#and scratching an itch i needed to scratch ^_^

[fuckaspunk]

watching this video go around has been driving me bonkers and i think i've pieced together why. this is masterful lib-aimed propaganda. not to imply lil tuck is some sort of genius. he's is and always has been a dipshit and a fascist. but also he's figured out he can key into the liberal need for clapback content. this scratches the same itch as something like the daily show. now when libs think about this bowtied cretin they'll also think "he did make a good point that one time." and just like that the ratchet clinks another notch to the right

[dollsxcaptains]

DeadDoveDontRead | Don'tLikeDon'tRead 18+

AFAB but no pronouns or feminine descriptions used. Step-cest (liberals use of 'brother' and 'sibling") , cheating, non-con/un-protected sex, yandere, Dick Grayson is a creep, power dynamics

꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶ ︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦

We've talked about Dick Grayson cheating but may I go a step further and say that he'd full on cheat on his partner with his adoptive sibling. And to make matters worse it's really just Dick Grayson being an absolute disgusting creep towards them and they just being like—hey this is wrong??please stop??—

I'm sorry but yummy power dynamic. It's not even like you're all that much younger than Dick, you're both in you're 20's. And no matter your height, weight or strength, He dwarfs you. Don't even get e started on the automatic authority Dick has over everyone (that's mainly due to Bruce treating him like the second head of the household.) He's the golden child that could do no wrong, you've seen it time and time again where Dick does something worthy of being borderline-disowned and instead gets a kiss-on-the-wrist (because a slap on the wrist is far too harsh on little ol' robin and to be honest Dick is just a little dense,,,he's doesn't understand boundaries like you and I. Being 27-ish is still so young. Give the man grace, will ya?)

So how could you, possibly feel like you have any right to reject anything Dick Grayson wanted from you at this point? Especially not when you've complained to Bruce a numerous of times about how uncomfortable your pseudo brother makes you and more than hinted at the inappropriate things he does to you only met with "I'll speak to him but-" followed by a painfully disingenuous reasoning behind his behaviors and how you may be misunderstanding your older brother. Bruce doesn't seem to believe you, or rather he does but he'd much rather sweep it under the rug and let his precious Robin play with the toy his choice because thats much easier than facing the reality that he did in-fact fail in some way with Dick (who desperately needs to go a form of behavioral therapy.)

To be fair, none of the other bats seem to be concerned with Dick's constant harassment towards you either. Steph and Cass might jokingly punch him and tell him to leave poor you alone, when they notice him chewing on your ear all the while groping you during movie night. Or Jason might actually call him out for fucking drooling over himself as he watches you from the kitchen but that's about it. It's really the Twilight Zone and you have to wonder to yourself if Dick ever had this type of relationship with any of them before you so they are all just conditioned to believe this normal. I mean he was with Babs but she's not- well you're not either- but it's different.

Oh what great relief did you feel when Dick proudly announces at breakfast that he met someone new and how he's not going to be around as much anymore. Only for that relief to be crushed by the weight of a new brand of anxiety you've never felt before when your eyes laid upon a picture of person who looks…(deep breath everyone)…just like his dear sibling. Yay… 

I mean maybe not just alike but they share your hair, eye, and skin color. Even wear a similar style of clothes to you.

Maybe you should see the bright side. They'll be keeping him occupied now and you'll no longer have to deal any of this. This is actually great. This is what you prayed for right? Even though it's a bit un-nerving that somehow he found someone who strikingly resembles you to be intimate with. Do you think that this is his way of scratching an itch that he has? He's violated you in many ways , more than you can count but he's always stopped up to a certain point. Has been wanting to go further but knows this is the only way he can without being too far gone. Is this the type of conversations he's been having with Bruce? Oh it's okay to harass your batsib as long as you can control yourself enough not to fuck them.

Okay, gross.

You try your best not to think too much of it. Dick will be finally out of the house and making use of his apartment thats a city over in Bludhaven. This is still great, minor details don't matter.

—

For about a month, Dick was actually scarce. He'd only come through while he was in his Nightwing attire , usually after or right before patrol to go discuss things with the others. Too focused or far too tired to even acknowledge you.

On the off chance that he just decided to stop by it was actually with his partner and still not really acknowledging you. Purposefully, though. Everyone got a proper introduction to them, except for you.

His eyes would refuse to meet yours, not even wanting to turn his head in your direction. If he had to speak to you for whatever reason he was curt, seemingly agitated that he'd even have to. He didn't shine his Grayson smile at you anymore. He didn't even share his baseline warmth that he used with literally everyone. He was restrained, unnaturally so. 

And not that you were meaning to paying close attention to them but curiosity had you wondering if he interacted differently with his date than he did with you. Does he pull them into his lap and mindlessly roam their body? Or give peppering kisses down their neck while he does on about how much he reveres them?

No.

He was sweet with them. Carefully holding their hand or cupping their face for a single, peck on their cheek like they're third grade lovers. So respectful and so not like the Dick you know.

You weren't trying to find things to complain about and quite frankly his personal affairs aren't really your business but why wasn't he being more perverted with them? Something was off. I mean yeah, they haven't been together that long but Dick wasted no time being handsy with you and he's never felt shame towards PDA. 

The more you thought about it and payed attention, it all clicked for you. Dick wasn't into them. He used a specific tight-lipped smile with them that was reserved only for the people he'd rather not be around. Yes, he was sweet with them but it felt lie the same sweetness you give your neighbor when you're trying to be nice, it wasn't loving.

The thought crossed your mind if this was a setup by Bruce, maybe he was tired of your complaints and used his resources to find a suitable replacement for you? But Dick's initial excitment for them seemed to suggest this was his lone attempt at trying to redirect his advances.

How long would it take Dick before he realized just how unsatisfied just went back to harassing you?

—

Forcing his hand over your mouth as he grinds his bare erection onto your thigh. His usual bright blue eyes, dark and teary from the pathetic act. There's almost a sorrowful look in his eyes, maybe not for you because if he were he wouldn't be doing it this. You don't have to wonder more because not before long, he's confessing his sins as if he's in mass.

"Shit- I promise Bruce i wouldn't…m' wouldn't do this to you-"

Something warmer than the heat of his groin dribbled onto your plush skin.. a whine following it as he continues grinding

Gross. Gross. Gross.

"-I'm supposed to be a good brother and be fucking them instead..but they're not enough. I tried to make them enough for me."

He removes his hand from your mouth, not giving you enough time to speak or cry out before his lips smashes onto yours, nearly choking you on tongue. His free hand does from groping your chest, sliding down to your clit then gripping onto his cock.

He rips his lips away with a sound thats far too sloppy and disgusting to ever want to remember and rambles on about some sick fantasy he's had about you all while stroking himself.

"-It's going to be so hard not finishing in you like I imagined but I know B wont forgive me if I-" 

He pauses for a seconded, a chilling smile flashes on his face, more pre-cum leaking from his fat tip before shaking the thought away.

"No. Not yet."

Not yet? 

There's not a moment to adjust to intrusion, no gentleness, no sweetness. His pace is quick, and each thrust is hitting your g-spot at an angle that somehow brought you more pain than pleasure. His teeth are sunken into the crook of your neck and his hands are bruising your wrists. He's the only one enjoying himself like creep he is. 

"I'm a horrible brother fucking you like this, aren't I."

The rhetorical question laced with a pleasure only someone this messed up could have.

"..so disgusting.."

And when you do tighten around him as you reach your forced climax, you can see it in his eyes that he's convinced you're just as I love with him as is with you. Talking you through it and moaning declarations of love as if this was some romantic first time you were sharing as a couple.

His climax follows soon after, his cock barely escaping out of you before emptying himself onto your swollen cunt. 

"Mm' fu- fuck."

He collapses on top of you, muttering about how this is your little secret and you can't tell Bruce or his partner. How he'll make sure he won't neglect you, and that you won't have to worry about never having him again because he doesn't love them like he loves you. He only plans to keep them around so that Bruce think he's gotten over his "infatuation" with you.

Thus it becomes a thing where he just continues to cheat on his partner with you. Not that you approve of it, but Dick is crazy enough where you're not sure if you even feel safe telling anyone. Either way it won't stop Dick from getting what he wants. It nauseating watching him kiss on them at dinner knowing he just going to turn around a fuck you afterwards

[bottmless-pitt]

I'll be right there. 1/2

CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of suicide, talks of self-harm, Reader attempted suicide. Jack Abbot x F!reader, Neighbor!Reader, Medical inaccuracies, blood, car trauma, mentions of Abbot's time in the military, brief descriptions of bruising, blood, and stitches. Angst with an ambiguously happy ending. Summary: Jack Abbot's new neighbor ends up in his Trauma rooms for all the wrong reasons. Can he break through to her before it's too late? Author's Note: Some real self-indulgent angst. I highkey love a reader insert with a tragic backstory to lean into. This is part 1, I'll be posting part 2 later this week! Part 2 will definitely be more fluff and smut than this, so no hard feelings if you'd like to read it later. Let me know your thoughts. All the kindness from the other piece is keeping me upright. Enjoy the self-indulgent angst!!!

The lights were too bright. It was stale in the cavernous halls of the PMTC’s emergency department. The smell of blood and cleaning fluid never fully left your nose, and the sounds of someone’s lowest moments seemed to echo out eternally.

Jack loved the chaos that working in the Pitt brings him, it’s grounding. After spending better part of a decade on the front lines, returning to civilian life was more than monotonous, it was dehumanizing. Jack had understood himself well in the thick of the battlefield, he worked quickly without hesitation or fear. He had a carefully built self-image that hinged on his ability to be useful to someone in crisis.

After losing a portion of his leg, being honorably discharged, and sent back to retire he had lost the only structure he’d ever known. He couldn’t figure out how to be useful in the stillness, where no one was crying out for loved ones or God-like figures to save them. He was aimless without the chaos.

So, he loved The Pitt, and its never-ending line of incoming traumas. He appreciated his role in the machine that cogged overhead, happy to do his part and keep moving. Some days were harder than others, some cases left him feeling threadbare and worn thin, but the silence that greeted him when he walked home left him more haunted than anything he’d seen at work in the past few years.

So, all in all, Jack didn’t complain about the work the way the rest of his team did. He never minded the patients that would kick and scream at him, nor did he care much when there were far too many people packed into the waiting room. Yes, in a perfect world none of this would happen, but he enjoyed that it kept him moving forward. He needed the momentum desperately.

On an off night, however, he can’t seem to get the itch scratched. They had breezed through most of the day-shift’s leftover cases, discharged who they could, and moved onto the next. All of his cases were being monitored, the chairs had slowed down significantly, and it was approaching the Night-shift lull.

He was starting to get antsy, and after the third lap checking in on his team, he collapsed into a chair next to his Charge Nurse, Bridgit.

“Don’t get too comfortable soldier.” She looked down at him from the top rim of her reading glasses. Jack only smirked, she quirked an unimpressed eyebrow back at him.

