#why is no one talking about this because i just about died

[notebooks-and-laptops]

God I think sten in the fade might be the most heartbreaking one. Yes, Morrigan straight up can't believe her mother would ever care for her, yes Alistair just wants a family, yes Zev is out there literally getting tortured because that's familiar to him but there's something so subtle about Stens moment that I just love bringing him along.

Because he's...he knows. In a way. He knows exactly what's going on. He's not fooled into thinking this is real like Alistair or Wynne or Leliana or Zev. But equally he's not arguing his way out like Morrigan. When you talk to him he knows who you are, and why you're there, wants to make room for you at the fire.

Sten is... reminiscing. He's with these men who he knew who died and whose death signalled the end of his last true connection with home (both because of their deaths and because of the loss of his sword). He even says that the fade is no different from being in Orlais or Ferelden - none of it is home. It's such a stark contrast to Stens usual no nonsense tone and it really cuts to the heart of him and what makes him such a compelling character.

To get him to come with you, you remind him that he made an oath to you or other soldier things. Sten needs that order to be pulled from his memory here.

And it's just...it's heartbreaking. He misses home. He feels he can't go back. He doesn't know what the point is anymore. And it is the warden that quite literally gives him order and the ability to go back after his sword so he can head home. It's connection to people - you the protagonist specifically - that helps Sten move past his grief. And in that way, Sten mirrors Alistair and Oghren but that's a whole other post about themes of loss and grief and moving forward in origins ill make some other time.

(I also like it because it shows that Stens companions were joking about and very un-Sten like. I think there's this idea that flies about that before Bull was introduced, the Qunari were all very serious and stoic people and bull was a retcon in that regard. But we see Stens friends laughing about the lack of good food in Ferelden and making jokes)

[rosenclaws]

obsessed with your ex || Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: In his world you were his wife and he loved you and then you died. In this world you're his girlfriend and he loves you. At least you think he does. Still you can't help the voice in the back of your head telling you that you're nothing but a sad replacement.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY. insecure + jealous!reader, a very very toxic mindset, the reader's mind is very mean to her, reader is a mutant that can make objects disappear, angst, happy ending, rough sex, riding, french kissing, oral (f!receiving), a slight breakdown, soft sex, missionary, Logan is kinda a softie, cockwarming, fingering.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: Okay so it's here!! I need to make this clear that the readers mindset is NOT healthy and that relationships need good communication. That being said here's my fic idea that I've been thinking about for a bit. I love Olivia Rodrigo sm (I even saw her in concert!!) and this song was just begging to be written into a fic. Anyways I really hope you like it and that it's not too insane lmao. Also i made the graphic but i kinda hate it but i dont wanna change it so here we are I know it's ugly but its FINE

How long have you been here? Staring. Observing every little thing about you. Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your chin. The way your arms fall by your sides. Every. Little. Detail.

Did she have the same colored eyes? Did she talk like you? Was she smart? Was she powerful? Did he look at her the same way? Did he fuck her like he fucks you?

You clench your fists as you stare angrily at the mirror. He loves you. He says he loves you and yet it feels like you can never compare to her. She was the love of his life. She was an X-Men. She died. She was you. You're his dead fucking wife in his universe while you were nothing to the Logan in this one. 

He looked at you like a kicked puppy that first day you met. A lost little pet that had been searching for its owner. Dragged through hell and back just to get to you. It was easy to fall for him. Handsome, a little rough around the edges. You hadn’t even been dating for that long but it didn’t matter right? He worshiped you. He loved you. He promised he loved you.

But sometimes in the back of your head you wonder if when he's kissing you, does he imagine her? Does he close his eyes while he's pounding into you and imagine it's her? How could you ever compete? She was perfect, she was kind, she was everything to him. Spiraling deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of doubt and envy. There's a heavy pounding on the door but you choose to ignore it. Too wrapped up in your twisted mind to care. 

"Sweetheart, let me in." Logan's gruff voice was slightly muffled by the door. 

You clench your jaw as you finally tear your eyes away from the mirror. You slam open the door taking Logan by surprise. His eyes scan yours for injury, a worried look in his face as he steps into the bathroom. 

"I got worried, you were in here a long time." His arms wrap around your waist. 

He's looking at you with pity. At least that's what your brain tells you. Was he worried that you were hurt because he loves you or because he was thinking of her death again? You know he still dreams of her. He can hide it when he's awake but the nightmares don't lie. It hurts so bad. Love me. Love me. You're jealous you know. She's dead, she's gone. So why can't he love you. You push him off and storm out the bathroom. Nothing makes sense anymore in your head. 

"What the fuck?" Logan follows you and you feel yourself tensing up. 

It's a miracle your powers haven't started to go haywire yet. So many different emotions swirl around in your head until it mixes together to form one single feeling.

Need.

You grab Logan's shirt and pull him into you. Smashing your lips onto his with a hunger that you've never felt before. Logan hisses as you bite his bottom lip harshly but you don't give him time to say anything as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he starts to take some control back. Hands slipping up your shirt and ripping to shreds with ease.

You pull back from his lips, chest heaving for air as you paw at his shirt. Silently demanding he take it off which he happily does. Your lips are back onto his in an instant. He slowly walks you back until you fall onto the bed. You fall onto the bed and lick your lips. The bugle in his pants is evident as you flick your hand and the belt disappears. 

"I liked that belt." You pay no mind to his comment as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down, leaving him in his boxers. 

"Easy there sweetheart," Logan pushes you back gently and crawls on top of you. Logan kisses down your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue. 

"Let me take my time." He purrs.

His hands touch and squeeze your breasts roughly making you whine. You watch his arms move, god he's so hot. He's close to making you forget. He kisses down, down, all the way down. He sneaks out the tip of his claws to pop open the button of your pants and he yanks them down until they're all the way off.

"There she is, my perfect girl." His girl. That's right your his girl. No one else's.

Logan pulls your panties to the side as he situates himself between your legs. He stuffs his face without shame, licking hungrily and practically moaning at the taste. You arch your back as Logan devours you. Watching his back muscles move are mesmerizing. He's yours. He loves you. He promises he does.

You can't stop the thoughts that begin to invade you. Overwhelmed by pleasure from Logan and pain from the horrible ideas that pop into your head. Did he do this with her too? Did he worship her? Do you taste like her? Is that why he can't get enough? 

"Fuck!" You hiss as you sit up and tell Logan to stop. He does immediately, wondering what the hell is going on. 

"Can't fucking wait." You scratch down his chest with your nails. He groans and tries to crawl on top of you but you shake your head. 

"I'm going to ride you until you can't come anymore." You growl.

You bite his shoulder harshly making him hiss. It heals right up much to your dismay. How badly you wish you could mark him. You make his boxers disappear but before he can make a smart comment you sink down on him all the way. You whimper as you start to bounce on his cock. Loving how much he fills you.

You need to be fucked stupid. You're desperate for Logan to fuck every bad thought out of your head. To promise that he loves you so that you can believe him. You want to believe him. Please, you have to believe him. 

"Sweetheart." Logan's breath is labored as you relentlessly fuck yourself on his cock. You feel so damn good but fuck he can tell something is on your mind. 

"What do you need, let me help you." He sits up on his hands, placing one on your back as he tries to get you to slow down. His words make you want to scream. What do you need? You look at him and the only thing your rotten brain can tell you is that he is thinking of her. 

"I need you to fucking love me!" You yell.

The dam of built up feelings breaks down as tears pour out of your eyes. Ugly, horrible sobs that make your body shake. Logan watches with horror in his eyes as he stills your hips, using his strength to lift you off of him as you continue to cry. 

"I do love you." He says softly but you shake your head. 

"No!" You shout. You pound your fist against Logan's chest over and over again but he barely moves. 

"You love her! I know you do." Logan's heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. 

"I'm not your dead fucking wife Logan!" You should regret the words coming out of your mouth but you can't stop them. 

"You look at me and you see her. Like I'm just some fucking placeholder!" You let out an anguished scream as Logan captures your wrists in his hands. You know the stories. She was a hero, she was perfect in every single way. 

"How can I compete with, with her?" You say completely defeated.

Your head falls against his chest. There's a sense of relief that washes over you. Thoughts that have plagued you for months are finally out in the open. Yet the fear of what comes next overtakes any other feeling.

"Look at me." Logan tilts your head up but you push his hand away. 

"Sweetheart." He sighs and lets go of your face.

Logan's never been good at this. Talking. Being vulnerable. Then he lost everything and he hardened even more and he just. This was a new chance at life and even though it's hard he can't lose it all again. 

"I know you're not her. Of course I do." Logan presses his forehead against yours, trying to get you to look at him. 

"You loved her..." You croak out. 

"I did love her. She was my wife. But I love you too. In a different way." He's a different man. Having gone through tremendous loss. It shaped him into who he is now. 

"You're different people. Your powers act differently, you talk differently, you feel different. You are not a replacement." He says firmly. 

When you finally look at him he feels this horrible pit in his stomach. He wipes away your tears but doesn't make any other move. It's not the right time.

"Would you have even given me a second thought? If I didn't look like her?" You ask, that question has haunted you for a while now but you never asked, too afraid of the answer. Logan is silent, unsure of how to answer. 

"When I first saw you it was like a punch in the face." He starts. "For a moment I was 20 years in the past. Then I snapped out of it. You look like her, yes but you’re not her.” He gently traces a small scar on your jaw that you got when you were a child. 

“I’m not the same as your Logan right? He was a leader, a hero and I was an angry drunk murderer.” 

“I’m not gonna start listing all your fucking differences sweetheart, but I swear on my life that I love you for you.” He pulls you into a tight hug as you start to cry again. You cling onto him as tight as you can. The bad thoughts don’t just stop, even if you want them to but Logans whispering sweet words in your ear. Pushing out every bad thought for now.

“Logan,” You take a deep breath, letting Logan invade all your senses. Tobacco and whiskey. 

“I need you.” He’s hesitant, not sure if it’s the right time.

“Please, I just need you.”

“Okay sweetheart, you have me.” He slowly rolls you over and lays you on your back.

He captures your lips into a kiss. His hips rolling slowly making you moan softly. His lips drift from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your cheek, trailing down. Each one so gentle, so full of love.

“You have this spot, righttt here.” Logan nibbles on your neck and you gasp when bites right at this spot that drives you wild. You melt into the mattress as he kisses over it.

“Always makes you relax.” He crawls lower, kissing down your body. He sits up on his knees and grabs a pillow to place under your back.

“I know you like to be slightly elevated because it means I can go just a little deeper.” He purrs as he takes his cock in his hands and gently rubs the tip of it along your folds. He slides two fingers into your cunt slowly.

“Know that my fingers drive you absolutely wild, that you need me to go slow to start.” You nod absentmindedly.

You never realized he picked up on all these things. His fingers start to slide in smoother, your cunt getting wetter for him. He leans down and takes a deep breath, groaning at the scent. He slips them out and licks them clean.

“Relax sweetheart,” He spreads your thighs and slips in all the way. Going slow but unrelenting, stretching you just how you like.

“So impatient, you never let me take it easy on you right? Just wanna be full all the time.” He leans down on his elbows as he rolls his hips nice and slow.

There will be no rough sex this time, this is about love. To show you that he truly does love you for you.

“Look at me,” He tilts your head so that your eyes meet. He smiles at the desperate look on your face.

“You can pretend it makes you all embarrassed, but I know you like eye contact.” He hums as he angles his hips so that he hits that perfect spot.

You jolt as pleasure rocks through your whole body but he keeps you under him. He’s slowly and methodically tearing you apart. Every touch, every word out of his mouth just makes it better. He knows. Of course he does.

“I love you Logan.” Your hands cup his face as you stare into his hazel eyes.

This time not filled with lust, but with a true deep love. He looks at you like you’re everything.

“I love you too.” He kisses you as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He smirks as he feels you start to squirm under him. You could never help it when you were close.

“Come on sweetheart, just let go.” He whispers in your ear.

His deep voice paired with the unrelenting feeling of his cock is all it takes. He holds you in his firm arms as a warm and wonderful tingling sensation runs through your whole body. A blissful smile on your face as you tilt your head back.

You feel your whole body relax as your mind calms. Logan tries to hide his growls as he fucks into you a little faster, until he’s coming hard and deep inside of you. He sighs in contentment as he stays inside of you. He taps your cheek lightly and you look up at him.

“I love you. No one else. Just you.” He moves to pull out but you whine. You need to be close to him right now. He chuckles as he slowly moves to your side. Spooning you tightly with his cock still deep inside of you.

“Can we talk?” You ask shyly.

