckily, this spell does not require a wand like most spells, and I believe that you have the abilities and strength to master this spell in no time. Firstly, you take the hands of the person that you want to heal." Rayne turned to face Y/N as they took their hands in his, the bandages from earlier soft to the touch, but Rayne wished he could feel Y/N's actual hands instead. Y/N continued to absorb the instructions like a sponge as they replied with a "got it".

"Next, you approach the subject closer so you can determine the state of their injuries." Rayne closed the gap between him and Y/N until their face's were inches apart, allowing him to admire all of the amazing features of Y/N's face. He swore that no deity could be more gorgeous than them. Y/N nodded as they maintained eye contact with Rayne and made sure to process each step clearly. "Finally," Rayne started as he placed a hand on Y/N's cheek, "You perform the healing spell." Before Rayne could complete his plan, the loud ding of the oven interrupted him, and Y/N shot up from their seat faster than a lightning strike. "Cream puffs are done!" They shouted excitedly.

Y/N finalized the delicious treats and handed the first ones to Rayne. He bit into the pastry and hummed with delight as Y/N ate their portion of the cream puffs in a few gulps. "These are perfect, Y/N, and I must admit that this would make for a perfect date," Rayne said as he smiled more than he had in months. Y/N was once again confused.

"Isn't that a type of fruit?"

"Yes, you are correct, but it is also the time spent between two individuals that care about each other as a way to show affection for one another. Y/N Burnedead, I care about you more and more each and every day, and I would destroy every evil force in this magical realm if it means that you are safe by my side. I would be yours if that is what you wish, but if you need more time, I understand completely." Rayne blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, but Y/N still could not see the full picture.

"I could help you beat up the villains instead, but I would need to focus on more bicep training first. Maybe Mash would know-," Y/N's sentence was cut short as Rayne gently pressed his lips against theirs as his hand returned to caress their cheek once again. Y/N did not fully understand what to do, but they did enjoy the feeling of Rayne being so close to them. When Rayne pulled away, the realization of his words and actions finally set in, and Y/N turned as red as the strawberries they used in the cream puffs. Y/N's brain started to short circuit as the affection became to much. "I-I-I guess that t-t-this makes us a, makes us a..."

Rayne kissed Y/N's cheek as a genuine laugh rumbled in his chest. "Yes, this makes us a couple, if that is what you desire. There is no one in all of Easton that would make a better match for a divine visionary."

Y/N could not help but smile as they fiddled with their hands. "I-I would like that very much."

Bonus:

"Did you save some cream puffs for me?"

"Of course, I always save the perfect ones for my favorite little sibling." Y/N handed over the cream puffs to Mash as he excitedly munched on the pastries. Lemon and Finn had just entered the room, and Lemon could not help but squeal as she nudged Y/N with her elbow. "And I heard that Y/N made cream puffs with the Rayne Ames last night!!! So, did anything exciting happen?! I must know!!"

Y/N shrugged as they took a bite from their own cream puff. "Rayne taught me a new spell while I made the cream puffs. We also kissed, and now we are dating. Nothing too exciting though."

Lemon screamed with joy as she nearly fainted at the news, but it was Finn whose jaw dropped as he flailed his arms in the air. "YOU'RE DATING MY BROTHER?! AND YOU KISSED?! I did not need to know that!!" Finn dashed from the room as his face flushed with embarrassment, but Lemon wanted to hear more.

"So, do you want to go over wedding plans with me?"

Tag list: @mayurin17, @thebasicbword, @kemis-world, @sereniteav

[wetcatspellcaster]

You do a great job in AHL of acknowledging the magic system of the game without using game-y words like spell slots or leveling up. It’s got good narrative balance! That said, do you pay attention to magic systems in fantasy? Do you have any works that either bugged you or impressed in how the magic system is done? I’m working on a story and I’m getting mired in making the magic coherent, when it started out as a romantic little fairy tale retelling!

I hate that when people ask me about things on here, my answer seems to always be "I wrote my thesis on-", as if I expect people need to have a thesis before they ever enjoy or appreciate a concept in fiction (they don't, I'm just not normal about my interests.)

Anyway, anon... you'll never fucking guess what my master's thesis was about!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :))))

Yes, I do pay attention to and have a lot of thoughts about magic systems. Magic is what tends to define fantasy as a genre, and while there's a lot of pop cultural discussion and theorising of magic (Brandon Sandersons whole ethos, for instance) academic discourse tends to not talk about it, because they prefer magic be "numinous" and indefinable, and see books with systematised magic as hallmarks of like... commercialised fantasy (bc of D&D's impact on the genre, in fact! You'll never guess what got me interested in my PhD topic!!!)

I have kind of moved on from what I analysed in my master's, but I think for me what makes a good magic system isn't necessarily the number of rules or systems or structures or practices you have, but how well your magic and it's rules and its writing help with the suspension of disbelief.

Fantasy functions on suspended disbelief - all fiction does, to some extent. Fanfic does too, right? Bc you need the characters to be written believably enough to believe this new scenario about them. But fantasy asks for a slightly higher buy in from its reader, by being about the impossible.

Magic is one of those impossible things, and the thing the fantasy relies on readers to buy into most often. Some people want that impossible thing to seem bounded and systematised, to make it more believable to them, and that's how "hard" magic systems happen. Some people don't care bc they just enjoy the aesthetics magic allows you to access (Faerie being the most obvious example) or they want to live in a world where magic is real - soft magic systems. Sometimes the magic feels so unreal that it ruptures the suspension of disbelief e.g. with deus ex machinas, or powers that conveniently upgrade to fit the situation and diffuse the tensions and the stakes of the plot along the way.

I think this is why writing within a D&D system is so forgiving to be honest: if people want my stuff to work mechanically, there's a whole corpus of work they can refer to to feed that desire and back up my work. If they just want to coast on vibes, they absolutely can! The game words are there unspoken in the background, for those who want them and also work as hidden rules for my own writing and thoughts, but I veer away from using them in the fic because they put people in a game. Not a piece of writing :)

And as a reader, I'm a like 95% pure fantasy and therefore always ready to buy in, so I don't tend to need a hard magic system, unless those rules produce cool plot stakes. Above all else, I just need the narrative or characters not to be undercut by it's own worldbuilding: eg. A character who has magic but also... anxiety and agoraphobia. That magic can't fix (and what can fix it magically comes at a cost).

So honestly, effective magic depends on your readership. There are many hooks to get people to believe your world, outside of rules and systems. Does the magic do cool things in the plot? Does the world feel impacted by it? Does the plot still have stakes with it there, or is it a convenient answer to every problem that diffuses the tension of your work? (This is why most magic systems tend to have a "drawback" or a finitude to them). You just have to find what you write the most believably!

However, most of you question wasn't even about this, it was about recommendations, so apologies!

In terms of books that I like the magic in:

The Broken Earth Trilogy by NK Jemisin. Check the triggers before reading this series, but it was in my thesis so I have to mention it. Jemisin createa scientific systems and terminology for her magic, but I think what makes The Broken Earth's so good is that she also think heavily through the social implications of magic's presence in her world. this is what makes her world so believable to me. There's actually two magic systems in her world (the known, quantified one and the one no one knows about) so I could talk about this trilogy for hours, but honestly it's mostly just that her world is very socially and politically impacted by the presence of the magic she wrote.

The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee. This series is a fascinating one in general for people interested in world building in fantasy, because the trilogy is very much about The World the author had built, not just the characters. Anyway, there's only one magic in this world, and it's a resource: jade that gives people superpowers. And only one island in the world has it. So magic becomes the entire foundation of geopolitics for a wee while. Fascinating book series honestly.

The Wicked and the Divine comic series. I've definitely talked about these before but if you want magic that is both systematised and Insane, Off the Charts on just COOL FUCKING VIBES, then this is for you. What if creativity and inspiration was divine, in every generation?

The Serpent Gates by AK Larkwood. This is a multiversal series, so what's cool about magic is it's localised to different dimensions. Everyone's feelings and definition of magic is different as a result, but anyone can accrue power across dimensions and this breeds a magic system that's kind of like warlocks and their patrons. Would recommend this duology for any fans of seeing how systematised magic becomes naturalised in practice (mostly by having a non-magical protagonist), or just people who like D&D!