“Oh, you know me,” He leaned back into the chair, putting the lumbar support to the test. “I’m not comfortable unless I’m elbow deep in traumas.” He passively spun his chair side to side, looking less like the Emergency Department Attending and more like a teenage boy stuck at the family barbeque.

“More like elbow deep in trauma, period.” She shoots back, tapping him with her clipboard the way a teacher would readjust a student. That was Bridgit, she was the one really running this place, and Jack had no issues submitting to her power when she pushed him around a little. She opened her mouth to say something, when the phone behind her lit up. It only took a few hushed words before turning back to him, “Look alive kid, we have incoming, ETA 3 minutes.”

Jack springs up, walking away as she finishes gathering the troops. He’s outside in a flash, prepped and sterile before the sirens could even be heard in the distance. Ellis not more than three steps behind him, already gloving up ready to take on whatever she needs. Jack tilted his head back and gave a calm thumbs up as they see the flashing lights come up and over the horizon.

When the ambulance pulls up and the gurney is wheeled out, he sees a young woman, bloodied, bruised, but semi-conscious. He begins his medical assessment and taking the reins from the EMTs. He doesn’t get a glimpse of her face before he begins spouting orders.

“Let’s get her set up in Trauma 1, I don’t like blood loss here, prep to intubate but let’s see if we can’t assess the head trauma before we sedate her.” He led as Ellis trailed along the other side, following his orders exactly. “Hi there, I’m Doctor Jack Abbot, I’m a doctor at the Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center, we’re going to take good care of you.” He heard a small groan as the patient slowly turned their head towards him.

He saw you then, he’s shocked he hadn’t recognized you sooner, on the gurney laid out before him. His sweet, albeit quiet, neighbor who had never given him any trouble. His breath caught in his throat as your eyes seemed to recognize him, before rolling back in your skull and everything went dark.

--

Pittsburg was a bitch in February. The weather was unrelenting, and frost bitten. No one wanted to be outside for more than five minutes, let alone lug box after box up the small stairwell into the dusty old apartment upstairs.

So, when Jack, who snagged a rare weekend off, noticed his new upstairs neighbor was moving in he had no excuse not to help. That’s just the kind of guy Jack was, he wasn’t going to let a new neighbor move in without at least offering. He was thankful you had sense enough to hire movers, rather than try and do it yourself the way the last tenants had. (He had the pleasure of trying to sleep through three college aged guys try to carry a sectional up the stairs two Septembers ago.)

He didn’t fancy himself too much help, but the next trip he saw you coming down he poked his head out.

“Oh!” you squeaked, nervous to catch one of your new neighbors off guard, “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you come out.” You clarified.

“it’s no worries.” Jack stepped out and extended a hand, “I’m Jack, I’m in 1B.” He pointed his thumb back at the door that was clearly labeled behind him. You only smiled shyly and let out a polite laugh offering your name in return.

“I’m 2B, so I guess I’m right above you.”  You spoke softly. “Is the moving too much noise? I’m so sorry, it was the only time slot the movers had left.”

Jack shrugged, he hadn’t really thought about it, with his sleep schedule being as backwards as it was. This was early for him if he was being honest.

“Not for me, no. I’m night shift at the hospital down the road.” He noticed your fidgeting, trying to keep an eye on the movers without being too rude. You were young, far too young for him, but it didn’t stop him from admiring your face. He especially noticed the crease that developed between your eyebrows when you saw the movers drop a box boldly labeled fragile.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep you, just wanted to see if you needed any help.” He conceded. Your head shot back to look at him, wide eyed, and a flush creeped up your spine.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m so distracted. The move’s been pretty chaotic.” Your shoulder slump, letting the weight of the moment hang heavy before taking a deep breath and regaining composure. You shoot him a smile, but he notices how it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I think we’re ok! And I don’t want to steal your night away.” She brushes off the comment.

He doesn’t reasonably believe you, but hey, moving can be tough and he doesn’t want to keep you longer than necessary.  So, he throws a friendly smile, catching your eyes with an open intensity. “No problem, but if you ever need anything I’m down here.” He watches his words land, and you pause a moment before nodding again.

“Thanks Jack, and uh- “you peak back through the open front door to watch the movers for a moment, “same here. If you ever need anything at all.”

And that was the first and last time he’d spoken to you, until now. Until you were wheeled into his trauma room, covered in blood, multiple broken ribs, and an unidentified head trauma.

Jack was a talented doctor, a master at compartmentalizing in high stress environments, and acting fast in situations going south. He was a steady hand in an earthquake, proving his actions time and time again, both in the field and out of it. He was a good doctor, but seeing you laid up before him had his throat dry in an instant.

He couldn’t reconcile the shy neighbor he met only a few months ago is the same girl bleeding out on his table, and the last thing she heard was him promising to take good care of him.

For a moment, half a moment maybe, as your eyes slide shut, he lets the chaos around him rumble away, it couldn’t touch his shock. He let the nurses bark SATs and Ellis call out questions.

For a brief moment he allowed himself to be Jack Abbot, 1B, who just wanted to make sure his new neighbor was safe. Jack Abbot, 1B, who would always take her mail dropped into his box by accident up to her door and ring the bell. Jack Abbot who wanted to get a second chance at a first meeting, because he’s sure that if he could just be slightly more charming, he’d have gotten a chance to carry a box up the stairs and into your new home. That he would have a chance to leave you better than he found it. The Jack Abbot that was selfish, wanting a woman who was younger than him, who’d only ever spoken to him the once, but had never left his mind.

It wasn’t until one of the nurses brushed past him with a bag of O-Neg that he snapped out of it.

“Fuck, we need to get her intubated-“He announced, reaching for the tube, and before he can allow himself to think any further about what could happen to you, his mind shuts and he becomes Dr. Abbot again.

The first thing you feel when you come to, is a dull ache in your left side. Everything hurts, actually, but your left side outranks the rest by far. Your eyes don’t open right away, too heavy to try lifting them. You let the sounds of the monitor to your right keep time, beep… beep… beep. It would be comforting if the sheets didn’t itch, and your feet weren’t so cold, or if there wasn’t the sounds of people dying outside the doorway to your room.

When you opened your eyes, you immediately regretted it, your head blooming in fresh pain from the intensity of the lights. Immediately shutting them closed and letting out a groan. The lights shining overhead had you spinning, sending waves of pain down your body. It was never supposed to end here.

If you told yourself a year ago you ended up in the emergency room tonight, she’d probably laugh in your face.

It all started with your fiancé, or ex-fiancé, who couldn’t seem to decide if they loved you or not. Or at least that’s what they told you last December while you were picking out wedding cake flavors. It wasn’t that they didn’t love you, per-se, the reality is they didn’t love you enough to stop fucking their coworker. So, wedding is called off, which you lament but move on.

It's not until he kicks you out come January, with nothing but enough cash to stay at a shitty motel for a few weeks that things start to weigh you down. The small attic apartment in a townhouse in the heart of Pittsburg is a refuge. It takes most of your paycheck every month, and you have barely enough furniture to call it livable. It’s completely yours, though, and that’s not something you’ve ever had.

So, you keep going through the motions. Then you get fired from your job. Budget cuts, layoffs, restructuring is uttered. You suspect it has more to do with the Senior Manager that’s sporting the engagement ring that was yours just a few months prior. That’s when the spiral really begins.

You reach out to whatever family you have left and are met with cold indifference. They’re not unsupportive, but you aren’t the only one with problems. Any attempts to reach out to old friends lost to time are met with similar tepid support.

The dismissal is enough to keep you firmly bottled up for years.

You’re not really sure what the final straw was but looking up at the steep steps of your apartment building, you can’t bring yourself up the steps. Not when you know the only thing waiting for you is a stuffy apartment devoid of all life. You contemplate, for a moment, knocking on the downstairs neighbor’s door, but decide against it. You’re not sure what kind of doctor he is, but he always looks so tired when you catch him coming up the sidewalk in the mornings.

But after a long shift at your new dead-end job, you just decide it’s not worth it anymore. You couldn’t spend another night thanking your lucky stars to be living a life you despise. For the first time in a long time, you feel nothing at all. No sadness, no pain, just intense clarity. You turn on your heel, walk out into the cold, and hardly flinch when you take a step out into the busy street. The last thing you remember is the bright light of the oncoming traffic consume you.

You were never meant to end up here. You never meant for any of this. You open your eyes again and reach out for the call button.

You were by no means a medical expert, but you thought the button was more for Nurses rather than doctors. You hadn’t expected for Jack to poke his head into your room, but of course he had. Of course, Jack was an ER doctor, and of course he was in your room. Lest we forget what sick karmic luck exists.

“Hey there sleepy head.” He was calm, but you could feel his eyes racking down you with medically trained precision. How mortifying for your neighbor to be your doctor after a night like this. You want to curl up and hide, he reaches out for your hand.

“How are you feeling?” he tilts his head down at you.

“Hurts.” You manage to choke out, throat sore and rough, like sandpaper. He presses his lips in a tight line and nods his head gently.

“Understandable, you were in a car accident.” He reached over, fiddling with the equipment. “I’m adjusting your meds. You should feel less pain here in a minute.” You resist the urge to let out a chuckle, the physical pain was hardly the main concern, and you had a feeling by the unwavering gaze jack was giving you- he already knew that.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He takes a seat on your bedside. “I spoke with some of the officers on the scene,” He fiddled with the thin paper sheet below you. “And they’re pretty concerned about you, kid.” He dropped his hand on top of yours, and you felt your whole body react.

His eyes boring holes into your skull as you try to squirm out from under his gaze. The pain meds slowly trickling in your system do little to help as you try to adjust. You cry out in pain when your skin, bruised and swollen, is stretched to its limit along your side.

“Easy there, you’ve got stitches.”  Jack, Dr. Abbot, has his arms around you in an instant. He helps you turn until you’re lying on your side, and you allow yourself the comfort of curling up in protest.

“That better?” He asks, and you only nod. “Good.”

Jack makes no motion to move, he just sits with you, watches you like you’ll disappear any second. He opened his mouth a few times but ultimately spent the next few moments watching you.

It was a shameful feeling, to know your low got that low and now you’re sitting with your neighbor who probably thinks you’re totally insane for walking into oncoming traffic. He was some hotshot ER doctor. You were just some random person who’d come swan diving into his life headfirst and knocked themselves out on the bottom of the pool.

You couldn’t bear the agony of waking up without meaning again, and you don’t understand why this man, who owed you nothing, was sitting here with you. Your body begged you to say something, do something, anything, but your mind was numb.

You burrowed deeper into your own hands, and it wasn’t until you felt Dr. Abbot’s own hands petting your hair, that you realized you were crying. You felt your whole body sink into the thin mattress below you, like a faulty tire finally siphoning the last bit of air. Your body shook and your muscles ache around the constricted breaths.

