#sorry nonnie i genuinely had NO IDEA this was in my inbox

[legionofpotatoes]

Who exactly is your Shepard? What choices did you make? What was their background? Do you have any personal headcanons about them that the games didn't provide?

Hey nonnie, another big question in my inbox! I have a hard time believing y’all genuinely care about all this from me, but flattered nonetheless :D

Also I don’t have a good answer to this question? Couple of reasons there but main one’s that the last time I touched the OT was probably 2016-ish, which is why I’m so excited for MELE because I’ve been actively trying to forget as many little details as possible so I can have a nice, relatively fresh experience. It won’t work of course and all of that obsessive playthrough mania will bust out my memory box the second I boot it up and hear vigil, but like the thought keeps me warm.

Another reason is because I’m not uh great at creating original characters in videogames? Without turning them into vessels of my own values and temperament, more or less? Which is to say I haven’t made up too many personal headcanons that I can recall, no. My main was a colonist war hero, I don’t remember if I gave her a unique name at all. She was an empathetic team leader who tried her best to fix the wounds of dissent whenever she encountered them, but held nothing back when dealing with scumbags (I don’t think I ever really held Garrus back from vengeance, maybe once as an experiment. Never made a deal with the Dalatrass, even though the war was essentially at stake. Stabbed the stinkman much like everyone. Furiously supported the geth and very nearly trampled over the quarians for their sake, before coming to my senses a bit :D). She loved her crew, kept them loyal and together as much as she could, and chased after that turian booty when it was time to bone down. The ending was a LOT, and the two things I remember for sure is that she did all she could to keep the Crucible safe, and that she never chose Synthesis. Her survival stopped being a factor at that point, and she had gone for both Destroy and Control at various points. I think the latter is what I truly believe in deep down, in that naive trusting-life sort of way. I never subscribed to that indoctrination theory or any other esoteric concept that was not in the text; I found the thematic execution of the end choices pretty clunky, but functional overall. That’s kind-of where my Shepard’s psychology was at as well.

I overall enjoy finding nuggets of thematic coherence within these stories without focusing on characters too much (who had their own thematically rich arcs of course). In that vein, I did have this one headcanon that I semi-followed through via my Shepard’s decision-making; the text doesn’t REALLY support it, it’s kinda dangerously naive, but nothing overtly refutes it either. My Shepard always considered that the Crucible, much like the Relays and the Citadel, was also a concept seeded secretly by the Reapers, a goose chase task they tailor-made for each cycle to test the condition of empathy over apathy within the galaxy, to eventually discover an instance outside of predicted organic patterns and then work with its population on a way forward. Building, transporting, and docking the thing to the Citadel with an emissary of life present on-site would be the signal of success. The entire non-practicality and theatricality of the harvest would also make sense as an intentional demoralizing performance testing the weakest links of organic behavior that usually led to the self-destructive patterns in the first place.

In essence, the harvests weren’t just a reset button on intelligent life, they were also an accelerated worst-case scenario pressure test to reexamine the pattern theorem itself and hopefully find gaps. Hence the relays, hence the citadel, hence the crucible. Accelerating conditions. Because an AI’s mind would have to leave itself some margin of error; it would not just stand there surprised that Shepard showed up on the Crucible. It would be hoping for it every single cycle, because that would mean its prediction wasn’t accurate 100% of the time; it would mean that its logically shackled mind would finally let go of this catastrophically violent solution and undo the rat maze experiment the milky way had turned into.

Or at least that’s what I and my Shepard hoped the case was. The thing about this theory is that nothing really would have to change. The kid would still need to act surprised, the harvest would still need to proceed without any hindrances, life would still need to be tested to its limits. The music would still play and we would still have to dance, but this framework gave it all a moral purpose beyond just raw survival for Shepard. Because as important as defeating the Reapers was to her, it was almost as important for her to prove them wrong. Whatever their reasons may have been. And so I like to imagine she received that absolution in her conversation with the Starchild. I just like it when theme unabashedly leads everything, and when it doesn’t quite get there I just push and prod until I find some textual reference point to force it out :D This was mine.

(this all started forming in my head during the discussions with Hackett where he’d say no one was really sure WHAT the Crucible did, only that it required the help of every single race in order to be built and sheltered. Sounded like a textbook togetherness test to me! Of course it turned out to be a big fuel tank for the Citadel’s cool relay laser beam in the end. But I like to think it never really needed the Crucible to fire. It only needed it as a gesture of a cycle breaking through and earning the power to shape their own destiny. Which is why I also love the idea of the relays and citadel getting wiped out in the end; as individually tragic as it is for the characters, it is also the ultimate roll call of life’s liberation from apathy. The rat maze falls).

Hey this was another needlessly long answer to a very simple question huh! I don’t like it either!! Sorry!!!

#long post #I just cant talk in normal sized thoughts I am sorry genuinely honestly #very sorry #anon #asks #mass effect #was this even about my shepard? #you ask me who my shepard is basically means you asking me who I am which is an open invitation to my ego to blast full-volume #so there ya have it

[favoniuscodex]

ask responses

ok so there’s like a quadrillion anti-k*eluc things in my inbox (like every time this topic comes up)

yea these all shit on k*eluc but if you like that ship idk why you’re here cw: death threat mention (NO ACTUAL THREATS), typical k*eluc bullshit

anon said:  if we're talking about incest, I've seen some shit in this fandom k*eluc could not compare. I wish there was a way to block people/tags in ao3... everyday I roll my eyes so hard to go blind and never see some of the shit in ao3 again

i like... dont want to shame people for their interests because ultimately fanfiction is a way to get some like... weird shit outta your system without harming anyone but like... MAN... some of the fics i’ve seen make me wonder if the authors have ever gone outside and touched grass before,,, and im saying this as someone who fantasizes about 2d pixels for fun.

anon said:  The thing about kaeluc, i heard from somewhere that some ppl tend to go overboard with the warnings.. true, that ship is disgusting, but to warning them with death threat/su*cide? They talk about toxicness of kaeluc but without realizing it, they themselves are toxic. I'm not defending kaeluc stans cuz i've had some bad experience with kaeluc stans too. But I wish they realized that block button exist.

i mean, yes. this is basic human decency (blocking people and not harassing them). the internet has always been pretty reactionary to things they don’t like and is pretty toxic as a whole. idc if you dont like something, death threats are never a viable solution. but imma be honest, i’ve never seen that happen when it comes to that ship and therefore i have no time nor energy to devote to yelling at people for it. not my place.

anon said: I've seen some people saying k*eluc was ok in eastern side of the fandom because it is a cultural difference kind of thing. I don't agree with this because like... that means eastern people want to fuck their siblings??? that's a stupid argument. I don't ship it bc it weirds me out but I also don't really care people shipping it since it's just fiction

though this doesn't mean that it's okay to ship them imo. I just try to stay away from conflict

yea as a white person this sounds like some bullshit lie some asian fetishizing white person made up to justify shipping two brothers. additionally diluc is clearly like... germanic/white ancestry so like... is this argument even still valid? anyways that argument just reeks of racism and holds 0 ground. it’s weird as fuck. also anon, its cute that you want to avoid conflict, i wish that was me. i think this ship is overall pretty nasty and i will take sides LMAO

anon said:  “ayo how can we ruin a fandom” *red/blue ship* sounds an awful lot like kl*nce shippers 🦍💨

yea i wasnt even in that fandom and i heard about it which shows how bad it is,,,

always the red and blue shippers ong

anon said: Just a little snippet from what they said because I constantly have to go back to it and laugh about that because it doesn’t take more than a few secons to go on google an be like “are diluc and kaeya brother” to which the big fat answer will be “yes”"…kaeya has basically disowned himself…Either way it’s fine and not incest if that’s the issue!”How do you disown yourself-

d... disowning yourself means you no longer want contact with your family, it doesn’t change the fact that you once viewed them as family.... what the.... FMKLDSMFLMSD,,, that person you were arguing with is WEIRD

anon said: if people want to ship an ice/fire dynamic that badly why not ship chongyun and bennett or something. sighs. why do people have to be Like That

