#I WANT THEM TO MAKE EACH OTHER WORSE AND BETTER SIMULTANEOUSLY

[grapestones]

Still thinking about Shen Jiu and Jiang Cheng, so what if it's Shen Jiu transmigration into mdzs after reading the novel and he sees aspects of Jiang Cheng and feels them and becomes protective of him. So when he becomes an npc, whether a Jiang disciple from the start or someone else, going from rogue cultivator to a loyal disciple, he becomes insanely protective and even possessive of Jiang Cheng.

Man the possibilities. If he's there before the massacre, Shen Jiu trying to prevent it, and failing that he would guard Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli so much. Hate Wei Wuxian, but being careful with it (he understand what it's like to have a shitty childhood, but he's also jealous because Wei Wuxian did have a better life after being a street rat, not like Shen Jiu, who was abused way more as a slave, and he blames Wei Wuxian a lot. Guy is a hater lmao), and oh, he would adore Jiang Yanli, only the best for her. Yu Ziyuan is a boss and Jiang Fengmian's a rat in his eyes.

And if it's after, during the rebuilding of Lotus Pier, Shen Jiu would support Jiang Cheng so fucking much. My guy might be filled with hate and anger, but he's loyal (at least that's what fandom wiki tells me, I honestly don't remember enough which is such a fucking shame), he's smart, he can rise to be a second in command easily.

He would be there for Jiang Cheng, he would try to save Jiang Yanli, would give a firm talking to Jin Zixuan, threaten Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, watch for Jin Gungyao and Nie Huaisang and be awkward as hell with Jin Ling.

[zer0point5ive]

[delwrites]

Tomorrow

roommate!james x reader

“Honey? What are you doing?”

James had walked in on you grabbing a glass of water just after two am, sweat lightly touching your forehead.

“I-” you take a pause before letting out a deep sigh, too exhausted to keep up the pretence of any half-hearted lie you couldn’t be bothered to come up with. 

“Bad dream.” You mumbled, scowl adorning your soft features. James was more than familiar with the bad dreams that inhabited your head many nights, it didn’t make him any more immune to that pout that would always land on your face every time you had the displeasure of informing him, though. The first few times he’d tried to coax the truth out of you, he had always made you feel so guilty about lying, that when you finally told him the real reason for your being up so late (your most embarrassing secret), it was a great relief off your chest. Somehow, saying the night terrors you experienced out loud made them feel less real, and knowing that your roommate would be just down the hall lest anything more drastic happen was a great burden off your shoulders. 

James switched the kettle on, the usual routine slowly falling into place as he opened his arms to you. He could see the fat globs of tears sitting oh so preciously on your waterline; threatening to fall down any time you blinked. It made his heart sink right through his stomach and forced a concerned frown to tense up his face. 

“What should we watch tonight?” He asked as he cradled your head to his chest, rocking you both side to side as his other hand squeezed your back, knowing the pressure of his touch would wordlessly reassure you that he was there, metaphorically and physically. If you weren’t living with the man, forced to see his every side tucked away under boisterous mounds of personality, the softness of his voice might startle you. You knew better than to let it get the best of you.

“Um, I’m not sure…” You were so timid, curled up against him and letting him take the brunt of your weight that his normal want to protect you was tripled tenfold. He knew that when you got so shaken up like this, you found it difficult to talk, and even worse making decisions. By now he knew all your comfort shows anyway, knew your favourite hot drink and ideal sweet treat. 

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s okay.” As the kettle boiled, he gently guided you over to the sofa whilst he fixed you your favoured drink. Picking the telly remote up on the way over, he put two mugs on the coffee table in front of your feet and put a light-hearted show on to help ease your mind of whatever horror had occurred before he could intervene. 

As you sat there, leaning into his side with his arm wrapped around you for good measure, your mind began to drift. Drift away from the bad and focus on James. Since moving in with James, things had gradually transformed into the epitome of a quiet, mundane life. A lot of unspoken moments, learning simultaneously the simplest and deepest parts of each other without even really knowing the most ordinary things. This leads to you asking (rather apprehensively) a question that pulled James out of his little daydream. It was always easy for him to get lost in the contentment he feels tangled up with you, thoughts of married life plaguing his thoughts and tarnishing your innocent friendship.

“What do you do for a job?” You’re embarrassed to ask, but feel even more embarrassed not knowing. It makes you feel so sheepish, how the words come out mumbled against his chest, but if James notices he doesn’t make an effort to bring any attention to it. Instead, he begrudgingly turns his head from the tv screen to look at you, only to find you’re already staring up at his face. The proximity makes a blush bloom over his chest, threatening to rise up his neck as he tries to keep his breathing as steady as it was moments ago. The hand that isn’t wrapped around you goes up to his chin, as he thinks over your question. He supposes that since you had both rushed into living together, desperation getting the better of you both, you had majorly overlooked exchanging pleasantries with one another. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s super weird and if you’ve already told me I feel really bad about forgetting, but I can’t put my finger on it…” The more you talk, the more heat you can feel residing in your cheeks. You can only hope the dim lights can alter your awkward expression adorning your face, seeing as you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“No, it’s definitely my fault for your not knowing. I could’ve sworn I told you… Honestly, I think it’s kinda funny.” An annoyingly amused smile overtakes him, lips quirked up at the corners and his eyes crinkling with a kind of airy delight that always makes your stomach cramp with joy and head blur with a drunken fuzziness that only he could create.

As you continue to give him your most stern awaiting look, he begins to rub his hand that was wrapped around you up and down your middle, eyes scanning over your face again. 

“I’m a rugby player. Just working with agents at the academy I’m training with for the moment, though I’m hoping to get scouted soon.” That definitely explained the bulk of the man. With his normal comings and goings from the apartment, you had assumed his muscle just came from his being a gym buff. Before your mind could wonder, he interrupted your thoughts with a question of his own.

“Are you a cat or a dog person?” 

The night had gone like this for a while, both openly asking simple questions that came to mind. You weren’t sure if he was intentionally trying to distract you from the earlier shortcomings of the night but either way it was working. By the time your mug was empty and James had answered your rather out of pocket ‘would you rather’ question, your eyelids had grown too heavy to ignore. 

James had already begun noticing the slight slur to your words, head indicating it would drop at any given moment, but this was the calmest he had seen you all night and he didn’t want to break you (or himself, for that matter) out of the little bubble you’d both been brave enough to craft. He urged your head to his shoulder, placing a kiss on your forehead before breaking himself out of his trance, putting you upright before he can do anything else he might regret. 

“Come on, honey. You should definitely get to bed now, if you fall asleep on the sofa your back’s gonna kill in the morning.” 

He had helped you off of the sofa, guided you down the hall with his hand on the small of your back, and was now pulling your duvet over you when he felt your nimble fingers clasp around the palm of his hand as he was turning to leave.

“Jamie…” He wanted to scream. Wanted to run and never look back to see that sleepy look on your face. Wanted to grab your face in his hands and kiss you right there and then. 

You wanted to beg him to stay. Wanted to offer up the right side of your bed so he could sleep beside you. Wanted to tell him how you truly felt.

“Thanks, for um, y’know… Staying up with me. You didn’t have to so, um… thanks.” So much for a grand confession. 

“Yeah, I’m always here for you, sweet girl. Get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Maybe tomorrow.

“Good night, Jamie.” 

There’d always be tomorrow.

“Good night, love.”

[cutielando]

happy | l.n.

synopsis: in which you guys get married

my masterlist

"Why am I so nervous?" you asked Cisca and your mother, both of them helping you get the last things ready on your dress while simultaneously trying to calm you down.

"Darling, you're going to give yourself a panic attack if you don't stop stressing" Cisca said, your mother agreeing with her.

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror while the 2 mothers worked around you.

Your wedding day has been something you have waited for your entire life. The day Lando proposed, you felt one step closer to living your dream. Seeing yourself in your wedding dress all glammed up made tears well up in your eyes, but you kept them at bay.

It was supposed to be a perfect day, after all. You were marrying the love of your life in front of all of your families.

A knock on your door made you look anxiously towards the closed doors, your nerves worse than ever. 