“I know, let it out.” He encouraged, scooting closer to you.

“I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You finally admit. In a strange way it feels better saying it to someone other than your own reflection. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see the look in his eyes when he thinks it. You’re completely insane.

You don’t know how long he sits with you, letting your body heave its sobs. He stays, ignoring other patients, to sit with you. One hand on your head the other fiddles with the chain around his neck.

“I lost a leg, in Afghanistan in 2009,” His voice is calm, almost matter of fact, but waivers off like he’s reliving it. “And I thought that would be the hardest thing I ever had to experience.” He moved his hands away from you.

“I moved back home, thought about retiring, thought about working at a college as a professor. I liked teaching enough. I thought, the worst is behind me, just gotta move on.” He clears his throat, and you peak through to look up at him, lost in his own story. “I had a wife, I was going to settle down and figure out how to be there for her, but it wasn’t that simple. I had lost myself completely over there.

“I was a soldier my whole life, I trained to be a soldier first, medic second. I don’t think I remembered what civilian life really was. We used to sit around at base camp, talking about what we’d do when we got home, but once I was there it meant nothing to me anymore.” You took a shuddering breath, and he looked down at you, “I came back, and I had some really dark nights. I couldn’t move, I had no purpose, I was a soldier first, medic second, person third. I couldn’t be a soldier, I wasn’t cleared to be a medic, and I had no idea how to be a person anymore.

“There more than a few nights where I begged for everything to stop. I prayed for there to be an end to that feeling. So, I get it. Hey, I really do, but this is not the way out you think it is kid.” He put his hand on yours, and you felt his fingers curl around yours tightly, like he was holding onto something that was just on the brink of slipping him by.

“I don’t have anything,” You admit to yourself, “It’s not just things, I don’t have a life, I don’t have anything.”

He lets out a shaky breath, “You have me.” He tilts his head again trying to catch your reaction. Your breath gets caught in your throat, and distantly you hear the heartrate monitor increase. He only chuckles and reaches past you to turn the monitor off. “I mean it, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know me at all.” You sound like a petulant child, but he lets you get away with it.

“But I want to.”

And when Jack puts it that way it’s so simple. He makes life sound easy to rebuild, and you want to yell and scream that it isn’t that simple. You want to shake him until he understands the wreckage he’s standing on top of isn’t just a broken-down building, it’s a radioactive wasteland.

“Here’s what I want to do, and you tell me if this is alright.” He stands, crossing his arms, then looking down at you. “I’m going to have a doctor come talk to you, and he’s going to set you up with a therapy program that’ll be a good fit for you. Might even get you on some medicine if they feel like it’s the right fit. I’m also going to give you my phone number, and I’m going to check on you before I leave for work and when I get home for a few weeks. I’m going to give you the number for my charge nurse as well, in case you can’t reach me.” He runs a hand down his face, and you can see the exhaustion pulling him down. You don’t offer an argument.

“I know it’s scary.” He admits to you, “To choose to get better, but you can, and I’ll be right here, alright?” He nods, and you nod with him.

“Okay,” you concede, exhausted form your own emotions.

“It’s rude,” He pats your shoulder, “to end up in a trauma on your friend’s shift you know.”

“Are we friends, Dr. Abbot?” You question.

“We are now.”

[wintergrofyuri]

there is an element if romance in every vessel/voice duo and im tired of ppl only seeing the shallow, hollow, Nothing love of damsel and smitten as the only romance between them.

nightmare shares her heart with paranoid, her deepest darkest fears. Her nightmares. they are both shackled by fear. they both want freedom.

beast and hunted are puzzle pieces. prey and predator. both slaves to instinct. dancing the dance of fight and flight.

spectre and cold are nothing. the lack of feeling, both physical and emotional. desperate to be freed from their numbness.

razor and cheated are a game. both unwilling to back down until a winner is declared. an itch only the other can scratch.

i could go on really. when slay the princess said it was a love story it fucking meant that shit. it is NOT just smitten and damsel and the heart of the shifting mound endings. love is not just one thing. love takes many forms. please. Please stop pretending that smitten and damsel are the only voice/vessel ship please PLEASE im LOSING it you arent even exploring their actual dynamic!!! THEY ARE A SHALLOW, FAKE LOVE, BROUGHT TOGETHER ONLY BC THEY THINK THEY NEED TO BE TOGETHER PLEEEEEEEEASE PLEASE PLEASE TREAT THEM AS SUCH

[2000sangel]

Reader who usually tries to be bubbly and friendly with everyone snapping and going attack dog on an audience member that won’t stop heckling Tenna. I’m talking reader needing to be held back by security as to not throw hands.

They eventually find Tenna later to apologize about it, worried they made the situation worse and wanting to check in on him after the fact.

They are not sorry for standing up for him despite security chewing them out for trying to jump someone.

I hope this scratches the itch! (If it isn’t hurt/comforty enough you can ignore this :p)

Hellow!! I accidentally made this less hurt/comforty than I intended but I hope you enjoy nonetheless...!! It was fun to write for me and I liked the prompt, so I'm deciding not to rewrite it but maybe I could write something similar...? IM RAMBLING.

ENJOY!!

OH YEAH I also made Reader less intense for the story's sake...!!

Tenna x Protective Reader !! - Short One Shot.

Your eye twitches as you bite back a snarky remark directed towards tonight’s audience nuisance; you’re currently attending one of Tenna’s TV Time episodes on-air, and you don’t even understand why this guy even showed up if they don’t like Tenna and his show. 

Your partner is visibly displeased by the comments they make, purposefully while everyone else is silent, you notice, and so are you. Usually you’d ask to drop it politely, but they’re seated a bit far from you and they’re far from deserving of your nice treatment at this point.

Tenna is about to announce the challenges of the second round when the irritating Darkner comments very loudly on how the show should just end already, making one of your boyfriend’s antennas get a bit droopy, and the combination of things finally brings you to your absolute limit;

“Are you even real?” you hiss under your breath, but loud enough so they can still hear you from their seat.

The Darkner raises an eyebrow dumbly at you;

“Like honestly? I thought people as annoying as you only existed as like. Characters, in TV shows.” 

“Don’t know what to tell you, this guy’s so bad he brought one of those to life-”

They don’t even get to finish their sentence before you get on your feet and walk in front of them so fast that you could say you’ve teleported; unfortunately before you can say anything security is at your sides, holding you back so you can’t get closer to them.

You weren’t planning to straight up beat the guy up, just to give them an earful without further disturbing the program, but you suppose you can do that even as they physically drag you away from the seats; at least someone has the decency to ask them to leave as well as you argue with each other:

“Why even come here if you can’t even shut up about how bad you think this is? What’s the actual point?!”

“Oh, because you’re so much better, wanting to raise your hands on me!”

“That was not the plan, instead you look like someone who would throw tomatoes on the stage!” 

You get one last look at Tenna, whose mouth is agape and general expression otherwise unreadable; you know he’s going to make sure you’re allowed in the audience again, but you still make it a point to find him to apologize once the show comes to an end.

–

“...Tenna?” 

The embarrassment that fills your being is palpable through the way your voice slightly trembles, as you stand outside your partner’s private changing room. Tenna turns around, startled as he’s mid-changing into a more comfortable button up, but his shoulders relax once he notices it’s just you.

“Goodness! You scared me!” he admits, quickly adjusting his clothes to look more presentable, “What was all that? I-I assured security that you wouldn’t do it again but- what? Wh-”

He doesn’t sound mad thankfully, just concerned, as he steps closer to you and his hands hover above your figure, inspecting you for any kind of…wound? You’re not totally sure what he’s so worried for, so you chuckle at his behaviour.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, it’s just- that guy was so annoying, I had to do something about it…I mean not to be rude but it was painfully obvious that they were making you uncomfortable-”

Tenna makes a sound like he’s incredulous of what you’re saying, and shakes his head frantically;

“NonononoNO! I mean, okay, maybe, but I’m okay, I could’ve gone on, I always do alright? NO need to worry about one bad apple!”

You’ve heard numerous times about how much any kind of negative comment has an impact on Tenna, so it’s clear to you that he’s just reassuring you right now, and you do let him finish, but sigh a little also.

“One bad apple spoils the whole bunch, though, right?” His antennas twitch, and he frowns, “Look. I know what I did was strange, and I'm sorry, but I just…can’t see anyone be like that towards you, it makes me mad. So maybe at least this one guy won’t show up just to be annoying anymore…” 

It’s Tenna’s turn to sigh, and he laughs, not at you but at the situation. 

“Well I’m leaving it to you to create some scoop-worthy scenarios next time, too!” His playful grin is contagious, “But uhm, it means…a lot that you care. Really! And I hope you- you keep watching- I mean, you’re already ‘watching’...” he whispers to an imaginary audience now; “He effed up and meant it in a romantic way!”

“I know! I know you.” you gently pull his tie to prompt him to bend down a little; when he does, you simply kiss his forehead, a little action that makes him flush nonetheless; “Your show was amazing, by the way.”

“You really think so?” he asks, his smile so wide you’re not sure how his cheeks aren’t hurting, “What was the best part…?”

As you and Tenna finish preparing to go back home, you enthusiastically answer his usual question, encouraging him to pick more daring contestants as he did tonight and promising to be a little more level headed from now on…! 

[wifeshifts]

shifting misconceptions i wish were blasted with a disintegrating ray

'clones' do not exist i hate tiktok sm for starting this no one is going to control your body while you're gone unless you're a plural system!

2. you do not physically teleport there like your body isnt gonna suddenly poof out of existence - your only transferring your consciousness. ppl get uppity when its compared to astral projection but it's pretty similar in sense of steps to get there. i think this step really hinders a lot of ppl and when i tell them this they have a MUCH easier time shifting

3. you dont need to be in a good mindset or be super hydrated to shift - it's a good thing to be taken care of and be in a good mindset, but really it all comes down to focus. emotions can cause blocks but they can't full on prevent it from happening. also im severely dehydrated and shift just fine LOL

4. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE STILL TO SHIFT! if your position is uncomfortable, MOVE! doing all that 'void state' stuff is fine if it helps you focus but if it bothers you and especially if it makes you hurt, please move. your body isn't going to be still while you're gone anyway (i.e scratching an itch or adjusting, not the aforementioned clones)

5. obligatory you dont need to script or do methods blah blah everyone knows this one LOL

6. shifting doesn't just apply to us in this reality. ppl from other realities can shift here too when invited! not so much as a misconception that it is a little tip - it takes less energy than shifting and you can go abt daily life with whoever you want basically! i also call this cosmabonding! :)

[ineffableclassics]

The first time the Aziraphale ever masturbated was in October of 1989.

It was, like a lot of his bad habits, entirely Crowley's fault.

In which Aziraphale catches Crowley all dressed up on his way to a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and a lot of feelings he's been keeping hidden rise to the occasion.