TRUE,,,, true,,,, this is 100% facts and lowkey thats a big brained ship nonnie

anon said: I've just been reading through the asks about a certain *cough* fire/ice *cough* ship and let me also add something. Everytime i search Genshin on Ao3 I have to make sure one of the excluded tags is said said ship so that it cuts down alot and I mean alot so I can see others but at the same time, some good fic has that tag, not really the focus but still has it, which saddens me because I try to avoid it as much as possible. Also any fics on twitter that talks about the individual (either the fire or ice) in said ship I tend to just "nope" and quickly scroll down(unless it's a het ship weirdly enough it's a little calmer) I just wanted some good fluff and someone just had to ruin the good fluff by arguing that the fire/ice ship is superior than the one in the fic. Like I just want GOOD FLUFF 😭 WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN IT?!I FEEL NEUTRAL BACK THEN NOW I AM JUST ANNOYED. Also sorry for ranting peace 🕊️

i literally only look at ao3 at this point for zhongchi or xiaoven shit so i cannot relate but like gjldgkmldfkglg. k*eluc shippers are inescapable on twitter though i hate it. remember the time the genshin official account reblogged some k*eluc art JSKLD:FKFSMP:GDL i hate it here,

anon said: broke: shipping kaeluc

woke: shipping yourself with both of them and thus creating a love triangle full of angst and a lot of tension and competitiveness between them

bespoke: having them realise that they value each other as brothers more than having petty arguments over the same person they like and thus instead of reader becoming a s/o to one of them we become best friends with both of them and the gang's all happy

i can’t tell if this is oomf trying to convince me to alter the ending of inheritance gjkdsnjskdlskj or if it’s just a genuine big-brained idea. either way... i can get on this train of support. OR the reader picks one of them but the other moves on and lives a happy life because why spend time being hung up over reader when you could find someone else.

anon said: all this kael*c (🤢) talk reminded me of the first scene in which we see diluc (yk the one with collecting dvalin's tears with kaeya in the temple? and at the end diluc comes in and destroys the hydro abyss mage? yeah that one) so I went and rewatched it and hrueizkxbd i now remember why i am first and foremost a diluc simp

diluc was fine as fuck especially in the scene where he interrogates the abyss mage,,, ugh /chef’s kiss/. thank you fellow diluc simp.

#im gonna go to class and get even more k*eluc hate in my inbox #i am the new anti-k*eluc safe haven apparently #this happens every time i mention how much i hate the ship #but fr this was NINE ASKS at some point im gonna stop responding to them #//mail

[bakibakini]

if this doesn’t show up in the tags too i’m gonna !! : ) ) also yes taking this from my old blog inbox sO SEND ME REQUESTS COWARDZZ

anonymous asked : May i request a few headcanons of bruno comforting someone whos experincing loneliness? (Can be platonic or romantic tbh i dont mind either way.) I apprechiate it please amd thank you ^^ also have a good day!!

✦ bruno buccellati comforting his s/o who’s experiencing loneliness ✦ headcanons

pairing : bruno buccellati x gn ! reader

genre : fluff , angst , comfort

notes : this one’s just soo cute !! & tbh even tho i’m surrounded by people i feel lonely very often so i felt it & i’d definitely love it if best mom comforted me ,, i hope ur still out there somewhere nonnie ily <3 i chose the romantic option btw !!

✧˖*°࿐

bruno buccellati : 

it was hard ; no matter how many people surrounded you , deep down you couldn’t help but feel so alone . meeting up with the few people you were friends with helped push that feeling back when you were out and about , but coming back to your lonely home made all of your insecurities creep back up . 

you could go out with your friends every day for all you cared , but it still felt like you hardly had any sort of connection with them . sitting in your home while watching tv only solidified that feeling . was there really no one in this life that was meant for you ? 

and then you met him . bruno buccellati , who was known by many passersby as a helpful man overall . it seemed like he was there whenever anyone needed a helping hand and you were no exception ; he had prevented you from getting completely soaked in the pouring rain by holding up an umbrella over your shivering figure , successfully shielding you , but also damning himself to stand under the rain . still , his eyes held nothing but good intent and it made you feel warm despite how cold it was . the long - forgotten feeling came as a welcome surprise . 

you were a little socially inept , you had to admit , but you still managed to convince him to get underneath the umbrella with you , even if that meant you had to huddle together like a couple of penguins . even so , you noticed that his shoulder that wasn’t next to yours wasn’t fully under the umbrella . you were far too embarrassed to say anything , so you kept trekking on . 

after he walked you home , you practically begged him to let you take him out for a coffee in return for endangering his health like this . he reluctantly agreed with a chuckle and you reveled in the fact that your life had gotten a little more interesting , if only for a moment .

you had no idea why he chose to keep in touch with you after your little coffee meeting , but you were grateful . he exuded such a comforting presence that made you feel like this was it ; the genuine connection you’ve been craving for so long . 

so of course you had to go in and ruin it , blurt out that you have feelings for him out of the blue . you were nothing but a delusional idiot --

imagine your surprise when he told you he had fallen for you too . you were about to rejoice for your successful confession , but it was then that he also confessed to you that he was a part of the mafia , involved in dangerous ordeals that could put you in danger just by mere association , not to mention the missions he had to attend . you didn’t care though , you weren’t about to let go of this warmth that graced your life , you didn’t want to be alone again . 

but now , with your feelings out in the open , his missions became unbearable , the sinking feeling of loneliness growing bigger and bigger each day he was away , especially without the guarantee he’d be back safe and sound . you never told him about just how lonely you felt , even when around people , not wanting to burden him further , so you supposed he wasn’t to blame for not contacting you much throughout his mission , but it still felt horrid . 

and today was especially bad . it had been , what , a month now ? with hardly any word to boot . and it wasn’t just loneliness that came to greet you , all your other insecurities came hurdling at you at the same exact time .

you aren’t good enough , a disgusting excuse for a human , with nothing to offer to the world . no wonder you’re alone , all you do was act selfish with how much love you require from bruno , without giving anything in return . 

it was only a matter of minutes before you’re reduced to a crying mess on your bedroom floor . through your desperate wails , you hardly hear the footsteps , hardly feel the gentle touch that only barely manages to snap you out of it . 

are you dreaming ? or is it really him ? 

you don’t have to wonder for much longer , because you’re pulled into bruno’s chest without a second thought , head now resting in a frail manner against him . you’d been craving this touch , but even with it , you still couldn’t help but feel completely alone and detached . after all , how long would it really be before he up and left ? 

you manage to calm down a little in ten or so minutes , hiccuping here and there , but at least your bawling had come to a full stop . bruno , hesitant to ask if you’re alright , opted to rub soothing circles on the small of your back . 

“ i - i don’t understand ... ” you mutter , gasping for air after each little word . “ y - you’re here , s - so why do i still feel s - so lonely -- ”

oh . 

it clicks for him . your longing gazes , the way you cling to him at night , as if he’s going to leave you , how your playful pout every time he’s about to leave seems off due to the way you soon cast your head downwards . he wasn’t sure what happened to you to push you towards feeling so alone in the world , but at the moment he could only blame himself . he had to leave , it was inevitable , but he could’ve at least put some effort into contacting you , even if it was brief . 

“ y/n , i’m sorry , i - ”

“ what are y - you sorry for , i’m just being stupid , and selfish , and i don’t deserve y - ”

“ tesoro , look at me . ” he says gently and pulls away , tilting your chin upwards with his hand . his heart sinks at the sight of stray tears rolling down your reddened cheeks . “ you don’t need to apologize , i should’ve noticed . i’ll try better for you from now on , i promise . ”

you want to argue , to tell him that he doesn’t have to do all these things for you , but the way he looks at you with such softness and conviction makes your throat clog all over again , even more tears threatening to spill . this feeling ... isn’t it love ? 