Terry Pratchett's witches books are a good example of how suspension of disbelief doesn't always rely on pseudoscientific language. Do the people reading your books know stories? You can probably use that.

Deeplight by Frances Hardinge. I know I've talked about this book. This is a good example of a magic that both has rules but defies explanation (yay eldritch horror rules) so if you want to see something that coasts mostly on vibes but seems like it doesn't this is a good shout.

Uprooted and Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik. I'm not as fond of these as I used to be but Uprooted was also in my thesis so... anyway. These use tropes as believability. They rely on codified academic wizardly and homely witchcraft (see Pratchett above) and then the language/rules of fairy tales to create a magic system that is believable. Spinning Silver is particularly good at this bc someone's real life, literal skill (turning things to gold as a money lender) becomes their magical skill, through that power of knowing and understanding fantasy

I'm sure there's more examples, but I've yapped a lot, my storygraph has failed to match my freak and has died on me, and it's quite late here.

So... I hope this was useful lmao.

[sentientgolfball]

Coughs weakly…. Golfball … the winter …. It’s so cold … need …. Biggs and pebble content … need … weird Biggs and pebble porn… cough cough… ough…. I don’t have enough to survive the harsh season …

Man the freak infestation gets so much worse this time of year

Anyways heres 2k words of Biggs and Pebble fucking nasty

For context: Biggs is just the name the name I use for Earth :3 also in my little brain space he is mute and Pebble is trans

All day. Alpha has been fucking with him all day without showing any sign of stopping. Without any mercy. Pulling Pebble into a dark corner and sticking his tongue down his throat while petting him through his jeans. Leaving just as fast as he appeared. Before Pebble could even wrap his mind around what happened. Before he could even think to demand Alpha make him cum. 

Over and over again all day Alpha would find him and grope him or whisper something filthy in his ear but dart off before Pebble could do absolutely anything about it. By the time he gets back to the den when he is finished with his chores for the day, he is pissed and horny and needs fucked right now before he sees how much nightshade it would take to kill a full grown fire ghoul. 

He does not know if it is a blessing or a curse that the common room is empty when he enters the den. On the one hand he will not have to deal with more of Alpha’s shit but on the other there is no one here to help deal with his problem. He could just go jerk off like any sensible ghoul, but after all that all day he refuses. For once in his life he did not do anything to instigate, so why should he have to fix it? Instead, he sits on the couch with huff and waits. Next ghoul who walks through that door is getting dragged into this. He hopes it is not Alpha. Alpha will not give him what he wants and he knows it. 

Lucky for Pebble, about twenty minutes later the door creaks open. He cranes his neck to see who it is and oh did he get sent a blessing. Biggs is by the coat rack kicking off his snowy boots and peeling off his jacket. His face is flushed and there is sweat beaded at his hairline. Pebble nearly topples over at how strong the scent of patchouli is. His mouth practically waters at the sights of Biggs’ muscles rippling under the black long sleeve he has on. He must have just finished chopping wood for the fireplaces around the Ministry. 

Pebble grins and hops off the couch, “Hey big guy.” 

Biggs jumps minutely before looking down and smiling warmly. He signs, Hello my little crystal. 

If he can smell the desperation on Pebble he makes no comment. Instead he just affectionately runs a hand through his hair before stepping past him towards the kitchen. Pebble stops him though before he can take more than two steps. He grabs his hand and tugs to get his attention. 

“Not so fast.” 

But my laundry. 

“Your laundry can wait.” Pebble grins and begins to drag Biggs behind him towards his room. 

It is almost comical how one of the smallest ghouls can push around one of the biggest, but that is the fun part. Pebble knows Biggs would never ever say no to him. He is the exact opposite of Alpha. Never teasing, never leaving him worked up to deal with it himself. Biggs is too lovey dovey for that. When Alpha pushes all the right buttons, Pebble can always rely on Biggs to fix it. 

When they arrive in Pebble’s room, he is on Biggs in an instant. He gropes at his hips, sticking his hands under the hem of his shirt just to feel his skin. Cold from working outside. Pebble is sure he can help with that. He tries to pull him down into a kiss but Biggs hesitates. 

At least let me shower first. I’m dirty. He quickly signs. 

“Fuck yea you are,” he leans forward and buries his nose into his chest, inhaling sharply, “That’s just how I like it.” 

What’s gotten into you little crystal? 

A stupid question really. When is Pebble not like this? Still, he decides to indulge him. Because he knows what will happen the moment he says the word. It makes the burn in his stomach grow just thinking about it. 

Pebble huffs and puts on his best pouty face to really seal the deal, “It was Alpha. He wouldn’t leave me alone all day. I couldn’t get any work done.” 

Pebble’s tail wags as he watches in real time the way Biggs’ face morphs from one of confusion to understanding. To annoyance and maybe a little anger if he looks hard enough. 

All day? 

Pebble nods as he tries his best to keep the excitement off his face. 

Biggs hums lowly, I’m sorry crystal. That must have been tough. 

A big hand rests on the back of  Pebble’s neck. Fingers thread through his head, tugging just enough to tilt his head up. 

“Yeah. It was,” he pauses, eyes dropping to his lips, “care to help me out?” 

Without another word, Biggs crashes their lips together. Pebble groans into it immediately, like it is the first time he has ever been kissed. He licks over the seam of Biggs’ mouth. He does not have the mind to wait. To let him build it up like he normally does. He has been on edge for too fucking long and he needs something inside of him right now before he explodes. 

Luckily Biggs does not seem to mind. He bends just enough to pick Pebble up at the same time he opens for him. He takes one, two, three steps backward until he collides with the bed. He drops onto it with a grunt. He situates Pebble more comfortably in his lap, never breaking the kiss as his large hands hold his hips. 

Pebble eagerly licks into his mouth as he grinds against the bulge forming in his pants. Biggs squeezes his hips and meets him halfway, bucking up when Pebble grinds down. He moans into Biggs’ mouth, pulling away to tuck his face into his neck. He inhales deeply before licking at his skin, still a bit salty from sweat. His patchouli scent is strong and it just makes Pebble work his hips faster. 

Biggs grunts and tilts his head back, letting Pebble use him as a glorified grinder until he cannot take it anymore. He squeezes Pebble’s thigh twice to get his attention. Reluctantly Pebble lifts his face from his neck to look at him. 

He smiles and gives him a quick kiss, Let me see you? 

Pebble rolls his eyes with a grin. Ever the sap. 

“Took you long enough,” he flinches just a bit at his tone, “Yes. Sorry. Please?” 

Biggs nods and kisses him again as he slowly pulls Pebble’s shirt off. He only breaks away to get it around his head so he can toss it to the floor. His hands run reverently down Pebble’s now exposed abdomen. He leans down and presses his lips softly to the middle of his chest. Right where his element sigil is branded. 

Pebble sighs. He loves Biggs, but right now soft and romantic is not what he needs. He laces his hands through his golden hair and tugs until Biggs gets the message. He lets out an amused huff against his skin before indulging him. 

He tilts his head until warm breath puffs over one of Pebble’s nipples. His tongue darts out, giving it a quick lick before he takes it into his mouth. He sucks on it, occasionally rolling it softly between his teeth. He drags one of his hands up the side of Pebble’s body. His thumb brushes over the scar under his pec adoringly before taking his other nipple between thumb and forefinger. He pinches it at the same time he bites a little harder. Pebble curses and chokes out a moan. 

“More. Biggs I need more.” He squirms in his grasp. 

He must agree because he pulls away to give Pebble a little smile. His eyes are locked on the little string of salvia that still connects him to his chest. 

He pats his thigh twice again, Hop up. 

Pebble slides off him, crawling over to sit on the bed instead. Once he does so, Biggs pulls the shirt up and over his head without any hesitation. Pebble stares as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, tugging them down along with his boxers in one fluid movement. His mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and straining and wet at the tip. 

When he turns his attention back to Pebble, he is not sure what he wants more. Suck him off until he cums down his throat or ride him until they are both seeing stars. He does not have time to decide though because next thing he knows, Biggs is tracing the tip of his claw over the waistband of his shorts. 

He does not even wait for him to ask permission, “Take it off big guy.” 