“About what?” Logan grunts as he pulls you as close as he can get you.

“Anything?” He’s not much of a talker so he asks the questions instead.

How did you discover your powers? How did you meet wade? Just anything and everything and you tell him.

You talk for who knows how long. Staying wrapped in each other's arms. It helps, it really does. Logan listens, he really does listen. He wants to get to know you. He loves you. You rest your head on his chest, tracing shapes into his palm as you talk.

For the first time in a while your mind seems to settle. Ignoring any thought that may try and ruin your mood. It’s just you and him right now. There’s no looming figure of your alternate selves, not anymore.

Just you and Logan. Forever.

[cvnntagious]

Die For Me

☆ Fuckboy!Matt Sturniolo blurb for anon

Not that you cared, but Matt had been M.I.A for over a week now. He hadn't been in class, hadn't texted you, and you hadn't seen him in his usual hangout spots around campus. Not that you'd bothered to check.

Well, okay, you shouldn't have checked — But you did. Not because you cared. I mean, he didn't care, so why would you? You'd been looking for him because, for some reason, your professor had decided to hand over his work to you. It didn't seem like he knew where Matt had gone either.

You didn't really understand what this had to do with you. The professor had just told you to give it to Matt whenever you got the chance. What, did he think you and Matt were something? Because you're not. That's not what Matt wanted, and neither did you.

But as your grades began to slip, it was clear Matt was on your mind. For no reason, really. Like, you didn't like him or anything. Seriously, you didn't like him. Usually, with the help of Matt, you would've been able to de-stress by now. Even touching yourself was no good. His help had been keeping you steady for the semester, and without it, you were nothing academically. At least that's what you told yourself.

Today 10:22 PM : ' Hey sorry. Been a minute. '

That's what you saw pop up on your phone as you tried to focus on studying for the upcoming quiz. You knew who it was before you even read the contact at the top of the notification — that unreadable way of texting, topped with an annoying amount of periods, just like always. He said it'd been a minute, but it had only seemed like seconds since you last talked at that moment. You were already annoyed.

Texting back seemed like no use, brushing it off with a sigh that exuded not only irritation, but a hint of relief as well. At least now you knew he hadn't gotten himself into some shit. Not that getting into shit was much like him, it was more his brother's thing. But still, he tended to stick his nose where it didn't belong when it came to any problems Chris got into.

Today 10:25 PM : ' Come slide. Dorm's P17. '

You tried to ignore it, but the numbers caught your attention. Could he really want you this bad? Usually he'd come to your dorm, or on some rare occasions you'd meet him at Chris' frat. Never once had he bothered to give you his dorm number. This felt new, possibly refreshing. He'd always told you where he stayed wasn't necessary information— basically the nice way of saying he didn't take you seriously, nor trust you enough.

Though tempting, your better judgement told you not to give in so easily. As you held down the power button and slid the icon to power off before flipping your phone face down, you felt a certain sense of empowerment, proud of yourself for deciding it wasn't worth it. So why did you find yourself waiting for him to answer the door, fidgeting nervously as you looked at the short brown carpet of the dormitory hallway?

"Didn't even get a warning," You heard his voice as the door opened in front of you, causing you to look up at him.

With an embarrassed chuckle, you lifted your hand to show him the black screen of your phone. "It died," You lied, eyelashes fluttering as your eyes met his blue ones.

You watched his small smile as his tongue ran over his white teeth to hide it, invisalign making them chunky and, in some strange way, admirable. Then, he stepped aside, giving you room to walk into his doorway. "S'late, I know, but I just- like I said, its been a while," Matt began explaining as you walked into his dorm, leaning on the doorframe as his head followed you.

You turned to look at him after having taken in his dorm, rather unimpressed by the lack of personality. "Yeah, about that, actually— Where y'been?" You asked curiously, as he shut and locked the door behind him.

Matt only shrugged, suppressing a smirk as he took a step forward to let his hands travel down your waist. "Lot'a stuff," He replied simply, head cocking slightly to one side. Of course he wasn't going to tell you - he never told you anything. "S'a lot to handle, y'know," He then added, eyes darkening as they held contact with yours.

Your brows furrowed at his words, a bit confused. If he didn't want to tell you why he was gone straight up, you'd prefer if he didn't start hinting at stuff. "What is?" You breathed out, hands moving to rest on his forearms as you unknowingly caught his bait.

"Not being able to see you every day; To touch you every day." He said that as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his head dipping to place open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck. "To call you mine," He then whispered. You knew it were dumb to think he meant that, but for some reason, those four words made you want to give yourself to him completely.

Matt smiled for the first time since you'd walked in when you pulled back to admire his face, letting out a small hum when you leaned back into him to press your lips against his. Just like that, he walked you backwards towards his bed, hands slipping under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach. The coldness of his silver rings caused you to hiss into the kiss, too distracted by the sensation to notice him turning you so that he was now with his back to his bed.

As he sat down on his bed, he pulled you down to straddle him, hands holding your waist. You looked down at his glossy blue eyes as your hands reached up to knock his hat off of his head, fingers threading through his brunette curls. "What d'you want, Matt?" You finally asked, one hand coming down to allow your finger to caress the underside of his chin as he looked up at you.

His hands traveled up your figure, lifting your shirt as he did so. He allowed his hands to rest on your boobs, kneeding them as he chuckled ever so quietly. "To not have to do the work this time," He answered in a teasing tone, eyes flickering down to look at where his hands worked.

Though reluctant, you lifted yourself off of his lap to hoover over it. Using one hand to stabilize yourself on his shoulder, your free hand made its way down to his belt buckle as he watched your every move intently, "Don't look so happy," You mused when your eyes had glanced up to see the excitement in his.

"You know I love this shit," He quipped as you pulled his belt through the loops, lifting himself just enough for you to pull his pants down to his thighs. You only had so long to admire all you could see through his boxers before you felt Matt tugging on your pants, pleading without words for you to take them off.

Again, you lifted yourself off of him, this time allowing him to unbutton your pants and shimmy them down your legs until they were discarded somewhere beside his bed. As he fiddled with your pants, your hand began palming him through his boxers, length already riled up from not being touched much longer than he was used to. He groaned as his eyes remained locked on yours, a wet patch turning a spot of his boxers a darker shade of gray.

After a bit of teasing, you decided it was time to finally get your eyes on the prize—his prize. Pulling it out of his boxers, you ran your hand along his shaft to feel it rock hard already. "So big," You muttered, eyes glued to it.

Matt couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at your words, expression smug as it could be. "This's new news?" He asked playfully, a stark contrast to his usual cold behaviors. It was like he really came out of his shell when he was aroused, and you were ready to put him right back in it.

With a squeeze of his dick that caused him to grunt, you pulled your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance. Matt looked enthralled as he watched you do your work like this were routine, hands leaving your hips to rest behind him, leaning back to tilt his head back when you sunk down onto him without warning.

His hair was messy, and he could feel he was ready to sweat with your gummy walls around him. Lips pursing together, he hummed as you began to slowly grind into him, letting you do the work, just like he said he wanted.

It wasn't long before you began bouncing on him, hands on his shoulders for stability as you let out choked moans, as if his cock were suffocating you. The quick pace had your thighs burning, struggling to keep up with it, and yet, Matt simply watched in enjoyment. It wasn't often he allowed himself to freely make noise, but you could tell he was really enjoying this, with the way he had let out more groans and pants than usual.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his hands dartted out to grip the flesh of your hips as you continued your motions. You could've swore you heard a whimper when his head dropped forward to lean on the front of your shoulder. "Fu–ck this," He drawled out to you, hips begining to meet yours as he chase his high.

This simple, not so innocent gesture only served to fuel you, completely forgetting about the burning sensation. Your bounces got bigger, lifting yourself all the way to his tip before dropping back onto him with shreik-like moans. Matt was loving this, pants and groans now following each motion on his painfully ready cock.

"K- keep goin' f'me, baby, m'gettin close," He rasped, forcing himself to lift his head from your shoulder so he could look in your eyes while he came.

You nodded, bouncing mixing with grinding as you tried to tell him you were close too. It was too late. You let out a loud moan as you snapped on top of him, Matt following suit at the feeling of your sticky liquid releasing all over his dick. Your movements slowed to ride out your guys' orgasms before eventually coming to a halt, both of you panting with each other.

"Le's, uh— We'll do that more often, yeah?"

○

"Come on over, baby, can you slide for me? Yeah / You know how I love it when you ride on me." -Chase Atlantic

w/c : 1.8k a/n : if you've sent in any anons, i promise i'm getting to them. it's taking me a while cs i take forever to write and now i'm super busy so please bare w me, these anons have been building up for months now...

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[tobi-smp]

I don't want to hold anything against this specific person, because I Remember the discourse that lead to this and I know exactly how it could get passed around and warped (either through telephone or someone's own memory shifting with time).

that said, I never liked that discourse specifically Because it was a clear misreading of the text, and what better opportunity do I have to talk about it now.

the context was the bench trio therapy stream. tommy had been beaten to death by dream, sat in limbo for months, and then revived and told Explicitly that dream was planning on escaping prison and tormenting the rest of the server.

the mindset that tommy is in is that he Has to do something, but he's deeply traumatized by what's happened to him. he's Scared to go back to the prison, but he has no choice but to do it for the safety of everyone else in the server.

the "therapy stream" was bench trio Trying to do exposure therapy on tommy to help him work through his trauma in the lead up to attempting to infiltrate the prison. and the entire point is that they Absolutely Were Not actually helping.

what they were Actually doing was triggering tommy by exposing him to things that he was traumatized by, because they didn't actually know how to do exposure therapy and what they were trying to do wasn't healthy in the first place.

so the Context of this conversation is tommy desperately trying to just, Get Rid Of his trauma (something that is absolutely not possible) while entering a worse and worse mindset because he was intentionally triggering himself.

Likewise, the context for Tubbo's half of the conversation is that he Very Intentionally represses his own trauma, both from Himself and from other people. he puts himself in a little box that he buries under the floorboards and asks people to ignore the way the boards creak when they walk on him.

there's a million ways you could cut Why he does this. part it is his people pleasing, willingly pushing himself down for the sake of everyone else no matter how painful. seeing Himself as an accessory to the people he cares about, rather than a whole complete and important person. and in part because it feels Safer, it's Safer to pretend that nothing hurt him.

and Why that is is complicated. part of it is External. he doesn't Get to be angry about what he's been through, because the people he's angry At will just hurt him again. and if he thinks about how he's hurt then he Will get angry, so he just Won't Think About It.

and part of it is that I don't think he wants to process his trauma any more than tommy does. because it's painful, because he doesn't have the tools to actually work through it, because they aren't Safe so he can't afford to break down now (trouble is, there never Seems to be a "safe" time to think about himself).

they're the Repression Brothers. the difference being that tommy's at a different stage of it. not a Healthy One, but different.

tommy spent months not being able to put into words what exile was, what pogtopia was, was the final control room was. and he still won't be able to put it in plain words for some time from here.

but he's reached the point where he Can't ignore it anymore, but he still doesn't know what to Do about it. he's still frustrated with an (to an extent) Ashamed Of his trauma. he feels Lesser Than he was before and wants it to all just go away and go back to Normal.

he's doing this because he Has To, because he Has to be strong enough to fight dream. because if he's too scared to do it then he'd be sacrificing everyone else's safety.

he and tubbo are doing the Same Thing in different fonts, sacrificing their well being for the people Around Them, including Each Other.

so, lets go back to that moment that started all of this.

the exposure therapy was on the final control room section, with tommy working through having been killed by dream.

tubbo mentions that he died that night too, and tommy says something to the effect of "you did, but you have thicker skin."

this has been taken out of context to mean "you did, but I have it worse than you," when IN CONTEXT it means "you did, but you're stronger than me," or more accurately "you did, But I'm Worse Than You."

tommy does not see his trauma in the context of stupid apologist discourse. he sees his trauma as something that makes him Worse, as something he Shouldn't Feel. as something that makes him Weaker than everyone else, who Obviously are so much more put together than he is.

when he says this he's not saying that he's more important than tubbo, he's putting himself down in comparison TO tubbo.

and this is absolutely still harmful ! This is legitimately one of tommy's character flaws ! but it is Not the selfishness that people make it out to be.

it's tommy accidentally hurting other people by seeing Himself negatively. it's an unhealthy relationship with mental health, and a Realistic one considering the circumstances and setting.

likewise, it's Just As Much born from tubbo's own unhealthy coping mechanisms. tommy assumes that what happened didn't bother tubbo the way it did him because Tubbo wants him to think that.