Adam, Lando's father, poked his head inside, his eyes landing on all three of you.

"Are you ready?" he asked, eyeing you up and smiling.

"I'm nervous" you admitted, making him chuckle and enter the room, closing the door behind him.

Due to the fact that your father had passed away when you were young, Adam decided to step up and be the one walking you down the aisle.

Something that brought tears to your mother's eyes when he had first suggested it.

"Trust me, you can't be more nervous than the groom himself. He's been stressing about ever since he woke up" Adam reassured you, hoping it would make you feel slightly better.

It did, in all honesty. It made you chuckle as well, already imagining Lando stressing over every single small thing that you could possibly think of. His shoes weren't right, his tie was crooked, his curls weren't on point, you name it.

He was a perfectionist at heart, especially on this day since he wanted everything to be perfect. You deserved a perfect wedding day.

"Honey" your mother took your hands and smiled. "You remind me of myself on my wedding day to your father. I was a nervous wreck the entire we were planning the wedding, but when I saw your father waiting for me at the alter, nothing else mattered in that moment. You and Lando love each other dearly and you're going to have an amazing life together. Go out there and get your boy, leave the nerves at the door"

You nodded and hugged her tightly, burying your face in her neck.

"I'm ready" you told Adam once you pulled away, taking his arm.

"Let's get you married"

♡♡♡♡♡

As the music started playing and the big oak doors opened, your eyes immediately landed on your soon-to-be husband waiting for you, Max and his brother by his side.

Adam and you slowly walked towards him, smiling at the guests all around you. 

Once you reached Lando, Adam took your hand and clasped it in his, smiling at you with tears in his eyes.

"Take care of him for us" he said, making everyone in the room swallow down a giggle.

"I will" you whispered back, squeezing his hands before turning towards Lando.

Your eyes were locked on each other, a silent conversation taking place. He looked dashingly handsome, his tux amazing on his fit physique.  You really hit the jackpot with him.

"Hello, everyone" the reverend began speaking. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage between these two exceptional young people, Y/N and Lando. I can see how excited the bride and the groom are, so I won't make this any longer than it should be. Y/N, Lando, have you prepared your vows?" you both nodded, and then the reverend motioned for you to go first.

You let out a deep breath, taking Lando's hands in yours.

"Way to make me break the ice, reverend" you joked, making everyone laugh including Lando. "Lando, you're my best friend, my partner in crime, my gaming buddy, the absolute love of my life, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. When we met all those years ago, I could only dream of reaching this day, the day that would make you officially mine forever. I'm grateful for everything that you do for me, for being who you are and for loving me despite my flaws. You always know what to say, you always know how to make me feel loved and appreciated. I'm proud of everything that you do, of how successful your career is and how much potential you're always showing. I love you, and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days loving you and enjoying life by your side"

Everyone in the room was crying, your mothers holding onto each other as they silently cried in their tissues.

"Y/N, light of my life, I'm so proud of us for being here today. Ever since I laid my eyes on you when we first met, I knew you would be the woman that I would marry. You bring a light and stability in my life that I've been lacking for as long as I can remember. I can be myself when I'm around you, I can escape the fame and pressure when it's just the two of us, just how I want it to be. You have been nothing short of supportive in my career, coming to my races and cheering me on, believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. I cannot thank you enough. I promise to always love you and care for you, keep you safe and show you just how grateful I am to have you in my life. I love you so damn much and I cannot wait for you to finally become a Norris"

You smiled, tears threatening to fall from your eyes and ruin your perfect makeup, but you didn't care in that moment. The only thing you cared about was Lando.

"Do you have the rings?" the reverend asked, and Max quickly got the velvet box out of his pocked and gave it to Lando.

He took out the rings, giving you his while he took yours.

"Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Lando Norris to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do" you almost yelled out, making everyone chuckle due to how eager you were.

"Lando, do you take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do" Lando smiled.

You both put your rings on each other's fingers, smiling like two idiots in love while waiting for the part of the ceremony that you had been looking forward to.

"By the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Lando, you may kiss your bride" the reverend hadn't even finished what he was saying before Lando wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

Everyone cheered for you, clapping and whistling for the two newlyweds.

As you pulled away, you didn't acknowledge anything around you except for Lando, your husband.

Finally, your husband.

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[girlgenius1111]

you aren't a chore...

mapi x ingrid x reader

r tears her ACL. her girlfriends struggle to help her heal. angst + fluff. mapi didn't tear her meniscus in this because i said so <3

Tearing your ACL while on national duty was less than ideal; not just because it was a months long, intense injury that you knew would be hell to go through. It happened while you were in England, and your girlfriends were in Norway and Spain, respectively. You were dreading having call them with this news, news you knew would hurt them almost as much as it hurt you, but there was no avoiding it.

You were at the hospital, and the doctor had just left the room, confirming what you'd known since you'd gone down on the pitch a few hours ago. You were finally alone, and you couldn't put off calling Ingrid and Mapi any longer.

You started a group face time, wincing when you noticed in the camera how red your eyes were from crying. It only rang a couple times before both girls clicked on, almost simultaneously.

"What's happened?" Ingrid asked frantically, not needing to see more than your tearstained face to know that something was wrong. Mapi's excited smile dropped into a frown, too, and you took a deep breath.

"It's my ACL." You told them, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"No, amor," Mapi said in disbelief.

"It's completely torn. I need surgery." You continued, gripping the sheets under you in your hand, not wanting to cry.

"Are you sure?" Ingrid asked.

"Yeah, I just got the scans back and the doctor confirmed."

"How did it happen?" Mapi's questioned, voice shaking as she spoke.

"I planted my foot and twisted I guess, and it just. Really hurt. I heard it pop."

"Amor, I am so sorry. I'll come to you, I'll fly tomorrow," Mapi said, shuffling around, clearly looking for her computer to book a flight.

"No, no, it's okay. They're flying me back tomorrow to Spain tomorrow. They offered to do the surgery here but I wanted to be home. With you guys."

"Love," Ingrid began, and you could tell from the desperate look on her face what she was thinking.

"No, Ingrid. You'll stay with your team, and win for me. Mapi will take good care of me." You insisted. Ingrid's teeth bit at her lip, an anguished expression etched across her features.

"Love, I want to be with you," She said, and you could tell she was fighting back tears.

"I know, I want that too. It's only a few more days, though. The team needs you, Ingrid, you have to stay."

"Y/n's right. You have to stay with the team. She'll be a handful, but I can handle our girl." Mapi joked, face falling when you only cracked a small smile. She wanted to reach through the phone, to call up one of the English girls and tell them to give you a hug, anything to make you feel better. Glancing at Ingrid's face, the Spaniard could tell she felt the same.

"Can we do anything?" Ingrid asked, thinking that she would move heaven and earth to get rid of the sad frown on your face.

"No, I'm fine, I promise." You said, although your voice and expression told a completely different story.

"Cariño, neither of us expect you to be fine." Mapi said softly.

You forced a smile onto your lips, hoping it was convincing. "Really, I'm fine. I have to go though, they're about to discharge me. I love you guys." You hung up, rolling onto your good side, muffling your sobs in the pillow.

Ingrid and Mapi hung up with each other soon after, both agreeing that they needed to keep a close eye on you. You'd never handled injuries well, but the state you were in on the phone was worse than they'd ever seen. This was a worse injury than you'd ever had, so it made sense, but they were still incredibly worried.

-----

Mapi had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but Barca had insisted on you going to meet with the surgeon right away, sending a car to grab you and take you there. Mapi promised to meet you at the hospital for your consultation, and arrived there in the parking lot a full 10 minutes before you did. She wanted to prepare herself for whatever you were feeling. Honestly, she had no idea how to best help you; neither her nor Ingrid had ever had an injury of this magnitude, they couldn't know what you were feeling. The defender had never felt more helpless in her life, watching you slowly get out of the car, grabbing your crutches, and making your way towards the door, where she waited.

"Mi amor," she said as you neared her, moving forward to carefully wrap you in a hug. You were stiff in her arms, jaw set stiffly, as you murmured a greeting into your ear. It became clear to your girlfriend that you had completely shut down, not allowing yourself to feel the intense emotions she knew must be tugging at you. Not wanting to challenge that unhealthy coping mechanism at the hospital, she simply kissed your cheek lightly, before leading you into the building.