Biggs happily obliges. He pulls them down and makes a surprised little chirp when he has no underwear on. Pebble just shrugs. Alpha already ruined them, there was no reason to keep them on. 

He does not seem to mind though. He just leans forward and presses a trail of kisses over his hips down to the crease of his thigh. He breathes deeply, savoring Pebble’s scent. Like freshly churned earth. He wants to bury himself and never come back up again. 

He glances up at Pebble from between his legs, Sit on my face? 

Pebble groans and tips his head back, “I could never say no to you.” 

He presses another lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh before sitting up. He rolls over to lay back against the pillows, smiling at Pebble. Oh he loves that big idiot so much. He crawls over, not wasting a second. Skinny little legs straddle broad shoulders and Pebble hovers over him. 

Biggs’ hands come up to hold his hips. He does not push or pull, he simply just holds. Touches him just to touch. Pebble takes it as encouragement though. He drops down with force, desperate to finally get something. If it bothers Biggs he does not show it. He gets straight to work, dragging the flat of his tongue through his folds to circle around his little dick. Pebble cannot help but grind down, chasing the feeling. Demanding more. 

Biggs gives him what he wants. He licks through his folds again, drinking down as much of him as he can. It is not enough though. Never is when it comes to Pebble. So he takes right from the source, dipping the tip of his forked tongue inside of his dripping hole. They both groan at the same time. Biggs’ hips twitch up, fruitlessly searching for friction in the air. 

Pebble huffs a breathy little laugh. He is sure he can help with that. He falls forward, bending at the waist to rest his elbows on the mattress. He hisses, sucking his teeth as Biggs tongues at him. He arches back into it at the same time he wraps a hand around the base of Biggs’ cock. He gives it a squeeze, enamored with the way a bead of pre wells up from the slit only to dribble down his shaft. Pebble licks his lips, tongue darting out to trace it all the back up. Biggs groans but the sound is muffled as he continues to feast on Pebble like he will never eat again. Like all he has is this one moment before he spends the rest of his life starving. 

“Fuck I hate you and your stupid fucking mouth.” He punctuates each word by rolling his hips back, fucking himself on his tongue. 

More pre drips onto his hand, remaining him of his current goal. Filling another hole. Maybe helping Biggs a little since he oh so kindly is helping Pebble. He presses a kiss to the tip of his dick, tongue flicking out to taste him. That is the only warning Biggs gets before Pebble takes a deep breath and swallows him down as far as he can. He sucks on cock until salvia dribbles down the rest of his length. He uses it to ease the glide, rapidly stroking what he could not fit in his mouth. 

Biggs’ grip on Pebble’s hips tightens. He gives his dripping hole one last lick before dragging it back up to his clit. He swirls it around that little bundle of nerves, letting his dick rest against his tongue for a moment before he wraps his lips around it. He sucks on it gently, reveling in the way Pebble’s hand falters on his cock. 

He lets go of his hips with one hand. He brings it to his cunt, swiping his fingers through Pebble’s folds. He gives his little dick a particularly hard suck at the same time he slides two of his thick fingers inside of him. Pebble pulls off of Biggs’ cock with an obscene pop. 

“You’re gonna oh shit you’re gonna make me cum. Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut, mouth hanging open. High pitched little uh uh uh’s leave his mouth each time Biggs pumps his fingers inside of him. He does not even have the brain left to put his cock back into his mouth. All he can do is sit there and take it. 

It only takes about three more good thrusts from Biggs before Pebble gasps. He tenses, whole body shaking as he gushes against his face. Biggs dutifully swallows all of it down, gently tonguing him through it. Pebble squeezes his dick without even fully realizing it. Not until Biggs gasps into his cunt and he feels something warm and wet coat his face. 

As the aftershocks work through both of them and they slowly start to come down, Pebble hangs his head and laughs. 

“Alpha could never fucking make me cum that hard.” He pants heavily. 

Biggs quickly taps his thigh twice. Pebble groans as he crawls off of him, turning around to curl into his side inside. He grins down at Biggs, “Thanks for the help big guy.” 

He stares at Pebble for a moment before brushing the hair off his forehead. He signs, You’re dirty. 

Pebble stares at the way his face glistens, slick dripping down his chin. He laughs, “So are you but don’t worry.” 

He flicks his tongue out, gathering some of Biggs’ cum on the tip. He darts forward, quickly capturing him in a deep kiss. They both groan as they taste themselves on each other’s tongues. Though Pebble pulls back far too quickly for Biggs’ liking. 

“That’s just how I like it.”

[animazi]

icl i fundamentally disagree with the 'oh the acolyte shows anakin could have left the order anyway actually so he's so much worse bc he had an easy way out the whole time' discussions I've been seeing, because, like. literally why is this even a topic of discussion? ok ok hang with me here, I'm doing a list.

there is literally nothing in the prequels that suggests this is ever an option for him. up until shmi's death he is happy with the order - most of the problems he expresses come specifically from his relationship with obi-wan not the jedi generally, so why would he want to leave. once shmi dies, sure I getcha. his mum died and the jedi have a significant hand in that, and then he immediately breaks the code and does a massacre. however, and some may have missed this, its a fairly small plot point, the clone wars begin. anakin is not only never characterised as the sort of guy who would back out of this conflict (esp since he was involved from the get go), but also there is literally no time between anything - aotc and rots take place over such short time spans, comparatively; we see quite literally All the events happening at once.

so why doesn't he quit in tcw/rots? again. there is a war on and he is directly involved. tcw shows him as having made personal connections with the clones, and if there's one thing about anakin that everyone should be able to agree on its that he sure has attachments. also, again, rots takes place over such a short span of time and he is fairly clearly not in the best place in like fucking any of it

it probably wouldn't even fix anything bro. anakin is not the central turning point of the war, not really. that's palpatine. with or without anakin palpatine still gets the war, and realistically if anakin leaves the order then war breaks out, he is going to turn to palpatine as one of the only people he is close to, and ergo probably falls anyway. maybe he doesn't kill the younglings but like. shit still happens, jedi still get order 66'd

No Please Understand One Busy And Isolated Woman Is Not A Full Support Network Stop It. ok so. padme isolation is something that I fully see in the films. I will not yap on about that now, but take it as read for this point (although. even if she has a great and healthy support network that is not the issue! you are still saying that padme, who has a very busy job and her own life regardless, should functionally drop everything to support anakin). a key part of support networks is that they are a network aka not one woman. look me dead in the eyes and think anakin and obi-wan (already not having a great communicative relationship) are still talking after he leaves. go on. try. realistically speaking once the war starts anakin is in an, if anything, worse position - his fatherbrothermentor is out there fighting and he cannot help, his wife is barely home, the senate is always busy, and he is so so jobless (again. here is where palpatine would swoop in...bro cannot win fr fr). and Again, One (1) Padme Should Not Be Responsible For Dealing With The Entirely Of Anakin's Issues. stop it.

I don't actually have a full point 5 rn I just like it when the numbers do this :3

so bonus not-quite point: tcw and the acolyte both explicitly say the jedi don't prep you for the outside world if you leave the order, transferable skills etc etc BUT ALSO does your ex-jedi have any records of employment? any space gcses or a-levels or space degrees? a letter of recommendation? are they actually skilled enough in say mechanics/engineering to be able to survive in a world where droids exist and clearly have a huge presence in those sectors? any any money to help them get a flat or smth (not applicable in anakin's case but worth saying anyway)?

in short. I don't think it's a fair point to make when criticising anakin. it relies on a really weird reading of the prequels that misses a) the war, b) palpatine, c) the inherent misogyny of putting the wellbeing of anakin, guy who is hanging on the same thread as my sanity after exam week, entirely in the hands of one woman, d) the lack of regard for how support networks are, in fact, networks, e) how fast everything happens in the prequels

[babyniigo]

This goes along with my last request! I thought of it later I’m sorry :(

Alternatively to Rui and An taking care of baby Mizuki, Rui and An being absolutely distressed, regressing down to a baby space and needing to rely on their friends to calm them down but they can’t fix the problem :( (Specifically I like the idea that Tsukasa was close to Mizuki so him helping Rui a little extra)