Tubbo doesn't let tommy see how much he's hurting, which in turn feeds into this cycle.

tubbo assumes he Has to shove his trauma down for tommy's sake (for the sake of Everyone he cares about), and so tommy assumes tubbo was just Stronger than him and wants desperately to just shove his own trauma away the way tubbo seems to be able to.

this moment IS tragic, it IS an example of the two of them hurting each other. but it's BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER !!!

Both Of Them are trying to be strong enough to protect the other, and it's Hurting Them. it's unhealthy, but it 's not Malicious. it's self-sacrificial not Selfish. it's not something they've done to each other but what's been done To Them by the world they live in. what they've done to Themselves trying to live in it.

this shouldn't have been a discourse moment, it should've been clingyduoers tearing each other apart in the street at the tragedy of it

[altgojo]

Love always make itself known. (a katsuki Bakugo/reader…)

Summary : you knew that you will always be there for him, no matter what happens, because you know that you love him. But what you didn’t know is that he does too, and he would do anything for you… wc: 1,6 k Author note: you know how I started from a Drabble? Now I wrote a whole ass oneshot😭, I originally wanted to do this with a prohero!tomura/reader but I fear that I didn’t know how to construct such thing in one single part 🤕, butttt if you want it then maybe I could do it😇. Anyways, I hope you like it :3

Warnings: a little tiniest tiny bit of angst, but it’s a happy ending, fluff, they are both in love with each others to the point when it HURT like just confess😭, but they do eventually, f!reader, clingy katsuki because why tf not?

The sunshine was seeping through the glass panels of the window, gracing the room with a newfound warmth after a long cold night. As the sun rises up, the bright light slowly arose you from your sleep. 

As you get your own self accommodated to waking up, you notice that you were wrapped into a strong embrace, you try to slowly turn around, then as you look at their face, you remember all the things that occurred the day before.

      He saved you.

He saved you. You thought you were doomed for, your back colliding with the brick wall behind you, grunting in pain as you try to move, but to no avail. Your eyes were getting blurry and your mind was foggy, the only thing you can see is his face.

      You wished that you confessed.

      You wished that you had the guts to. 

You were ashamed, you wanted to be strong alongside him, you wanted to be with him. But you couldn’t, because you were a coward, and we all know cowards get nothing. 

      He sees you.

 And all that flashes into his mind as he sees you there, all sprawled with your back to that wall, is pure unfiltered rage. He wanted to be strong enough for you, he always trained so hard to do so, but there he is, he lets you get severely injured. Like the weakling he is. But he doesn’t have time to think about such things, he has to save you, as fast as possible.

      So he does. 

As flashes of your memories with him race in your mind, you feel large arms encapsulating you in his embrace, holding so tightly, but you don’t feel anything, so you just bask in his warmth as he shouts at you to talk to him. He finishes the villain off with you in his arms, you feel his rage and his anger as they escape his body, with an intensity that can rival the biggest waves crashing onto the shore . Then you smile, you smile because you are glad that you set your sights on him from the beginning, because to you, even if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, you still won’t stop loving him. 

    He is everything to you.

    But you are also everything to him,

    You just don’t know it.

That’s why, once you opened your eyes, he instantly appeared in your field of vision, he held your hand right away as he spoke.

“If you had died, I would have killed you”

You held his hand tighter. You realised that you missed him, even when he was right there, with you, in the hospital room, you missed him and you are glad you are here with him. You don’t realise that you were crying until you felt his hand wiping your tears away. His hand feels slightly different than when you were both teenagers, soon to be pros. But, even so, they still held the care and the warmth that they always did. 

 “Why the hell are you crying? I’m right here.”

‘I am right here, I am not going anywhere.’ That’s what he wanted to say, but he knows that you will understand him anyway, you always did, that’s why he was always at ease with you. You didn’t just dismiss him as an “angry aggressive person with no other feelings” like all people did, you saw right through him. You understood him, and that scared him at first. He tried to push you away, but you remained still, even when you both fought, he always found his way back to you. Because he realises that his future lays with you, with nobody else but you.

You look at him as he is deep in thought. With a relaxed smile on your face, you softly spoke, finally meeting his eyes.

“You can’t kill me if I already died, katsuki.”

As you finished, you realised that you just broke his train of thoughts, he looked slightly shocked for a second before he mutters :

“I don’t care, I will if you did.”

You muse back with a soft laugh :

“Then I won’t, never dreamt of doing so.”

You both stare back at each other for a while, silently looking at every detail on each other’s face, both trying to reserve this as one of the plenty of memories that you both shared. 

  You got discharged from the hospital two days after. Fortunately, you only had one severe injury that was nearly healed thanks to recovery girl (she came just after the villain attack because katsuki urged her to come. You made sure to thank her profusely for healing you.)

As you were about to leave the hospital, you found katsuki right outside waiting for you. As he sets his sights on you, he rushes to your side, and helps you get onto the car, his car.

You both sat in silence, listening to the low sounds emitting from his radio that acts as some sort of white sound in the car. That’s until katsuki turns it completely off and starts talking:

“I already talked to your agency and told them about your condition and the physical state that you are in, you need a lot of rest so I better not see you there until you fully heal, understood?”

Just based on his keen, stoic tone, you knew you couldn’t argue with him. So, you just sank further onto the cushioned leather seat of his car, opting to look out the window instead. Katsuki kept stealing glances at you from time to time, checking if you were okay. After some time, you reached your front doorstep. As you turned around, ready to unbuckle your seatbelt, you were outrun by katsuki as he unbuckled the belt for you, and then his. sensing your confused glance onto his back as he opened his car’s door, he quips:

“You need assistance, so you’ll better let me accompany you without being such an annoying brat.”

And that’s how you find yourself being tended by him all afternoon, never leaving your side, and if he does by chance, he keeps you near him or steal glances at you to make sure you are doing good. You know why katsuki is acting like this, you saw his face once you woke up on the hospital bed. He was scared, afraid of losing you. That’s why you don’t complain nor tease him about his clinginess, you just let him be, plus you always like it when he gets clingy, even when it comes with a tinge of guilt. Because he always gets clingy whenever something bad happens between you two. You brush that thought off as you remained on the couch while he is making dinner, reminding you of your time in UA common rooms, when you and all your friends lounge together in the living room while katsuki cooked , but now, it’s just you and him. 

When katsuki finishes up making dinner, he beckons you over to the table, almost acting like he owns the place and that the house is his , not yours. As you sit down, you both eat in silence until he starts to glance at you, that’s when you know he wants to initiate a conversation, so you look up and he begins:

"Just what the hell was going through your mind when you decided to face that villain?"

You look straight into his eyes, your posture radiating confidence even when you really don’t feel it at that moment, fake it till you make it I guess.

"What do you mean? I am a prohero katsuki, of course I would go against a villain. What do you want me to do? Watch you defeat them yourself?"

Katsuki scrunches his face as he starts to get mad. His expression is a clear indication of that.

"I know that you are a prohero, but that does not mean that you should just jump infront of villains with no plan whatsoever and take their blows."

You lowers your eyes and look anywhere but katsuki’s face, all the initial confidence in you blew away after his perfect response, damn he caught me!

Katsuki sees your look as a signal to continue, probably because he knows that he caught you right where he wanted to.

"I know that you want to beat as many villains as you could, and I have always appreciated the dedication that you have to beating villains asses, but you should be careful so they don’t beat your ass up instead. I won’t always be there with you on missions to save your ass so you better not do this anytime soon, I want you to use your brain and think before jumping to action, got it?"

Katsuki then stops to analyse your reaction, glancing right through you, your eyes widen for a second as you process his words, and then, you look up and smile at him. His heart melting at the sight of it, he never wants you to lose your smile, he never wants to lose you.

As you look up at him, you smile, your heart melts with his words, even if he talks in that way, you always see right through his words, he cares about you, and you do too. You trust him with your life. 

So you decided it’s time. 

It’s now or never. 

You look straight at his beautiful, ethereal crimson eyes and say.

"I love you, katsuki.”

That’s how you find yourself, as a new day begins, under your sheets, with the man whom you have always and will pour your love into, and he will do the same if not more. 

As you look at his sleeping face, he is slowly arising from his sleep, almost in command. 

    because whenever you look at him, 

    he would always be there, 

    at your service. 

And then his eyes meet yours and the first sentence he utters is:

"I love you most."

copyright © 2024 altgojo. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works, you can reblog it but do not reupload on any platform, thank u.

[acowardinmordor]

Risk and Reward

Steddie-adjacent. Tw: homophobia

I always love fics where Steve makes himself Eddie’s alibi while Eddie is still unconscious/in a coma. Knows that it will work because he knows in this town there is no way anyone would believe that Steve Harrington would come out if it wasn’t real. No one would believe it, because everyone knows that his parents are always gone, because his dad is in Congress railing against the gays and their depravity and how they deserve to die and burn.

Steve saying it. Signing an affidavit about it. Giving quotes to the ravenous press. It has to be true. And everyone who doesn’t think it’s disgusting think it’s the most romantic thing in the world.

The government was stepping in, all eyes were pointed at Munson, and he was going to be thrown in a cell for life. Or, to save the cost of the trial, he would have vanished somewhere between the hospital and the prison.

Steve coming out stops that. Airtight alibi, reinforced by the knowledge that there will be consequences.

Eddie is safe, and the government has changed tactics, is blaming dead Jason Carver for it all. Eddie wakes up six weeks later, shocked to wake up at all, and trusts his uncle enough to play along. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were dating the Harrington kid?’ Eddie knows how to tell a story that leaves space for a player to fill in their side. He tells stories about little moments and always describes things from his perspective. That way, if it contradicts the story that’s already out there, he can make a find quip about how he remembers it different.

When he finally gets a moment alone with his uncle, two days later, his guess gets confirmed. Wayne knows damn well that Eddie’s gayer than a maypole, and also knows that Eddie has called Steve his nemesis for years. Wayne knew from the second Steve said it that it was a lie, and knew it would work if it was believed.

The only thing confusing Eddie - well, the only thing in this tiny slice of his world - is why his fake boyfriend/no-longer-nemesis, isn’t in the hospital too, playing the part. If the guy was willing to say it at all, then he’d go all in. If there was one thing Eddie’d learned during those days, it was that Steve only ever did something at 100%

And yes, part of him feels terrible that Steve did this just to save him. He feels awful knowing that this is going to ruin a chance for a normal life. Wayne said the Indianapolis paper picked up a story about it. But at the same time, he’s so fucking grateful. Steve saved him. Again. And now, at least for a while, they’ll need to keep up the story. He’ll get to hang out with him, pretend they’re dating, stand close and cuddle closer. He also feels bad about how excited he is for that chance.

It’s the next morning when Eddie realizes his uncle dodged every question about why Steve wasn’t here. Wayne dodged almost every question after explaining what happened with Steve and the press and the Feds in the first weeks. Then, nothing.

The party visits him that afternoon, a veneer of joy stretched thin over something worse. Eddie’s first guess is that Red didn’t make it. But he hears her a moment later, complaining about ‘these stupid casts slowing me down’. The kids aren’t as good at dodging as Wayne is. Eddie gets the story quickly, such as it is.

The Harringtons came home from DC, gave a few speeches in praise of law enforcement against a serial killer. They visited the families of those that died.

They sent an assistant to find Steve in the hospital to deliver a message. No one else heard it, but the best guess is that it was a threat. Steve went with the assistant. They haven’t seen him since. When Dustin confronted the Harringtons at their last event in town, all they’d say was that ‘our son is getting the best help, and we love him dearly’

Eddie looks at Robin when he hears that for what it is. She drops the kids back home and begs a sympathetic nurse to let her talk to Eddie past visiting hours.

“It’s been a month since he vanished”

“Where?”

“We don’t know, we tried, even Hopper - he’s not dead - couldn’t find him. And this guy named Murray. We don’t know.”

“But…. ‘The best help’. You know that means…”

“I know”

“He’s, Christ, Buckley, he’s straight. Ladykiller. He’s straight and they sent him to some—“

“Yeah, but Eddie… I don’t know if I should… I guess, not that it matters now, and he never said anything, but he’s my best friend. He’s my soulmate. I know him and I think… if his dad wasn’t like he is… if he’d ever felt safe saying so… he knew they’d be furious when he came forward as your alibi, but he told me they’d just disown him, and it would be over. He was scared, but he was okay with what he thought was going to happen”

“I thought he hates me”

“He kinda did”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” There’s a pause where they both think about where Steve might be right now.

“Maybe he hates me again now.”