You were quieter than Mapi thought you'd ever been in your life as you made your way into the surgeon's office, face pinched in pain as you settled into a chair next to her, moving your crutches to rest next to you with a disdainful look at them.

You waited for the surgeon, turning to the team doctor that had accompanied you and speaking, voice raspy from lack of use.

"When do you think they'll do the surgery?"

"Depends. Some doctors like to do it sooner rather than later, to preserve muscle strength, while others think the more time taken to reduce swelling, the better. This guy did Alexia's, and he only had her wait a week."

You nodded absentmindedly, reaching one hand over to grip onto Mapi's. She squeezed your hand comfortingly, pulling out her phone to update Ingrid.

Your meeting with the surgeon may as well have been 2 seconds, for all the information you absorbed. Once he told you that he'd operate in a week, you couldn't force yourself to focus on everything he said about the recovery process. If you didn't take this one step at a time, you were sure that you would fail. Mapi could tell you weren't all there, and she allowed you the time to process on the way home, not bothering to speak to you until she asked if you wanted to call Ingrid and update her.

"Can you just tell her?"

"Of course, amor. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Thanks Maps."

If this was a hint to how you'd be for the next week, Mapi felt like she'd almost rather have torn her own ACL. She could tell that you were hurting, not just physically, but deep within you. You wouldn't speak about it though, repeating the words "I'm fine" until they no longer sounded like words. You weren't overly upset, nor were you overly happy. Instead, Mapi got used to the version of you that was quiet, giving her only small smiles and chuckles when she tried to joke around, instead of the full laughs that had been part of the reason she'd fallen in love with you.

As the days passed, and your surgery grew closer, Mapi noticed you become more irritable, frustrated more easily. She talked to Ingrid often about it, completely at a loss for how to help you, as nothing she was doing seemed to work. Her and Ingrid agreed that this period of waiting was especially hard for you; you couldn't do any rehab work, nothing at all could be done until after the surgery. The hoped that being able to focus your mind and body on recovering would bring you back to yourself.

Ingrid, for her part, made up her mind to leave the national team and come home to you at least 10 different times, but you and Mapi always talked her out of it. She was due home the day of your surgery, and you both were adamant that this injury not affect Ingrid's playing time with the team. Ingrid was packing one day, after a particularly rough night where Mapi confided that she wasn't sure you'd slept at all, and Mapi was clearly failing at convincing her to stay. You'd grabbed the phone from Mapi's hand, expressing the most emotion that they'd seen from you since your injury.

"Ingrid, please don't do this for me. I love you, and I miss you, but I want you to stay. Coming home now will only make me feel guilty. Besides, watching you play is one of the only things I'm looking forward to right now."

Mapi practically froze when you spoke, waiting to hear Ingrid's response.

"Okay, elskling. If that's what you want." Ingrid sighed, dropping her clothes back into her drawer. She wasn't happy about it, but she trusted that if you really did need her, you'd ask for her.

"Mapi is taking good care of me, anyway. Not as good of a job as you could, but it'll do." You joked, shooting Mapi a smirk. She feigned being supremely insulted, but really, she was just happy to see you smile again, even if it was at her own expense.

"Alright, you can shower by yourself tonight." She teased, and you glared at her.

"I might as well be showering by myself, for all the help you are."

"I shaved your legs for you yesterday!" Mapi gasped.

"That's not the kind of help I'm talking about."

"If I had sex with you while you were injured, in the shower, while Ingrid was in another country, I think she'd kill me." Mapi defended.

"I absolutely would. You'll just have to be patient and wait for me. And till after your surgery. Think of it as a fun challenge." Ingrid smiled, enjoying the glimpse of the you she was used to seeing, not the empty version that you'd been for the past few days.

"What is fun about that, Ingrid, be serious."

"What's fun is that we're all waiting, and we will all have a very good time together once I'm back, and it's safe for you. I promise, you can be a pillow princess the way you like, and Mapi and I will do whatever you want." Ingrid said sweetly, and you tried to ignore the way you felt suddenly warm at her words.

You gave a dramatic sigh. "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want." Both girls promised together. Mapi saw the most excitement she'd seen in you all week, and couldn't help but leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your temple. You softened at her loving action, growing slightly more serious.

"I'm sorry I've been so awful this past week. I know I haven't been very much fun to be around."

"You have every right to be grumpy, mi amor. You're doing your best, we don't expect any more than that." Mapi promised.

"I can't imagine what you're feeling, elskling. You can act any way you feel like acting." Ingrid assured you. "It'll get easier post surgery, yeah?"

You nodded like you agreed, but you weren't exactly sure about that. You hoped Ingrid was right, you really did. Mapi caught your reluctance.

"No matter what, we've got you, mi amor." She said, tilting your chin to look into your eyes as she spoke.

"Always, kjære." Ingrid echoed, and this time, you felt more confident when you nodded. You weren't sure that you trusted your body anymore, not when it had betrayed you so grievously. You did, however, trust your girls with everything. Everything.

-----

Mapi hated being in hospitals. When she had gone to your initial appointment with you, it was just the surgeons office you were visiting, which was tolerable. But a hospital, with patients and sick people, and doctors and nurses in scrubs, she hated. She always had, and the night before your surgery, you could tell she was getting nervous. You were nervous too, but magically, your stress evaporated when you realized that Mapi was anxious, and all you cared about was making her feel better.

Ingrid was set to touch down in Barcelona after you went back, and she would probably arrive at the hospital right as you were coming out of recovery, which wouldn't be very much help to your other girlfriend who wouldn't hear a word about leaving the hospital while you were in surgery.

You were debating on making Mapi talk about it, when she started bouncing her knee rapidly, and picking at her cuticles; 2 things she only did when she was really nervous. You knew if she continued like this, she'd get no sleep. More than that, she looked miserable, although she tried to hide it, and you hated seeing her upset.

"María," you called softly, getting her attention. She turned to you, and you watched her literally change her face from one of slight panic, to one of reassuring confidence. If you didn't know her so well, you would have bought the second face with no questions asked.

"Come here," you said, gesturing for her to move closer. She must have thought you were seeking comfort, because otherwise there was no way she would have accepted your comfort, and she moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Are you nervous?" She asked.

"A bit. You seem really anxious though, baby. Are you okay?" At your question, she sat up, leaning away from you.

"I am fine, amor. Nothing to worry about." She said. "I am going to go shower, and then I'll help you to bed, alright?"

"Okay." You agreed, letting it go for now. She smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before leaving the room.

You sighed once she was out of earshot. You'd let Ingrid know that Mapi seemed more anxious than normal, but you didn't want to overly stress out the Norwegian, not when you knew she was already kind of freaking out at the thought that you were having surgery before she arrived home. You pulled your phone out, hitting the contact of the one person you knew Mapi trusted almost as much as she trusted you and Ingrid.

"Alexia? I need your help with something."

-----

Worrying about Mapi turned out to be a wonderful distraction for you, as you both woke early and headed to the hospital. You were nervous, but your attention was on your girlfriend, who had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel with one hand, and yours wrapped tight in the other.

"Maps?"

"Sí?" She said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye, her worry evident in her slightly shaky voice.

"Ale is going to meet us at the hospital."

Mapi blinked. "That is nice of her to come for you." She said, although she was slightly confused. You hadn't wanted to see anyone recently, and although you'd been talking to Alexia, as someone who had, and was currently, having issues with her knee, Mapi was surprised that you'd agreed to her being at the hospital, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

"She's not coming for me, she's coming for you. I don't want you sitting alone around the hospital for hours, not when you're already nervous." You stated plainly, never having planned on hiding the real reason Alexia was invited.

"Amor, you should not be worrying about me," Mapi complained, although her grip slackened slightly on the wheel.

"Well, I am. So is Ingrid. And with Alexia there, we won't worry as much. Really, you'll be doing both of us a favor."

"You will be unconscious, but worrying about me?" Mapi rolled her eyes.

"I always dream of you, baby. Even when I'm under general." You winked at her.