“ i love you. ” he confirms for you and it’s the first time he’s said it too . he kisses your forehead . “ you’re perfect . ” then he plants his lips against your cheek . “ you’re perfect for me , so don’t ever think i’ll leave you - ” then your other cheek . “ - even if it’s hard , alright ? ”

he leans his forehead against yours , peering in your glossy eyes intently . “ please remember that you’re not alone anymore . ”

that does you in . you try to keep it in this time , but you can’t help it and the tears spill without a moment to spare . you’re back to being nestled in his chest as he whispers just how much he loves you . 

after that little ordeal , he does his best to show that he loves you every day . not just that , but he also takes the time to introduce you to his team in hopes it’ll help you get out of your shell and make friends . he didn’t mind you depending on him , but he didn’t want you to grow too dependent , because that’d be unhealthy for you . 

still , even if you do get out of your shell a little bit more and manage to bond with others , he leaves little notes for you every time he leaves and tries to text you whenever he can . 

he hopes that someday you’ll be able to be completely happy and free from your ails . 

✧˖*°࿐

OOF I POPPED OFF RIGHT -- 

( jjba / bruno ) tag list : comment to be added babess !

#bruno buccellati #bruno buccellati x reader #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati #jjba scenarios #jjba imagines #jojo's bizarre adventure #part 5 #x reader #bruno x reader #sfw

[feebledungeons]

My group recently just doubled in size (we went from 3 players to 6) and this is the first or second time they'll be playing. I'm the DM because I was the only one who had played once before. How do I keep a campaign engaging and fun for everyone involved? I've been trying to encourage them to develop the backgrounds of their characters in hopes of working it in somehow. I also want it to be appropriately challenging, but not so hard that they would die the first time they play. Any advice?

Wow this is the oldest ask in my inbox so I’m sure that you’ve managed to work this out on your own and I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner!

However, ask for D&D advice and you shall (eventually) receive!

Doubling in size from 3 to 6 must have been a bit of a culture shock, Nonny, but I’m sure you coped with it. I’ll be honest 6 is my maximum, and what I run with my regular groups, which are players I’ve known for years and who are all familiar with my table and each other. Normally, I’d recommend a group size of 4-5 but 6 is completely workable.

Hmmm there’s a few different things here so I’ll go through them point by point under the cut.

How to Keep a Large Group Engaged!

You do need to work just a little bit harder as a GM with a larger group so here’s some top tips for keeping the game engaging while juggling that many PCs.

1. Keep Cheat Sheets on your PCs

I keep a running cheatsheet of what’s going on for each PC. I’ll review these cheat sheets when planning adventures and encounters. They are usually formatted as so:

Details: Character full name (including any aliases), physical description and run down of pertinent facts like race, class, age, etc.

Emotional Hooks: What the Player has told me are their BEST and WORST memories or their WISHES and FEARS, alongside my own notes on what I think the PC’s motivations are.

Backstory: Brief bullet-pointed backstory with important NPCs highlighted (alongside their relationship to the PC and possible ideas for re-integration into the story)

Current Story: Brief list of important developments to the PC during the campaign (i.e. they fell in love with an NPC, they were seriously injured by a werewolf, they are now a vampire) and ideas for re-integration.

The Future: Any other notes or ideas on how to engage the player and what their turn-offs are. I.E. This Player loves tragic role-play but doesn’t want any romance elements OR this player has a major fear of spiders so keep them away from the PC, etc.

2. Get your Players to keep campaign notes. 

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: you’re doing a lot of work as the DM keeping the world straight, the players should be helping you by noting down the plot. 

This accomplishes two things: 

It makes sure that they’re keeping notes to remind themselves of their own decisions AND it allows you to see what they’re remembering and paying attention to so that you can tailor the campaign to their enjoyment.

If I could give DMs only one tip for running a long campaign, it’s this one. It has helped me SO much.

3. Make sure everyone gets equal time by becoming ruthless with your timekeeping. 

This is not easy. 

I have been known on occasion to set alarms on my phone to remind me to move on but with practice it gets easier to have a little voice in the back of your mind saying ‘we’ve spend enough time with the Elf, time to get back to what the Gnome was doing’ and you’ll be able to judge scene length just on instinct. 

Until you feel confident with that, set yourself alarms or simply say to your players: 

‘OK we’ll start with X & Y, then move to what A, B & C want to do and finish up with Z before we take a little break. Remind me if the scene starts to drag.’ 

Don’t be afraid to ask your players for help with this.

4. Encouraging back-story building from your players. 

This one’s fairly easy. Ask them to send you their PC’s:

  Best memory

  Worst memory

  Secret wish

  Secret fear

This is genuinely all you need to start building out stuff that is going to help them engage with your story.

If they don’t do it, they don’t get their backstory re-incorporated. If only ONE of your players does this, you’ve already won. As soon as the other players see the fruits of their companion’s labours come to fruition in game, they will ALL want it and you’ll get through PAGES of backstory. 

Just get one on board and the others will follow.

5. Setting challenge. 

This is something I struggle with to this day. 

Generally, I am not a combat-heavy DM and I tend to focus on role-play over action so if there are any combat-savvy DMs out there that can help with the technicals, please step in. 

My main tactic is to google ‘good CR level for X players level Y’ and then probably throw in 2 more enemies that I can nerf, if needed. 

I also ALWAYS have a plan for each PC if they ‘die’. 

With Strahd, I have a mechanic built into the game where the player can choose to have their PC come back but as some kind of undead monstrosity and I add a side quest where they can gain back their mortality at some cost.

I hope that was helpful and sorry it took so long!

#feeble answers #dm advice #gm advice #new dm advice #new gm advice #running the game #Anonymous

[sugasugawarau]

(Hi nonnie I’m so sorry this was late ;; Tysm for sticking around for so long!! Maybe,, drop by in my inbox or dms and we can become friends if ur comfy with that haha jk,,, unless? 😳👉👈)

I match you with...

。Ik he has been categorized as a player by a LOT of people but he really isn't :( the rumours stem from his apathy towards the countless confessions he’s received from his crazed fans

。He doesn’t mean to be an asshole about it but he’s tired of it and might harbour insecurities that no one likes him for him and only like the idea of him, but that all changed when he met you !

。The two of you started off on rocky terms - you bumped into him accidentally on the court and he accused you of being a fan pretending to be on a team to get close to him

。You just stared at him like 👁👄👁 and told him you were where you needed to be and to get off his high horse

。Your team was scheduled to play after them and you had undoubtedly caught his interest so while the rest of the team was packing up to celebrate their win, he stayed behind to watch you play and was forced to admit that you were a skilled libero

。He did end up apologizing for his behaviour if you could call this an apology: “Oh I guess you weren’t lying but just to make sure we should practice together” as if he didn’t see your team win,,,real smooth 💀 you agreed though since he IS the best setter in Miyagi and it’d be a shame to pass on the opportunity

。Atsumu doesn’t have the best grades - he has trouble actually engaging and processing the class material because he has a volleyball for brains - so when he found out you’re adept at both humanities and sciences he bribes you into tutoring him by using Osamu’s cooking as leverage

。When rumours began circulating that you were dating, Atsumu he realized he liked you as more than a friend and tried to push you away due to his insecurities and his desire to protect you from getting involved in the mess that is high school drama

。But you weren’t oblivious and confronted him about it, assuring him that you love him flaws and all and that if you can deal with him you can deal with anyone’s bs

。In return he would help you build your confidence; he isn’t the best with words but he knows for sure that you need to know your self-worth and does so by challenging you and nagging you if he ever catches you letting someone walk over you - kind of like how a coach would encourage their team

。He may be a member of the pretty setter squad but he’s also a petty setter, if anyone dares to flirt with you he will appear within seconds, his arms resting on your shoulder and greeting them with a smirk

。 Expect a LOT of PDA with this man as well ! He’s so proud of your guys’ relationship and makes it his full-time job to shower you in affection with hugs and kisses which makes up for how often he teases you

。At some point he let it slip that he’s never had bubble tea before so you order a classic milk tea with pearls for him

。Poor man was genuinely confused about the pearls,,, “What is that??? Are those balls even edible” No yeah they’re just there for decoration- sIR

。His love language is gift giving 100%, it’s the best way to show how much he cares and is always thinking about you. He loves surprising you with how much he remembers the smallest details that you mention offhandedly in your daily conversations

。On top of that Atsumu is a self care king and makes sure to spoil you with the best products to protect your skin and hair from possible chlorine damage from your swim meets

。You helped him grow out of his pessimistic perspective on love and your relationship has allowed you both to grow sm 💕

#anon <3 #first time writing atsumu as well so ty for sending in ur ask and giving me the op to explore his character a bit!! #haikyuu matchups #100 milestone

[sergeanttpoliteness]

idk if you’re taking requests or anything, if you aren’t ignore this, but if you are I would die for a classic, upside down spider-man kiss with the loml spider-noir. poor guy would probably be very surprised at first but suddenly its his favorite thing to do. thanks I love you and your work!!