Words: 5,154

Status: Complete

Rating: Explicit

[604to647]

Oy! Adriana!! THIS IS ILLEGAL!!

Mannnnn…. I was très excited when I read the summary, looking forward to Reader getting a little rough punishment from Lucien for being so badddddd 🤭🤭🤭

But omigod, the deliciousness when I read that they had a past!! (present?? future?! 🤔😜😜) All the callbacks to their trysts in the past were so filthy and the bite of degradation to these flashbacks scratched my favourite itch 🫠🫠🥵

As soon as you're settled he shoves his middle and ring fingers inside you, turned down so his thumb can play with the puckered ring of your ass. Lucien spits on it, gently easing his thumb inside while his other fingers slowly piston in and out of your sopping pussy.

"Daddy!" you cry out, clenching in both places, so wet that it's dripping down to alleviate his entry into your ass. And his fingers are so thick that it's both a pleasure and a pain to take them.

"Why are you weeping like you're a virgin?" he tuts. "Don't act like no one's ever come through here and played before. Remember Puerto Vallarta? And how you let me fuck this tight little ass right there on the beach? You weren't crying then. In fact you loved it. You even called me Daddy back then."

EXCUSE ME?!?

The dirty talk about why his son left, how maybe she's not actually here to win him back but here for Lucien, not even sure if it's true, but the way he grits it out is so mocking and taboo, I WANT it to all be true 🤤🤤 and I think they both do too 🫠🫠🥵

"Lick all this off, baby," he commands. "Make me sticky with something else."

You lick the cherry lip gloss off, smiling to see some of it's gotten in his thatch of hair as well. You comb your fingers through it, knowing he likes it, gently pulling it up to watch him squirm. "Little bitch," he grunts, his voice playful despite the uncomfortable sting you gave him.

UGGGH He's so mean and horny and affected 😫😫😫 I need them to keep sneaking around and being so right nasty with each other foreverrrr 🥹🥹

In conclusion, this was sooooo good babe! Thank you so much for writing this gem 😘- Imma be like this for the rest of the day:

The Wedding Crasher

Lucien de Leon x f!reader | WC: 2.6K

Summary: crashing your ex's wedding reception lands you in hot water with his dad Lucien..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. TW: dub-con due to reader being tipsy. Reader is a toxic, slutty, hot mess. Mentions of drinking alcohol. Age gap (reader is 20-30, Lucien is in his 40s). One bed trope. Infidelity. Secret Relationship. Fingering. Degradation. Daddy kink. Ball worship. Oral (m receiving). Pube pulling. Anal play/analingus/references to past anal sex. Spitting. Unprotected piv. Facial. Reader wears makeup and a dress and has hair long enough to put in a ponytail.. y'know.. for BJ reasons.

A/N: may I introduce my submssion for @mushgloomz PPCU Smut Writing Challenge ✨Kia assigned me this prompt and lemme tell y'all, I got EXCITED. I haven't written for our guy yet and I know nothing about him because I haven't seen the movie yet, but I was happy to explore some darker elements because that's just where my mind's been lately. The smut would. Not. Stop. And so I let it continue 😅 Enjoy!

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

FULL MASTERLIST

Lucien's grip around your arm is tight as he leads you down the corridor. He's been quiet since you left the elevator, ignoring your tears and your pleas that you'll just go home quietly and everyone can forget all the fuss you've made.

And what a fuss you made.

You found out where your ex-boyfriend's wedding reception was being held and made it Priority Number One to crash it. All decked out in your sluttiest little dress that showed off all your curves and left little to the imagination, you maxed out your credit card to get a room at the hotel venue. After downing some liquid courage you marched down to the reception and confronted him and his bride as they sat at their grand table, feasting and drinking champagne, as if he'd never broken your heart and chosen some "good girl" over you.

Grabbing a glass of bubbly, you loudly tapped it with a fork and made your announcement. Both bride and groom's family looked at you in horror. They'd heard the stories of your toxic relationship, the things you'd done to keep him from leaving you. But it appears not even a restraining order could keep you away. Tears overflowing and ruining your makeup, you call him out on his general shittiness. He left you high and dry, broke up with you over text and the next thing you knew he was getting engaged with this stupid prissy girl on a beach in Mexico.

You were in the middle of your speech when someone pulled you away. Assuming it was security, you were fully prepared to spend the night in jail if you had to. You did what you came here to do.

But when you got outside to the hallway you saw it was just your ex's dad Lucien, his handsome face set in a grim countenance as he dragged you away from the party. "Come on," he'd growled, "gotta make sure you stay put."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he mutters, finally bringing you back to your room. The AC has been left on and it's freezing, your nipples already hardening under your dress. Lucien pretends not to take notice as he sits you down on the single queen-sized bed and hands you a bottled water from the minibar. "Don't worry, I'll cover the cost," he says, and notices you've already plundered it. Emptied mini bottles of Crown Royal are all over the dresser. "Jesus, sweetheart, you're a fucking mess. I'm gonna have to stay here and make sure you're okay."

You lean back on the bed and cry, your hands over your face. "He said he loved me! He broke every single promise to me! He'll never be happy with that stupid little bitch!"

"Come on," he soothes, sitting next to you, propped up on one arm. "What do you expect? He's young and dumb. Every guy his age is." His fingers delicately trace over your exposed thigh, your short dress riding up. "Isn't that why you kept coming to me?"

A shock goes through you at his touch, zinging straight to your cunt, growing wet just by him being here. "It was a mistake," you tell him, still unable to face him.

"Maybe the first time was, but every other time after that?" he teases. "When he wouldn't come home after you fought, who did you call when you were lonely and scared? Who came right to your aid and gave you tissues to dry your tears, a shoulder to cry on, and a nice big cock to make you feel better?"

"Lucien!" you moan in frustration.

"Nuh-uh, let me finish. Who snuck into my room when I took us all on vacation to Aspen, and my son was too tired to fuck you? You were lucky my wife was in the shower that long. What if she'd come out and seen you face down and ass up, taking my cock like the little slut you are?" Despite his words, there's no sting behind them. You're well aware of your nature and your strong desire to be fucked.

"Stop," you whine, but you're bringing his hand to your dripping pussy, shoving your thong to the side, eager and desperate for a release.

"That's why Alejandro broke up with you. Not because of the way you dress, or how you want to take a swing at everyone when you get a little bit of whiskey in you, but because you're a slut for his old man."

He grabs you, moving you how he wants you on the bed, your legs splayed obscenely. The black thong with tiny hot pink bows on the waistband does little to cover your dripping slit, folds already puffy. Lucien watches as you clench around nothing.

"Jesus, mija, you really need it bad, don't you? Now tell me honestly: did you really come here to win back my son, or did you want to show off in the hopes that I'd fuck you again?"

With his thick fingers he gently moves the string of your thong out of the way and runs his knuckle along your gash, bringing it to his mouth for a taste. "That's why he broke it off with you, baby. He found out about us. You left one of these little lacy fucking things in my car and he threatened to beat the hell out of me. Can you imagine? I love my son but he's a skinny little prick."

He swiftly inserts two fingers, watching the shock on your face quickly turn to bliss, your eyes closed, lips parted as he starts pumping his hand.

"This is what you needed, huh mija? Need to be stuffed just to be happy.. now say that sweet little word that drives me fucking crazy.." he whispers, his smoky voice tinted with perversion.

"D-daddy," you stutter out, taking a deep gasp of air as he curls his fingers inside you.

"Daddy what? Come on, princesa, use your words.."

His rhythm is steady as he continues to glide his fingers in, dark eyes on yours as he patiently waits. That's one thing you hate about Lucien. He's never in a rush; he makes you come to him, crawling, begging, pussy weeping with pure need. And he fills that need every time.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," his rough, baritone voice beckons to you, daring you and mocking you all at once.

"I wanna come," you confess. tears streaming down your face as if you're confessing to a crime.

"Oh yeah? Wanna come real bad, don't you? Haven't been stuffed in awhile. I can tell. So fucking tight." As a reward for your honesty his thumb swipes over your clit and he smirks as your hips raise up, tight cunny constricting around him. He leans in, wide body over you, crowding you in every sense of the word, his lips ghosting over yours. "Tell me again, but this time say it properly."

Your throat feels hot and tight as you try to swallow. Your mind is still a little fuzzy both from the alcohol and from the way Lucien's fingers are pistoning into you. "Daddy," you tell him in your sweetest voice. "Daddy, please make me come."

"That's more like it," he says with pride in his voice, giving you a few more gentle flicks of his thumb on your clit. "You think you've earned the right to come after the stunt you pulled tonight? Showing up where you're not wanted?" His touch grows rougher, insistent, fingers plunging deep inside.

"No.. I don't know! Just please!" you beg him, helpless against his tough love.

"Maybe I'll consider it if you get on your knees and stuff that little puta mouth with my cock."

Desperate, you slide to the floor, the hotel room carpet not the kindest on your knees as you settle down before Lucien. He's already undoing his pants, his dress shirt and jacket still on, including the boutonnier still pinned to it.

You're dirty, disgusting, filthy for wanting him more than you ever wanted Alejandro. When Lucien's cock springs free from his briefs you're already droooling. He brings your hair to a makeshift ponytail as you lick up the bead of precum from his slit, teasing the tiny hole with your tongue.

"Fuck, you little tease. C'mon, that's not how a real puta does it," he goads you. Eyes on him, you spit on it, letting the thick saliva run down before you wrap your fingers around him and stroke him, determination in your veins as you tug on his cock, lifting it to get to his balls. You curl your tongue around the smooth shape of them, popping one between your lips and gently sucking, feeling validated in Lucien's grunts and groans.

"Getting me all sticky," he comments, pulling you back by your hair as he sees your sparkly lip gloss on his balls and the base of his cock. It's your way of marking him, of letting his wife know you were there. As if she'd care. She's only with him for the money and you're only seeing him for his dick.

"Lick all this off, baby," he commands. "Make me sticky with something else."

You lick the cherry lip gloss off, smiling to see some of it's gotten in his thatch of hair as well. You comb your fingers through it, knowing he likes it, gently pulling it up to watch him squirm. "Little bitch," he grunts, his voice playful despite the uncomfortable sting you gave him.

Your tongue glides across him, pulling the foreskin down further, getting yourself ready to take him. You're an old pro at this, and no one's ever taken him as deeply as you do. Working past your gag reflex you slide him into your mouth, generating as much saliva as you can, taking him out and stroking him when it's too much, only to get him down your throat again, breathing through your nose as he presses your head down, attempting to keep you there gagging on his cock.

"Perfect little hole for me," Lucien mutters. "But I don't want to come down your throat this time. Get those panties off."

Obediently you pull the soggy material down your legs, twisted up, and kick them off. Lucien moves you onto the bed, your dress hiked up, showing off your fresh wax job. "C'mon, baby, ass to the edge. You know the drill."