Mapi snorted, but you were delighted to see a faint blush on her cheeks. She was quiet for a moment.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." She spoke softly, and you could just barely hear her over the sound of the engine.

You pull her hand over, still laced with yours, kissing the back of it. She smiled at you, eyes crinkling the way they did when she smiled really genuinely. You returned the smile, feeling incredibly glad that you weren't really freaking out.

-----

You sat in the hospital bed, all dressed in the stupid gown, feeling significantly less calm and collected. Mapi had settled after learning that Alexia would be around, and her decrease in stress had allowed you to focus back on your own.

You were visibly nervous, hands shaking, teeth chattering, holding rather tightly to Mapi's hand. They put the IV in, and you noticed Alexia mumble something to one of the nurses, who took one look at you, nodded, and disappeared from the room.

"What did you tell her?" You wondered.

"Nothing, just a question." Alexia replied calmly, but the her eyes flicked away from your eyes; Alexia could lie, but she couldn't meet your eyes while doing it. The nurse returned before you could press your captain.

"Something to help you relax, alright?" The nurse said with a kind smile, injecting something into the IV. You didn't know what it was, but the effect was almost instantaneous. Your neck went limp, and your head dropped onto the pillow. Your body drained of tension, and you loosened your painfully tight grip on your girlfriends hand.

"I feel better," you said, fighting back a yawn. The nurse left the room, telling you that they would be ready to take you back in a couple minutes. Mapi was looking at you, amused by the sudden relaxed version of you in front of her.

"Alexia, you really are a great blonde." You said, squinting at her.

"Thank you chica," she said with a laugh. "They gave you the good stuff, huh?

You turned to look at Mapi, raising a clumsy hand to boop her nose. "You're so pretty. Like so, so, pretty."

"They really did give you the good stuff," Mapi laughed. You returned her grin, eyes beginning to flutter shut. You were lightly snuffling against the oxygen tubes not seconds later, out cold, still clinging to your girlfriend's hand.

"What did you tell them to give her?" Mapi asked, turning her attention to her best friend.

"I just asked if they could start her early on the stuff to relax her. My mom had them do it for me when I had my surgery, because she thought I was going to break my sister's hand, I was holding it so tight." Alexia commented.

The nurse entered again, followed by several others, and Mapi knew it was time. She leaned down, placing a light kiss on your cheek.

"Good luck, mi amor. I love you." She whispered the words into your ear, squeezing your hand once more, before allowing them to roll your bed away. She watched as they wheeled you down the hall, feeling a flutter of worry in her chest. They better be careful with you.

Alexia stood next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"She'll be fine, amiga." Alexia reassured, and Mapi nodded, trying to convince herself.

"Thank you for being here. I really appreciate it." Mapi mumbled.

"Of course." Alexia replied. "You better text Ingrid and tell her y/n went back. You know she bought plane wifi, and if you don't update her, I wouldn't want to be you when she arrives later."

-----

Ingrid hated plane wifi, potentially more than she'd ever hated anything in her entire life. All she wanted was to hear that you'd gone back for surgery okay, and also that Mapi was alright, but the wifi was hardly functioning, and Ingrid felt like chucking her phone across the plane. Her texts began to load, finally, as the plane was landing. Perfect timing. She had a text from Mapi, and a text from Alexia.

"They just took her back. She was nervous but they gave her something and she was... no longer nervous. Waiting with Ale now. Fly safe, princesa. Te amo."

"Mapi's alright. Definitely anxious but I'm distracting her by asking her to tell me what her favorite goal she's ever scored is. She's been talking for 20 minutes."

Ingrid relaxed, even cracking a smile at Alexia's text. Her and Mapi's relationship was so entertaining to watch. They spent most of their time together giggling, making fun of each other, but if one of them needed the other, she would be there. No matter what.

Ingrid made her way off the plane, resisting the urge to shove everyone out of her way. She made record time getting to baggage claim, and was just pulling out her phone to call and uber when she felt someone land squarely on her back.

"La princesa! Your taxi service has arrived!" Ingrid tried to be annoyed, she really did, but when Pina climbed off her back, and Ingrid turned around to find her and Patri smiling goofily at her, she couldn't manage it.

-----

Ingrid arrived at the hospital, leaving her bag with Pina and Patri, who had promised to get it home for her, before heading inside. She'd gotten a text from Mapi a couple of minutes ago, one that had worried her.

"Taking longer than they expected. Not sure why. We're in room 402 when you get here."

Ingrid hauled ass to room 402, her stiff legs from playing a full 90 the day before, and then getting on a plane making it rather difficult. She made it at the same time, apparently, as the surgeon, and she felt slightly nauseous as she walked into the room. There were plenty of reasons why a surgery would take longer, but Ingrid could not, for the life of her, think of one that wasn't negative.

She walked right into the room, just before the doctor, quickly hugging Alexia before pulling Mapi into her side. They all looked at the doctor expectantly. He looked frazzled, which didn't make anyone feel better, and he scrolled through your chart for what felt like minutes before finally speaking.

"The surgery was successful, and y/n is in recovery. There was, however, a slight, unforeseen complication."

-----

You woke up slowly, and you could hear before you could open your eyes. You weren't sure where you were, or what was happening. You heard rhythmic beeping, and it sped up as you grew more aware. You shifted lightly in the bed, unable to get your eyes to open. The beeping sped up faster, but someone laid a hand on your cheek, and a soft voice filled your ears.

"You're alright, cariño, we're here with you." You settled instantly when you heard Mapi speak, the beeping that you now realized was measuring your heart rate slowing down again. It took a few more minutes before you got your eyes to open, and, by that point, you remembered where you were, and why you were there.

It was bright when you looked around. Mapi was in a chair next to you, hand holding yours. You looked around, realizing Ingrid was supposed to be there, as was Alexia. Even just waking up from surgery, you wanted to see your girlfriend, more than anything.

"Ingrid?" You croaked out, directing the question to Mapi. She smiled when she heard your voice, and helped you take a few sips of the water on the table in front of you.

"She's just talking to the doctor, she'll be back in a bit," Mapi informed you. There was something off, though, a tightness to her smile that shouldn't be there. It could have been her general discontent being in the hospital, but something in your gut told you that it wasn't that.

"What's wrong?" You asked, forcing your eyes back open when the slid shut again.

"Nothing," Mapi lied, looking at the door almost pleadingly.

"María, what is going on," you said. Before she could lie again, Ingrid and Alexia appeared in the doorway, the doctor behind them. Ingrid smiled softly when she saw you awake, moving forward to sit next to the bed, and kiss your temple. You returned her smile, but focused back on the doctor. He looked... not troubled, but like he was about to deliver bad news.

"What went wrong?" You asked him, feeling suddenly much more awake.

He smiled sympathetically. "Nothing went wrong, the surgery was successful. There was more damage to your surrounding muscles than we expected, so we had to go to the hamstring instead of the patellar tendon for replacement tissue. It means a slightly harder recovery, as you also need to strengthen the area where the graft came from."

You were quiet for a moment. You'd thought so hard about the surgery, considered every aspect, but didn't think that this was a possibility. You weren't quite sure what to think.

"How much longer will recovery be?" You asked.

"The time shouldn't be affected, but you'll be in more pain at the beginning." He explained. You let out a sigh of relief. You could handle more pain, what you couldn't handle was being off the pitch any longer than you already were going to have to be. The doctor informed you that you were free to go once you were more awake, confirming that you'd made a follow up appointment to remove the sutures, before leaving the room.

You looked down then, seeing your leg wrapped up in heavy white gauze, encased in a black brace. Your knee had been swollen before, yes, but it hadn't really looked like anything was wrong with it. Now, though, it was glaringly obvious, a stark reminder of the long months ahead.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" Ingrid asked, tearing you from your thoughts. It took you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you did, you addressed everyone in the room, trying to put their obvious nerves at ease.

"It's fine. As long as I can get back to playing in the same amount of time, I don't care what they use. I can deal with the pain." You smiled at your girlfriends, and at Alexia. They all returned the gesture, glad to see that you weren't too upset.