AND➝ mayhaps…. a first kiss with noir? if u have time! 

sorry for answering so late nonnies! i feel so bad about that, i promise i wasn’t ignoring y’all. same goes to the few other requests i have in my inbox right now! 

——-

➹ inconvenient feelings➹ (spider-noir x reader)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: can you tell i had no idea what to call this lol. i didn’t edit either bc… oof. i’ve been struggling a lot with writer’s block (nothing new, honestly lmaoo) lately and someone close to me recently passed away and i haven’t quite… been able to wrap my head around it?? i don’t know, not to be a little bitch but this week consisted of a lot of school stuff, emotions, and anxiety so thanks @ the people who requested this bc i needed to write some wholesome stuff. also thx at my bestie for helping me out w ideas, ily broz. anyway, there’s some minimum ripeter x reader although it’s solely platonic! hope you all have a lovely week (:

taglist: @marvelousmorales

It’s not convenient. Convenient was that one person with the pretty smile whose eyes seemed to possess an affinity to him that one time at a jazz club, or the singer with the honey voice and smooth runs more soothing than the late night singing of a mother to her child. A poor goon who smooched his fist whilst it collided with his face could even fit the designation, really— but what mattered, the simple component they shared, was that all three were just a speck in a sea with no end; an eternal blue void with only more possibilities hiding in the pitch-black depths neither he nor the light’s fingertips could touch. They were safe. Uncomplicated.

Peter stared out the window, at a completely distinct world, far from a city in a vintage film: the ongoing the mechanical song of speeding cars, the newer and taller lit up buildings, the blinking golden lights, identical to a field of a thousand miniscule suns. This was not convenient. It’s… so different— like day and night, water and fire. This meant to swim out of the ocean he belonged to and reach for a foreign land, to run after a mere drop of water when a whole fucking body existed behind him. It’s not safe. It’s complicated.

Your sleepy eyes roamed the same page for the fifth time with no precise purpose, more disoriented than a newcomer in a large city until they traveled and spotted their true destination: Peter’s own sight deeply engulfed in the view outside, the twisting of his brows every now and then filling your mind with wonder and curiosity at what could possibly be running through that brain of his. You could’ve continued with the ogling like the damn creep you were (seriously, you gotta stop it with that, you told yourself), but you slipped and made a mistake— the most laughably absurd misstep— worse than trying to take a picture of a stranger and then, to your utmost terror, the flash going off— which wouldn’t have occurred in the first place if you’d paid your electricity bills on time. Your apartment wouldn’t have been plunged into darkness, and you wouldn’t have, without thinking, your head clearly not in its right place at the moment, slightly tilted your phone and directed your phone’s flashlight right at the side of his face. You quickly pulled the beam of light away, as if that would work; however, his gaze drifted to you. “Sorry.” You blurted out, acting casual and pretending to focus on the journal on your lap. “You were so quiet, I thought you had fallen asleep.” You lied.

“No, I’m awake.” He said, furrowing his brows to himself— of course you already knew that. You mumbled a small ‘good’, holding the notebook close to your face, like a child staring through the window of a pet shop at some puppies, shining the ‘smartphone’, he’d learned, over the pages. You bit your lip, your shoulders shaking with your surfacing laughter.

“Oh, man, this one’s so dumb.” You snickered before running your finger up the paper, clearing your throat. “October 8th, 1999. Today I came back from my camping trip with Peter, Ben, and May. We ate a lot of s'mores— Uncle Ben makes the best! We also told some scary ghost stories, and I even made Pete scream. It was awesome. You will not believe what happened!” You read the last sentence with a dramatic tone, similar to that of a terrible news headline from a sketchy website, making yourself more comfortable on the L shaped bench seat and leaning into Peter’s side.

Peter tensed at first, but slowly, he pushed himself to relax after you rested your head on his shoulder, a quiet voice in the back of his head speaking against his desires, echoing the terrifying thought that he could get used to this. “I don’t know, enlighten me: what happened?” He asked, amused. You lifted your finger, eyebrows raising gradually, building up the suspense. He waited, and waited, and waited, until, finally—

“I have to go eat dinner. I’ll tell you later.” You finished with an unhumorous voice and a poker face. Yet again, he awaited in silence, interested. Man, you took this suspense thing quite seriously— wait.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?!” He looked down at you and you nodded. “Oh, c'mon! You just gonna leave the reader hanging like that?”

You shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin, loving his genuine disappointment as you flicked the page. “Sometimes that’s just the way it is.”

“Oh, what malarkey!” He laughed softly. You crinkled your nose— malarkey. What a dork.

You resumed scanning the barely discernible handwriting, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Alright, this one does have an ending.” You sat up, rolling your shoulders back only to go back to your position of hunching over the journal. “April 3rd, 2000. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I forgot I had this journal. Something crazy happened.”

“The end.”

“Shut up.” You shushed him, shaking your head. “'I hung out with Peter today. We rode our bikes, had a race down the hill near my house, and I also got a butterfly to land on my finger. Man, I love insects!’ …and I still do.” You smiled and he glanced down at you, his mouth twitching. A peculiar glow in his chest grew, fueled him after he recognized that you felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with him; an insight on the stories that carved you into the person that you were today, the being that made every classy, pearly white grin and musical prodigy so boring, so undesirable.

You shuffled on your bum to turn and face Peter, continuing, “We came back home to play some more. We were sitting in front of the TV when, suddenly, he said my name, and like a normal person would, I looked at him…” You inclined forward, voice quieting, looking up at him.

“You won’t believe what happened.”

His eyes darted heavenward and he groaned. “Oh, lord.”

“He kissed me!” You cried out, with as much emotion that past you spilled onto the paper with the five exclamation marks and the three times you underlined the sentence. You slammed the notebook shut and let out a strangled clamor. “I still remember it very clearly. It was just a peck, but he fucking… smashed his mouth into mine, it hurt so much and my lip started bleeding and everything.” You giggled, abashed, rubbing your eyes.

Peter’s brows rose with surprise, pondering how an alternate seven-year-old version of him from another universe had more balls than him. He had to admit, though, the scene playing in his head was more entertaining than unfortunate. “And what’d you do?” He questioned, his mouth twitching.

“He was just curious and wanted to see what kissing someone was like, so we promised we wouldn’t talk about it ever again. He was so embarrassed, though, and felt so bad for making me bleed that he almost started crying.” You recalled, chuckling as you eyed the cursed diary one last time and placed it beside you. “What an idiot. I miss him.” You sighed, peering up at him, grinning. “What was your first kiss like, huh?”

It was comical, almost, the raging blush that trickled his face, the greyish tint screaming for the world’s attention. It was just a Peter Parker thing, you guessed: blushing like there was no tomorrow. “Uh, my first kiss?” You nodded. “Well… it happened when I was eighteen.”

You put the side of your head against the wall, eyes going round, your inquisitiveness close to that of a kid listening to a grandparent’s story. “Was it romantic?” You wanted to know everything: who the person was, the place, the context. Did he enjoy it? Did he make the move? And if so, then was there a chance that, maybe…

Unlike you, he did not have much interest in the subject; he stuttered, searching for a way to move on from the memory before he imploded. “I don’t, I don’t think anyone’s first kiss is romantic.”

You squinted at him, noticing his obvious attempt at dodging the question, but chose to spare him. Just for a few milliseconds, though. “Have you ever had… a perfect kiss?” You said, unsure of how to word such a silly question. He shook his head and you hummed, silently taking in a quick breath, your gaze moving to your right. “Have you thought about what you want it to be like?”