“I don’t think he would, but…”

And Eddie thinks how weird it is to see spastic Robin Buckley, who rambled in the Upside Down and always had more energy that she could contain, acting so subdued. No. So broken.

They both heard the Harringtons’ speeches and ads when he ran for office. They know what the man thinks about people like them. They both heard stories about what the places are like, where someone can go to ‘get help’

“Do you think I’ll ever get to thank him?”

“No.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again? You and the kids at least?”

She’s quiet for a long time, before she picks up her bag.

“If he ever gets to leave wherever they put him, and we ever see him, I don’t think he’ll be the person we knew anymore.”

[mydarlingclaudia]

I will love you ‘til the end of time

note : divider is from @/toastray. I have nothing to say this was supposed to be a couple hundred words but yk.

wc : 2.7k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy

desc : he’s been in love with the memory of you for too long, falling back in love with the newer you took a matter of seconds. fluff, bit of angst (?), au, re4rLeon, fem!reader, not proofread, I talk a tiny bit about sex at the end but there’s no smut.

Leon doesn’t remember the sound of your voice, it’s been too long, too many years have passed since the day you died.

Six years was all the time the two of you had together. Six good years. All a really, really long time ago. Leon hates it, he knows he’s forgetting, memories are serving less and less of a purpose to him everyday. How is he to remember lying under the trees with you when those trees have been cut down and turned to homes and firewood? How can he remember you gutting fish for the two of you to eat when the fish have left the river you lived by?

The home you originally lived in had been torn down and rebuilt dozens of times by now, Leon wasn’t always there, even when he was, it wasn’t very lived in after you died. He’s been around the world more times than he can remember, before you, with you, after you. No place looks the same. Leon has many homes, stays there for a few decades, packs up, and moves to the next house in the next country.

He had been gifted with everlasting life for being some hero, for fighting monster when those were still a thing, it was well after he had married you, he didn’t tell you, but he thought you’d spend forever together. Didn’t happen, obviously. You got sick, he took care of you, nothing helped.

Leon prayed to whatever God that had bestowed his immortality to him to give it to you too, to keep you alive, to make you healthy again. He received no answer and you died not long after, Leon was left to spend the rest of his eternal life alone, but the world was his, and he has all the time that the universe has to offer. But what had he done to not be granted the one thing he wanted in the world? Why would some God reward him just to let him live the rest of his life miserable?

Leon’s seen everyone fall in love, but love evolved from courting to dating apps, he’s seen an embarrassing amount of shitty first dates. But he’s also seen a lot of good ones, ones where the first date turns to a second one, then a third, then a fourth, then before he knows it, those twenty-something-year-olds he had seen fall in love in a small restaurant were now taking their teenagers to the mall and going to high school reunions.

You would have loved this, or he hopes you would’ve. Because he really wishes that you were there to cuddle up to him on the couch and watch tv with him until midnight, he wanted to take you on cute dates, he wants to buy you things and renew your vows once every few years.

He wishes that the memories are clearer in his head, he can really only see them when he closes his eyes, or when the weather is a certain way, or when a certain smell hits his nose. Leon wants to feel your skin against his again. he wants to hear you talking directly into his ear and see that smirk on your face when you suggest something you know he won't refuse.

But it's been so long and he knows that your body has long since decomposed and your grave has been swallowed up by the ocean, a good half of the time since then he's been living on auto-pilot, the other half he's painfully aware of your absence with each day that passes.

He's not even sure he'd be able to hold you correctly, should you fall back into his arms one day. Would you still love him despite that?

He's gone so long without a lover, would he remember how to kiss? The Hollywood movies don't do it justice, kissing. But no one in those movies kissed like you had, Leon's seen all kinds of romance movies, read all kinds of books, he's always imagined you and him as the main characters, but you never kiss him the way you used to.

Would you even choose him? There were so many different men out there and so many new ways to meet someone and stay connected, there was no rush to get married or have kids, would Leon be the man you'd pick once again? He hopes so.

He doesn't remember Beowulf having a wife, and Beowulf had been great. He knows that many heroes aren't able to keep their wife and their glory at the same time, the decision is often made for them, and they go on fighting until they die. But Leon stopped fighting with the same determination when you passed, he still did it, people needed protecting, but if he wasn't there to protect you, then was there really anything to fight for?

Despite all of this, he's still here. Leon looks the same as he did all those years ago, some things have changed, a lot, really, but not just about him. The world around him has grown, he's watched generations come and go just to get to some shitty grocery store in Raccoon City twenty minutes before they close at eight.

Leon doesn't like to have to work all the time, he thinks it's crazy how he went from hero to cop, more money was needed to live now than he ever imagined would be possible. He has money saved up from years and years of work, but he can't keep using the "generational wealth" excuse when he's got no family.

He doesn't like being bugged much, either. Maybe that's why he's buying his dinner when he's already supposed to be in bed, could be why he works so much even though he can't stand it sometimes, too.

Leon should have grabbed a shopping cart, the basket he carries is overflowing with shit he doesn't even need, when has he ever even eaten Devil Dogs and Zebra Cakes? He really needs to eat more than just pasta and steak every other night, maybe stop getting deliveries from the pizza place, too. He's looking over the ingredients on the back of a cereal box he knows he's going to get no matter what when there's a soft tap on his shoulder, he sighs and stops, turning around and preparing to be asked a question a cashier would know the answer to rather than him.

But Leon freezes the second his eyes land on your face. He must've gone crazy, it can't be you, can it? You're not really standing in front of him with a basket in your arms, wearing a winter jacket over your sweatshirt and smiling at him as if you're some stranger to him.

"Where did you get those?" Your voice is quiet when you speak, his gaze doesn't even follow your hand when you point at the sweets in his basket, he just stands there and admires you for a few seconds.

Leon wants to cry, he wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, tell you to run away with him, find someway for you to become immortal and stay by his side until the world ends. But he doesn’t, you look at him like he’s a stranger.

"Oh- Th-the uhm, the Zebra Cakes?" Leon finally asks after a few seconds, you only nod. "The e-end of aisle six." Why is he stammering? He's thought about all the things he'd say to you for hundreds of years, and he's instantly throwing every single word out the window the second you come out from whatever corner of the world you've been hiding in.

"Alright, thanks." God, it really is you. Your smile's the same, you look the same, you smell the same, you sound the same, you just- it's you. He remembers the way you sound again, God, please don’t ever take your voice away from him. He stops himself from reaching for your wrist when you walk away, knowing that you don't remember the things he does and that it'll only make you feel weird about him. But he'll settle for knowing that you're alive and that you're in the city, and that hopefully this won't be the last time he sees you.

—

The next time Leon sees you is on the subway a few weeks later in December.

You're not really looking when you step into the train, reaching up too high for the pole to hang onto and instead grab onto his hand. Your hands are so cold, you really need to wear gloves. But you gasp and pull your hand away when you feel his warm hand touch your skin, instantly holding lower down on the cold pole and looking at him.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" It's cute how quickly you apologize, it brings a smile to his face.

"No- No, you’re fine." He wants so badly to wrap his hand around yours, to hold you close and keep you warm, but he couldn’t, he was still a stranger to you. Being in a crowded train and standing a few inches apart was enough for now.

Leon just watches you, you don’t notice because you’re too busy staring down at your shoes, but his eyes are tracing over the curve of your nose, the way your eyelashes look when you blink, how kissable your lips look. He missed this view, although he'd much rather have you looking back at him with the same adoration in your eyes.

Neither of you speak again for the rest of the ride, you can feel him staring at you, though, you don’t entirely mind, you’d probably looking at him if his eyes weren’t burning holes through your skull.

You haven’t left his mind since he saw you at the grocery store, he’s been trying to figure out ways to find you again without getting put on some kind of radar, he’s too impatient to let things happen naturally, but it’s really the only choice he has.

He knows you recognize him, he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting some kind of vision from the past of him kissing you, of you resting on top of him in the sunlight, of him looking at you with awe in his eyes as you laugh at a story he told you.

But he can’t think about that for long, the train comes to a stop and you leave again, looking back over your shoulder at him and giving him a small goodbye smile. Where have you been all these years?

—

Sometimes, shitty dates were a good thing.

Both parties normally end up having a bad rest of their night, but if some man-child asshole you had been put on a date with hadn’t just thrown a whole tantrum and stomped out of the bar, you wouldn’t be sitting next to Leon.

He didn’t know you’d be here tonight, he was just here because he wanted to grab a drink after work, but this was better.

It’s awkward, he really, really doesn’t hope you think he’s stalking you. How small could a city be? Is it really so odd that the man you said a few words to at a grocery store and bumped into on the train would be sitting next to you at a bar?

Leon’s always had a staring problem when it came to you, he’s sure you’re too pretty for him, not that you were really his anymore. And Christ, you’re still beautiful, maybe even more so now. Modern clothes look good on you, he likes your dress, your shoes, the way you did your hair, the color you painted your nails.

He has to stop staring, because now you’re looking back at him. Leon expects for you to yell at him, or slap him, or something, but you just smile at him and turn towards him a tiny bit more.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare, zoned out.” Leon apologizes once his eyes snap up to yours, you had moved from your table up to the bar a few minutes ago, most likely embarrassed. You brought your drink over, too, though you didn’t really pay attention to it, just circling the lip of the cup with your fingers and taking a few sips every few seconds.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Your smile only grows, Leon has to bite back a grin threatening to stretch across his lips. Once again, he’s not sure what to say. Does he ever really know what to say now, though? You take the words right out of his mouth and turn them into broken mumbles that he tries to cover up with a fake cough or forced chuckle.

That didn’t use to happen, he’d still get nervous around you, but seeing you now made him feel like he was falling in love again.

“I’d feel like I’ve seen you before…?” You say, you know you’re right, you just want him to talk to you because you haven’t been able to get him out of your head, for some reason.

“Oh, uhm, yeah- Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around, too.” Is he seriously fucking blushing right now?

“Hm, small world.” You take a sip from your drink, he does the same.

“So, uh, bad date?” Leon asks before he can stop himself, he knows the answer, but you were probably going to get mad at him, get offended and ignore him if he sees you again.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “It’s fine, though. Blind date.” Leon nodded, staring down at the ring of water his glass left on the countertop. “You just here for a drink?”

“Mhm,” Alcohol was like water to him now, not the way that he drinks it everyday, but that it hardly has an effect on him anymore. But he can’t sit here and drink glass after glass unless if he wants people to get concerned, so he just sips on one or two for an hour and leaves. You’re drinking the same drink as him, though, so he decides to stay for longer than usual.

And to his amazement, you stay, too. You laugh and nod at the stories he tells you, he listens intently to the ones you tell in return. Of course you’ve been living a different life than the one he had with you, but this is already getting better than the last. And you seem… into him? More into him than you were with your actual date, he’s not complaining.

By the time you and Leon go your separate ways, it’s pitch black outside, well, not really, it’s never completely dark in a city. The lights of driving cars and buildings illuminate you beautifully, like you’re something holy.

Leon finds a napkin with a phone number scribbled on it in his jacket pocket, it must’ve been yours, he couldn’t be happier.

—

Whatever higher being blessed him with another chance with you, he’d praise for the rest of eternal life. Because after a few hour-long phone calls and a couple more coincidental meetings, he’s taking you out on dates and you’re holding onto his arm and kissing his cheek.

It’s better than he remembers, the city offers more things for the two of you to do, and he’s up for anything you suggest.

Leon is finally able to feel your skin underneath his fingertips, feel your lips against his, listen to your voice in his ear, buy you nice things, have you cuddle up with him on the couch, he has you back.

You look so peaceful when you sleep, your head resting on his bicep, his naked skin pressed against yours. It’s been a year, you both still look the same, but he knows you’re changing. Leon hadn’t had sex in so long that he was sure that he would’ve fucked it up, you had taken charge, and it had been soft and slow, anyway. Nothing for him to worry about.

He’s been awake for an hour, just looking at you, trying to imprint this memory into his mind in case you were to disappear soon. But you finally start to stir, blinking your eyes a few times as you start to wake up.

“Leon…?” You mumble, he pulls you closer.

“Go back to sleep,” A kiss to your eyebrow, then the bridge of your nose, your lips twitch up into a sleepy smile.

“Mm… ‘kay. Love you.” You yawn, resting your hand on his chest as you close your eyes again and nestle into his shoulder. He hasn’t heard that from you in ages, he doesn’t know if you meant to say it, but he’s thankful you did.

“… Yeah, love you, too.”