-----

You were feeling less confident the next day. The initial drugs wore off, leaving you in considerably more pain than before. Your knee felt hot and swollen, and it throbbed painfully anytime you got up. You were in the extra bedroom, having insisted that Ingrid and Mapi sleep in your bedroom together, so no one would worry about accidentally bumping you. They were reluctant, and Mapi checked on you at least 10 times the first night.

Ingrid had finally managed to get a enough sleep, though, after struggling the whole time she was gone. She was exhausted, and slept for 14 hours. When she woke up, she was furious that you and Mapi hadn't woken her, seeing as though both of you had been up for hours. You, because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow, and Mapi, also because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow. She hated seeing you in pain, and she had hovered over you all morning.

Ingrid shuffled into the extra room a few minutes after finally waking up, curling up next to you in the bed.

"How are you?" She mumbled, looking up at you, face still scrunched with sleep. You smiled down at her, running your finger over the sleep lines etched into her skin.

"Did you sleep well?" You asked, ignoring her question. She yawned, snuggling into your good leg, laying her head on your thigh.

"Slept good. Would have slept better with you there, though." She said, voice muffled against your skin. "You didn't answer my question."

"It hurts." You said simply. You didn't want to talk about it, so you changed the subject. "I missed you." You said. You'd been so out of it yesterday, you didn't really feel like you had enjoyed having Ingrid back home.

"I missed you too, elskling. I'm sorry I wasn't home sooner."

"Don't be. You were where you needed to be. You're home now, that's all that matters." Ingrid smiled at you, eyes fluttering shut again. Sleepy Ingrid was your favorite, and you began to run your fingers through her thick hair, avoiding the tangles. She hummed with pleasure, relaxing further into you.

"How are you feeling, amor?" Mapi asked from the doorway, looking anxiously at you. The smile fell from your lips. Was this what the next 9 months would be like? Every nice moment interrupted by your stupid injury?

"I'm fine, Mapi." You said, voice slightly harsher than it needed to be.

-----

This began a new pattern to your behavior. When you were distracted, you were fine, happy to be with your girls. When you weren't distracted, though, you were miserable. In pain, mostly helpless, and in a foul mood. It only worsened when you girlfriend's asked you questions about how you were feeling; you knew you were being ridiculous, but you felt like the only think you guys talked about was your knee.

Your newfound grumpiness did not, however, mean that you were expressing your emotions. On the contrary, they had never been more inaccessible. Your anger never faltered into sadness; frustration, sure, but neither of your girls could get you to acknowledge that you were upset.

As the weeks passed, and the recovery felt like it was going too slow, you grew more resistant to the help your girlfriend's were anxious to provide. Things were tense around the house, your girlfriends felt like they were walking on eggshells around you, waiting for your frosty exterior to crack, which it eventually did.

-----

You were in the Barcelona gym, 3 weeks post op. You were doing simple exercises, walking from one end of the room to the other, bending and flexing your knee, raising up on your toes. Things that should be easy, but weren't any longer. Alexia was on the other side of the gym, doing a much more complicated exercise. Ingrid and Mapi were out on the pitch, presumably. There was just one physio with you guys today, watching carefully as you did the world's lamest and smallest squats, barely bending your knee, leaning against a table. There was soft music playing throughout the gym, and it was rather peaceful.

That is, until Alexia dropped the barbell she was lifting with a loud clatter. You startled at the sound, twisting without thinking to look towards the noise. As soon as you did, you realized your bad leg was still planted when you turned. It didn't turn much, but it was enough for your knee to erupt in pain.

"Fuck!" You shouted, and Alexia was at your side in a second, as was the physio. "Fuck, something's wrong, jesus," you said, leaning back on the table and taking the weight off your knee.

"Alright, relax, let me look," the physio said, guiding you to lay back on the table. Alexia moved to stand by your head, laying a hand on your shoulder.

"Something is wrong," you said again, even though the pain was rapidly fading. The physio looked at your knee, poking and prodding at it gently, before looking at you.

"How much does it hurt?" He asked calmly.

Tears were stinging your eyes, and your voice trembled as you responded. "Not-not much, it's fading."

"No pain?" He asked again after a minute, applying pressure to each side of your knee.

"No, not anymore," you choked out.

"I don't think anything is wrong. If it was, the pain wouldn't be fading. The incisions look fine. You're okay, you just tweaked it."

"No, no, no. Something is wrong, it doesn't feel right, Ale it doesn't feel right." You cried, turning your attention to Alexia over you, her hand moving up and down your arm. You were fully panicking now, tears falling freely down your face, hands gripping at your shirt as if to tether you to the present. Alexia exchanged a look with the physio.

"Chica, you're okay, this is normal, nothing is wrong." She assured you, but you just shook your head frantically in response.

"No, I messed something up," you gasp. You sat up suddenly, almost smacking your head into Alexia's face. "I need scans, I need to do something," you say, moving to get off the table. Your knee didn't hurt anymore, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you had messed something up, horribly so. Alexia stopped you, resting her hands on your shoulders, holding you down on the table.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. You haven't messed anything up, everything is okay." She soothed. It clearly wasn't working to calm you, so she turned to the physio. "Get Mapi and Ingrid," she murmured before turning her attention back to you.

"Come on, amiga, you need to calm down," Alexia said. You could only shake your head, broken sobs falling past your lips. You hid your face in your hands, completely disconnecting from the world around you. Your ears were ringing, the only thing you could hear was blood pumping in your ears. You didn't know how much time had passed before different set of hands were cradling your face, urging you to look up. You do, and find the worried faces of your girlfriends in front of you. Ingrid has her hands on your face, and Mapi has taken one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

"Somethings... wr-wrong, help," you get out, looking between them frantically.

"No kjære, it's okay, nothing is wrong." Ingrid promised. For some reason, you believed her when you hadn't believed the others.

"Are you- are you sure?" You asked.

"Yes, cariño, the physio said you just tweaked it. You are completely fine." Mapi said softly.

"I didn't mess it up?"

"No, darling, you didn't mess anything up."

You nodded jerkily, leaning forward to rest your head on Ingrid's sternum, tugging on Mapi's hand until she moves closer.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry about the barbell, it slipped out of my hands," Alexia begins from the other side of the table, and you can hear the guilt in her voice.

"It's okay, Ale, it's not your fault." You mumbled into Ingrid's chest, reaching a hand out to the side. Alexia grabs it sighing in relief, squeezing once, before pulling away, giving you and your girlfriends some privacy. You stayed hidden away, leaning against Ingrid. You're clearly still emotional, but you don't seem interested in speaking, or moving again. It's quiet for a few moments, before you finally pulling away, wiping at your eyes.

"Can we go home?" You asked.

"Yeah, let's go home." Mapi agreed easily. You stood, taking a tentative step. Your face burns with embarrassment when you don't feel anything out of the ordinary in your knee. You'd freaked out for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

-----

You'd been sitting in silence on the couch since you'd arrived home 20 minutes ago, staring blankly at the dark TV. Your knee was propped up in Ingrid's lap, an icepack wrapped snuggly around the swollen appendage. Mapi was on your other side, resisting the urge to take you by the shoulders, shake you, and beg you to talk to them. Her and Ingrid had agreed to let you come to them, though. There was no use pushing you. Their patience is finally rewarded.

"Sorry I freaked out and you both had to leave training early." You said, raw voice startling your girlfriend's out of their thoughts.

"Don't be so-"

"-Please don't tell me not to be sorry. I've been such a burden for weeks, and you keep telling me not to be sorry about it. I am sorry about it, and I don't understand why you aren't annoyed with me." You cut in, spitting the words with an intensity neither of women was expecting.

"You are not a burden, y/n," Ingrid said, hurt bleeding into her tone.

"Yes I am," you dismiss. "You've had to do everything for me these past few weeks, and all I've done is act like the world has ended. It's just a knee injury, I don't know why I'm acting like this."

"Amor, it is okay if you feel like the world has ended. This is a big thing, and you are allowed to feel things. You don't have to push everything down, it's not healthy."

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. "You already have to take care of me. You shouldn't have to deal with the mess inside my head too."