As soon as you're settled he shoves his middle and ring fingers inside you, turned down so his thumb can play with the puckered ring of your ass. Lucien spits on it, gently easing his thumb inside while his other fingers slowly piston in and out of your sopping pussy.

"Daddy!" you cry out, clenching in both places, so wet that it's dripping down to alleviate his entry into your ass. And his fingers are so thick that it's both a pleasure and a pain to take them.

"Why are you weeping like you're a virgin?" he tuts. "Don't act like no one's ever come through here and played before. Remember Puerto Vallarta? And how you let me fuck this tight little ass right there on the beach? You weren't crying then. In fact you loved it. You even called me Daddy back then."

He leans down and tickles your asshole with his tongue, spreading you open with his free hand, chuckling darkly when you squirm and shake before him. He spits on it some more, delving in a bit deeper with his thumb, watching you with a predatory look.

"You going to apologize for crashing my son's wedding?"

"No," you gasp out, brows drawn together in a vision of ecstasy.

"Thought not." He removes his hand and teases your puffy cunt with his cockhead until you're begging him to put it inside. When he does he only feeds it into you inch by agonizing inch, retracting when you ask for more. He loves the control he has over you, the way you, like a perfect doll, will do whatever he says, and even when you fuss about it you'll give in because you both know no one can fuck you like he does.

"Please, daddy," you groan, desperate in your own skin, feeling like you're drowning without having him inside you, stretched and filled, more than anyone else ever has done to you. Lucien loves to toy with you and you let him because he does it so well. "Not yet, mija," he purrs. "Open wide for me. Come on."

Like a good girl you open your mouth, tongue hanging out to receive the glob of his saliva as it strings between his lips, and your tongue curls around it, housing it for a moment before you swallow. Alejandro would never spit in your mouth; Lucien insists upon it.

You almost choke when he slams into you, his hands supporting the backs of your thighs as he spreads you out around his hips, finally using slow, shallow strokes, barely moving inside of you, watching your face for when he hits that sweet spot deep inside. You're angled just so that his tip brushes against it, and when you clench down on him, your girl juice dribbling out onto him, he knows he's there.

He starts a steady rhythm, eyes on you as you pull down the top of your dress, fondling your tits, bringing a nipple up to your mouth to lick it into a perfect pebbled hardness. Lucien's eyes go dark as he watches you, continuing his unchanging motion.

"So fucking tight," he groans. "How does a puta like you stay so tight, honey?"

You don't give him the satisfaction of telling him his dick is just that big. He knows it. You've gushed over it, literally and figuratively, dozens of times before.

Now is no different, the lewd, sloppy squelching of your pussy as he brings your knees over his shoulders, folding you in half like a fucking pretzel. You haven't come yet and he's in his element, edging you, holding off when he feels you start to tighten, hips bucking beneath him. He could fuck you like this for hours, bringing you so close and keeping you just hanging on to the brink.

"Lucien," you mumble his name over and over, like a prayer that will snap you out of the haze of need you're trapped in. "Please, pleasepleasepleaseplease.."

"Fuck," he hisses. "All right, come on my cock you little whore. Milk me good, baby."

Your pussy pulsates around him, choking his dick like it owes him rent. "Daddy!" you gasp out one more time, nearly blacking out at the sweet release he's finally giving you.

"Hey, hey, eyes on me," he commands, twitching inside you. "C'mon, tell me where you want it."

"Wherever.. ah! wherever you want," you respond, going through the aftershocks as Lucien absorbs the quivers and convulsions. With no hesitation he pulls out of you and straddles you, hurriedly stroking himself until he comes, spilling over your face, the saltiness of his cum finding its way into your mouth when you gasp.

"All that pretty makeup ruined. Probably paid good money for that lash lift," he smirks as he tucks softening cock back into his trousers. With a sick kind of pride he surveys your wrecked form, face covered in his jizz, dress fitting snugly around your midsection, tits and pussy on full display. He admires the glistening between your thighs, your sweet and musky scent still in his nostrils.

"Damn, maybe you should've been the one to marry my son after all," he says thoughtfully, giving your thigh a good smack. "I would have loved having you as a daughter-in-law."

(Spanish terms: mija = daughter ; princesa = princess ; puta = whore)

tagging some peeps I think might be interested: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @tateypots @sunshinehaze1 @cxrsed-angel @everybodylovedcontractors

@thedilfdiaries @milla-frenchy @joelalorian @604to647

@slimybeth69 @aurorawritestoescape @inept-the-magnificent

[starlight-and-whiskey]

Under Your Skin - Ch7 pt 2

The second mishap had been one of your own doing, though not one you regretted, not at first anyway.

Being cooped up in camp too long had bred frustration within your bones. Sure, there’d been the odd trip to town. That one time Arthur had taken you hunting. But a job… no - Arthur had damn near forbidden it in an incessant need to keep you safe, to keep you whole. But every so often, that craving came a-calling. When you’d first left your old life behind, the mundanity of camp life soon lost its sparkle, and the routine of daily chores had ground you down.

Help Pearson peel the vegetables. Keep the fire stoked. Wash the clothes, and don’t forget to stitch that tear. Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7.1 Ao3

Tags: @baizzhu @chonkercatto @heron-feathers @not-minho @warmsideofthepillow @photo1030 @multi-fandom3 @m1stea @littlebirdgot @violetlilly2020

Hosea had noticed almost immediately and petitioned without your knowing to let you come robbing with them. With his wary eye at your back, you’d never felt quite as joyous as you all rode away from that first job, the wind whipping your hair as you spurred your mare’s hooves just that little bit faster, propelling you out of the lawman’s reach and towards the open plains of freedom that this new existence held for you.

Now it felt like the clock had wound back some. It wasn’t that you didn’t like being a momma – it was the best damn thing that had ever happened to you – but you couldn’t help that aching feeling that you were losing yourself, piece by irretrievable piece. By the time Jesse had almost turned two it began to gnaw at you, an itch under your skin you could never quite scratch, a thirst you couldn’t slake.

Then one early morning you couldn’t help but catch the tail end of Dutch and Hosea bickering as you wandered past, deliberately slowing your gait enough to sneak a glance at the dog-eared map sprawled on the table between them. You knew this job, Arthur had told you about it a few nights ago, murmuring in the dark about a stagecoach passing nearby that seemed almost too ripe for the taking. “Man short?”, you asked, pausing beside the pair.  Dutch didn’t even look up, the skin between his brows drawn tight with frustration.

“Mm,” he hummed. “Your husband’s takin’ his damn time.”

You leaned a little closer and brushed a stray curl of fallen hair behind your ear, scanning the pencilled scrawl along the fading ink that marked a road.

“What about Mac and Davy?”

“Who do you think’s with him”, Dutch mumbled, before running two fingers along his moustache, letting his hand drop to his hip as his turned to Hosea and sighed.

Undeterred, you ventured again, every man busy lilting the hope in your heart a little more. “Bill?”

“Rest of the boys are out in town”, Hosea said, his tone a little gentler. “Save for one maybe, but one man ain’t enough.”

For a moment you chewed on the words you wanted to say, feeling them bubble in your chest as you bit your bottom lip.

“There’s gotta be another way, another time we can hit it, perhaps”, Dutch murmured under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. “There’s gotta be something…”

“I could go”, you said quietly. In almost perfect unison, two sets of seasoned eyes fell on you – one unwavering steel, one warm walnut. You lifted your gaze from the paper, eyes flitting between the men with a sheepish shrug.

“What? S’just a stagecoach, right?”

Dutch exhaled, his tongue flicking out to run across his bottom lip in measured frustration before glancing at Hosea.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You got Jesse…”

“Tilly don’t mind watchin’ him. We’ll be back before nightfall. I’ll be careful.”

“Arthur-“

“Arthur ain’t here.”

Dutch sighed again, laying a ring laden hand on your shoulder. “It’s out of the question.”

“I’m a good shot”, you said firmly, shrugging him off. “I’m a fast rider. You don’t hit this now, you ain’t gonna get another chance for a month. At least.”

Dutch sighed through what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle at your tenacity. “I don’t think that’s-”

“Come on, Dutch”, you whined. “I been cooped up ever since I got pregnant. I’m…atrifrying.”

“Atrophying,” he corrected dryly with a smirk.

You waved an exaggerated hand at him. “See! Come on. I ain’t never let you down before.”

Hosea’s gaze slid to the camp; the usual bustle thinned to little more than a skeleton crew in the wake of too many jobs and too little sense of timing. And then there was you - practically vibrating with impatience. He exhaled softly, smiling at you against his better judgment.

“I’ll go with her,” Hosea said.

Dutch frowned. “You were sittin’ this one out. You ain’t been well.”

“I’m well enough.”

Dutch opened his mouth to argue, but quickly realised it would have been futile, and the camp did need the take after all. With a sharp exhale through his nose, he pointed a stern finger at you, his eyes set and serious.

“Fine”, he said. “But you take Sean.”

With a grin that could have melted the iciest of hearts, you beamed at the leader of this rag-tag clan, taking a step closer and pushing yourself up on tiptoes to plant a thankful kiss against his cheek.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Dutch said firmly, despite the twitch of a smile threatening to spread across his lips.

Finding Jesse crouched in the dirt with a spoon Pearson no doubt had no idea he’d pilfered, you crouched beside him and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, pushing down the nagging twinge of guilt in your gut as you told him to be good for Abigail.

“Oh, he’ll be fine”, she smiled, chuckling as Jesse went back to intently scooping dirt into Jack’s waiting hands, where he threw it into the hair with a full-bodied giggle.

“I’ll be back real soon, okay?”, you whispered, planting another firm kiss to his brow that he tried to wiggle away from, far too engrossed with the wonders of earth and a bent spoon.

When you finally reached the hitching post, rifle slung over your shoulder, Sean was already mounted and checking the rounds in his revolver.

“Ol’ Morgan ain’t gonna like this”, he smirked, snapping the cylinder shut.

“Well, you don’t gotta tell him then”, you grinned in return as you stroked your mare’s nose. “Oh, I’ve missed you, girl.”

Your horse snickered gently, nudging your palm. You ran your hand along her neck, giving her a hearty pat before hauling yourself into the sun-warmed saddle. Just mounting her again felt like breathing after being underwater too long.

Behind you, Hosea chuckled as he slid a rifle into the scabbard on Silver Dollar’s flank, watching the way your eyes sparkled as you twisted to look at him over your shoulder. “Let’s see if you still got it, hm?”

-

Admittedly, the job hadn’t gone as smoothly as you might have hoped, though that had mainly come down to luck more than anything else. With a burning ache in your chest and a drying blood caked and tricking from a rapidly bruising temple, you made it back to camp, more or less whole. Still, as bloodied and bruised as you were, you were grinning through the gasp of pain as you dismounted at the edge of camp.

“I haven’t felt that young in years”, Hosea laughed, a hand between your shoulder blades as you both limped back into camp. “Even if it was with that idiot!”