[qsycomplainsalot]

So as a good NB bisexual trad wife married to a Jewish trans person I was in church this morning trying my hardest not to fall asleep on the good lord's shittiest seating arrangement, as is custom. Cutting right to it, the sermon was weird. What I listened to was a French translation of a text by one Gary Heinz, whom I've been told is a Canadian pastor but the only one I could find online is from the Carolinas, with a degree from Charleston, so for the purpose of this post I'll just say he's American in the same vague way as his tomato-based namesake.

The sermon was talking about the tale of the good Samaritan, which most people know about, and was composed thuszthly. First it goes over the tale again, then it helps define the elements of it and how they're relevant to the point made by our boy Jesus. The priest sees a naked beat-up man on the side of the rode, presumably from a mount, and decides not to get involved even though if he had any way to know the man had been Jewish he would have been bound to help him. The second man is a Levite, traditionally someone who helps priests and knows the law just as well, but decides not to get involved either. The third guy of course is a Samaritan. The Samaritans are a distinct but very closely related ethnoreligious group to the Hebrews/Jews, who we are often told hate them. The Samaritan helps the person, provides first aid, props him up on his horse and walks him to an inn where he houses him by giving the innkeeper two pieces of silver and promising to pay any extra cost on his next trip back. This according to the preacher is a symbol of limitless charity, we'll get back to that. The context of the tale was a smartass asking Jesus what to do to be saved and when being told to do unto thy neighbor as you would doeth unto thineselfe (in Middle English, which was very confusing at the time), follows up by asking who his neighbor was, aka who he should apply the law to. The point being made is that although the law could be read and almost bent into only applying to people you care about, only people you're explicitly meant to treat well and even then only once you're absolutely sure they're marked as such, it's more important to follow the spirit of the law which is to be kind to everyone. Which is a good message.

So why am I kvetching ? That was only the first part of the sermon, and if you thought the second part would be about linking that message to current event you'd unfortunately be wrong. It's instead focused on finding, or making up really, symbolism in the story that foretells the passion of Jesus. You see the Samaritan was really a stand-in for anyone you might hate, including, and I quote, "a Nazi or a member of ISIS", because even they can be saved and be your neighbor for the purpose of doing unto them like unto thyself. And the two silver coins well you see they would pay for two nights and on the third one Jesus comes back from the dead. Now I'm not an expert on the cost of living in Ancient Judea. But Gary Heinz isn't either so I'm gonna say it, he pulled that number out of his ass. Also a little confused about the same storytelling element being earlier compared to limitless charity, only now to be quantified as worth two nights at a B&B. But that's just nitpicking, what I'm really tired of is every reading of the holy texts [cut to meme] by Christian preachers devolving into improv rapping about Jesus and how he died for us. The lessons in the Bible stop being broadly applicable to daily life and are instead contrived into fifty different ways to say "he is risen" like it's isn't the sole fucking reason we're in church to begin with. That's usually bad enough, but when a pastor says that the Samaritan in the tale of the good Samaritan was here for shock value and could be "a Nazi or a member of ISIS", this changes the meaning of the tale to "be kind to everyone regardless of who they are, including Nazis apparently", from the original condemnation of prejudices. The Samaritan didn't chose to be a Samaritan, he's not doing any harm being a Samaritan, and the tale shows that his religion being slightly removed from orthodox Judaism isn't as important as his doing good and helping his fellow man. I don't think someone who joined a political party predicated on the extermination of minorities would fit that message, and I think changing said message to a more broad declaration of love from Jesus is ignoring what people need to hear these days where prejudice against minorities makes up 90% of the news.

And you might say it's not really a preacher's job to raise awareness for current events, but I'll ask you this: is hearing about how Jesus totally died for you every week supposed to make me a better Christian ? Or is learning that he told us pretty much in clear text not to hate minorities based on prejudice gonna do that. Cause I think most Christians need to hear the later more.

[romeave]

the real reason why mcd zane sucks, from purely a writing standpoint, is that the writers really want him to be a pure evil villian. a force of evil that can not be reasoned with or stopped. absolutely nuance free and unsympathetic no matter how you slice and dice it.

which, would normally be fine, but is a weird choice for zane specifically because the writers keep naturally bringing up ways to give him depth, only to bend over backwards to shut it down once they remember zane is supposed to be cardboard flat for their kid audience to remember he's the bad guy.

and by all the time i do mean all the time. here is a list of roads blocked off by the no development tree that fell across the road:

Zane grew up isolated even by the standards of noble children, as heirs to the O'khasis throne start their training rather young, and, according to accounts about his childhood, Zane preferred to spend his free time alone as opposed to with family. At some point, his father contracted some illness that turns people into asshole tyrants, and began to groom a very impressionable Zane into a good and obedient pawn for him to control on his quest for world domination -> Zane was actually always evil from birth, which makes him immune to trauma. Garte's dickheadness actually only affected the "good" Ro'Meaves, and actually it's Zane's influence that turned Garte into a bad person. Even shit that Garte did long after Zane died are Zane's fault by proxy.

Zane's strained relationship with his brothers are also largely attributed to Zane being evil. Honestly there's a lot I could put here but the most damning one is probably the fact that Zane isn't allowed to talk about his upbringing at all after vaguely mentioning having a dead brother on the docks.

Zane's initially introduced as an ambitious young priest who came to power due to his commitment to his studies. He secretly uses taboo ancient magic that people can't exactly come across if they don't have an obsessive drive to learn about the divines beyond the church's teachings. -> Actually Zane stole everything from "real scholars" and never actually cared about his research outside of what power it could bring him. Apparently he can't even read for himself without a "real scholar" in the room.

Zane's most terrible deeds (Kiki's pendant, Alexis, Falconclaw) were committed in service of opening the Irene dimension. Its implied that some, if not all of the specific deeds needed to open the portal were decided long before Zane ever got his hands on the amulets. -> Each portal-opening crime is treated as its own separate crime, motivated purely by sadism. Falconclaw specifically is referred to as a "horrific mass slaughter Zane had a lot of fun committing", even though everyone involved just painlessly fell over dead

Zane only raises a sword to people to have actively betrayed him. Jeffory betrayed him, the Wolf Tribe was plotting to eat him the next time he showed up, and Garroth committed treason two seperate times and shoved his own sword in Zane's face before Zane tried to kill him about it -> Evidence that Zane is just a bloodthristy killer who would kill his comrades unprompted. His victims are not traitors, but martyrs to his unreasonable wrath

Zane possessed the protector's relic for a period of time. Surely he must've had some reason to hold it -> Zane was entirely undeserving of the relic. He only had it because blood relations.

Despite already having a relic, Zane wants to get Irene's relic -> Exclusively to hoard power! No personal reasons or family reasons or nerd reasons. Just an insanely dangerous and high stakes task done solely to have them all. Like its a pokemon with life steal.

Zane gets turned into a Shadow Knight. Zane used to have an absurd amount of knowledge on the Shadow Knights, lots of shadow knights hate his gay ass, becoming a Shadow Knight is usually pretty traumati--> Zane doesn't feel trauma, duh!! He's actually stronger than ever.

And I know I'm aphblr's foremost Zane dick rider but this isn't a Zane did nothing wrong post its just bad writing. Zane's actions affect so much of the plot its fucking bonkers to give him the depth of an evil sheet of printer paper. Aph's usually pretty good at fleshing out her villians I don't know why the one guy who everyone and their mother has a connection to is just a knife roomba of a man. At the bare minimum he should've been as fleshed out as his brothers because then it'd be a tragic tale about a family being torn apart by a system they benefit from instead of a karma-farming AITAH post set in medival times.

[sharkboywrites]

Hi, can you do Halsin and Astarion comfort (plus any others you like writing for) x trans reader struggling with top dysphoria, like to the point they actively avoid face to face contact because no matter how well they bind they can still feel them :( I've been struggling a lot (expecially since I can't bind due to health reasons)

Top Dysphoria

Halsin and Astarion x dysphoric transmasc reader

A/N: Really excited to write this bc I know how much chest dysphoria sucks, but I’m actually working on getting a binder now that I’m 18, so this is good motivation to write. Sorry I’m getting to this late, but I hope you feel better anon

Trans male/transmasc reader, dysphoria, chest dysphoria, all descriptions of dysphoria are based off of author’s experience

Halsin

- Halsin is one of those people that can immediately tell when something is wrong

- He could see the difference in the way you started to carry yourself, all confidence gone and making yourself as small as possible

- Your chatter died down, now often becoming completely silent unless you had to speak

- When you’d see up camp for the night you’d quickly retreat to your tent, not fixing up your weapons or talking to anyone else in your party

- He decided to wait until everyone headed to bed to check on you

- When he came into your tent you were just laying there

- You weren’t sleeping, but you weren’t exactly doing anything either

- You were just staring at the wall of your tent, face stained from tears

- He didn’t say anything at first, just sat beside you

- He eventually pulled you into his arms, holding you in a warm and comforting embrace, a bear hug perhaps

- When you felt comfortable enough to start talking, you told him everything

- You told him how you felt, how it was making every single day hard, how it was affecting your mental health

- He listened to you patiently, wiping away any tears that formed

- He assured you that your body does not define you, that it doesn’t change the way he sees you, but that he also understands why it makes you so upset

- He held you until you fell asleep, before laying with you, patting your hair as he drifted to sleep too

Astarion

- Astarion loves to bicker, that’s one obvious thing

- He throws small insults and comments whenever he can find the opportunity

- And you always bickered back

- It was like a game between the two of you, an entertainment of sorts while you had to walk from place to place, fighting monster after monster

- But suddenly, you stopped bickering back

- You were quiet, keeping to yourself

- You almost seemed smaller somehow, like trying to hide yourself from everyone around you

- He’d never admit it, but he missed your friendly fighting

- So, he decided to check up on you

- In his own way of course

- He’s not good at emotions, but he still addresses the problem directly

- He does it in a whiny way of course, while you’re party stopped at an inn for the night

- He companies about losing his fighting buddy, how quiet you’ve become, but beneath all that it’s clear he’s really just worried about you

- But he feels even worse when he sees you start to tear up

- He sits next to you on the bed as you cry out your feelings, telling him about everything

- His comfort comes in the form of a hand on your shoulder and a nod every now and then

- Like we’ve established, he’s not good with emotions, but he’s still there to listen to you

- He doesn’t have a lot to say, but he gives you a few assuring words about how he doesn’t care about those things and your body doesn’t determine who you are

- He stays with you the whole night, helping you stay distracted, and reminding you that he’s here for you

[gloveslut]

oda died. chuuya has no idea.

babe, i'm back. ... hey, what's going on?

i'm leaving.

you're what? 'samu, did something happen?

stop fucking using that tone. or my name.

what the fuck? can you explain?

explain what?

everything?!

you knew it was only a matter of time. i don't know why you act surprised.

you don't wanna talk about it?

no.

...where to?

none of your business.

but osa- listen, you swore you wouldn't- ever-

i didn't swear shit to mafia.

...fuck no. that's not how you talk to me, you fucking piece of shit.

get off of me.

you're leaving me too! you swore shit to me!

you're nothing more than one of my mistakes.

i know you're lying, fuck, what's gotten into you?

i'm not lying, i can't bear even looking at you now.

but why? dazai, it's unfair to-

oh, and you're always fair to me? i know you're seeing someone else.

...who? tell me who told you that and i'll rip them apart, because it's fucking bullshit.

you're bullshit. all of you. it's your nature. quit playing the victim.

this is ridiculous-

and what are you gonna do about it? beg for me to stay? again? aren't you tired?

you know what? i am. because saying shit like that out of blue is too low, even for you.

i need to pack my things, get out of my-

who's blood is that? the hell is-

mine! it's mine cause i felt uneasy! stop sniffing around, you're not helping!

this doesn't look like- like- you know, there's too much of it, dazai, i don't understand-

you don't need to understand, chuuya, please, stop trying to get closer. you're not special. i'm not gonna take you with me so we can run off into the sunset.

but you can't do it completely on your own, god, are you even here with me?

i'm the one thinking critically right now. i can get killed otherwise, and i'm not gonna be alone.

...you can't just throw it at me like that. can i at least know when it started?

when what started?

well, your falling out? i guess i should've seen it coming with the way you hated introducing me to literally anyone.

i'm not here to fight about it with you.

but you accused me of cheating first thing i came in, idiot!-

i'm not- i was talking about him.

who? ...odasaku? ... fuck, i'm sorry for assuming- whatever, you do realise he's not gonna be here for you forever?

...chuuya, please.

i'm not trying to scare you off and obviously i'm not any better but-

please stop. some... people were here, but they left, and it's not so bad. it's gonna be fine and we're gonna find the best place to hide, i don't care what you think of it, we're gonna be- fine-

honey... i didn't mean to make it worse, it's o-

no it's not! you know nothing about me or my friends, i'm begging you- just- fuck off-

i know it's hard and-

don't touch me! ... god, just go away.