"You could not be burden, darling, not to us. We don't mind taking care of you, not at all. And we want to know what's going on inside your head. It's been driving us crazy, not knowing what you're feeling. We want to know, y/n, we want to know it all." Ingrid's voice has a clear undertone of determination in it.

"You guys are so busy," you argue weakly. They were; the past weeks juggling you and the team had been draining. It was obvious to you. They hadn't realized how much you'd noticed it.

"We are never too busy for you, amor, and I'm so sorry if we've made you feel like we are." Mapi said gently. "You are our priority."

You finally looked up at them, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's just been hard. You guys get to go play, and I stay here, or go to the gym. And you spend all this time together at training. All the time you spend with me is you guys making sure my knee is okay."

Both of your girlfriend's faces are ones of horror at your confession. They hadn't realized you'd been feeling like this, not at all.

Mapi places a hard kiss on your temple, resting her chin on your head. "If I could switch places with you, cariño, I would. Watching you go through this, be in so much pain, has been killing me. I want to fix it, but I can't. All I can do is try to help, try to make you feel better. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were just a task for us, just a chore to be taken care of. You are our girl, nuestra niña bonita, and we love you, more than anything."

There are silent tears falling from your eyes when Mapi is done talking. She's said everything you've needed to hear this whole time, but were too nervous, too worried about being a burden to them to ask for their reassurance. Ingrid's hand lifts, carefully wiping a tear off your cheek, prompting you to look at her.

"No more of this, okay? When you need us, whether it's attention, or our help with something, or just a distraction, you tell us. You tell us, and we'll do it, whatever you need. You're not alone in this, darling. We're here for anything, really. Just like you would be for us if the roles were reversed."

You feel slightly silly when she reminds you of that. Obviously, you would do everything within your power to help one of your girlfriend's if they were going through this. Why you expected them to not really want to do the same was beyond you.

"Okay." You murmur, eyes on Ingrid as she scoots closer, pressing into your other side. You've been reminded of something, something Ingrid had promised you over the phone. Whatever you want, she'd said. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you needed to ask for it.

"Could I ask for something now?" You wonder quietly, and you hear Mapi laugh above you, clearly anticipating what you're about to ask for. Ingrid has the decency to pretend she doesn't know.

"What would that be?" She asks, placing her hand on your upper thigh.

"You promised me something about you and Mapi doing whatever I wanted?" You grin.

"Hmm, do you think you're ready for that, elskling?"

"God, yes. I'm ready, I promise." Your voice is already needy, already desperate.

"Mapi, go get things ready." Ingrid instructed, and you feel Mapi rise from next to you, and walk away into the bedroom.

"How do you know what to get ready if I haven't said what I want?" You questioned, looking up into the Norwegian's dark eyes.

Ingrid leaned forward, pressing light kisses in a trail up your jaw, stopping just by your ear. "I know what you want better than you do, pretty girl. I thought you knew that by now."

You shivered with excitement. "Don't be too careful with me, okay?"

"We'll be as careful as we need to be," Ingrid promised. Ingrid's lips meet yours, pressing harder than she has in weeks. It's the most she's touched you since your surgery, really, and you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. The wait will have been worth it, you're sure of that.

-----

[momentomori24]

Surprisingly, hearing Vox and Val technically (I love how technically needed to be added) aren't dating didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. It did... for like a minute until I thought about how painfully much it fits them.

Val throws tantrums and is ready go out and kill people to let off steam, but decides to stay put in his room and sulk instead while he waits for his flat-faced prince to come and comfort him before he does anything drastic. He's killed and abused people for the slightest hint of non-compliance, which he sees as giving him an attitude or questioning his authority, but he doesn't so much as flinch when Vox raises his voice and starts shaking him in frustration more than once. He doesn't lash out or get angry when Vox tries to talk him out of marching towards the hotel, but instead listens to his points and takes his words to heart even when they weren't what he wanted to hear. He's not interested in Alastor, but is willing to sit through watching the extermination broadcast because Vox is a passionate football dad about his one-sided rival getting dunked on. He doesn't even act jealous towards Vox's obsession, just weirdly amused and supportive even tho he hates not being the center of attention any other times. And then there's Vox, who acts like he's annoyed to have to put up with Valentino but still does it anyway. He acts disinterested about Val's ranting over Angel until he hears that Angel might've quit because he's an jealous, insecure loser that wants that mf's attention to himself. He lights his cigarette and decides to call up their lowest earners for him to terrorize without being asked just to lighten his mood a little (unrelated but i feel for their employees). He keeps his eyes on him both in his room and when he's at the pub through the cameras he's got everywhere. He takes his hand like one would with a princess and smiles fondly at him before disappearing when noticing they're being watched. He's the only person that Val trusts enough to calm him down when his temper gets the better of him. And Val-- despite his volatile temper and obnoxious quirks-- is someone he respects and cares about, both as his business associate and romantic partner.

And they aren't dating. Val and Vox clearly have a connection and understanding and attraction yet are unable to confront those feelings in fear of being vulnerable. So they aren't dating. Val obsesses over Angel and Vox obsesses over Alastor to distract themselves of the other only to fall back into each other's arms at the end of the day. Even tho they aren't dating. They celebrate, dance, sing, support and shamelessly make out with each other. They're the only ones that would put up with each other's bullshit no matter what-- but for some reason, they're still not dating. They are two of the worst Overlords in Hell, capable of committing so many despicable acts and jumping to immoral tactics for their own gain without any regrets, but opening that door into genuine emotional vulnerability? Acknowledging their softness for each other? That's where they draw the line. They're clearly made for each other, but neither of them dare to step over that line to commit to something more.

Which means that we could get to actually see these changes take place. We could get to see more sides to these two we still haven't seen before. We could get to see them actually start dating and the complicated journey it took to get there. We could get to scream and kick and seeth as these two morons continue to dance around admitting their very much requited romantic feelings for every stupid reason under the sun episode after episode. We could get to see these two fix each other and make each other worse simultaneously. Mostly make each other worse. We could get to see them have a romantic duet. We could get to see them be happy together-- officially together-- while they make life worse for everyone around them.

All this mumbo-jumbo, sleep-deprived ranting will likely not happen, but the potential character growth, the dynamic development, the resolved romantic tension, the SONGS we could get??? I'm clinging onto this hope for dear life until it's ripped from my cold, dead hands.

[szkunas]

SORRY, YOU LOST! ౨ৎㅤtoji fushiguro.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤokay, toji needs to admit it. you’re magical, or something because he genuinely intends to change for you, as stupid as that sounds. unfortunately, he decides to go out to gamble one last time. when he returns, his worst nightmare comes true.

featuring ♰ㅤREDEEMED toji fushigiro X fem!reader.

warnings ♱ㅤANGST ! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH ! no happy ending ! toji is a little ooc i guess ! BLOOD + DEATH ! assassination mentions ! violence + murder ! gambling addiction ! toji thinks about making you a housewife ! marriage mentions

author’s note ♱ㅤhi. im not dead, lol. just trying to post a lot of things together. i took a small time for myself, to rest, and now i think i can come back with writing with these posts and the event! <3 i hope you all like it, its my first time trying to write for toji

WHOEVER WAS THE IDIOT who invented pachinko, toji hates them deeply. it was probably some very bored and very greedy man. the world will become a better place when those tired, money-crazy expressions disappear. until then, pachinko machines and gambling games will squeeze every penny out of him. or not. no more.

there is a clear reason why some countries strongly prohibit betting shops and casinos: betting is one of the strongest addictions that runs through the sick and desperate, emptying them of their worries for a few seconds and taking the money from their wallets in exchange.

technically, gambling is prohibited both in japan and in many other places around the world: but pachinko, horse racing and speedboat racing, as well as casinos, exist through loopholes in the law. after all, everyone’s true god is money, and taking all of this off the market would shake the economy of the country that seems forgotten by any god in the eyes of toji.

he knows that spending a lot of money on bets is not the wisest decision to make, but he always has faith that he will win next time, when the next time never comes. however, he only has a percentage of his latest work. the rest was well sent where it would be safe: to you, who keeps the money safe and secure from a murderer addicted to gambling.

toji knows you want a lot. you want him to give up his life as the sorcerer killer, you want him to give up his stupid gambling habit, you want to settle down somewhere quiet and start a family. and he wants that too, even if his heart of stone doesn’t let him show it.