Little! Rui and A comforting Baby! Mizu, with CG! Tsukasa

part 2, part 1 here ♡

After a while of Rui and An doing their best to care for Mizuki, as bathed her, and fed her, changed her cloth, did her hair for her, played with her, and so on... the baby still wasn't able to calm down from crying ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

She still feeds so crushed and upset and nothing is able to soothe her and it starts stressing An a lot because she just wants her best friend to be happy ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

An starts stress regressing and crying alongside Mizuki, which only causes Rui to feel more distressed because he feels like he's done something wrong and make everything worse

In a quick attempt to solve things he dials Tsukasa asking him to hurry and come (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

Tsukasa arrives, with his usual bright smile and shining attitude, but when he realizes from Rui's worried eyes that he is regressed, and hears the crying in the back, he immediately changes his tone to his caregiver voice! ໒꒰ྀི ๑ ´ ˘ ` ू ꒱ྀིა

He’s quick to the rescue, taking Rui's hands into his and going to the coach where Mizuki and An are crying ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

He softly offers to hold Mizuki, and when she agrees he picks her up and cradles her in his lap, letting her hide her face in his neck and cry ( ;´ - `;)

Tsukasa also wraps an arm around An's and Rui's shoulders, pulling these two in closer to him so that he has all the littles wrapped safely in his arms ς꒰ ´‌ ତ ˋ‌ς ꒱ა

He starts singing to them softly, trying to hum them some lullabies to calm them down.

Eventually they all are able to relax, and he gets baby Mizu to sleep as well! ૮꒰ ྀི◜๑◝ ꒱ა

He carries her to her bed and tucks her in, and then when An gets whiny, he tucks her in beside Mizuki and lets the two babies cuddle to sleep together! ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

Tsukasa then leaves outside to where Rui is patiently waiting, and cuddles him on the coach to sleep as well! ૮꒰ྀི ᵔ ๑ ᵔ ꒱ა

He’s the best CG ever! He knows how to calm down any situation and leave every little happy and cozy !!!

Since Mizuki's parents aren't in the country and are unaware of this, Tsukasa, An and Rui all offer to stay with Mizuki to take care of her, and she realizes she doesn't mind having their comfort and company while she heals and feels ready to face Ena and Niigo! ૮꒰ྀི◜༝◝ ꒱ྀིა

I hope it’s okay! Sorry after I finished I reread the ask and realised I don’t think I wrote it right … ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

[stardustloki]

Being Useful

When Wrecker is injured, the entire Batch agree that he needs time to rest and heal. This is why, when Shep asks the Batch for help with a task that will be sure to make his injuries worse, Omega is baffled when her brothers agree immediately.

The Batch know that they're safe on Pabu. However, they haven't quite understood that their safety doesn't rely on them always making themselves useful.

Tags: Gen, Omega and Wrecker POVs, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Found Family, Past Trauma (Kamino was NOT a good place), Non-Graphic Description of Minor Injuries

Read on Ao3 here.

Or under the cut...

“That should do it,” Echo said at last, securing the long bandage he’d wrapped around Wrecker’s torso. “It’ll heal up fine, but-” he fixed him with a stern look- “only if you rest and give the bacta time to do its job.”

Omega watched as Wrecker visibly deflated.

“You mean I’ve got to sit around doing nothing!”

“If you don’t put any strain on your muscles for the next rotation, the bacta will do its job and the tears in your trapezius will heal.” Echo folded his arms. “If you don’t rest them, if you go around lifting heavy things, they won’t heal, and you’ll be bored for much longer.”

Wrecker stared up at the ceiling, letting out a frustrated sigh. “ Fine. ”

“Lyana was going to teach me how to make sushi today,” Omega spoke up. “You could come with me, if you want. It should be interesting, and we’ll be eating a lot.”

As she waited, hoping her brother would say yes, she caught the grateful look Hunter was sending her out of the corner of her eye. Getting any of her brothers to take it slow after an injury in the field had always been a difficult task, and Wrecker, with his boundless energy and need to move, had always been the worst of them. If he said yes to this, at least she knew he wouldn’t put any strain on his back for the next hour or so.

Her brother looked thoughtful for a second, before smiling at her. “Yeah, okay. I guess that could be fun.”

“Awesome!” she replied, feeling the excitement swell within her, jumping up slightly on the balls of her feet.

She waited, hoping she seemed far more patient on the outside than she felt on the inside, as Hunter helped Wrecker get his shirt back on and Echo packed away the medical supplies. Crosshair was sitting on the bench near the door, chewing a toothpick and tinkering with the settings for his prosthetic hand.

Without warning, Hunter seemed to freeze, glancing at the wall of their home, moving his head slowly towards the door, as if tracking someone. A few seconds later, there was a knock. Omega shrugged and went to open it.

Shep was outside, grinning widely at her through the doorway. She couldn’t help but grin back at the man she was slowly coming to consider her uncle.

“Omega! How are you?” he asked.

“Great, thanks. Looking forward to hanging out with Lyana! What about you?”

“Eh, I’m alright. But there’s been a couple problems I’m hoping your brothers will be able to help out with. Can I come in?”

“Sure!”

She stepped aside to let him in, but as she turned back towards her brothers she found herself frowning, brain stuttering in alarm. 

Hunter, Crosshair and Echo were all standing in between Shep and Wrecker. With the way they’d staggered themselves, the pattern appearing almost natural, perhaps to an outsider like Shep it wouldn’t look as if they’d placed themselves in a defensive formation, clearly attempting to shield Wrecker, but to Omega it couldn’t have been more obvious.

What wasn’t obvious, however, was why they were doing it. This was Shep. One of the nicest people they’d ever met. There was absolutely no need to protect Wrecker from him.

“Good morning, how are you boys today?” Shep’s voice was as welcoming as ever, but Hunter was far more guarded when he spoke.

“We’re all fine, thank you.” Omega frowned at Hunter’s words, she wouldn’t class Wrecker as ‘fine’. “How can we help?”

“There’s a house down near the coast, it got damaged real bad in the storm last night. I was hoping you’d help rebuild it. Wrecker would be a real help bringing up some of the building materials from one of the ships in the dock.”

“Sounds good,” Hunter replied. “Just tell us where the house is and we’ll be there.”

Wait, what?

She waited for Echo to speak up, to repeat what he’d told Wrecker just a few minutes before. Neither Echo nor Crosshair opened their mouths to speak. Instead, they watched Shep with neutral expressions, clearly waiting for him to carry on the conversation.

“Awesome, I’ll send you the address on my comm and-”

“Wait, stop,” Omega interrupted, because if everyone was gonna act like they’d lost their minds, at least she could be the voice of reason. “Wrecker can’t help you, he’s-”

“He’s fine, sir,” Hunter cut across her.

She could literally feel herself gaping at him, but he didn’t spare her a glance, keeping his steady gaze firmly on Shep, who surely must be realising this was weird, right? Hunter had just called him ‘sir’, for kriff’s sake. Hunter had never called him ‘sir’.

Thankfully for her sanity, Shep did seem to find this weird, because he was frowning at Hunter, his head tilted slightly.

“If Wrecker’s injured in some way…” he began.

“It’s nothing,” Wrecker said.

“Nothing serious,” Hunter added, the ‘s’ on serious a little too stuttered for Omega to believe that he hadn’t been about to call Shep ‘sir’ again before cutting himself off.

She stared at him incredulously. Not serious? Okay, it wasn’t serious like a blaster wound was serious, or like a chip in your brain was serious. But, even though he’d tried to hide it, she’d known that Wrecker had been in agony before Echo had applied the bacta, and he’d only stop the injury from healing, or even make it worse, if he started lifting things now.

Besides, Shep considered a small cut serious. She knew because of how he’d fussed over Lyana the last time they’d cooked together and Lyana had nicked herself when her knife had slipped. He’d also been way too concerned when Omega had fallen down the stairs during a game of tag with her friend - she’d only had a couple of bumps and grazes after all, they were basically routine on missions! There was absolutely no way he’d consider letting Wrecker hurt himself more by helping - so why weren’t the others telling him?

“If you’re sure,” he replied, an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“No, he’s-” 

Hunter made a clearly frantic but barely noticeable gesture in battlesign, with one of the hands he was keeping firmly by his side, telling her that she needed to stop, now. She cut herself off, scowling at him.