...so you mean it.

yes. i fucking do. now leave. you can get suicidal and stick around this burnt house as long as you want later.

...fuck you. i can't stand you anymore.

oh yeah? news to me.

yeah, cause i fucking loved you! i put everything i had eating me from inside away and stayed with you up untill this point. i made my whole life evolve around you. jesus, i even grew my hair for you!

uh-huh.

and guess what! i never fucking liked it this way. i barely got anything out of whatever we had going on. you didn't even wanna give it a name. cause i'd eat it up. and i did.

right.

fuck, dazai, can't you have a heart for a minute?

yeah no, not around someone who thinks of me as crazy, but thanks.

i don't- what the fuck are you talking about?

all the... nice treatment you gave me was always based purely on the fact that i'm fucking broken and that you should fix me. not only it's incredibly fucked up, you also just can't. you always play god here and there but you don't carry the power of one, not even close.

now, i didn't even-

chuuya, please. i'm asking kindly. i can easily get it over with, but i don't think it'd be either rational or pleasant for you.

...just like this?

yeah. just like this. if you can't accept that you're not needed, then you earn all the hostility. i'm done with all this shit. let us both finally have peace. ... that look doesn't exactly evoke peaceful feelings in me.

i... i have so much to say, to- to ask before- and there's not enough time- huh, it seems like it's never the time. i don't know if i should waste my chance, though.

i mean, if you realise how useless all of our conversations ever were...

...

woah. okay. ... one last question.

if you promise to never talk to me again, go on.

...did you- it's hard not to- ...well, i know someone died. i just have to know, are you the cause?

yes and no. unfortunately, i didn't get to kill anyone this time. but i'm also at fault. great one. i'm at hurry. so may i be excused? ... you better not show up in my life later on. not necessarily because you're so distractive, it's just the way it- it has to be. have fun around here, but be cautious. you never know where your line's gonna end. or when you're gonna lose someone. i guess it would be even more heartbreaking to you, 'normal people'.

wait, are you saying-

i thought you stopped bothering me. ...nevermind. do whatever you want.

i can't believe you're doing this to me.

please, move.

dazai- baby, i was only trying to-

now, you shut it and let me go or i'll slit your throat with this shiny thing. ... cool. oh, and... your letters or anything like that will never reach me. we have nothing to discuss. nothing that is worth the effort. i also think you said everything you wanted to. ...thank you- for, uh, not whining too much. see you in hell.

[eddis-not-eeddis]

How To Stop Killing Conversations

Talking is hard. People are confusing. Making friends is difficult, and interacting with coworkers is tortuous.

You want to make friends, you want to reach out, but it's hard and every time you start a conversation it dies, or limps along until both you and the person you're talking to are looking for excuses to kill it and put it out of it's misery so you can both escape the increasingly awkward situation.

As an introvert who has suffered a lot of social anxiety in my time, let me share a few tricks I've learned over the years going through hundreds and thousands of excruciatingly painful conversations until I found something that works. I've kind of distilled the process.

ALWAYS ASK A QUESTION!!!

The first thing is to always leave your partner an opening. You need to let each other talk for a conversation to get off the ground, but it's more than that, really. You need to actively encourage each other to talk. The best way to do that is to ask questions.

Here are two examples of an introduction: Example A

You: Hello.

Them: Hello.

You: Nice to meet you.

Them: Nice to meet you too.

Example B

Y: Hello, nice to meet you, how are you? T: I’m doing well, yourself?

Y: I've been really well. How are you liking the weather?

T: I'm so happy the weather's finally getting cooler, I'm looking forward to pumpkin spice season. Do you like lattes?

Do you see how in Example A the conversation wasn’t going anywhere? It just kinda died, because there weren’t any openings for new topics, whereas in Example B, there were openings to keep the conversation going.

But what do you do if your conversation partner is as socially inept as you were two minutes ago and doesn't play along? All is not lost.

Example C

Y: Hello, so nice to meet you, how have you been doing?

T: I'm doing well.

Y: That's great, are you enjoying the nice weather, then?

T: Yeah. I'm glad it's finally fall, I'm looking forward to pumpkin spice lattes.

Y: I love pumpkin spice lattes! Pumpkin spice anything, really. I recently got the best pumpkin spice candle at the shop down the road, have you been there?

Even if they don't leave you an opening, you can usually make one. It may be difficult, especially when they don't give you much to work with. This is where having a go-to script is a life-saver--me, I always default to talking about the weather, so when in doubt, you can do that.* The important thing right now is to keep fostering the conversation, so once you bring up the weather, segue into a question. When they answer the question, make a brief comment or observation from your own experience and build off of that comment or observation to ask another question.

"But I don't want to make it about me. Doing that's bad, right?"

This is why that questions are important. If you haven't been asked a question, you kinda have to make it about you, you don't have a choice. But to keep from being an attention hog, follow up your shared experience or anecdote with another question.

Example D

T: I love pumpkin spice lattes

Y: Me too. I had the best pumpkin spice latte the other day at the cafe down the road, have you ever been there?

Now you've circled the conversation back around to them again, and you aren't taking the limelight. Sharing an experience is so important, you're trying to show that you understand, that you sympathize, that you relate.**

This really is the most important element of being a good conversationalist. You have to keep asking questions.

The one other thing I will touch on is introductions. DO NOT get into turn based combat.

Example E

Y: Hello

T: Hello

Y: Nice to meet you

T: Nice to meet you too.

Y: How are you doing?

T: I'm fine. You?

Y: Me too.

This will kill any possibility of continuing a conversation. Instead, get it all out of the way all at once, if at all possible.

Example F

Y: Hi, it's nice to meet you, how are you doing?

This is good, but this is better

Example G

Y: Hi, nice to meet you, how are you liking the weather?

Don't ask how they are doing, or if you do, before they can answer, follow it up with your placeholder (weather etc.) so they have to say some thing like

Example H

T: I'm fine, and I'm really liking the weather.

or

T: Not so great, the weather sucks.

Either of those options are much easier to work with than your basic "I'm fine."

Usually, if you can get past the introduction, you can get a conversation going. And then, even if you don't end up hitting it off with the person you're talking with, you at least don't leave the conversation feeling like you've died a thousand tiny deaths.

In fact, if you get past that introduction, you may have just made yourself a friend.

Remember folks, basically everyone around you is more afraid of you than you are of them, and in this benighted age no one has been taught conversation skills, so we are all pretty much in the same boat. (Unless you were born an extrovert, in which case we are all deeply envious and would probably kill you if we didn't need you in our sad and lonely lives so much.)

Have grace for one another, and for yourselves because talking with people is difficult.

Go forth, and stop killing conversations.

*If you are one of those awful people who likes to brag about how you hate small talk and only want to talk about important and meaningful things, I have one question: Do you ever have a conversation that lasts long enough to become meaningful? I thought not. Small talk is an important skill. Develop it.

**This is how you deal with sad or difficult situations too. When you want to show you sympathize with someone going through a hard time.

Example:

Y: How are you doing?

T: Not very well. My dog died last week.

Y: Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. My own dog died last year and I still miss her a lot. How are you handling it?

Now you've circled the conversation back around to them again. You aren't making it about you.

If y'all want, next time I can share how to extricate yourself from a conversation.

[lesbehonestsstuff]

I apologize for what I’m about to do 😀 remember when I posted about Casey going to visit Alex’s mom after Alex died ? well I took it and ran with it and out came a heartbreaking fic so here you go

Word count: 3882

Also @wild-fleurs you put the idea in my head to write this so now we can both be sad

Casey was trying, she was trying her best to keep going, but most days she couldn't even find the strength to get out of bed. Today though she had managed, managed to pull herself from the nest of grief she had made of their room, and somehow stumbled uptown. She stood in front of the heavy oak door, the night chill creeping through her bones despite the wool coat she had hastily thrown on. She raised her hand to knock but hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to bother Caroline. She felt hollowed out, like there was nothing left of her but grief and guilt, and showing up at this hour—it felt selfish. But where else could she go?

She had no one else in the city. Her parents didn’t talk to her anymore, her siblings lived in other states, she was all alone. Except for Caroline. Caroline, who had been stoic the day of the funeral letting tear after tear fall when her daughter's casket was lowered to the ground. Casey had been beside her and she barely managed to keep it together before she excused herself, sobs clawing out of her throat as she fled needing to get as far from the cemetery as she could.

She felt bad about it later but she couldn’t handle it and couldn't be there on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. She hadn’t seen Caroline since and quite frankly she didn’t know why she was currently standing in front of the brownstone; she just knew she had to get out of their apartment. Away from the reminders of what her life used to look like, Alex marking every part of it

Her hand hovered a second longer before she tapped lightly. The sound was so soft she worried it hadn’t registered, but within moments, the door creaked open. Caroline Cabot stood in the soft lamplight, dressed in her silk robe, her face apparently calm, but there was an exhaustion born not from physical tiredness, but from the endless weight of grief that Casey could see in her features. Caroline so poised graceful could very well be the only person who might understand what Casey was feeling.

"Casey," Caroline’s voice was low, carrying with it a warmth that broke something inside of Casey. That made her ache because not even her wife dying had gotten her own mother to at least pick up the phone and check on her. "What are you doing here, darling? It's so late."

“I—I didn’t know where else to go,” Casey whispered, the words catching in her throat. Her eyes stayed fixed on the threshold, unable to meet Caroline’s gaze. She was begining to regret her decision to come intrude on Caroline’s night.

Caroline however stepped aside immediately, the silent invitation giving Casey the slightest of comfort. "Come inside, sweetheart."

Casey walked in, her body stiff and uncertain, the warm, familiar smell of the house wrapping around her, pulling her back to all the times she and Alex had spent here. For Casey it had been awkward at first. The lavish home occupied by people she could never begin to pretend she could be. It had made her feel inferior but slowly the more Alex invited her over to see her mother in law the more comfortable Casey got. She started loving the place, always warm, always lingering with the smell of tea. But tonight, the memories were sharp, jagged. They cut into her, not as much as in her apartment but still so incredibly painful.

As Caroline closed the door behind them, Casey found herself shaking from the cold. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You could never bother me,” Caroline said, her tone as soft as the hands she placed gently on Casey’s arm. “Sit down, dear.”

Casey shuffled toward the couch, she sank into the plush cushions, feeling small in the vast, elegant living room. The space was perfect, just like Caroline. Every detail, from the well-curated art to the perfectly arranged flowers on the mantel, it all showed Caroline’s refined taste. But tonight, it all felt like a reminder of how she didn’t belong here anymore. Without Alex, this world of grace and perfection seemed alien to her once more.

"I couldn’t stay at the apartment," Casey mumbled, her voice barely audible. "Everything... everything there reminds me of her."

Caroline nodded, sitting next to Casey, her face showing nothing but understanding. She had learned, in her grief, how to master that particular expression—the one that said, ‘I feel it too, but we must go on.’ But now, watching Casey, something felt wrong. Casey wasn’t just grieving; she was unraveling, bit by bit, and Caroline could see it in every hollowed-out shadow on her face, in the way her clothes hung loosely on her frame.

“Have you eaten?” Caroline asked gently, though she already knew the answer.

Casey shook her head. "I’m not very hungry anymore."

Caroline's lips pressed into a thin line, not wanting to push her, but unwilling to let her slip further away. "You should eat something. Just a little."

Casey barely responded, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the room. The emptiness in her eyes made Caroline worry. She looked so much smaller than she remembered—Alex had always told her how strong Casey was, how she could take on the world if she wanted to. But now? Now, she looked fragile, as if a strong wind could blow her away.

“You look exhausted, my dear. Why don’t you close your eyes for a little while, while I make dinner?” Caroline’s voice was soft, her hand stroking Casey’s hair slowly.

“I... I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her,”

“You need to try, your body needs it so just close your eyes and i'll stay here with you

Caroline watched as Casey’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out into soft, broken sighs. She looked so fragile, so heartbreakingly lost. Caroline’s own grief was constantly threatening to swallow her whole. But having Casey here, taking care of her,maybe it could give her something to hold on to, some piece of Alex still in her life.

Caroline reached for a nearby blanket and draped it gently over Casey’s thin form satisfyed when she saw her daughter in laws features relax. She could see how much weight Casey had lost, the dark circles under her eyes noticeable against her pale skin. Caroline felt her heart twist with worry. This girl, this beautiful, broken woman who had loved her daughter so fiercely, was fading before her eyes. And Caroline couldn’t let that happen. Not when Casey was a part of Alex.