but, he hopes you understand that the mere fact that he lets you sleep next to him at night is a sign of trust. he trusts you not to open his throat with a knife while he sleeps, which says a lot about how he feels about you.

even though your relationship has lasted a long time by his standards, what scares toji is the fact that he doesn’t want to leave. he wants to stay, he wants to come back to you at the end of each mission. he wants to let you take care of his wounds, and he wants to dry your tears when you cry for him. in fact, he doesn’t even want you to cry unless it’s from happiness or pleasure.

which is strange.

he only knew love for one woman, and after her passing, he believed he would never again fall in love with anything other than the green notes that create his happiness and destroy his present simultaneously.

a dead wife and an abandoned child on his resume is not what any woman is looking for in a guy. his difficult personality, his history of lack of commitment, his disappearances for days and his addiction to gambling only make everything worse for him. women are drawn to toji like fish to a hook, but they don’t stay long. it lasts even less if they don’t have money or cut off this source of income from his life.

but when he hears the sounds and clicks of the surrounding machines, he can only think that he would stay with you even if you were living on an old mattress in a dark alley.

because love can be as intimidating as it is overwhelming. it can hit a man’s world with such force that it makes him rise from where he is. make him stop making bad choices and, little by little, improve to give you the life that the woman he loves wants. he looks at the nearest clock and sighs. one last game. one last time, he will spend some stupid change waiting for a prize that never comes.

and from there, who knows? and from there, who knows? stop this idiocy of gambling every last penny, work a little more so you can get by for a few months. maybe start a savings account so when you have kids things will be easier?

he waits, and stops. so many times he has seen the message of defeat on machines similar and different to this one. sorry, you lost. the most common phrase for someone who appreciates dopamine more than money in their pockets. but he is surprised when the winning pattern appears on the machine. a winning one.

toji immediately turns to an employee. okay, that was weird. he usually loses any and all bets. this is probably a sign that this is the right path. who knew, the advice of morally sensible people works. don’t use drugs (they don’t work in his system), don’t overindulge in alcohol (which also doesn’t do anything in his system), be responsible and have a stable job. he just needs to review what he achieves in that last part. sorcerer slaying is not exactly a stable job, which every wife dreams of having a husband working with.

wait, did he just mentally call you his wife? take it easy, clown. first, you have to get past your fifth dating anniversary.

but the idea is undeniably attractive. maybe if he gets some good, well-paying work beyond assassination, you can become a housewife. only if you want, of course. toji will drop dead before he forces you to do something you don’t want to do.

the idea is a little cute — really cute, actually. he loves seeing you coming home from work stressed. seeing you angry makes him strangely excited. it’s like getting turned on by playing with fire, and he just wants to make the flames burn hotter. however, he knows how to respect his space when things get serious. that’s one of the reasons he doesn’t want you in an office job.

reduced to a sad cubicle, an idiotic boss and customers as miserable as you, anxious for the time to leave or for him to pick you up. this is not the life he wants for you. okay, toji needs his own fucking car to pick you up from work. this goes on the list of what to start buying to have a responsible life.

as he changes the balls in the pachinko machine, he watches the prizes carefully. normally, it’s just junk that you sell in a random store to make real money. but there is a kind of golden pendant, a butterfly. he asks the employee and takes the item in his hands. he’s a bit of a muggle and extremely cheesy, in his vision, but it’s only fair that in his last bet, one of the few ones he wins, the prize goes to you.

you, the true angel that exists on earth. you, patient and caring, who accept his mistakes and didn’t abandon him when he gave you a thousand and one reasons to do so. you, who he would like to see at the altar and have children with. fixing his own life and making his life better, that’s what he must do now. for you.

waving to the employee who is already used to his presence — after all, toji doesn’t plan on seeing him again — he puts the pendant in his pocket and walks peacefully home, lost in thought. some idiot bumps into him in a hurry, but he’s so strangely happy he can’t even stay mad.

the guy in question looks like he’s on something, with his hands in his pockets as if he’s hiding a weapon and his pupils dilated. His paranoid face is looking in all directions, and Toji knows that look — he’s trying to run from trouble. probably fucked it up and attacked someone. toji shrugs.

well, it’s not his problem.

he just takes out his cell phone and presses the call button on your contact. toji wants to go directly home, but if you want some food or some other gift, he would like to know now. your profile picture is actually adorable, and he caught himself just a moment before smiling like a fool.

the nighttime streets of tokyo don’t stop as he presses the phone to his ear. cars go too fast, and night lights make the city seem more alive at night than in daylight. two rings, three. you don’t answer, and toji groans, checking the time before waiting a little longer. it is weird. usually you are the one who calls, or you are the one who answers almost immediately. and it’s too early, so you can’t be sleeping.

maybe you forgot your cell phone at home and went out to get something you forgot at the office. it would be just like you. he can already hear himself teasing you. airhead. he gives up calling when there is no answer after four tries. he doesn't want to look desperate.

his steps are lazy, light. he’s gotten used to walking quietly due to his line of work, but toji has his chest puffed out like someone who knows what he wants in life. this is a new and at the same time well-known occurrence. his second chance just fell into toji’s lap. not all men are that lucky. and he doesn’t intend to waste it, risk everything and lose everything again.

may his past have taught him the valuable lesson of staying close and protecting those you love.

that’s why, when he turns down the street and stops in front of your house (which has also been his house for almost two years), he freezes. there are some police cars parked in front of the door. okay, maybe some idiot tried to rob the house. are you okay? the idea of you getting hurt makes his blood boil.

but his heart sinks like a crushed animal when he sees the ambulance present. no. what the fuck is going on? he quickens his pace, not caring about the yellow tapes — oh, god, there shouldn’t be yellow ribbons. not here. not in your home, not in the safest and happiest place in the world. do not cross slaps him in the face, making his heartbeat increase. is that fear, in the back of his head?

he had goosebumps. not the good kind.

a police officer comes over to talk to him, explaining that he can’t be here, that this is a crime scene, sir. but toji is faster, his hand searching for the pendant he bought you through a stupid gambling game.

“sir, i’m going to have to ask you to leave—”

“this is my house, i live here with my girlfriend. what the fuck is going on?”

the police officer stops, as if he didn’t expect that kind of response. he checks something with another officer over the radio, and toji is about to punch everyone to go and look for you. what the hell is going on? he only left for three hours and about ten minutes. this shouldn’t be happening.

his green eyes stay focused on the ambulance, on the house that is being ransacked. your house, god, your wonderful house. he waits for you to come out from behind the ambulance, from one of the doors of the house, for you to come running and for him to hug you. but there is nothing like that. you don’t show up, and he suddenly feels like his throat is closing up.

the officer who owes him an explanation that keeps him calm and tells the truth at the same time — after all, a guy with the size of toji freaking out isn’t what anyone wants to face — gets his attention by gently clearing his throat. he looks like a newbie. excellent. you’re nowhere to be found, and toji is getting explanations from a damn newbie.

“you mentioned you live here with your girlfriend, sir—?” the man inquires, and toji crosses his arms, irritated. “can i ask where you were earlier tonight?”

“fushiguro. i’m fushiguro, yeah, and i live here for, two years now. i was out. buying stuff ‘nd all. why do you need to know?”

the officer sighs, his face sad. “you will need to make a statement later, mr. fushiguro. however, this doesn’t have to be immediately, we intend to respect your time with…”

“with?” toji grits his teeth, nearly snapping. “c’mon. i don’t have all night. where the hell is my girlfriend?”

there are some voices shouting instructions in the background, and toji doesn’t pay attention until something appears in the corner of his vision. he turns his face away more quickly than ever, giving the nervous policeman no time to warn him that he shouldn’t do that. and the sight before him makes him freeze.

the paramedics are zipping up a black bag and putting away the equipment they initially brought. toji is no stranger to blood and dead bodies—his body count is high in more ways than one—but he swears he’s never felt so sick. the butterfly pendant falls from his hands and clicks against the floor, with a slight *clink*.

it’s your body. they are putting your body inside a black bag. god, he only got a glimpse, a second, but he’s sure it’s you. pale, motionless. declared dead.

you, dead.

bile rises up his throat thinking about a million things. If he had arrived earlier, could he have helped? he definitely wouldn’t let that happen, what took him so long with the pachinko machine? Was this random, was this chosen? did they kill you because of him, because of him and his stupid career?

he wonders if you suffered. god, the thought of you scared and screaming as you fight to defend yourself makes toji almost go insane immediately. this is— real. and it is not a nightmare, where he’ll wake up besides you, on the bed. you would smile and comfort him out of his scared thoughts. but no. you won’t ever smile anymore.

never again.

he is so out of it for a moment, it’s as if nothing else exists. his ears won’t stop ringing, and it’s like his head is going to melt at any second. he turns to face the officer, who has been trying to get his attention for apparently five minutes.