“Hey, I saved your sorry ass, didn’t I?”, Sean wheezed, swiping at a streak of grime on his forehead. “Just a stagecoach, you said. It’ll be easy!”

“It was easy”, you chuckled.

“Tell your face that”, Sean sniggered through that thick brogue.

“Oh yeah?”, you smirked, wincing at the pull of your split lip. “Well, you were too busy hidin’ to get a wallop!”

“I was coverin’ you…”, you drawled exaggeratedly.

As you neared the centre of camp, the reverie slowly stilled and died. Glancing up, you soon found the reason why. Like a towering force, Arthur stood before you with Jesse snuggled against his chest, his unblinking eyes locked on you. You felt the laughter die in your throat.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, face unreadable but for the cold fire in his eyes.

“Tilly,” he said finally. “Would you put Jesse to bed with Jack for me?”

“Sure, Arthur,” she said quickly, hurrying to take the boy.

The three of you stood there like naughty schoolchildren as Arthur stepped closer, his jaw working as he looked to over – the raw knuckles, the crimson streaking your face, the way your arm curled instinctively around your side.

“You alright?”, he asked quietly, his features stony.

Shifting your weight, you winced and nodded, averting your eyes.

Hosea took a step forward, raising a hand. “Arthur-“ “The hell were you thinking?”, he said, his gaze never shifting from you. You knew he’d be pissed, maybe even yell. You hadn’t expected this measured calm. And somehow, that was so much worse.

“Ah, come on Arthur!”, Sean grinned, an attempt at a light-hearted chuckle catching in his throat. “You should’a seen her. She was-“

That stony gaze turned to the Irishman in an instant, stilling the words before they could spill.

“I’ll be talkin’ to you later.”

“Yeah”, Sean nodded, his smile wilting as he recognised that glare in Arthur’s eyes, chewing at the corner of his lip. “Sure.”

With a long, hard inhale, Arthur turned back to you.

“Inside.”

“Arthur-“

“Now.”

Arthur followed you into your tent without a word, the flap dropping closed against the gaze of onlookers.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto the edge of the cot with a sharp hiss, tightening your hand around the searing pain shooting through your ribcage. Arthur didn’t look at you as he moved with deliberate purpose, gathering scraps of cloth, whiskey, the old wooden box of bandages you’d patched each other up with more times than you could count. Without a word, he lowering himself to one knee in front of you, his jaw set tight and nostrils flaring as he began to gently clean the dried blood from your temple, a hand tenderly holding your chin with a featherlight grip. You winced at the sting of it, your eyes downcast and focussing on the broad meat of his thigh, the thick broadness of his waist. Why did he always look so much bigger when he was mad? Why was the silence worse than the shouting?

“You’re angry.”

His lips pressed together into a thin line as he drew a measured breath.

“M’glad you’re safe”, he said quietly, carefully turning your head to assess the wound at your temple before turning his attention to cleaning the smear of dried blood that had cascaded down your cheek. “And I’m mad.”

“I’m alright”, you murmured.

With hands far gentler than they looked, Arthur guided your arm away from your side and you watched as he deftly unbuttoned your shirt, peeling the fabric away from your side where a deep purple bruise was already blossoming. You failed to bite back a hiss as he carefully pressed the stretch of his fingers against your ribcage, flinching away from the jolt of pain as your fingers curled around the edge of the cot.

“Reckon you broke a couple”, he said flatly.

You sat there in uncomfortable silence as he cleaned you up, until he broke it with a sentence that made your blood boil.

“The hell were Dutch and Hosea thinkin’? I would never have let you go on that damn job.”

Your brows pinched as you registered his words.

“Let me?” you echoed, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Arthur didn’t answer as he retrieved bandages from the small wooden box.

“Jesus, Arthur… let me?” you repeated, the anger bubbling hot under your skin. “You don’t let me do anything. I been runnin’ jobs in this gang since before you even noticed I existed. I’m not some child who needs permission.”

“No. You’re a mother.”

Your breath caught as you watched the way he refused to look at you, busying himself with setting out bandages beside you on the cot.

“Yeah. I’m a mother”, you breathed, swallowing heavily, your voice rising as you continued. “And I’m a wife. And I spent the last god knows how long darning socks and washing underwear and watchin’ you boys go ridin’ off doin’ all the stuff that used to be mine as well.” 

You found yourself almost yelling and gritted your teeth, taking a few shaking breaths to calm yourself.

“And I just wanted to feel like me again”, you whispered.

There was a long pause before Arthur spoke again.

“You know, I came back today, and you was gone”, he said quietly. “And I thought…” He sniffed sharply, running his tongue along his teeth before continuing.

“And I thought I might not get to see you ride back in again. I done some bad shit in my life. I ain’t a good person – I know that. But if somethin’ happened to you whilst you was out there…if I weren’t there to protect you, I don’t think I could…”

Your fury softened just a little at that. You placed a hand over his, finally letting your body relax as the pain flared and ebbed beneath your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “But I ain’t sorry for goin’”.

Arthur looked at you like he wanted to stay angry. Like it would be easier than feeling anything else. But he just exhaled, long and heavy, slowly rubbing his fingers across his lips.

“Well, you ain’t goin’ again”, he said quietly.

-

Night had fallen slowly around you as you sat by the campfire, blissfully alone for once. Your mood had soured, the joyous revelry of the day replaced by the bitter sting of your reprimand. You were just about relaxing when you heard that familiar scuff of boots against the dirt.

“How’s Jesse?”, you asked quietly.

“Sleeping like a stone in there with Jack”, Arthur answered, lowering himself onto the log beside you with a soft groan. “Strange having the tent so quiet for once.”

You hummed in response, trying your best to ignore the relentless pounding that had taken up root in your skull since you’d gotten home.

"You gonna tell me I gotta go to bed,” you muttered, “or you gonna let me sit here?"

Arthur held his breath for a moment, scratching at the stubble of his jaw before sighing softly. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Mm-hm.”

Arthur settled himself further, stretching his back, spreading his knees and clasping his hands loosely between them as he leant forwards, sighing softly.

“How you feelin’?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” you drawled, before immediately wincing as the corner of your mouth tugged against the cut on your lip.

“Never was a good liar round me”, he smirked as he nudged your shoulder with his.

“Shut up”, you drawled, a smile threatening to bloom on your lips. “My head might be hurting. Just a little.”

“Mm”, he hummed softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Gratefully, you leaned against the solid warmth of him. “Your ribs?”

“Like I got trampled.”

Arthur’s lips pressed softly against the crown of your head, and he whispered against your scalp. “M’sorry for getting’ mad. You just got me worried is all.”

“I’m sorry too.” You treaded your fingers with his, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

A few more moments passed in silence, then Arthur spoke again, his voice low and casual as he stared out at the dying embers of the fire.

“Got a job comin’ up soon.”

You raised a brow, not looking at him just yet. “You headin’ out again?”

“We are. If you’d like” he replied simply, flashing you that stupid little lopsided smile when you twisted to glance at him with narrowed eyes. “Could use someone as a distraction.”

 “You serious?”

“Ain’t for a few weeks. Give you time to heal up n’all”, he said quietly, running a broad palm up your arm. “I’ll be watchin’ your back. The whole damn time.”

You nodded softly against him, biting your lip. 

“You’re still you, you know?” he said with a soft squeeze.

“Thank you”, you whispered.

-

That morning had brought the light of a new day, one where you woke to the sun kissing your cheeks through the pulled back flap of your tent as Arthur strolled in with a toddler giddy to see you.

When Arthur dropped him onto the bed with an exaggerated chuckle, you rolled over as best you could, using your good arm to tickle Jesse’s belly until he shrieked with giggles so bright they lit up every corner of that tent.

“Careful now”, Arthur smiled as Jesse attempted to clamber over you, his broad hand grabbing him before he could launch himself across your chest. “Momma’s a little sore. We gotta be real gentle for a few days, okay?”

With a soft sigh, Arthur settled himself back down on the bed beside you, more than happy to take up the mantle of Jesse’s climbing frame for the morning. A lazy hand drifted to thread through the curls of your hair, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “How you doin’?”

“Tender”, you chuckled, your lips falling into a gentle smile as his hand drifted to trace the curve of your neck before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. “Happy.”

“S’all I ever want for you, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Momma ouch!”, Jessie chimed from between you, a chubby finger pointing at the gash on your temple with a face so serious.

“That’s it”, Arthur nodded. “But your momma, she’s one tough son of a-“

“Arthur!”

He huffed a chuckle, hanging his head and swallowing the curse.

“She's a tough cookie.”

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: June 19

2019

All the Things I Wasn't [david/patrick, G, 7,944] by @mostlyinthemorning

Five things that make David anxious before the wedding and one thing that doesn't.

Cards on the Table [david/patrick, M, 25,984] by bigficenergy

“I… feel something for you.” It's vague, but it's a start. “Um, something? Like… a general disdain, or...?” Patrick laughs. “Uh, nope. Kind of the opposite of that.” An AU where Patrick tells David upfront that he's developing feelings for him, in the interest of being honest as they go into business together.

Distraction [david/patrick, E, 7,558] by @ahurston

Patrick and David, discovering how useful and distracting sex can be.

Dying Swan Act 1 Scene 1 [johnny/moira, G, 1,050] by @wildxwired

Moira is unwell. The Rose family act accordingly.

Hit Me Baby One More Time [david/ronnie, E, 1,925] by elucidate_this

Ronnie knows what David needs.

i bury my heart (i hope it's a seed, i hope it works) [david/patrick, G, 1,588] by @noimeanyeah

Tell Me Something Good [david/patrick, E, 2,754] by @aeliagioia

The morning of David and Patrick's wedding, they exchange a series of texts that get increasingly dirtier.They sneak away for much-needed alone time during the reception.

They Didn't Have You Where I Come From [david/patrick, G, 749] by @holmesapothecary

David Rose falls in love for a second time.

Tomorrow’s A-Whole-Nother Town [patrick/rachel, G, 8,236] by @sullymygoodname

This is a story about Rachel. It's about her relationship with Patrick, but it's also about a girl who fell in love with the wrong person. A girl who attached herself to someone who was sort of lost because she didn't want to see that she was sort of lost, too. (I really loved that Dan was adamant about not making Rachel out to be some shrew ex-girlfriend. She was a just a nice girl who met the wrong person too soon. I have to believe that both Rachel and Patrick genuinely cared for one another and that they truly could not figure out why, with all the perfect ingredients, the relationship never worked right. I think that happens when you meet someone you click so well with at a young age. It’s hard to let yourself and others change, and grow, and realize that you’re growing apart.) Anyway, this is also that conversation after The Barbecue (which I have set in late summer 2017, for reasons).

2020

A Literal Itch [david/patrick, T, 306] by @schittposting

David has an itch. Patrick helps him scratch it.