If Hunter was using battlesign that meant this was important, that his orders needed to be followed. She knew it also meant he must have an explanation for this, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be frustrated, even as she obeyed. It wasn’t her fault his orders made no sense. 

“Omega’s upset because she invited Wrecker to make sushi with her and Lyana,” Echo said, eyes flickering down towards the floor as he struggled with the lie.

Shep fixed her with a kind smile. Omega did her best to look like it didn’t irritate the hell out of her at that moment. “I’m sure he’ll be able to help next time. So,” he addressed the others, “I’ll see you boys in half an hour or so. If anything changes, or you’re not able to help for any reason, just let me know.”

After he’d left, Omega let her brothers feel the full force of her glare.

“What the hell was that?”

She was surprised to hear Crosshair speaking those words, considering they were exactly what she’d been about to ask the four of them.

“I could ask you the same,” she snapped, folding her arms. “Have you forgotten that there are small tears in Wrecker’s back muscles. Do you want him to get hurt worse.”

Crosshair took a step towards her. Omega only narrowed her eyes further.

“Have you forgotten that they allow us to live here, that they protect us from the Empire even after it invaded their home, because we’re useful to them?” He replied. Omega felt her mouth drop open for the second time that day. “Have you thought about what happens when we stop being useful to them?”

“They invited us to live here because they like us, because they care about us!” Omega protested.

Crosshair scoffed, and, as she glanced at the others, hoping that they’d back her up on this, she could see they looked a mix of wary and uncomfortable.

“I’m sure they do, at least a bit,” Hunter told her, voice gentle, as if he was telling her something difficult to hear. Omega supposed it was difficult, if only because they were being so ridiculous. “But they’ll probably like us a whole lot less if we don’t help them.”

“He wouldn’t want Wrecker to be in pain.”

“I’m fine, Omega,” Wrecker said, walking over to wrap her in a hug, which she gracelessly accepted. “I’ve had to deal with worse, way worse. I’ll be back here recovering before you know it.”

“He probably wouldn’t want Wrecker to be in pain,” Echo agreed, “But-”

“There isn’t any ‘but’ to this!” Omega snapped. “He cares about us, he cares about Wrecker. That isn’t going to change because Wrecker can’t help out one time.”

“Sorry, kid,” Wrecker told her, gently ruffling her hair. “You aren’t going to win this one.”

She sighed, allowing her head to rest against his chest. “Fine,” she groaned. “Guess I’ll go make sushi with Lyana myself then.”

The frustration and anger remained within her throughout her walk along the sunny streets of Pabu. It hadn’t abated by the time she reached Lyana’s, not when she was aware that Wrecker should have been there beside her, not walking in the other direction, about to start doing an activity that was only going to hurt him and make his injuries worse.

Whatever Omega might think about Echo’s lying skills, hers weren’t much better, and Lyana could tell something was up almost as soon as she’d arrived. Well, Omega wanted to know the truth, and she didn’t much feel about hiding what had upset her anyway, so once they were both sitting in the comfortable wooden bench on Lyana’s patio, sipping on the smoothies her friend had prepared, she asked Lyana if her dad had ever stopped liking her because she hadn’t helped him.

Lyana was horrified. “No! Why would you even ask that, Omega?”

She shrugged, but felt her heart lighten at the answer. “Has he ever stopped liking someone else?”

“No! Omega-”

“Wrecker’s injured, he’s hurt his back really badly,” she explained, relieved that she’d been correct. “But my brothers think that if they don’t help your dad, then he’s gonna stop being kind to us or something.”

Lyana gaped at her. “But he’d never do that! He loves you guys, we both do!” She thought for a moment, eyes flickering from side to side. “I’ll comm him, let him know what’s going on. He’ll know what to do.”

For the first time in the last twenty minutes, Omega felt like the world was slowly starting to make sense again. And, as Lyana’s call connected to her dad, she let herself smile at that.

Wrecker walked down to the house near the coast, flanked by his brothers on both sides. He felt sad for Omega, for how upset she’d got on his behalf, but really, he’d be okay. Sure, this was going to be difficult, and it was going to hurt, but he pushed through pain on missions all the time. Besides, he knew with absolute certainty that it was going to be nothing compared to the tests the scientists and trainers had put him through back on Kamino. Sooner or later, his injuries would heal and he’d be fine again. It didn’t really matter that making sushi with Omega had sounded nice.

As they approached, Shep waved to them, and they waved back, before making their way down the steps towards him.

“Where do you want us?” Hunter asked.

Shep explained their tasks, one by one, until he got to Wrecker. He passed him the fishing rod he was carrying. “I’d like you to sit on the jetty and catch us some fish for lunch.”

Wrecker could tell by his brother’s reactions that he wasn’t the only one confused by that. “I thought you wanted me to carry building supplies?”

He shook his head. “Change of plans. I got some other guys who’re doing that.”

And, okay, maybe that made sense. But wouldn’t Wrecker’s strength be more useful helping with the rebuilding work instead of sitting around catching fish? He opened his mouth to ask why and was rewarded with a sharp elbow in his left side. Right, Crosshair had a point there, it would be stupid to get himself hurt worse when he was being given a way out.

About half an hour later, Wrecker sat by the sea, holding his fishing rod steady. As the minutes passed, he could feel the pain in his back lessen as his feeling of relaxation grew.

He looked across as Shep moved the bucket of fish backwards, before taking its place beside him.

“Looks like you’ve been doing good work,” he commented.

“I guess.”

“We’re repairing Nixret’s house,” Shep continued, as they both stared across the ocean. “Nix is old, he can’t see, he can barely walk anymore, he relies on the kindness of his neighbours to help him out everyday. But he’s one of the most interesting people I know. Do you think I don’t care about him because he can’t get around by himself?”

“No,” Wrecker replied, brow crinkling. It was obvious that Shep cared, he wouldn’t be organising all this if he didn’t. Then his brow creased further. “Omega told you what we talked about, didn’t she?”

Shep nodded, and Wrecker found himself tensing in a way that sent shocks of pain across his shoulder blades.

“She did, and I’m glad she did. And you should be glad you’ve got such a good sister.” Out of the corner of his eye, Wrecker could see that Shep was smiling at him, eyes full of concern. “You are a part of this community now Wrecker. And that won’t change if you can’t lift heavy objects. I like you because you’re you, not because of what you can do for me. And I’ve been told to tell you Lyana likes you because she thinks you’re her funniest uncle.”

“Oh,” Wrecker said, staring down at the water. He didn’t know what to say. It would probably have been easier to come up with something to say if he’d even known what to think.

“I don’t know what you boys have been through exactly,” Shep continued. “But I know whatever it was, it can’t have been easy. Even so, I’d appreciate it if you told me in the future when helping me out would hurt you.”

Wrecker nodded, still feeling blank.

“Alright then. Shall we get these fish back to the others?”

This right here was easily much firmer ground. “Sounds good,” he replied, managing a smile.

As they walked together, back towards the house his brothers were working on, Wrecker found himself thinking about what Omega had said earlier, and what Shep had said just then. It didn’t feel true, not exactly, and he knew that he’d have to discuss it with Hunter and the others later. But even if it didn’t feel true, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t true.

Maybe, they could be safe here, even when they weren’t useful?

[skiddiks]

Sky Reviews

transcript below.

Not Recommended 107.8 hrs on record Early Access Review POSTED: 20 July

Problems with SKY. - The daily candles earned to weekly candles spent ratio is unbalanced. Saving for two weeks to get the next TS doesn't work when there are events constantly that also require these candles. Especially with the Group TS rotations not accounting or accommodating for the market. - The daily play cycle. It's monotonous, encouraging a solid 2 hours to only get a fifth of the candles needed for one cosmetic, if that. You go in, you run for candles, getting 12 - 15 if you aren't running the whole map which is 49 areas (sans one completely void of any wax for some reason.) It encourages a grind mentality in which you don't want to miss a day, because that can set you back and risk you not having enough candles for the next event or spirit. When FOMO is incorporated into your game in a seemingly deliberate way, that's not good game design.