She disappeared into the kitchen, her slippered feet barely making a sound. The act of preparing food, something warm, comforting was automatic. Tomato soup, the kind Alex had loved, the kind Caroline had made for years. As the broth simmered, the scent of garlic and thyme filled the house. It was strange, how the simple act of cooking could still feel grounding in the midst of everything, giving her back a sense of a routine she hadnt had since her daughter died.

Casey didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but when she woke, the room was dark and quiet. Caroline was seated nearby with a cup of tea in her hands reading a book with the soft glow of a lamp. The house smelled good and her stomach rumbled craving whatever Caroline had cooked.

Alex was still gone.

But Caroline… Caroline was still here.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep” Casey mumbled, attempting to sit up, but Caroline was next to her in a moment and stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Caroline said softly. “You needed the rest.”

She gave her a small smile and disappeared quickly into the kitchen bringing back a tray with soup and a grilled cheese. “You’ll have to forgive me dear, much like Alex. I'm not very good in the kitchen” Caroline said softly, setting the tray on the coffee table. "I know it feels like you can’t but you need to try. Just a few bites, sweetheart. Please.”

Casey’s eyes flicked to the bowl, the steam rising from the soup, but she didn’t move. “I can’t. It feels like I can’t swallow it down. She’s gone, and I...”

Caroline’s chest tightened. She sat down beside Casey, her voice steady but full of compassion. "She wouldn’t want you to starve yourself, to stop taking care of yourself. You know how stubborn Alex could be. She would hate to see you like this, Casey."

“I know.” Casey’s voice cracked, her body curling in on itself as though the weight of her sorrow was too much to bear. "I know she would, but I don’t know how to be without her. I don’t know how to keep going.”

Caroline reached out, gently brushing a tear from Casey’s cheek. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to take it one moment at a time.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy,” Casey admitted after a long pause. “Like I’ll never feel anything but this… numbness. Like I’m forgetting her already. Isn’t that horrible?”

Caroline looked at her with soft eyes, her own grief rippling through the room. “No, it’s not horrible. It’s part of the pain, darling. But you’re not forgetting her. She’s with you in everything you do. Grief… it doesn’t mean forgetting. It means learning to live with the love you still carry.”

Casey closed her eyes, tears spilling over her lashes as she leaned into Caroline’s shoulder, her body shaking with the sobs she had tried so hard to hold back. "I don’t know if I can do this."

“You can,” Caroline whispered, her hand cradling the back of Casey’s head. “I promise you, you can. And I’m here with you.”

"How... how do you keep it together so well?" Casey’s voice was barely more than a whisper, shaky and fragile. She didn't meet Caroline's gaze, instead staring into her bowl as though it held some hidden answer.

Caroline sighed softly, she took a deep breath, her hands resting in her lap, fingers trembling slightly. “I don't, dear.”

Casey looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion. She had always admired Caroline’s composure, the way she seemed to navigate grief with such grace, even when Casey herself was crumbling. “What do you mean? I came to check on you and you’re here comforting me.”

Caroline’s smile was faint, bittersweet, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I lost my husband years ago. That taught me how to grieve, I know what it feels like and yet it doesn’t make it any easier. I never thought I’d lose my daughter too.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she closed her eyes, as if trying to hold herself together. “I’m not strong, Casey. I struggle every day. I’m in pain every day. It’s hard to keep going because it isn’t fair that she’s gone.”

Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as she watched Caroline, someone who had always seemed so poised, now breaking in front of her. She saw the lines of grief etched deeper into Caroline’s face, the quiet way her shoulders shook as she tried to keep her tears at bay.

“I thought losing Alexander was the hardest thing I’d ever go through,” Caroline continued, her voice tight, “but losing Alex... there are days I don’t know how I’m still standing.”

Casey reached out hesitantly, placing her hand on top of Caroline’s. The older woman squeezed back, her grip surprisingly firm, holding tightly to Casey.

“I’m sorry,” Casey whispered, guilt weighing heavily on her chest. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” Caroline interrupted softly, shaking her head. “You’re allowed to ask. And you’re allowed to feel like this.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. Caroline wiped at her tears, sniffing softly before her lips curled into a small smile.

“You know,” she started, her voice lighter now, “Alex was always so serious as a child. Proper, even. She had her nose in a book more than anything else. While other children played outside, she was inside reading, arranging her dollhouse or playing chess with her father. She was always in her own little world, so smart and stubborn.” Caroline chuckled softly, her eyes distant, lost in memories of her daughter.

Casey managed a small smile, a flash of warmth blooming in her chest. “That sounds like her.”

Caroline nodded, her gaze softening as she continued. “I knew early on that she wouldn’t end up with a boy. One day, she came home from school when she was about six years old and declared with such authority, ‘Boys are useless, Mama. They’re horrible.’” Caroline laughed, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, so did Casey.

It was a broken, quiet laugh, but it was real. The sound filled the room, easing some of the tension in the air.

Caroline smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “From that day, I had a feeling. I didn’t say anything, of course, but I always knew my daughter would end up with someone special. Someone who could match her, challenge her.” Her gaze softened as she looked at Casey. “And she found you.”

Caroline chuckled softly, her fingers brushing the stray hair from Casey’s face. “She always had such high expectations for herself. And when she met you, she told me she’d found the one”

Casey’s breath hitched in her throat, fresh tears burning her eyes. “She told you that?”

“She did,” Caroline whispered. “She loved you more than anything in this world, Casey.”

Caroline smiled faintly, wiping away a tear that had escaped down Casey’s cheek. “And you loved her more than anyone else ever could. And that makes you family.”

Casey swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion.“Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely audible. She wiped at her face quickly, trying to regain control, but it was impossible. “I miss her so much, Caroline,” she said, her voice cracking.

Caroline pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as she sobbed. “I know, dear. I know. But we have each other. We’ll get through this together.”

The weight of those words settled between them, giving Casey something solid to cling to in the storm that had become her life.

For the first time in months, in this house full of memories, Casey let herself rest.

---

In the weeks that followed, Casey’s visits became more frequent. At first, they were always at night, always after she had spent hours drowning in work or staring at the walls of her empty apartment. But soon, it became routine, Caroline would make tea, Casey would sit quietly at the table, and they would talk. Not always about Alex, but about the small things. The weather. Books. Anything to fill the space between them.

Caroline watched Casey closely during these visits, noting the slight improvements, a little more color in her cheeks, a little less tension in her shoulders, but also the lingering sadness in her eyes. Casey’s grief was still a raw wound, but at least here, in this house, she wasn’t alone.

And in taking care of Casey, Caroline found a sense of purpose again, something to ground her in the face of her own unbearable loss.

---

When Caroline began to get sick, Casey noticed before anyone else. It was in the way her steps slowed, how her voice seemed quieter, weaker. But it wasn’t until Caroline collapsed one evening that Casey’s world shattered again.

Caroline was gone by winter.

Casey stood at the grave, her eyes hollow as she stared at the fresh dirt that covered Caroline’s casket. The air was cold, biting at her cheeks, but she didn’t feel it. Not really. She felt numb again, any progress she had made crumbling beneath her feet now that the woman that had loved her like a mother was gone. As if each loss had taken a piece of her, until there was almost nothing left. First Alex, and now Caroline—the one person who had understood, who had kept her grounded when everything else had fallen apart.

The flowers in her hand trembled as she knelt down, placing them gently on the grave, and then placing the others in front of Alex’s. She wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. How do you thank someone for giving you the only semblance of a family you had left, for helping you grieve their daughter when you couldn’t even grieve for yourself?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the wind. “I should have done more. I should have—”

Her breath hitched, and she stood up quickly, wiping the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t stay any longer.

She got a small comfort in knowing that at least Caroline would be with Alex now. But of course that wasn’t true

The day Alex came back was the best and worst day of Casey’s life.

She had grieved, convinced Alex was gone forever. Months of sleepless nights, empty days, and trying to piece together a life shattered by loss with the help of Caroline. And then suddenly Alex was back, standing in the doorway, alive but looking so broken, like she had been just as lost as Casey. All the anger, confusion, and hurt hit at once. Casey didn't know if she wanted to hold her or scream at her. But the devastation in Alex's eyes, the weight she carried—it made the anger fade, at least for the moment. So she clung to her, almost tackling her in a hug that was interrupted by sobs and tears and kisses that brought back a piece of Casey that she was sure was gone forever.

Days later, they stood together at Caroline’s grave. As much as Alex wanted to go visit her mother she couldn’t bring herself to do it at first, couldn’t face the reality that her mom was gone for good and Casey understood, so she gave her time as they figured out where they stood.

The wind blew through the cemetery, cold and sharp, stinging their skin. Spring was a few weeks away so the cold air was just another reminder of how cruel time had been for both of them. How much time they had lost. Alex stood still, staring at the grave, her face tight, like she was holding herself together by a thread. Casey watched her, unsure if she should reach out or let Alex face this moment alone.

“When they told me she was gone,” Alex finally said, her voice low and rough, “I… I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I kept thinking they had to be wrong, that somehow… it wasn’t real.” She clenched the flowers so tightly, petals broke off, floating down to the dirt.

Casey didn’t say anything, watching the tension build in Alex’s face.

“I was out there in the middle of nowhere, stuck, and all I could think was… she’s gone. My mom is dead, and I wasn’t there. I couldn’t even bury her. What kind of daughter does that?” Alex’s voice broke, and she turned her head, eyes filling with tears she fought to keep in.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Casey said softly. “They didn’t give you a choice, Alex.”

“But I should’ve listened to you!” Alex’s voice cracked, finally letting out what she’d been holding in for so long. “I should’ve listened. You told me not to push it, not to—” She shook her head, words tripping over each other. “And now I’m here, and she’s not. And you—you had to deal with all of this alone because I was too fucking stubborn.”

Casey’s chest tightened, seeing Alex unravel like this. She tried to step closer, but Alex pulled away, pacing in front of the grave like she couldn’t bear to stand still.

“I left you alone. I left her alone.” Alex wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand, her breath coming quicker. “And now… she’s dead. My mom is dead.”

Casey felt her heart shatter again, hearing the raw pain in Alex’s voice, and she reached for her. “Alex—”

“She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” Alex’s knees gave out, and she crumbled before the grave, clutching the flowers she still held, her shoulders shaking with each sob. “I wasn’t here. I couldn’t even say goodbye.”

Tears streamed down Alex’s face as sob after sob tore through her, shaking her whole body. Casey dropped beside her, pulling her into her arms as Alex’s grief poured out, a flood of months of guilt, pain, and loss.

“She’s gone,” Alex gasped between sobs. “She’s gone, Casey. I’ll never get to see her again. I’ll never hear her voice, never—” She couldn’t finish. The words turned into another flood of choked sobs, her body trembling in Casey’s arms. “I want my mom” she sobbed out letting her head fall against Casey's chest.

Casey pressed her lips to the top of Alex’s head, rocking her gently. “I know. I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

For what felt like hours, Alex cried until her voice was hoarse, her tears soaking Casey’s coat. When the sobs finally slowed, Alex leaned back against Casey, utterly drained, her eyes red and swollen. She looked lost, like a little girl who had just lost her entire world.

Casey stroked her hair, whispering softly. “She wasn’t alone. She helped me, and I helped her. We got through it together.”

Alex closed her eyes, her breath still shaky. “I should’ve been the one here with her.”

Casey didn’t know what to say, because she knew no words could make Alex’s guilt go away.

Alex sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. “I don’t know how to forgive myself for not being there.”

Casey shifted so she could look into Alex’s eyes, her thumb brushing away the tears still clinging to her cheeks. “ You survived. That’s what matters. That’s what she would’ve wanted and she wouldn’t have wanted to see you drowning in guilt”

“But she’s not here,” Alex whispered, her voice so small it almost broke Casey’s heart all over again.

Casey stared into those beautiful blue eyes and brought Alex in closer as they both knelt by the grave in silence, holding each other in the quiet hurt of their grief. The flowers they’d brought lay in front of the headstone, peonies and daisies.

Alex laid her head on Casey’s shoulder. She just sat there, staring at the grave as the last of her tears dried on her cheeks. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she whispered, “Thank you. For being here. For… everything.”

Casey pressed her forehead to Alex’s. “You don’t have to thank me, Alex. I’m with you, always.”

They got up, hand in hand, there was nothing left to say, but they stood there for a moment longer, letting the quiet surround them. Trying to wake up from the nightmare that had tainted their lives.