Should he say it? He wanted to. He really did. But he couldn’t, even if his eyes almost flickered down to your lips. “Who thinks about that?” He muttered. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d been guilty of having the thought slither into his mind once or twice— possibly more than just that. Perhaps it’d pestered his mind as of recent, like that damn small scratch on his glasses that won’t go away no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away as if that would even help. Perhaps it returned as you unconsciously licked your lips and raised your shoulder, a bashful grin growing on your face.

“I have, when I’m bored. An upside down kiss with a cute guy.” You admitted, your eyes narrowing afterward, only just now realizing how bizarre the idea was once you said it aloud. Your impatience throbbed in your head so badly you didn’t mind the embarrassment as much, though. You really were doing this, huh? “I think I found the cute guy.” You hinted, your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

He understood the insinuation, of course he did. But what better way to run from your feelings than close his trembling hand into a fist, pretend to be clueless, and act like an idiot?

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

Didn’t think he was so stupid, you grumbled in your head, masking your faint irritation. You pressed your lips together, sight on your cushions. “Someone I like quite a lot.” You vaguely said, voice distant. “Though I don’t think you’d understand— you’re not one to fall in love, no?”

It was half a joke but half a real question, one with solely one right answer you yearned to hear from him if you got lucky enough. Peter blinked nervously, fear burning in his stomach, clenching his insides as his tongue dared to break free from his control, from his cowardly spell. “Lately I’ve had someone in mind.” He breathed out, close to breaking out in a sweat. He watched how your eyes dimly lit up, hesitance impeding the light from fully glowing.

“Really? And who is this ‘someone’?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now.” He gulped. You pouted, begging with your eyes. “N-no.”

“Are you ever gonna make a move?”

Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, feeling dizzy just by thinking about it; the downfall of the relationship once the distance became too much, once the malaise with no cure finally rotted the adoration, infested the heart, decayed it. “No.” Same answer. Same bedeviled word that boomed in his head whenever his emotions were close to getting the best of him.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” You whispered, not caring anymore about how obvious you were

being. He frowned. Why hadn’t he done it yet?

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?”

Why not? His own thoughts repeated, betraying him. The confusion unlatched the cage, released all the questions and doubts about his reasons and dread. They crowded his brain, rang in his ears. “It’s… it’d be too hard to keep the relationship alive.” He retold more to himself and the storm of interrogations than you.

Your brows snapped together, your own fear knocking on the door again. “Is it not worth it to try, though?” It’s what you’d told yourself: the antidote to unfreeze your limbs and wave goodbye at the concern hanging in there, because… was it not?

In the overwhelming haziness, he finally looked at you. It’s what he needed to come upon a realization, a truth he knew all along but crumbled and threw away. Everything hushed, one single, final phrase in the quiet of it all.

Convenient wasn’t what he wanted.

“It is.” He said under his breath.

You heard him, and your eyes twinkled. “Well, then make the move.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. His eyes found your lips.

“I will.”

You stared at each other for a moment, anticipation never more warming than right then as it fluttered in your chest. To your biggest disappointment, he broke eye contact and stood up. “Close your eyes for a moment.” He ordered, his face indistinguishable in the dark now that he was further away.

“Creepy, but okay.” You huffed, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You better not be running away right now, you’d break my poor ol’ heart.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the case.” You heard him say. You trusted him, which could’ve been a terrible choice. The total silence that followed didn’t put you to ease at all, honestly. Maybe you annoyed him so much with your questions that he was about to murder you, and if that’s what was happening, you were quite sad, to say the least.

Your eyelids were itching to open and you lifted a brow, straining your ears to distinguish any sign of his presence. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re not gonna believe what’s about to happen.”

You snorted at his reference, but his voice was… oddly close. You opened your eyes, and— “Oh, fuck!” You yelped and jumped back in your seat. Damn right you weren’t gonna believe what was about to happen, for Peter dangled from the ceiling right in front of you, upside down.

“Is it too much of a strange idea? I was going to simply stick to the ceiling upside down, but then I thought… that’d be… worse.” He clumsily explained. You looked up at the web he hung from, laughing in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?” You repeated, but you weren’t mad— your large smile backed that up. You couldn’t figure out if it was a blush creeping up his face or if it was from the fact that he was upside down. Both, maybe.

“I’m making a move.”

You giggled, glad you confessed what you considered to be a perfect type of kiss to him or else you wouldn’t had witnessed how absolutely ridiculous he looked right now. “So you’re willing to help me check 'kissing someone upside down’ off my bucket list?” You smirked.

He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

You bit your lip, placing both hands on his head. “Alright, then.“ 

You leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his chin. You softly kissed the area below his bottom lip to tease him, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Not after so long. Quickly, he enclosed your own bottom lip with his mouth, lastly fully aware that inconvenient truly was magnificent.

#spider noir x reader #spider man noir x reader #spider noir one shot #spider noir imagine #peter parker x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir #sm:itsv #spider man: into the spider verse #spiderman noir #spider man x reader #gender neutral #fem!reader #male!reader

[aelaer]

Suicide TW!!! I live for the Nick/Stephen frenemy relationship, so: AU where Stephen is severely depressed and, instead of crashing his car, he parks in a pull-over and attempts suicide (drugs, alcohol, cutting, up to you) only to then be hit by an oncoming car. As a result, he ends up in hospital to realise that not only is he still alive, but Nick knows what he did. He can't stand the shame and humiliation, until he hears the words "I'm sorry" out of nowhere.

Okay nonny, so a couple things:

By relationship I presume you meant “platonic relationship” as my list of (serious) romance-focused stories in the MCU is a big fat zero and will remain that way probably for some time. If not all time. But I never say never.

I altered the scenario a bit and decided not to use a car crash, but the main elements (depression/suicide, Nick and Stephen interaction, Nick Knowing) remain. This also sort of allows it to potentially be in the “realm of canon” with enough stretching, should one decide to want the headcanon. Though IMO this is an AU-verse.

So I hope that’s all okay and you still find it fulfilling. I’ve never actually written Nick before (though I dabbled with the idea of all the events of Doctor Strange from Nick’s POV like, back when the film first came out) so that was also fun. I really dislike fics that make him look like an idiot (or worse, a pervert for some weird ass reason) so it’s great to get my own view out.

And I also didn’t want to write a book because I’ve got too many WIPs that are books that need to get finished first, so I was going for “short and sweet”. In a manner of speaking. I mean it seems I’m still incapable of doing something under 2000 words but it’s shorter than the last prompt so you know, I’m getting there. 

As the prompt suggests, this fic will go into detail about very serious subjects around mental health, including depression and suicide. Please proceed with caution if these are sensitive subjects for you. 

Please also note that the symptoms and actions taken within the story are not a guide or diagnosis tool and should be interpreted as strictly fictional. Please refer to official literature such as those offered by the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (US) and other verified sources for what you should do if you believe someone you know is suffering from suicidal thoughts.

Written for @stephenstrangebingo square, “It’s Not About You”.

—————–

Every employee at Metro-General took the confidentiality of their patients’ conditions seriously. There was no doctor or nurse on staff that could be bribed to leak any celebrity’s medical information; they were known for having some of the best doctors for a reason. Many of the elite of New York went to that hospital in the middle of Midtown for that famous discretion.

There was, however, one glaring exception to this rule that every nurse and doctor learned early on: if one of their co-workers had something very serious happen to them, their status would eventually leak out to the rest of the staff. There was never anything particularly hostile about the whispers, and while curiosity was the biggest fuel to the information train, news tended to spread out from concern rather than scorn. This trend even applied to staff members that were generally seen as assholes.

Doctor Nicodemus West learned this during his next shift. A couple minutes after entering his office, just as he was getting into his email inbox, a quick knock at the open door broke his concentration. He looked up and smiled. “Morning, Alyssa.”

The nurse offered a brief smile in greeting, but stepped inside and closed the door before speaking. “Did you hear the news?” she asked softly; her smile was gone.

His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, news?”

“Doctor Strange was admitted to the ER last night.”