Fixes that could help - Increase the amount of daily candles earned. Make that max instead of 20/(21 if you're insane) to 30, or double it to 40 like the cosmetic prices. This is viable, without running the risk of running out of wax to farm, because of the bi-hourly events and the wax boosts. - Add more Wax events, there are so many areas that have no use outside of their season. When was the last time you visited Prairie Peaks (a no wax location) or the Repository outside of their seasons or getting the WLs?

For Peaks, there was that mechanic of taking photos of what the guide requested, which relied heavily on the environment (raining, sun, night, birds etc) that could be a nice hourly - daily task for people to complete for wax. For the Repository, we could fix up a space for one of the many spirits residing there, earning wax in return.

These add something more for the players to do in this vast world, another way to interact with it. The current state of the game is a F2P daily grind trying to get you to spend your fortnightly paycheck to keep up.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

The Chosen ABCs of Romance | Lazarus

Chapter List

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Lazarus is an avid player of games so he loves bringing you to competitions or playing some games at home at the table or in an open field outside of Bethany. He gets very competitive so be prepared to deal with a moping Lazarus if you manage to beat him.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He truly admires your faith and unwavering trust in Jesus. He also loves your caring nature, that you make sure that everyone feels seen and taken care of whenever there is company over. 

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

After dealing with two younger sisters all his life, Laz knows how to comfort you properly. He knows just what to say and do to make you feel better, also aware when he needs to not say anything but just hold you in silence.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He hopes you will stay in Bethany with him as soon as you get married, but he wouldn’t be opposed to moving someplace else should you wish to do so.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

This man is a natural leader so he takes on that role easily in your relationship as well, however not in an overly pushy and demanding way. He always makes sure you are feeling comfortable in his leadership. 

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

As any other couple, Lazarus and you have your occasional squabbles. However, they never last long and mostly rely on misunderstandings, which can be easily fixed if communicated clearly. Since Laz is no stranger to properly talking about his feelings due to growing up with sisters, your arguments are often resolved before the evening rolls around.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Knowing just how lucky he is to have a woman like you in his life, Lazarus makes sure to thank God every day for your presence in his life. He will tell you repeatedly how he feels like he doesn’t deserve a Godly woman like yourself, a doubt that you are quick to remove from his mind.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

No, you don’t really have secrets from each other. Lazarus is not the type to hold back things from his significant other and has nothing to hide in the first place.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

You have learned from him that men can be empathetic as well. Due to previous searches for an eligible spouse, you feared that all men would be looking for one thing only, but you were pleasantly blown away when you started seeing Lazarus, who treated you like his equal rather than a woman meant to submit to their husband.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Truth be told, Lazarus is very calm when it comes to you talking to other men. He doesn’t really mind it, knowing that you wouldn’t even be remotely interested in them. His confidence suits him.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

It takes quite some time for you to convince Lazarus to trim his beard, because it really gets in the way whenever you try to kiss him, constantly getting hair in your mouth just when you’re getting into it. Needless to say, he reluctantly snips it a little, until you’re satisfied with how you can now reach him. He thinks it’s totally worth it, though.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

You had known one another for a long time, since your early teens, when you started hanging out with Martha and Mary. However, it wasn’t until your mid-twenties that you developed a crush on your childhood friend, one that he apparently reciprocated, much to your relief. You had been going on a few dates to see how things would be and from one thing came the other, causing Lazarus to confess to you after a long and deep conversation about life.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Lazarus proposes with the help of his sisters, asking them what they think you’d like and what women in general might expect from a proposal. They helped him arrange a romantic dinner and even urged him to get you some flowers to set the scene. Needless to say, when he popped the question after a delicious meal, what else could you do but say yes?

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

You usually go with either ‘Laz’ or ‘Lazzy’, but whenever you’re feeling lovey-dovey, you go with ‘honey’. He will then call you ‘apple of my eye’, because apples and honey go together magnificently.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

His sisters realised it way before him in the way he’d tense up whenever you were near and the way his voice would go up an octave around you. He was nervous without even knowing it himself. However, once he has realised his own feelings for you and confessed them to you, he gladly talks about you almost every waking moment of the day, much to Martha and Mary’s dismay.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

In public, he holds your hand whilst you browse the market of Bethany. He gives an occasional peck on your forehead or a side-hug, but nothing inappropriate to be witnessed by someone else.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

The fact that he is a close childhood friend of Jesus makes for the best dinner parties at his place whenever the Messiah has been invited. After a wonderful meal, you snuggle up next to Lazarus at the fireplace whilst Jesus talks about God, the Kingdom of Heaven and a lot of other things until you drowsily fall asleep against Laz’s shoulder.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He tries his best and knows a thing or two, having overheard his sisters countless times during their teenage years, swooning over the romantic relationships they imagined for their future selves. Lazarus, of course, took mental notes on what they mentioned, making sure to surprise you with little romantic gestures every once in a while. Sometimes, you come home from market to a freshly cooked dinner, taking that task from your hands. Or he buys you a new veil or dress in your favourite colours.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Lazarus is always standing right by your side, no matter what goal you are trying to reach. He will coach you through the good and the bad, reminding you every day that he is proud of you no matter how things will turn out.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

The relationship had been nice and comfortable up to the moment that Lazarus passed away. After Jesus demanded him back to the land of the living, the two of you realised that life is short and that you must always step out of your comfort zone and try new things because tomorrow might just be your final day.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Growing up with two sisters in the household has definitely developed his empathy. Lazarus is extremely curious about you and your wellbeing, making sure to often check in on you. In turn, you are an open book, trusting everything with him, knowing that you will not be judged for it.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He holds you close to his heart, especially after he comes back from the dead. Sometimes you only realise what you have until you lose it, which was a feeling that he has definitely seen true in the way you were in the days after Laz’s death. The most important things in his life are God, you and his sisters.

Wild Card - A random Fluff headcanon.

The moment he is risen from the dead by Jesus, Lazarus sees the sorrow on your face being replaced with disbelief and immense joy, a moment he often finds himself replaying inside his mind whenever he doubts whether you still like him. The way you acted when he supposedly died is more than enough conformation just how much he means to you.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Before his death, Lazarus was already very cuddly, but this increases tenfold after his resurrection. As if he has realised just how much he loves you now that he had momentarily lost you, he clings to you at every opportunity he gets, of course within reason. 

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Lazarus will never admit it, but whenever you’re away from home for a while, he misses you greatly. When you return and his sisters tell you that he’s barely been eating and sleeping because of your absence, he blushes deeply and neither confirms nor denies it. Your knowing smiles always make butterflies course through him.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He has lost you once and he will not lose you again. Lazarus will definitely do everything in his being to keep you happy in the relationship.

[fantasyinvader]

You know, it makes sense that people don't trust Rhea or the Church… at first. The game does make them seem shady as hell at the beginning, and we're even told to be wary of Rhea. But when you take into consideration Verdant Wind, how Claude says that it's important to get to know people rather than cling to faulty first impressions, it really should be telling the player something there. That despite those initial impressions, you're the one leading the Church right now trying to save Rhea from a tyrant. Claude is realizing the Church and Rhea don't have to be his enemies, and when you look at Seteth's solo ending (minus the translation making him sound intolerant before) he works towards Claude's ideal regardless of route. Meanwhile, Claude is also figuring out how the Agarthans tried to feed him information to turn him against Rhea.

His power of friendship speech, him being willing to reach out to the Church in friendship, is the climax of his character growth. Rather than trying to use people like pieces on a chess board, he's willing to work legitimately with others. He finds out the truth about Rhea, and in his S support reveals that he views people relying on her (as they will with Byleth) as a good thing whereas before he believed that people could only rely on themselves. He learns that Rhea was one of the few survivors of her people being wiped out, having to hide the truth and even glorify the allies of the one who did it. He saw her as an outsider herself. Claude is also the one to point out that Rhea had people from not just from the countries at Fodlan but people from other countries, including having a woman from Dagda as one of her knights, at Garreg Mach as well as how the Church doesn't actually preach isolationism.