Brewers Don't Quit [david/patrick, E, 3,201] by @streetlampsunset

Brewers don’t quit. Patrick had heard it so often growing up he started saying it to himself. As a result, Patrick is determined and persistent and reliable to a fault. When that drive starts eating away at him, David is there to remind him to be more gentle with himself.

Butts [david & stevie, G, 444] by anonymous

Stevie and David have a conversation while drinking.

Fwd: A love story [david/patrick, G, 1,776] by upbeat

On the eve of their store's opening, Patrick’s attempt to email a vendor contract goes slightly awry.

hot fun in the summertime... [david/patrick, M, 1,472] by @startswithhope

David and Patrick finally take a vacation to a remote cabin on the beach...

Nice to Meet You [david/patrick, T, 3,165] by @agoodpersonrose

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if we hadn’t met that day at Ray’s?” Patrick and David talk about all the ways they could have met.

Odd Marks [david/stevie, E, 3,555] by @streetlampsunset

“If it makes you feel any better, nobody hates me more than me,” Stevie said as she swept into the office wearing the spare flannel David knew she kept in her back seat. “Generally speaking.” “Fair enough,” David said. He caught her dark, tired eyes across the counter; an amaranthus caudatus sprouted down the outside of his left thigh. He had given up on hoping for a soulmate a long time ago. “ I would've done the same thing.”

Time Away Together [gen, G, 838] by @januarium

For this prompt: ⭐️The Roses go on vacation and end up in smaller accommodations than expected (similar to the motel size) and Patrick is secretly pleased to have them all in close quarters⭐️

Wrapped My Heart Around Your Little Finger [david/patrick, T, 2,205] by odofidi

“We’ve been together almost three years I don’t think you can keep calling it a present." ------ Or: It's Patrick's birthday and David gifts him with something he wants.

2021

Chapter two I think I fell in love with you [david/patrick, T, 2,245] by @sweatersinthesummer

A sequel to "All your compliments..." told through Patrick's blog posts.

It's Pride Time!: June 2021 Pride-Themed Drabbles [gen, G, 899] by TwylasCafeTropical

A variety of pride-themed drabbles featuring multiple characters, themes, and relationships from the Schitt's Creek universe! Drabbles are written by an assortment of authors! These drabbles are all stand-alone, and are not intended to be continuations of each other. We'll add tags and adjust the rating as needed, and we'll also link each drabble's author and specific rating at the top of each chapter. Hope you enjoy them!

Roses are Red, Brewers are Blue [david/patrick, G, 3,570] by WHS482

Guardian - defender, protector, keeper. The things David and Patrick already are to each other. The things they could be for a pair of sisters who are as unexpected and precious as their own love story. When you find it, don’t let go._____A collection of snippets that takes place three years into their marriage. David and Patrick obtain legal guardianship over their part-time store associate, Callie Hudson (16) and her little sister Violet (age 4) after the girls mother hits and kills a pedestrian when drunk driving and is subsequently sentenced for manslaughter. I'll tell that (things got very dark) back story another day. For now, I'm just going to post these joyful vignettes of my favorite husbands as they navigate doubling their family to 4.

Telephone Wire [david/patrick, T, 2,661, CW: suicide] by elifisher96

Patrick and Marcy finally have the conversation Patrick's been avoiding for years.

world's on fire (all i need is you) [david/patrick, T, 2,289] by @blackandwhiteandrose

David wished he could go back to sleep. Wished they were both still asleep. That the siren on the emergency services radio hadn’t gone off. That Patrick hadn’t bolted out of bed to get dressed, stopping only to press a kiss to his forehead and yell “I love you!” before running out the door.

2022

A Seed Once Sown [david/patrick, T, 2,809] by @jamilas-pen

He's relishing the warmth of the early June sun on his back, and he's satisfied by the sense of productivity and achievement that the work here in the walled garden brings. And, if he's honest with himself, he's enjoying the fact that he has - he's pretty certain - an admiring audience right now. An admiring audience for whom he might just be making the extra effort to lean and stretch across the newly dug cutting beds in a way that he knows will emphasise the shapeliness of his backside and the robustness of his thighs.

Heartstopper, n. A Shocking or Thrilling Occurrence or Event [david/patrick, T, 15,519] by @sarahlevys

“Hi,” says the kid to his left. “I’m Patrick.” “Hey,” he says, chest tight for absolutely no reason. He can’t look away from Patrick’s brown eyes, the shyness of his smile, the unruliness of his hair. Patrick’s still holding his hand, thumb skimming briefly over his skin. “I’m David.” During David and Patrick's last year of high school, a chance meeting during homeroom shows both of them that love and happiness aren't as unachievable as they once thought they were. AKA: a Heartstopper AU.

Like Father, Like Son [david & johnny, T, 607] by @wearpersistencewell

During David and Patrick's rehearsal dinner, Johnny and David have a heart-to-heart chat.

2023

Iris [david/patrick, G, 480] by @a-noble-dragon

It's peaceful here. Patrick's glad he picked today of all days to bring a picnic to the botanical gardens. He's taken his chances bringing his guitar along too, considering the rain showers this morning, but he's been rewarded by the sun making an appearance, showcasing the multicoloured arc that stretches across the vivid blue sky.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2024 2019: 9 fics/57,788 words 2020: 9 fics/16,962 words 2021: 5 fics/11,664 words 2022: 3 fics/18,935 words 2023: 1 fic/480 words Total: 27 fics/105,829 words

[corntort]

do you think a princess and the ultimate life form could be..... BEST FRIENDS?!?!??!!?!??

[gifti3]

its not the same fandom but i feel like this fic managed to scratch the itch...

Deaths of many sizes (45027 words) by MothMumblings

So i guess in a way I got the enemies to lovers with Gabriel lmaoo

It just happened to be the Mandela Catalogue one aijsiadja

gabriel and mc, enemies to lovers would have been so good tho

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hey can you guys watch them for a second

[teanshan]

🧡~ time for a lunch date ~🧡

[wombywoo]

goodboy 🔗

[gritpyre]

i'm doing it i'm writing my dimitri essay finally

i gave up on trying to organise my thoughts in any clear way because he's got me sooooooo unga bunga so i apologise if this reads very disjointed asjdhasjhdajdsh

OKAY SO i first knew about fire emblem three houses back in 2019 when it first came out because a podcast i listened to religiously talked at length about it and they had plenty of great things to say tho ironically neither of the three hosts played dimitri's route kajdsaksdj and i also remember at the time there was a lot of fanart going around so i gave it a peek through clips on youtube and quickly latched onto my blonde boy with issues - i would've loved to play it then but i was broke and didn't know when if ever i was gonna have the money to buy the switch

but his story spoke to me in terms of angst and whump but also related to his and other character's struggles of trying to live in a turbulent sociopolitical landscape and the grief that comes with that, along with facing your morals and principles and the person you want to be vs. the person you have to be to survive, especially since my country was recently coming out of insurrections and civil unrest that very nearly led to a civil war in 2018 so suffice to say this game was one of those things that came at a time when i very much needed to hear its message

now onto dimitri specifically i knew it was over when i first heard his voice, like i've praised everyone's performances and i meant that but his voice is my ultimate favourite hands down, it just scratches a very specific itch in my brain - and then when i saw the 180 change he went through after a timeskip that happens in the game HOOOO BOY lemme tell you i became ENTICED

like how do you go from this polite, kind honeymuffin cutiepie prince to the bitter semi feral hunk suffering from several nervous breakdowns all at once??

the difference seemed like night and day!!! but then as i got further into watching youtube gameplays, and now that i have played the game myself i can say the writing was on the wall in subtle and overt ways, the consistency and strength of the character writing done for him is probably on my top 3 of all time just for how darn consistent it is, it's by no means perfect but experience his journey over and over again and not get bored because of how good it is

which leads me to the tragedy and angst of his character HEHEHEEE but first i oughta say a lil about the setting of the game - so in short it's like fantasy medieval time and your protag byleth becomes a teacher at a monastery where the leaders of the three countries that form the continent go to study along with nobles and commoners from their territories, each of them has their own ideologies and ideas on how to best help their respective countries improve that range from gradual reforms to outright revolution, but the point is they all know something has to change because the current system isn't working anymore and instead is furthering the oppression of the unprivileged and noble alike

the game is divided in two parts, the second of which happens 5 years later where you see all your students changed by war, i should say each route has its variations naturally and i've only played the blue lions one so i can't be too specific on the others (which are the black eagles and golden deer routes) also this was my very first fire emblem game so i don't know how similar or different this one may be from other games in the franchise

BUT before all that at the beginning of the game if you pick the blue lions you're treated to one dimitri alexandre blaiddyd and one thing is made VERY clear from the get go: my dude fucking hates himself,, and if there's anything you need to know about me is that self loathing characters are PEAK roy catnip 🥴🥴

however, he's also extremely kind, earnest, easily flustered, apologetic, and endearing to the MAX, one of the first actions you must take is asking about the blue lion's house members, and you go to their leaders so they can tell you a bit about everyone and what does dimitri do?? he raves about his classmates, putting their good qualities to the forefront, and when you ask him about HIMSELF??? he has this to say:

Me? Oh. Um. Please forgive me... It's difficult to open up on the spot, don't you think? I'm afraid my story has not been a pleasant one... I do hope that doesn't color your view of me, but I understand if that can't be helped.

and this constant undercurrent of self deprecation only ESCALATES from here on out, you come to know that his birth mom died from an epidemic shortly after he was born, then he was raised by his father who remarried but both were killed during what was supposed to be a diplomatic visit to Duscur, a city bordering Faerghus (their kingdom) that had had a good relationship with the crown for years, so as the attack came as a complete surprise everyone that went except dimitri were massacred - after which the kingdom carried out a genocide on the citizens of Duscur in retaliation and it was dubbed the tragedy of Duscur which will be mentioned and brought up time and time again

NOW it's obvious that this weighs on his mind and he suffers from survivor's guilt and probably PTSD as a result, as he believes himself to be culpable for failing to protect anyone during the killing of his father, friends and soldiers, and for failing to prevent the murdering of the people of duscur as he witnessed that it wasn't people from duscur the ones that carried out the slaughter, but of course no one believed him since he was just like 11 years old at that point

he is also disgusted by the fact he harbors intense hatred and murderous rage towards those he sees as taking advantage of the weak of using their strength and power for selfish gain, he understands there are times he goes down the slippery slope and relishes in his own bloodlust and need to punish the wicked during battle - it's apparent he doesn't want to have those traits because he also believes life is precious and must be preserved at all costs, and it just creates a hella interesting dichotomy and internal struggle that gripped me throughout his whole character arc

in part one of the game he manages to keep the less savoury parts of himself under wraps, though there are other class members who know he has a darkness within as a result of what he lived through, and it warmed my heart to see how they all care for him and each other but another thing that's clear is that dimitri wants to carry his burden completely alone, which is terribly sad considering he drifted apart from all of his childhood friends due to his pain and guilt

his childhood friends in the game are Sylvain, Ingrid and Felix and i swear the guilt just keeps piling up on his because during the tragedy Felix's older brother died since he was a knight AND Ingrid's fiancee, he constantly apologises to them for that even though they assure him it wasn't his fault, take what he says during one of his exchanges with Ingrid for example:

But on that awful night, he died right before my eyes. I could do nothing to prevent it. In a way, I'm responsible for you losing the joyous future that should have been yours. I know my words can change nothing, but… I'm so sorry, Ingrid.