His mind came to a screeching halt. “What? Seriously?” He generally avoided the man if he could, though from what was going around the gossip circles the last couple weeks, Strange was still a raging asshole, but in good health. “What happened?”

Alyssa shook her head. “I don’t know all the details, but he had to get his stomach pumped.”

Nick winced in sympathy; that was not a pleasant experience. “Jeez,” he muttered. “Is he doing okay?”

“Last I heard, he’s stable,” she answered. “Apparently Doctor Palmer’s still his emergency contact, though.”

“She would be anyone’s emergency contact; she’s too good of a person,” he replied in return. “Thanks for letting me know, though; I suspect others in the department may need to take some of his patients that can’t wait for him.”

Alyssa nodded. “The administration is already looking through his cases, though I expect he’ll be up and back at work as soon as he can. Doctor Strange is never really one for breaks.”

“I suppose not,” said Nick. The conversation turned to other topics and the neurosurgeon put the matter with Strange in the back of his mind, left as generally unimportant in the grand scheme of his life.

————— 

Strange got back to work and things got back to normal in the neurology department.

Only thing was, Nick started noticing things.

While Doctor West was no prodigy like Doctor Strange, he would not have the ability to become a neurosurgeon without the ability to notice details. It was the details in life— in the human body in particular— that fascinated him and turned him towards medicine in the first place. No, he wasn’t a prodigy, but he was still damn good at his job.

So when Strange came back to the office a few days after his visit to the ER, Nick decided to break his usual policy of avoiding Strange as much as humanly possible and went to his office to welcome him back. It was good for department morale to act mostly cordial to each other, even if most of the effort was on his part.

The door was open and Strange was still in his outer coat, back to him, when Nick knocked on the doorway. The doctor turned to face him and Nick raised a hand in greeting. “Hey. Just wanted to say welcome back.”

Strange’s brow furrowed and he made a rather weird expression. “Oh… uh, thanks.” He turned to the coat rack in the corner of the room and began to remove his outerwear.

“How’re you…” Nick started, but paused as the coat was fully removed, revealing Strange’s dress shirt underneath. It hung rather loosely on his figure; apparently the man had lost some weight recently. Due to Christine Palmer’s honeymoon phase about two years ago, Nick was more aware than he would prefer to be about how ‘fit’ Doctor Stephen Strange was (which really was unfair).

It seemed that wasn’t the case anymore. When had that happened?

Strange didn’t seem to notice his trailing off. “I’m fine. Perfectly alright, thank you. I hope you didn’t botch any of my surgeries while I was gone.”

And there was the asshole he remembered. Nick pressed his lips together. “All your patients are recovering without setback. You can even see them for yourself.” He did his best to cut back the bite of sarcasm in his last sentence.

If Strange heard it, he didn’t comment on it. “I’ll let the nurses handle it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have a lot of emails to catch up on. Close the door behind you, if you would.”

Nick rolled his eyes and shut the door as he left the office, but the detail seen settled in the back of his mind to remain quiet, but not forgotten.

And with that one thing noticed, he started to notice more things as the weeks passed on.

According to Alyssa, Strange was rarely seen in the hospital cafeteria anymore— one of the cafeteria staff  members who had an open crush on the doctor was complaining about it, apparently.

Strange was having bouts of insomnia, according to gossiping security personnel. There were times that doctors did not go home for the night, but his were becoming more consistent occurrences.

As Nick ate with members from both his usual surgical team and Strange’s surgical team one lunch time a few weeks after Strange came back to work, the topic somehow went to Strange and his uncanny recollection for music, no matter the genre or decade it was released. It was well known that he liked to have the others on his team try and challenge him with their song choices while he was performing his operations.

“Not anymore,” said Billy, and Alyssa frowned at him.

“What? But that’s his gig! He’s been doing that for years.”

Billy shrugged. “He hasn’t been doing it for a few months now. He’s told us he doesn’t care what we want to play, but he doesn’t guess at songs anymore. Doesn’t give any recommendations, either. It sort of sucks; my music library has barely expanded this year.”

“Maybe you need to find something really challenging, a song so obscure that he’ll be drawn into it again,” she said. “I wonder how well he knows Jamaican music.”

“We tried British and Australian Top Hits of the ‘80s last year, but we haven’t done Jamaica. Do Jamaicans generally speak English? He hasn’t memorized songs from every language in the world.”

She rolled her eyes, and as Alyssa started explaining the history of Jamaica and Jamaican Creole, Nick stored this new bit of information away in the section of his brain that, somehow, had become dedicated to collecting all these tidbits.

And Nick noticed that every time he bumped into the other neurosurgeon in the hall, he appeared exhausted. Nick did not know if anyone else noticed the clear loss of weight and the dark bags around his eyes, but they were blindingly obvious to him. 

Usually Strange moved with an endless amount of energy when off to surgery, and with some of the more challenging surgeries the energy stayed with him no matter how long the procedure took. It was an exuberance that even he admired, though it was never something he planned to admit to Strange. But now the energy was missing. He was still snarky and aloof, but the spark of genuine joy that was once clear to everyone in the department was gone.

If Strange was a friend, he would have acted weeks ago. If Strange was a colleague he got along with, he would have waited no longer than a month, just to make sure. But two months after his short medical hiatus and Nick remained uncertain, because this was Stephen Strange. Surely no one as big-headed and arrogant as he could ever actually be— yes, there were some signs, but it just seemed too far-fetched. Surely not.

A couple weeks later and some of the doctors from neurosurgery, some from cardiology, and some from the ER were having a rare lunch together. Somehow Christine Palmer had managed to drag Strange out of his office to see his coworkers. And somehow he ended up sitting next to Strange, though the man was mostly quiet as he took the occasional bite from his salad. That in itself was very unusual, as Nick was used to Strange enjoying all the attention of the room.

The conversation turned to a sudden, inexplicable death that happened just yesterday that the hospital was still trying to solve. As theories went around the table, Nick heard Strange mutter under his breath, “Maybe she just realized life wasn’t worth living.” None of the others heard it. Nick pretended he didn’t, either.

But the comment resonated in his head for the rest of the day.

———— 

This was not going to be comfortable. This was not going to be easy. Nick hated that he, of all people, had noticed. Had no one else seen it?

It only took another day to push his discomfort aside. “It’s not about you,” he mumbled to himself in the mirror in the early morning. “Strange needs help.” And he was a doctor, first and foremost. And doctors helped people in need.

He wanted to speak with Strange outside the hospital, in a neutral place for them both. The only problem was that he never saw the man outside of work and he had no idea how to approach him.

The opportunity came a few days later when Nick was already performing surgery while on call. Another emergency craniotomy was required and Strange stepped in at Christine’s request while Nick was unavailable. It was as good a reason as any.

“Thank you for taking that patient yesterday,” he said in greeting the next morning.

Strange looked up from his computer, surprise crossing his features. He looked tired. “No surgeon can be in two surgeries at once,” he said with a shrug.

“Still, I appreciate it,” Nick said. “I know you’re not fond of the ER.”

“A butcher shop.”

He ignored the comment. “So I’d like to thank you. You free after work? Dinner’s on me.”

The other man stared at him. “You want to have dinner,” he said flatly.

“As colleagues,” he added, hopefully unnecessarily, because really? “I’m trying to be nice and show my appreciation, Strange. Don’t be an ass about it and just say yes.”

Strange lifted his brows high, but the fuel to his ego did the trick. “Yeah, sure. Got any place in mind?”

Nick shrugged. “There’s a good Italian place three blocks south of us.”

“Italian’s fine.”

“Cool. See you later.” He ignored the expression on Strange’s face and took his leave.

—————

The walk from the hospital to the restaurant was a bit of an uncomfortable one, but Nick wasn’t certain if it was mostly one-sided or not; Strange was more or less expressionless. He only tried to instigate conversation once throughout the walk, but it trailed off to silence before they reached the second block, so Nick decided then to save all attempts at conversation for dinner.

It was going to be hard enough then.

After they arrived and were seated, he also decided to wait until they had finished eating before approaching the topic. Maybe the food would relax the nerves in his gut.