[pingu-4]

I've seen a lot of raven!Neil fics where neil helps jean and Kevin escape form ravens and he escapes with them/joins them later.

But what I really need to see is a fic from jean's and kevin's pov, where they escape but Neil is stuck being a raven, stuck being nathaniel.

I want to see them join foxes but still think about what is happening with Neil right now, what punishments he is getting for their escape. I want to see them scared for his well-being, while not being able to patch him up or do anything. I want to see them trying to heal, being full of guilt at the same time, because Neil, their ally, their savior, their brother is probably going through hell because of them right now and he's all alone. I want to see them guilty, because Neil has helped them so many times, he had saved them and they left him there to suffer, even though they know that if they even tried to come back to nest Neil would kill them himself.

I want to see Jean mourning his partner forever. I want to see him turining around expecting Neil to be there only to see empty spot next to him. I want to see him grabing car keys to go back to nest, to Neil, when loneliness, guilt, fear, everything is too much, only to be stopped by Kevin from doing anything stupid, from going back to their abusers. I want him trying to keep up on living, only because Neil gave up on his freedom, his life for it. I want Jean to miss his little British devil, while literally anything reminds him of neil.

I want Kevin getting himself drunk only not to think about about what it cost for him to be at foxes, not to think about who pays for it, who he had left behind. I want him to wonder why Neil sacrifaced himself for him, he understands why Neil did it for jean, but him? What did he do to deserve it? I want him to feel guilty he didn't help Neil more, to wonder why he didn't do anything when he had the chance, wonder if he would be brave enough to do anything different if he had a chance to. I want Kevin to miss this loud mouth who gave him a chance of better life.

I want them both to live with a ghost of Neil among them. To talk about him, what would he do in any situation, what they remember about him even though it causes them pain and they are trying to move on, because they are too afraid to forget about him. I want them to wonder why they didn't manage to force him to go with them. I want to see them hoping to see Neil every morning when they wake up, only to be met with harsh reality. To think every short red-head might be him. To have so many feeling when they get that one phone call from Neil. To wonder if there is any way that they can help him. I want to see them as puzzles with one piece missing, learning to live that way.

I want to see the foxes wondering who that raven jean and Kevin often talk about is. To wonder who is that guy that they never met, that had such a big impact and is so important to these two broken boys. I want foxes to see Kevin and jean and just know that they lost something, that even though they escaped and are healing, they are still grieving someone. I want them to hear stories that involve that third person, that "neil" but never getting a direct answer as to who exactly he is and what happened to him.

I want Jean and Kevin hearing the news that "nathaniel wesninski" got injured in some freaky incident and them knowing it wasn't and incident. I want them to be terryfied of what riko did to Neil. Or being even more terryfied of what if it was Neil that did something to himself. They know he is strong, stronger then them both, but what if when he is all alone, facing hell, without any support, without anyone who he has to fight for he finally gave up and decided to die on his own terms?

I want them to see other news, that he had died from these injures, and just break down not believing that Neil, their Neil is gone. Is gone and they weren't there for him in his last moment. I want Kevin and jean to wonder if he knew how much he mattered to them, to wonder if they had said it to him, made it aware to him enough times. I want them to suffer because they promised that all of them will escape one day, but while Kevin and Jean are foxes now, Neil forever will be stuck a raven, forever will be remembered as nathaniel wesninski by most people, will never be able to make Neil a real person for someone else then the three of them. I want them to think about how the one person who saved their lifes, gave them a reason to live, died himself and they didn't do anything to prevent it, didn't manage to stop it. I want them to finally spill all the truth to the foxes. To see Jean and kevin learning to live with all of it, trying to live to their fullest, maybe even dedicating their games to Neil. For them, to do it for themselves. And for Neil.

Or i want them to finally have enough, realizing that this is the last moment where they can do something to help, when they hear about the injury. To see them somehow getting Neil out and seeing how much more he is hurt, mentally and physically than he was the last time they saw him, but still being the same old neil. Being happy that he finally is with them but also sad seeing him in that state. I want them to get Neil into foxes, not wanting to leave him, worried, being very protective of him and helping him heal too. Making neil josten real. To have foxes to finally meet that Neil they heard about and being surprised to see how Kevin and jean, not very warm or open people are so fond of him, how they act so different towards him, how they finally are the way they were supposed to be. Together.

[malfiora]

I'm rewriting Jason's resurrection and reconciliation with the fam for my own sanity:

Jason dies tragically and horrifically at age 15

A year later, Superboy Prime punches through universes, collapsing two realities onto each other: one where Jason dies, the other in which he survives. Jason comes back to life but is semi-conscious. Talia finds him and takes him to the League

Jason regains full consciousness after a dip in the Lazarus. For two years, Jason trains and slowly regains his memories. Once he's 18, he decides to return to Gotham, despite Talia's wishes

Quickly becomes clear that Gotham hasn't changed much, which disappoints Jason. He decides to put his League training to use and control crime as a harm reduction tactic, and he goes back and forth on contacting Bruce, especially after he hears rumors of a new Robin

Joker pops up with a new scheme, and this is the last straw. Jason concocts a plan to kidnap and finally kill Joker and confront Batman about all the ways he's failed him and Gotham. When Batman refuses to kill Joker, Jason feints like he's going to kill Tim to "save him the trouble" since Batman clearly cares so little for his sidekicks. ("Hey, kid, at least I'll make it painless.") This gets a reaction from Batman, who incapacitates Jason and rescues Robin. Jason retreats to lick his wounds and reconsider everything

Jason takes time to ruminate on all of this. He's still hurt that his death meant nothing in the grand scheme of things but thinks about Batman's reaction to Tim being in danger and has to wonder if that's how he acted when Jason was in that warehouse

Out of morbid curiosity and a little bit of fanboyishness, Tim monitors Jason. Jason knows this and eventually confronts him. He feels bad for scaring Tim but has to maintain his edge so he tries not to be too scary. At some point, Tim speaks his mind and tells Jason that he has no idea what things were like while he was dead. "Batman was a mess, he almost killed people. That's why I became Robin. I had to put him back together, so you don't get to act like you know everything that happened the past 3 years because you been back a couple months." Jason takes this in. They part ways. (Jason: "Don't die." Tim: "Don't change.")

The Chemo incident happens. Jason rushes to Blüdhaven to make sure Dick is alive and okay, thus revealing he's alive to the Titans. After the dust settles, he and Dick talk privately so that Dick can react properly. (Dick: "No, Batman didn't tell me." Jason: "Yeah, he has a habit of doing that.")

Jason gets to ask if Tim's claim of Batman being a mess is founded. It is. He asks Dick if it's worth doing things the same way. "It is." That doesn't help.

Eventually Jason and Bruce have their equivalent of a heart to heart. Basically they both go, "I love you even if I think you're wrong."

Jason forms the Outlaws, but the moment he gets the distress call from the fam, he comes rushing back to help. He's offended that Bruce is surprised (Tim is hopeful, Dick isn't remotely shocked)

When Dick "dies," Jay comes back to take his place as Eldest Son. He sticks around through the end of the Robin War

Other important events that definitely happen but just don't fit neatly into a timeline:

Barbara and Jason team up on a mission shortly after Bruce tells Barbara that Jason is back. She's happy and immediately falls into big sister/mother hen mode and chides him for not seeing her sooner and makes him promise to stop by the clocktower regardless of whatever is happening between him and Bruce. She promises to help him upgrade his tech if he does. (Barbara has always been more lenient with killers and believes wholly in second chances.)

Cass stops Jason from killing someone who "deserves it," resulting in them fighting. Cass is better trained but she refuses to kill Jason, who won't stop. Eventually, they call a ceasefire and talk a bit. "All life has meaning," Cass says. Jason scoffs. "Even the Joker's?" "All life," she insists. Jason quietly disagrees but he respects Cass's determination. This starts a back and forth of him testing her anytime they're grouped together. ("Even this lowlife, Cass?" or "She's worth your own life?" or "They wouldn't spare you, why bother?") Each and every time she sticks to her principles.

Jay and Steph grab food together after a patrol one night and bond over being the family outcasts (i.e. the ones Bruce doesn't implicitly trust). Jason vows to make Steph his Robin if he ever becomes Batman. She laughs but is secretly touched

***I can never decide what to do with Damian. On the one hand, it's hilarious if Jason knows about him and keeps quiet about it. On the other, I don't see why Jason wouldn't tell Bruce about Damian's existence. Maybe once he's on speaking terms with Bruce again, he does tell him about Damian, which then prompts Jason to encourage Talia to let Damian meet Bruce. This is accelerated by Talia discovering Ra's' plan for Damian and wanting to get Damian away from the League

[appleflavoredkitkats]

i will make a proper analysis post for this one day but i genuinely think the "fundy's mind" stream is fundy's magnum opus. it does so much in one short stream. it perfectly portrays the fundamentals of fundy's character while also leaving so much to be interpreted and decoded.

like of course half of the metaphors and mysteries put into that episode hinted his involvement w las nevadas. but, and i think this point stands better considering how his story was executed and concluded, i think the stream was such a perfect encapsulation of the cyclical nature of fundy's abandonment and self-worth issues. it is "fundy's mind" after all.

we see glimpses of wilbur, literal monologues of how he feels brushed aside. i think back then, our interpretations of the books were a little too literal— which was not wrong to assume at the time. fundy was having prophetic dreams, of course it was normal to think he could have been a time traveler or something of that sort.

but, in the present day, i feel like if you look into the texts of these books in a more metaphorical sense, it makes a lot more sense. there's definitely a theme about "waking up" in a metaphorical sense, but the dreams flip this phrase on its head in some sort of way, as if dream!fundy was trying to get fundy to look away from the books.

i posit that dream!fundy demands fundy to wake up because it actually shields fundy from the painful truth deeply embedded in his psyche. meanwhile, sleeping actually causes fundy to dig into this truth more as it causes him to stay into this dream world. so when fundy chooses to sleep, he's not shielding himself away— rather, it represents the metaphorical "waking up", beholding truths that he typically shies away from.

but then what is this "truth"?

well, when dream!fundy gives up scaring fundy off, he confesses to an evil someone who will destroy fundy and everything he ever loved. of course, this pertains to quackity, but here's the thing. if dream!fundy wanted to protect fundy, then he would have obviously warned him about quackity without hesitance.

i'd argue that quackity being some big baddie is half the "truth" dream!fundy is trying to warn him about. then what is the other half that's missing? i think it has something to do with the "you're not real" statements.

those seem like a scare tactic at first. if not, it does not feel like it's meant to be the "painful truth" dream!fundy is trying to shield from fundy because he says it multiple times before the actual "truth" is revealed. but i think the reveal actually becomes more impactful if you read it as "there will be an evil person out there, always, that will make you not real."

and i guess to explain— there's, like i said, a cyclical nature to fundy's issues. he follows someone, dedicating himself to the country until it all inevitably becomes futile in the end. it happens with all iterations of l'manberg and las nevadas. i've always stated that fundy is the embodiment of the nations he's apart of, and he dies alongside it whenever it comes down to it.

so when the book mentions, "you are not real", "this place isn't real", and "but he [those who left him, specifically quackity] is", i feel like it's not just talking about quackity and las nevadas. rather, if we think about it, this is literally the formula in which fundy's arcs literally follow. he becomes nothing alongside the dissolvement of a nation, because those he trusted and followed were real threats.

and what i think this dream hints in particular is that, las nevadas would be the last straw. after this, his existence becomes virtually nothing. he is rendered nothing.

which is literally what happens in the end.

fundy's storyline has always been about being sidelined, always forgotten or used as a punchline for a joke. in this case, i feel that the dream isn't just warning him about this, but rather it's literally his destiny to be forgotten. that is the painful truth dream!fundy doesn't want fundt to know. that's why he sounded so defeated by fundy's stubbornness and curiosity by the third book— he does not want fundy to know that it's literally in his fate that he ends up becoming nothing.

and, well, it's true. the last we see of fundy is when he jumped into the l'manberg crater after cutting himself off from wilbur. it's even stated that fundy didn't die to end it all, but rather to "get away from wilbur". at the same time, we see fundy donate schlatt's sword, one of his prized possessions, to the museum.

he literally cuts off one of the most integral, most defining, aspects of his character— his devotion to nationhood and those who embodied it. and after that, we never see him again. when fundy chose to choose things for himself, to separate himself from l'manberg, physically and ideologically, he's gone.

it's as if he's not real.

we never really know if fundy left for the best or the worst, really. but in the narrative of the dsmp, separating himself from l'manberg literally makes him null. that's the truth his dreams were trying to shield himself from.