UGHHH i wanna reach through the screen and give him a hug hhghghggggg

he also wrestles with the idea that as king people will die trying to protect him, that it was their duty to sacrifice their lives for him even during the massacre, and this, along with the reality that he will also have to kill to maintain justice, and honestly the stress and self hatred of it all just makes him a ticking time bomb

he opens up the most with the protagonist pre-timeskip, but the full picture you slowly get through his interactions with others as well, some of my favourite are his support conversations with Gustave, Flayn, Marianne and Annette, there you can really see his best and worst qualities shine, like how he's attentive and happy to lend a helping hand, always checking in on others, and also how he's quick to give up on himself or say mean things about his skills and character

it's noted by many, like Gustave for example, that he's both a workaholic and doesn't hold his own life in high regard, as many times he has been admonished for being reckless in battle, but he confides in gustave that he believes he doesn't have much else to offer anyone other than charging ahead and clearing a path for the rest (which also fuels his self hatred because he hates killing but it's also the only thing he's good at soooo,,,)

here are a few of many self deprecating lines by this idiot low self esteemed blonde:

It's pathetic, I know, but I fear my sewing skills are… Well, as you can see, they're just about nonexistent.

I am disgusted by my own inability to express myself. Will you allow me to explain?

However, I have always been a man who is good for nothing but war.

Why did you save my life that day? Why did you not allow me to die along with the others?

Oh… Please accept my apologies for boring you with my life story.

dimitri, oh how i love you dimitri,,,,

i mean it's probably ovbious now that he's got,,, a bit of a death wish as well, this too is roy catnip

and THEN the protag's father dies at the hands of a mysterious enemy, and he does his best to be there for them and offer them words of solace, in which he tells that when they're done grieving they must find what exactly they're living for and cling to it so that they may rise above the grief, with the subtext that that is exactly what he did after the tragedy

albeit his reason was less than healthy, he confesses to you his main goal is to get revenge for everyone killed in the tragedy, that he feels it's his duty to do so because otherwise their souls won't rest in peace

DAMN all this yapping about him and i've only covered 50% of the game aksdjksajdkdsj okay okay i'm moving onto part 2 now

so at the midpoint of the game it's revealed the black eagles' leader Edelgard was behind the mysterious enemies you have been fighting since the beginning and conspiring to wipe out the church completely (based tbh) but dimitri, whose sanity is hanging on by a thread at this point, flies off the fucking handle and makes her his number 1 enemy as he believes she was behind the tragedy which,,, doesn't really make much sense narrative wise but go off king

all of his kind heartedness gets dampened by hatred and anger, he becomes merciless in battle and listens to no one but his own demons (almost quite literally for reasons i'll explain) and he's got the teacher and his fellow classmates worried

but you can do little to prevent what happens next as Edelgard, now empress of her territory declares war on everyone (but mainly the church) in an attempt to bring radical change and unify the continent into one empire like it used to be a thousand years in the past, during an assault on the monastery your protag fucking falls into a deep ass hole and apparently stays in a coma for 5 years

when they come to in a river in a village away from the monastery they haul ass there because they remember their class made a promise to meet at the monastery during the celebrations of the 1000th birthday of the church, but after the war that's been going for five years it's all ravaged and in ruins, you find dimitri waiting for you in his new cunty edgelord attire

and boy howdy if he was angry and bitter before he now looks and sounds x1000000 worse, you find out after your disappearance he was framed for murdering his uncle, who was like a placeholder regent while he was away studying, and was imprisoned in the kingdom and set to be executed, but escaped in the nick of time thanks to Dedue, a friend and vassal from Duscur he saved during the tragedy

however dedue is said to have died to give him the chance to escape, after which he's been on the run killing and stealing to survive and has gained a horrible reputation for the brutality with which he murders his victims, which are mostly imperial soldiers

gosh his character design is soooooooo *chef's kiss* for this, the way everything communicates savagery and ruthlessness had me going 😍😍😍it does a GREAT job of showing and not telling all the stuff he's been through

at this point he has completely surrendered on the idea of being anything else than a monster, which he reminds people of constantly when they try to appeal to his better nature, but by doing so he also reveals the revulsion and abhorrence he felt for himself has amped up by a tenfold,, or probably even more

he's not happy with what he has become but feels there's no other choice and that salvation is unobtainable for him now so why even try, plus in part 1 he alludes to hearing/seeing the voices and visages of his loved ones demanding he avenge them so they can move on, and it's implied and shown they have gotten worse during his years in exile to the point he's willing to use anyone and employ any means of getting revenge for them by killing edelgard, he himself says their souls are experiencing untold suffering because of their lingering hatred and regret

also an interesting gameplay choice that i adore was made here and it's that during this time he barely talks to you, can't interact with others or be invited to downtime activities

some dialogue i love of my beloved downright tweaking:

Father, Stepmother, Glenn, and even Dedue… I am certain this will bring them great joy. I know if I can just offer them Edelgard's head… I just know it…

So, that's been the witch's plan from the start. I should have killed her ages ago.

Are you asking me…asking the dead…to forgive that woman?

Not now! Not before…that woman's blood is spilled.

Please, Father… And you too, Stepmother… Do not gaze at me with that look in your eyes…

dimitri i would so find a way to get you pregnant

who said that!!!!

AHEM and other such conversations who nail just how deeply he thinks he's an irredeemable monster:

The Dimitri you once knew is dead. All that remains is the repulsive, blood-stained monster you see before you.

Only hatred remains. If I could tear that woman to shreds right this very moment, I would.

Do not call me that. I am not a prince, but a walking corpse.

Even if it means becoming a rat myself. I swore to at least do that much… I will not let them down...

then after 5 chapters of him being closed off and torturing himself, Felix's father, Rodrigue who was like a second father to him, dies protecting him from a girl whose brother dimitri murdered - afterwards the protagonist finds him intending to march alone to enbarr to get his revenge as soon as possible, even if he has to do it completely alone

i legitimately cannot do this scene justice with just words you're just gonna have to watch it yourself jsdgfdsjhf

after the dead of rodrigue, this encounter, and finding out dedue made it out alive (but only if you completed his paralogue battle, please complete his paralogue battle i beg you) he begins to calm down, which i think he went from angry and savage to remorseful yet open too quickly but i mean this game already has so much material i'm willing to forgive this even if it's a bit jarring

he begins making amends, but knowing he can't take back the horrid things he did, but bowing to do better and live for himself finally from here on out - which is an AMAZING way to do a redemption arc! knowing there are things you can't undo but being willing to keep going to hopefully avoid making the same mistakes in the future!! that's what i'm talking about baybeeeeeee

he regains his kindness and protective qualities back, and his allies are both glad and cheering him on to improve which is aksdjaskajsdhaskd i love it, i love how much they love and care for each other

AND even though he went from 100 to 0 quick, i think a saving grace was that he still felt, well, like himself, weighted down by his sins but not giving up on himself, understandably self deprecating after all he's done but allowing himself the grace and care of others too

i think his new mindset is best exemplified by his A support conversation with marianne, who is a golden deer student you can recruit to your house

it's enough to make a grown ass woman cry WAAAAAAAAAH

i've been typing this for like 3 hours i gotta wrap things up HHHHHHHHHHH

so after his redemption journey starts he drops his desire for revenge and focuses on taking back his kingdom from the empire, reunites with his people that welcome him back with cheers which makes him cry (aaaa mimitriiiiiii) and through battles advances and takes back both the empire, and the other territory which is the alliance pleads fealty to him, their leader surrendering his position willingly so dimitri can unify the continent

but he still struggles during the course of it! which is a decision i commend because you don't go almost a decade living tragedy after tragedy and then turn a new leaf without any baggage EVEN when you have the support and understanding of your loved ones, this is something so few media does in a way that pleases me and that i find believable and true to the character and lo and behold this game is taking all the bases!!!! i love it, i love it so so much

because to me recovery isn't about erasing all your bad qualities in an attempt to make yourself perfect or more palatable, it's far more important to acknowledge them and make room for growth! to give ourselves enough grace to change in a way that suits us best, and to understand it doesn't happen overnight - it gets easier, you just gotta do it everyday, that's the hard part! but it does get easier

jesus christ i don't even know how to conclude this uuuuuuuh so yeah play fire emblem three houses dimitri is an excellent character also you get to marry him in the end 100/10

WHO IS THE BIG BLOND WHUMPEE SHAPED FIRE EMBLEM GUY??? tell me more about him!! my sign to play fire emblem just for him???

YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA SO his name is dimitri alexandre blaiddyd and he's from the game fire emblem three houses and its spin off three hopes

you should totally play it in fact i had just made an elevator pitch to a friend over on discord as to why it's a hella good game i shall share it with you as well:

well i think for starters i HAVE to praise the voice acting and dialogue writing in the game, it starts solid and stays like that for the entire run you go for, it's really inspiring in that way for me particularly, but also the lessons from it are quite precious and i think ring true to many irl topics such as dealing with grief, loss, isolation and a turbulent, often hopeless environment fair thing i gotta say is fire emblem three houses was the first from the franchise i ever played and i don't know much of anything about the other games, my brother in law called the combat a mix of chess and pokemon which is hilarious but true, i felt intimidated at first because i suck at strategy games and it took a while for all the combat mechanics to sink in for me but once i got a grasp it was pretty entertaining! three houses in particular you can choose one from three routes, so far i've only played the blue lions one but i've heard marvelous things about golden deer and black eagles routes, in general they all deal with medieval time systems and they talk a lot about the oppression they perpetuate and how the church causes tension between people but it's also a support system for others, and each route has the leader want to try and reform the land in their own way

AND to add a cherry on top i think dimitri from the blue lions is up your alley as well, he gets plenty whumped and has a metric ton of angst to deal with throughout the game

also you player character acts as their teacher and it's just augh so sweet to see them as your students grow and become stronger and thank you for it

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anyway it's got the roy 100% seal of approval and if dimitri looks whumpee shaped it's because he ABSOLUTELY is one

in my rant above i mostly talk about the game in general as i don't know how you feel about spoilers and i really can't rave about him without revealing some i fear :'x but if you want my all spoilers inclusive essay on dimitri i've also got it locked and loaded 🤘

BUT to entice you further, i shall share some screenshots i took of my run under the read more {: !