So in the meantime he talked shop. It had been some time since either of them had discussed their cases with each other, so he figured that it was a safe enough conversation topic until the end of the meal.

Unfortunately Strange, bastard that he was, threw him off his planned course. It was just after they ordered food; both had a glass of wine and their waiter had already set down a basket of bread and a saucer of olive oil for dipping. Strange caught Nick as the latter was ripping off a piece of bread to smother in the dipping oil.

“What is this really about?” he asked.

Nick paused mid-dip. “What?”

“All this.” He waved an arm to gesture to the restaurant. “I’ve helped in the ER several times when your hands were full. What is this actually about?”

He set his bread on his plate, frowning. “You can’t wait until after we eat?”

Strange raised a brow. “Consider yourself fortunate I said yes to this at all. I only came because, admittedly, I’m curious; I cannot begin to guess what you could possibly want to talk to me about outside of work.”

“Fine, fine.” Nick sighed and set his elbows on the table. He pressed his lips against his closed fists as he figured out how to start. All the while, Strange stared at him with an odd mix of exasperation and puzzlement. “You…” he started slowly. He trailed off.

“Me,” said Strange.

Fuck it. “You’ve been off lately.”

His brows shot up. “Off?”

“Yeah, off. Not yourself. Different.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly that. You’re acting differently lately. For a while, apparently.”

He bristled in clear irritation. “If you’re just going to waste my time—”

“You don’t enjoy your work anymore.”

That shut him up. Nick continued in the silence. “You used to always enter and exit your operations with this excitement that echoed down the halls. That’s completely gone.”

Strange recovered his voice. “If you’re implying that my work has suffered—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “Not at all. This isn’t about the quality of your work; this is about you.” Strange didn’t have an immediate retort to that, so Nick continued, “Or maybe it’s not about you but about this man that’s taken over you the last several months. That man is clearly not eating and sleeping well, barely comes out of his office, hasn’t bragged about his newest studies and speeches in months, and mutters about life not being worth living at lunchtime.”

His colleague’s mouth hung slightly open as if he wanted to say something but had forgotten how to speak. Nick couldn’t quite read the emotion in his eyes, either. Before he completely lost his nerve, he said one last observation. “And that man,” he muttered, “had his stomach pumped two months ago, and those circumstances combined with the rest paint a picture of a man who… might be a bit lost.”

Something raw flashed through Strange’s eyes that made him appear more vulnerable than Nick’s ever seen him before. That brought on a strange and discomforting feeling that joined the rest of the jumbled nerves in his stomach.

Quickly he continued, “You don’t need to tell me anything. I’m not demanding anything from you. I just wanted to say that— no matter what differences we have— that if you do need someone for— for anything— that I’m here. Even if it’s just to listen.”

He fell silent, and still Strange didn’t say anything immediately, which was unusual in itself. Nick wasn’t sure if he should continue looking at him or if he should look away, or what.

And thank God, dinner arrived and gave him the perfect reason to look away and leave Strange to his thoughts.

The silence sat for the remainder of the meal. Strange didn’t eat much (though he couldn’t blame him) but also didn’t leave. Nick didn’t know what that meant, or if it meant anything at all.

Still, he had one last thing to say.

After he paid the bill, he pulled a card from his wallet as he stood up. “She came with high recommendations,” he said as he put down the card of a therapist that most certainly did not work at Metro-General. “Think about it.” With that, he took his leave, allowing Strange time alone to dwell on what he said.

————

When they next saw each other at work, neither of them made any indication to each other that they had dinner last night. Their last conversation never crossed the threshold of the hospital. Strange never called him, and Nick never inquired about his well being more than he did any other coworker.

But a few months later, when he got word that Strange was starting his music challenge games in his operations once more, Nick allowed himself a small smile at the news.

#doctor strange fanfic #stephenstrangebingo #doctor strange #stephen strange #nick west #my writing #my fanfiction #prompt fill #tw: suicide #tw: mental health #Anonymous

[accidentally-logince]

Maybe a mix of 23 + 1, I don't mind where it goes and with what characters, just something to cheer me up?

(I usually fill prompts in the order that they come into my inbox, but I wanted to help you cheer up, nonny!)

Prompt(s): “I love you, please don’t go”, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Warnings: Crying

(If there are any more, PLEASE tell me!)

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Moralogince

—

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”Wordlessly, Logan rolls his eyes, closing his book and sinking out. My shoulders droop, and I grab my notebook, crossing “flirting” off of my list of ideas.

Logan has been avoiding me for nearly a week now. It would be much less frustrating if I could get him to tell me exactly why. Real smart of you, Lo. How am I supposed to fix the problem if I don’t know what it is? From across the room, Virgil is clearly trying to look disinterested. He’s been doing his best to stay away from our issue the whole time, and he doesn’t even look up at me as I ascend the stairs.

Patton’s door opens before I even have a chance to knock, almost as if he knew I was there. Maybe he saw the shadows of my feet under the door, or he heard my footsteps.

“Roman! I thought it was you,” Patton chirps. “Come on in.”

That’s the thing about Patton; he always seems to know when someone is coming to him for help. His room shifts as we walk in, and by the time we reach the middle, there are two soft chairs facing each other, each with a cup of cocoa in the cup holders. The sight makes me smile, and I plop down, grabbing the cup and holding it in both hands, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. Not too hot.

“What’s goin’ on, Ro?” Patton asks, plopping down across from me and sinking into the chair.

Now that we’re at the point of discussion, I actually realize exactly what the problem is, and now I’m not so sure I can talk about it with Patton. I dart my tongue out and lick my lips worriedly. If I tell him, will it only cause another problem to pop up?

I go for a generic answer. “Logan’s been staying away from me. I’m not entirely sure why, or how I can remedy it.” I poke at the marshmallow floating in my cup. I like to eat them when they’re covered in cocoa, soft and slightly warm—I’m definitely getting off topic.

“Have you two had any disagreements?” Patton asks. 

I shake my head. “I… Not any that I recall. He just started leaving when I entered a room. I think it started right after movie night." 

Patton bites the inside of his cheek. "I’m not sure,” he says. “If you want, I could maybe ask him later? He can be very stubborn though, I might not be able to get a straight answer from him.”

I’m extremely tempted to blurt out a gay joke, but I swallow it down and just nod. “Anything would work better than my attempts. He won’t even glance at me.” I remember I’d simply cleared my throat the other day while Logan was digging around in the fridge, and he’d sunken out without even turning around, just shutting the fridge door on his way down. He hadn’t even grabbed what he was looking for.

“Well, if I find anything, I’ll be sure to tell you,” Patton says, giving me a reassuring smile. 

“Thanks, Pat.” I return his smile with one of my own and stand up, moving to put the mug back into it’s cup holder, but Patton just grabs my arms softly and shakes his head.

“Bring it back to your room. You can return it later,” he says. 

—

When a few days pass and Patton doesn’t come to see me, I start to worry. Has he just not talked to Logan yet? I doubt it, he’s usually very quick about helping us. Now that I think about it, I don’t think Patton’s come out of his room since I talked to him. Or, maybe he did and i just didn’t see him—is he avoiding me too? That’s… that’s insane, right?

I push myself out of my chair. I’m sure if I just go talk to him, he’ll tell me exactly what the issue is. Maybe it just slipped his mind. Patton is the most forgetful of us.

I haven’t even knocked on Patton’s door yet when I hear another door open. I turn my head to find Logan, stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring back at me. After a brief moment, he shakes my gaze and goes to sink out again. 

Now or never, now or never, now or never—

“Logan, please stop,” I blurt out. His head darts up. He’s gnawing on his lip, and his eyes are glued to his shoes. Instead of sinking out, he just starts to turn around, to return to his room. “I love you, please don’t go.”

Logan freezes in his tracks. “What?" 

Anxiously, I tap my fingers against my leg. "I’ve been trying to talk to you for almost two weeks now. I wasn’t exactly planning on confessing, but I didn’t really know how else to get your attention. Patton said he would talk to you for me, but he hasn’t come out of his room, and I just want to know what I did wrong—”

Patton’s door swings open, and both Logan and my attention shifts. Patton tries giving me a smile, but it’s clear from his red face that he’s been crying. He notices my worried expression, and lets his smile fall. “I’m sorry,” is all he says. 