Claude's arc realizes he was wrong. That as an outsider, he came in and started making assumptions based on a lack of knowledge or being fed misleading information by the bad guys. Just like the player can be if they pick the Black Eagles class. It's why Byleth's flag, a symbol linking the route to Buddhism, is also present in Verdant Wind as it's the only route where Claude ultimately realized people were trying to manipulate him, so he didn't allow their narrative to guide his actions. It's CLAUDE'S enlightenment, as he wasn't tempted from the proper course of action. If he believes so strongly that people of other faiths should be accepted, he should be trying to help the Church against those attempting to wipe them out. And this path results in Claude not just fighting the person that the Agarthans used to commit genocide. Can't be any more "fuck racism" than that.

But instead of accepting all that, we have people who want Claude to kill Rhea, still believing that she's the cause of racism in Fodlan despite how Claude realizes that isn't the case. They want Claude to side with the person who flat out told him she can't leave Fodlan in his hands because he's not from Fodlan despite the translation making it sound like they hold the same beliefs (at least, until Claude grows out of them as part of his character arc). They like the version of Claude that says he could never be friends with Dimitri, despite Dimitri working to help the people of Duscur, and pisses off Sylvain when Sylvain would otherwise have worked to fix the issues with Streng. Instead of the Claude who knew the Empire wouldn't accept taking an L against the Alliance and returned with Almyran forces to stop another attempt by the Agarthans to take over, they want the Claude who seems confused people would be upset at him invading their countries and killing their families.

Verdant Wind, really, puts the Church into it's proper context. It looks suspect, it acts shady, but if you actually take the time and pay attention to the world… they're not the bad guys you were expecting them to be. No, they're the group the actual bad guys, the ones behind Fodlan's problems, wants to take out.

But instead, people don't want that story and insist Claude's delusional idiot self from Hopes is who he really is. Really, it's kinda telling how people reject his story because they don't want to change their mind in the face of the game's reveals. They can't accept the message of a game written for middle-schoolers.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Tender // Ch. 5

MASTERLIST

word count: 3200+

I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, friends. I came back from vacation sick and had a lot of catching up to do. But here we are, and chapter 6 is already almost done, too. Things are getting intense, and I am again apologizing for what's to come.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: child abuse; religious violence; burns; depression; anxiety; paranoia; unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; language; alcoholism; intoxication; jealousy; suicidal ideations; drunk driving; verbal argument; physical violence; domestic abuse; blood; mentions of hospitals, stitches, shots, and medication; manipulation; toxic behavior; stalking behavior (if I missed anything, let me know)

There was no rhyme or reason for what they’d done to him. They could probably justify their actions in their own deluded minds, but to anyone on the outside, it was barbaric and cruel. When the boy asked why, his voice raw from screaming, they only told him it was God’s will, whatever that meant.

The boy is 13 now. He’d read the Bible, and he didn’t recall anything about this. Of course, he fought against the pain. Who could be expected to sit quietly and obediently when there is red hot metal being pushed against their flesh? His mother chose the spot of a small birthmark above his right hip. The offending spot, a mark of the Devil, needed to be cleansed. The pain would eventually fade, a jagged scar in its place, but you don’t ever forget the smell of burning flesh, especially your own.

~

I was 16 when I left that place. I had nowhere to go and no plan, but I’m smart enough to know how to survive. I managed to save up whatever money I could scrape up and worked as hard as I could until I was able to land steadily on my own feet. I pulled myself up from the ground and rarely asked anyone for help. I refused to rely on anyone. People can’t be trusted, and I’m the perfect example.

I thought that being with Josh would be the remedy I needed to fix myself, that he would be the one to pull me out of the water and back onto solid ground. But I never should have put that on him. It was never his responsibility, but now I’m finding that it’s easier to blame him for my slip-ups than admitting that I have a problem.

The band isn’t due to go back on tour for quite some time, but they’re in the process of writing and recording new music, which requires a lot of time spent at the studio. I know they’re working so hard, and I should be proud of him, but the longer this takes, the further he slips away. He spends all day with his brothers and returns home late and too exhausted to do much of anything other than sleep.

I can tell our last fight (if I can really call it that) still weighs heavily on him. He doesn’t talk as much, which I thought would be relieving, but instead it only makes him seem more distant, and it hurts. He doesn’t ask me many questions anymore, and he’s hesitant to try and make plans. I curse myself for creating that dark cloud of unsurety that hovers over him.

I fell off the wagon in Wichita, and I haven’t gotten back on it. Some days are more difficult than others. Josh tries to keep me afloat as best he can. He’s done what he can to keep me away from any alcohol, and he’s even dropped me off at a couple of AA meetings to make sure I go. But it’s not like there’s a step-by-step manual on how to make sure your boyfriend doesn’t decide to be a piece of shit today.

I’m assigned to a job that’s supposed to keep me out of town for a few days, but some changes in plans have me returning home a day early. I try to call Josh on my way back, but I only get his voicemail. He doesn’t call me back, but eventually sends a text. “Sorry I missed your call. I’m out with the guys, so I’ll be out late. I’ll see you when I get home.” The little heart emoji at the end makes me scoff. ‘Out with the guys.’ He’s at the bar with his brothers, and there’s no telling what he’s getting up to.

I don’t know why I’m finding it so hard to trust him these days. I want to believe that he wouldn’t lie to me, wouldn’t allow himself to be whisked away by some other man, but then I remember that I’m beneath him, and he’s weak. I imagine it wouldn’t take much, that he’d give in to the first handsome man that spares him a sultry glance.

I don’t go home, and I don’t go to his house. Not yet. I’m tired from the drive and my mind is muddled with made-up scenarios that send me into a spiral. I wonder if I can will some kind of tragedy into existence, something to take me out of my misery – a car accident, a gunshot from a robbery gone bad, anything. It would be so easy to lie down on the nearest train tracks and wait it out or take a flying leap off of the top floor of a parking garage, but in the end, I’m too much of a coward to do it myself.

I don’t hesitate to go inside the store and buy the liquor. I park in an empty lot; the fact that it’s in walking distance of Josh’s favorite bar may or may not have been intentional. I don’t have any second thoughts before I crack open the first bottle.

The more I drink, the more my fear and sorrow turn to hate. I’m angry. I’m angry with myself for not having the strength to control my urges. I’m angry with Josh… for what? For having a social life? For wanting to spend time with his brothers at a place I can’t go? That’s stupid. He’s not a child. But I need him more than I’ve ever needed anyone. We’ve been apart so much recently. Maybe he just needs a reminder of who I belong to, who he belongs to.

I can’t find my keys; I probably dropped them between the seats. It’s for the best, really. The liquor has fogged my brain and made me clumsy, but at least I can stay upright. I barely stumble down the sidewalk until I reach my destination. The doorman eyes me warily, but one of the benefits of being a raging alcoholic is you get better at hiding it.

It doesn’t take me long to spot Jake, Sam, and Danny at a table inside. But where’s Josh? I scan the dimly lit room until I find him. He’s leaning up against the bar talking to someone I don’t recognize. He laughs at whatever the man says to him, his cheek red – from alcohol or is he blushing? The man leans in, too close for my comfort, and touches Josh’s shoulder. Heat rises up in me and my skin is tingling. My vision tunnels until Josh is the only thing I can see.

I rush towards him, miraculously without bumping into too many innocent bystanders, and force myself between him and the unsuspecting stranger. The man takes a step back and shoots Josh a concerned look.

“Finn, what the hell are you doing here?” His eyes are wide and panicked, like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“You first,” I spit, my tone venomous.

“What are you even… shit, you’re drunk.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ, c’mon.”

I glare at the stranger once more before Josh drags me outside. Jake seems to have noticed and is hot on our tails. “Josh, you okay?” Jake doesn’t trust me, and he doesn’t make any attempt to hide it. He hasn’t been fond of me since day one. His presence and desire to be in Josh’s business fuels the fire, and I’m about to start in on him, but Josh is here to play peacekeeper.

“We’re good. Can you just, uh, give us a minute?”

I know the last thing Jake wants to do is leave his twin out here alone with me. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t feel safe with me either. But at Josh’s pleading eyes, he relents, reluctantly retreating inside.

Josh turns to me, chewing on his bottom lip. Much like someone trying to calm a frightened animal, he approaches me slowly and carefully, his voice low. “Finn, baby, let me take you home.”

“Why, so you can come back here to that asshole?”