Logan clears his throat behind us. “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on,” he admits. “My idea of the situation contradicts entirely with what you just told me.” His gaze shifts to look at Patton. “I apologize for figuratively ‘stealing the stage’, but I just… Roman, please explain to me what is happening.”

My head swivels between the two of them. Patton, staring at his toes in his doorway while Logan waits for me to answer. Patton’s eyes flick up, and he notices my turmoil.

“Why don’t we all come into my room and talk over some cocoa?”

—

Having everyone facing each other definitely takes some of the stress out of the situation. Still, watching Patton—with a still-red face—sip quietly from his mug without looking up worries me.

“Well then I’ll start,” Logan says suddenly, breaking the silence hanging over us. “Since you don’t seem to keen on answering my questions.” Before I can say anything, he’s straightening in his chair. “Patton did, in fact, come to speak to me by your request. But from what he said, it seemed that you had no interest in me. Romantically, I mean,” he clarifies. 

Patton stares into his cup, no longer even taking his slow sips. He quietly traces the rim of the cup with his finger, clearly avoiding my gaze.

“What did he say? Or—” I turn to face Patton. “Here, you should be part of the conversation too.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again. I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to apologize, but he places his mug down and sucks in a breath. “I got jealous. It… I guess I could tell from the way you were talking that you felt strongly about Logan… I shouldn’t have let my own feelings interfere, I know I just made the situation worse.” Patton tucks his hands between his knees. “I told Logan that um… I told him you…” He shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t wanna say it. I’m sorry, I feel so ashamed of myself.”

Logan finishes for Patton. “I was told that you harbored romantic feelings toward Patton, rather than me.” His voice is soft and unaccusing. 

“It was totally wrong of me, I shouldn’t have said anything dishonest. Roman, if you like Logan, I have no right to take that away from you,” Patton rambles. 

A laugh escapes me. “You have it all wrong,” I tell them. “Listen, I have feelings for both of you.”

Patton’s head perks up. “You do?” There’s so much hope in his voice. A smile creeps onto his face—a genuine one. “Wait, no, no way! I was so sad because it seemed like you two like each other, and I—” Patton bounces in his seat and grabs at Logan’s hand. “Lo, I like you too! Oh, gee, everyone loves Logan!”

Logan has turned red in his seat. “Well, since we all seem to be confessing our emotions right now, I find it appropriate to mention that I was feeling left out because I though only you two had feelings for each other.” He shakes his head, trying to hide his blush. “You two understand how insanely improbable this is, right?” he asks. 

“Not really. We’re all part of Thomas’ brain right? So doesn’t it kinda make at least a little sense?” Patton asks. Then his eyes light up. “Wait! Lo, are you telling us you have feelings?” he teases. “You’re so cute when you’re all blushy!”

Logan tucks into himself further. “Falsehood,” he squeaks. “I think that… er, that is to say that… I believe you are the cute one here, Patton.” A tiny smile sprouts on his lips. 

“See, doesn’t this feel better?” I say. “You know, actually sharing our feelings. Actually talking?” I nudge Logan, and he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Don’t push it,” he jokes, leaning over and kissing my cheek. \

—

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[illyriantremors]

In ACOMAF, what do you think Rhys meant to say during the inn scene when he went "You have no idea how much I–"?

speaking of the inn scene, do you think Rhys actually believed Feyre when she said she only wanted “fun” and a “distraction”?

RHYSEY ANGSTY QUESTIONS - I LOVE IT

For the first part, I think I agree a lot with @sarahviehmann‘s reply. No idea how much I… love you… want you… But I also think Rhys is really just so overwhelmed by Feyre and her body in that scene, the fact that he’s touching her. I love that moment when she’s trying to turn around and he tells her Just let me touch you. The way Rhys grounds out her name at the end of the ‘no idea how much’ line makes me think that part of it ends in …how much I want to touch you - consume you. I think it’s a little of all of this driving him up the wall.

As for the second question, I do think he partly believes her. I would jump to the following section from their exchange in the cave after Feyre discovers the mate bond and confronts him about it:

“I deserved to know.”

“The other night you told me you wanted a distraction, you wanted fun. Not a mating bond. And not to someone like me - a mess.” So the words I’d spat after the Court of Nightmares had haunted him.

“You promised - you promised no secrets, no games. You promised.”

Something in my chest was caving in on itself. Some part of me I’d thought long gone.

“I know I did,” Rhys said, the glow returning to his face. “You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think I liked hearing you wanted me only for amusement and release? You think it didn’t drive me out of my mind so completely that those bastards shot me out of the sky because I was too busy wondering if I should just tell you, or wait - or maybe take whatever pieces that you offered me and be happy with it? Or that maybe I should let you go so you don’t have a lifetime of assassins and High Lords hunting you down for being with me?”

There is so so much going on in these few tiny paragraphs that really reveal a lot of Rhys’s character and it all amounts to the grand conclusion that Rhys is incredibly insecure when it comes to Feyre. I think the idea that she might only want him for amusement - for “pieces” as Rhys puts it later - takes him back to the days of Amarantha, when he was just a plaything and nothing more and it terrifies him to no end that maybe this is how his mate feels about him. If we look throughout the book, we see countless cases of Rhys being shocked out of his mind that Feyre might like him in the slightest, even as a friend. Just look at the lines like when he tells her he loves when she looks at him like he isn’t something to be feared, like his power doesn’t make her want to run away. Look at how much he craves even just a smile from her. He is just as starved for real genuine love and affection as Feyre is at this point, so I imagine being told he’s just there for fun - something he was to Amarantha in addition to being a pawn - was a real step back and even if in his heart he knew Feyre didn’t think of him that way, it must have taken hold of that little seed of doubt he’d been holding on to and shaken him up inside. Feyre even narrates in the above scene that what she had said at the CoN had stayed rooted in him and this is after Starfall and all the amends that that night made from the CoN scene.

So yeah, I think part of Rhys believes it. Or if he doesn’t believe it, I think he’s so insecure and so certain that she won’t love him after he experiences so many No’s and setbacks in their relationship that any evidence to the contrary seems unbelievable at this point.

And to further round out this section of text even though it’s not so much to do with the amusement bit, I think that Rhys is also just downright scared for her. She tells him she wants fun and that’s the opposite of a mate bond to him because a mate bond with Rhys is a burden to him in some ways - a life of running from High Lords and assassins as he puts it. I think he’s scared for her and what their being together might mean. He doesn’t think she wants that life, nor does he think she considers him worth that life, and in some twisted way, I think by assuming she wants him only for fun, it’s an easy way to protect her from that life - or if not protect her from it, at least live in a loophole where he doesn’t have to confront the possibility that she does mate with him and then gets hunted down and possibly killed for it. That would put her life’s blood on his hands and it’s terrifying. I mean, he’s willing to let her go - leave him and the Night Court altogether if it’s what she wants and means she is safe. That’s a tremendous weight on his shoulders, so in a way I think he lets the amusement thing be an easy out to avoid it all.

But at the same time, he wants her to see the bond. He tells her in the cave that he’s hoping throughout it all that she would see it. He’s hoping with each step they take that she’ll realize it. I think a part of him is crushed that Feyre feels so little of the bond and he feels so much of it (something that really bothers me tbh). I genuinely believe that if Rhys hadn’t been shot out of the sky, he would have told Feyre then and there. I really believe that’s what he was about to tell her. So he does want her to know even if he’s terrified what it’ll mean for them.

*phew* that was… way more than I intended to write? Sorry for like word vomiting on you!

And going off what Sarah said in her ask replies - come ask us stuff anytime! We weren’t offended. We just noticed that some cutie patootie Nonnie was asking us the same questions and we didn’t want you to feel obligated to go to both of us if you didn’t want to. Tag us in one post or come into our inboxes - either way, I’m always down to answer questions and chat. :)

Especially about ^^^mating bonds. I looooooooooove mate bond discussion. It’s just about the only thing in this fandom I ever meta on, so like ask away my friend!

xx

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