“What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who I’m fuckin’ talking about. Were you gonna take him home? Were you gonna fuck him?” His feigned cluelessness is just fanning the flames. “Would he have been in your bed tonight if I didn’t come back early?”

“No, I wasn’t… the guy I was talking to in there? He’s just a friend, Finn. I wouldn’t-“

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” I close the distance between us. I’m so close and so much taller than him that he cranes his neck to maintain eye contact. He’s annoyed, tiptoeing into angry. He’s upset that I’m making these accusations. He pities me for being broken. But he isn’t afraid, and he very much should be.

The thing about alcoholism, in most cases, is that it brings out the worst in people. They do things they would never do sober. They hurt people in ways they would never think to do if they weren’t under the influence. They lose all sense of impulse control. The only thing that matters is what they’re feeling in those moments, the urges to act out on whatever terrible thoughts they’re having at the time. For me, it’s like I’m watching it happen to someone else. My self-awareness is clouded and I feel almost as if I’m just an observer, watching someone that looks oddly similar to me make the biggest mistakes of his life.

I expect a fiery argument from him, but if he’s mad, he pushes it down. “You don’t mean that. You’re drunk. You wouldn’t be saying these things if you weren’t.” He’s trying to diffuse a bomb and he’s about to cut the wrong wire. “Please, baby, let’s go home. You can sleep it off and we can talk in the morning.” His hands move to my face, and he looks up at me tearfully.

He thinks he can calm me down with his sweetness, sprinkle me with soft gestures to quell my anger. But it’s a façade. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to manipulate it, to make me think I’m delusional, that I imagined everything. He’ll blame it on the alcohol in me instead of just admitting that he was the one acting like a whore.

I wrench away from his hands and my own come up. They meet his chest, and I shove him away so violently that he slams into the brick wall behind him with an audible thud. I hear him cry out, but it doesn’t register in my mind what I’ve done until I see blood. Blood? Wait, why is there blood?

“Josh, fuck, are you okay?” I try to go to him, but he sidesteps me.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He’s got his hand pressed tightly on the back of his upper left arm. There’s blood seeping between his fingers and down his arm, staining his clothes. I notice something I didn’t see at first – a small piece of metal rebar that’s sticking out from the wall and is now coated in Josh’s blood.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” The remorse I’m feeling isn’t false, and I don’t have to force the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes. What have I done? I never meant for this to happen, for him to get hurt like this. “Please, let me see it. Let me help.” I try to go to him again, but he doesn’t want me near him.

“Get the fuck away from me!” His words sting, and the look in his eyes tells me he means it.

I’m frozen as I try to figure out what to do, and I watch him try to control the bleeding on his own. He can’t really see the wound, but he knows it’s bad. “Josh, you need to go to the hospital,” I say, keeping my voice down.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock.” He looks toward the entrance to the bar, probably considering going in to get Jake. But he glances back at me and something flashes across his face that I can’t explain. Worry? He starts to speak again but decides against it, before walking in the opposite direction. He’s not really going to drive himself there? I offer to take him but he shuts me down. “Like I would let you drive me anywhere right now. Actually,” he starts, turning to me. “Give me your keys.”

I shrug. “I don’t know where they are.” Is he asking because he’s actually still concerned about me, or because he’s trying to prevent me from driving off and fucking up someone else’s life?

He huffs. “Whatever. Go home,” he orders. He’s livid, and rightly so, but there’s something else painted across his face – pain, betrayal, and sadness.

I think I’m going to vomit. My legs are numb; I’m unable to move them and I can do nothing as he walks away from me.

~

I should have left. I shouldn’t have found my keys and gotten back behind the wheel. I shouldn’t have driven to Josh’s house, still drunk. I shouldn’t have let myself in with the spare hidden key. I shouldn’t have decided to wait for him, to try to salvage what’s left of a relationship I know is already in tatters.

It’s probably three or four hours before I hear the lock click on the front door. I watch him as he enters and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, but he makes no move to come any closer.

“I told you to go home.” He won’t meet my eyes and he looks so drained of energy. His left arm is wrapped up with white bandages, midway between his elbow and shoulder. He’s got a bag in his hand that looks like prescription medication and his bloodstained jacket draped over his arm.

“You are my home.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it’s pathetic, but it’s the truth. At least, it feels like it. “Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “I have five stitches and had to get a tetanus shot.” He holds the medicine bag up. “And antibiotics for ten days so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Josh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to… for you to get hurt.”

He tosses the medicine on the coffee table and sighs as he drops onto the couch. He sits as far from me as he can. “Finn… I want to help you, but if… if it’s gonna be like this… I don’t know if I want you here with me right now.”

“It’s not, I promise. I just got carried away. I wasn’t thinking. You know I would never hurt you on purpose. I’ll be more careful. It won’t happen again.”

His jaw tenses and I can see he’s thinking about what to say, what kind of decision he’s going to make. He’s dejected, like he doesn’t have any fight left in him. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. But he doesn’t trust me. And if he doesn’t trust me, he won’t forgive me. Time to pull out all the stops.

I’m not faking it, not really. I do feel remorseful for what I did, and I’ll admit that I’m the one that messed up. Alcohol makes me paranoid, and now that I’m sobering up, I realize that Josh didn’t do anything wrong. It isn’t his fault that he’s too weak to tell people no. If anything, I should have taken it out on the asshole that had the audacity to touch him. But I am ashamed of how I acted, and I need to make him understand that. And if that requires me to beg, I’ll do it.

I give in and let the tears flow freely; it helps feed the pity I’m trying to draw from him. I know I’m just being selfish. I’m doing this for me, despite knowing this is not what he really needs. What he should do is put as much distance as he can between us. I’m not confident that I can keep him safe. But I’ve already started the game, and I have to finish it.

When I grab his hand, he makes a small effort to pull away, but I tighten my grip. Don’t let go. “Baby, please don’t push me away. I made a mistake, but you’re the one who said it was okay to make mistakes, right? I’m trying, Josh, I really am. I’m trying to be better, but I can’t do it alone. I need you.” That’s it. That’s the icing on the cake. That’s how I get to him. Josh is a lover, it’s in his blood. He loves being needed, getting the opportunity to help people, and he won’t say no. “If you shut me out now… I don’t have anyone else. You’re it for me. I can’t do this without you.”

He's fighting with himself, I can see it in his eyes, but I can also see that I’ve won. He still loves me, and he won’t just walk away from that. Even better, if he thinks he can fix me, he’s going to try, even if he takes all the damage in the process.

“What do you need me to do?”

I don’t have a real answer for him. He knows I won’t go to rehab – it’s too similar to a hospital. The AA meetings only do so much. Plus, I’m getting to the point where it annoys me, sitting there listening to all those idiots and their fucking sob stories. I don’t give a shit about them. I never did. Then they start bringing ‘God’ and ‘faith’ into it, and I realize they’re all just sheep, blindly following a fictional idea of God – or maybe just a god that doesn’t care about them either.

Josh’s big brown eyes are watching me closely, maybe trying to decide if he’s the one making the mistake. I certainly won’t be the one to tell him he definitely is.

I beg for him to just let me stay with him, and he concedes. I try to be gentle with him; I don’t think he can handle anymore heaviness tonight. I make him eat so he can start his antibiotics, and I’m extra careful of his arm as we lie down. Again, I don’t really sleep, but he crashes hard, the day finally catching up to him. And I do something that I know is another mistake, something that is guaranteed to cause problems later, but I justify it as my way of protecting him.

When I’m sure he’s fast asleep, I unlock his phone, download one of the many tracking apps that are freely available, and link it to my phone. I disable all notifications and hide the icon in some folder I know he never uses, one of those where you keep all the software apps you can’t delete.

There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s wrong. It’s disrespectful, a violation of privacy, an act that solidifies how much I don’t trust him. It’s controlling, manipulative, and just overall creepy. I would have been livid if he had done it to me. But the deed is done, and I’ll tell myself whatever I need to, to not feel guilty for this. I’m doing it for him. I’m doing it for his safety, to keep him out of trouble when I’m not here. He needs someone to do it, and who better than someone that loves him? He needs me, and I’d do anything for him.

///

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added!)

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @hailthegodsong @josh-iamyour-mama @katuschka @lilbitx