“we’re sorry, mr. fushiguro. there was a complaint from the neighbors. we’re still not sure what happened, but it was certainly a homicide. maybe random. as it turned out, someone broke into the house and—”

“murdered my girlfriend.” he completes, his hands clenching into fists. toji excuses himself — and the poor officer can see the pain he’s trying to hide with anger.

he’ll probably get called out for a dozen things. identify your body. give a statement, be ruled out as a suspect, god. like he would even touch you like that. the idea is so disgusting he can’t even process it. but it does not matter. it does not matter anymore. his new, peaceful life? fuck that. you are dead.

and so is his heart. again.

toji walks away from the prying ears of the police, and he hates the fact that his hands are shaking as he calls shiu. and old friend and trustful dealer, he needs to ask two things.

“hey, shiu. when you hear this, give me a call as soon as you can. i am serious. i need another job, as quickly as possible, also.” he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, taking deep, angry breaths. “i need to ask a personal favor. investigate something for me, and i want the name and address of every person involved. alright?”

he wonders what will he use when he finds whoever did this. a gun? a knife? it doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore. he steps on the butterfly pendant as he stares at the sky and wishes for blood to pay for yours being spilled.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING <3

[charmercharm3r]

I saw you said you take requests and I just have not been able to get the thought of an agnsty smutty friends with benefits nightmare with seungmin 😣 I just feel like he could be so emotionally closed off it could be such a mess but I want it so bad 😩also I love you’re writing and feel free to ignore this if you’re busy or don’t feel inspired by it 🤎🤍🤎

eeeeeeee this was super fun hehehehehe. I hope you like it!!

Jealousy, Jealousy

KSM

Masterlist

wc: 2.4k

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, fwb!seungmin, afab!reader, angst!!, semi public/car sex, protected sex, marking, scratching, possessive seungmo, alcohol consumption but neither of them are drunk (consent is key!), heart been broke so many times befooore

When the alcohol starts to taste like water, you know that you should stop. You know, but you don’t, tolerance built too high at this point that it truly feels like you’re drinking just water. You also know that the neon lights can make anyone look decent enough to sleep with if you squint hard enough. But he looks good enough to fuck all the time, like all the time. It’s  fucking annoying.

Hair pushed back and sleek dress shirt made Seungmin’s frame look taller than usual, stronger and more pronounced shoulders shielded around your body and away from any onlookers– or moreso, your friends. He had pulled you onto the crowded dance floor to talk, of all things you could be doing instead. Seungmin stole the half empty drink from your hand and downed it to get your attention, which he had all of now.

“Stop being jealous. It’s not a good look on you,” he leaned down to speak into your ear, arm simultaneously draping around your waist and slowly swaying to the sound of the deep bass.

“Funny, I was thinking you could be a model in the desperation catalog,” you couldn’t help but mindlessly dance with him.

You recalled the reason he had you secluded away from your shared group of friends, Seungmin had seemed to be getting a bit too cozy with a girl at the bar which ended up making you just so happen to stumble into Minho’s lap. It was an accident, you’d reached for more alcohol and tripped into his arms just as Seungmin came back. You were going to get off of him immediately but he’d held onto you, keeping you sat and unable to move. The past hour you spent cuddling up to Minho, you also watched Seungmin from the corner of your eye. He didn’t seem to be remotely bothered until you got up to use the bathroom and he steered you off course.

“Your comebacks are getting better, pretty. You’ve been spending too much time with me.” His hand drifted further down, cupping your ass and tugging so you were chest to chest.

“Kinda have to speak to each other if I’m gonna start picking up on your lingo.”

“I’m speaking to you now, aren’t I?”

“By choice? Don’t make me laugh,” you snickered and pushed away from him, turning to walk away but he’d grabbed your hip and brought you back.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” The sly smile on his face only looked sexier because it was for you. His smile was always for you, but hidden away from anyone that mattered. His argument, that what did it matter if anyone knew or didn’t? It didn’t change how he felt about you. That just leaves you with more questions and more overly acknowledged feelings, how does he feel about you? Something Seungmin always found a way not to answer. You didn’t expect to start having romantic feelings for him when you agreed to be fuck buddies, no way in hell was that on your bingo card. But here you are anyway, helplessly in love with the one guy who refused to be in any sort of relationship that required caring about anyone but himself. What made it even worse? He’d told you from the very beginning, months ago, that there were gonna be no feelings involved, from him or from you whether you liked it or not.

Seungmin pouted for a quick second before the neon lights shifted and casted a shadow across his face, blurring any remnants of something other than lust.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, lips meeting the shell of your ear and nibbling gently.

“Actually, I told Minho I’d have a few more drinks with him. Can’t let him down,” you pushed him away softly, looking over Seungmin’s shoulder in search of the other man you’d known was out of sight. 

He’d let out a loud scoff, hand dropping to slap against his thigh. Raising an eyebrow, you quirked, “you’re right. Jealousy isn’t that sexy, afterall.” You reached up to tap his cheek mockingly, to which he’d caught your wrist and held on tightly. Seungmin dragged your body back in to smash against his. You could feel his erection against your stomach, clearly straining in his pants needing release.

“”M not jealous. I just don’t share my toys.”

“Who ever said I’m yours? I’m not the one crying for a wet pussy to stick my dick in. If anything, you’re mine with the way you’re begging.”

Anger spread across his face, watching his nose twitch at your blunt words. This was how you got him in your bed in the first place, Seungmin was a sucker for the back and forth shit talk, as were you apparently. Though, he usually caved rather easily once he was hard. Now, through the bright purple you could tell he was red in the face.

Check mate, “I’m gonna go find Minho.”

You pushed past him, taking your empty glass from his hand in the process. Just as you’d made it off the dancefloor and could see your group of friends and Minho, making eye contact and smiling at him, Seungmin emerged behind you and stole you away once more. You cursed at the roughness of which he manhandled you out of the club and tossed you over his shoulder to throw into the backseat of his car. Not without a fight, though your fist weakly slamming against his back may as well have been replaced by tufts of feathers seeing as he didn’t so much as flinch and deciding to give up.

Landing on your back, Seungmin lifted your legs to wrap around his waist and closed the door behind him, now leaning over your body. “What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted in his face.

“You don’t want Minho. You just want a reaction. Now look, I’m fucking reacting. Are you happy?” Seungmin kept you pinned down with his hands next to your head, crotches pressed together and the roughness of his jeans made it difficult not to move against. You could tell he felt it too, biting his lip in hesitation.

“No, I’m not happy.” The loud tone of your voice made Seungmin flinch back, not angry nor sad, simply helpless. For a second he ran through all the unprocessed panging emotions in his chest before shoving them back down, throbbing in his pants overriding his brain.

“How can I make you happy?” He called back even though the two of you were only inches from one another.

Neither of you said anything, both equally taken aback by his question, eyes searching for blatant answers he always chose to ignore. Then your body moved before your brain could say no, crashing your lips into his.

Your hands slipped under the back of his shirt and raked nails down his spine while Seungmin’s hips grinded against your clothed pussy, moans mixing in one another’s mouths. Tongues and spit made the kiss slippery, messy as he sat back on his hunches to undo his pants and lift your dress around your torso. There was only a brief moment where he paused once his pants and underwear were pulled down around his thighs and the kiss turned soft. His hand came up to cup your cheek and melted against you, pressing closed-lipped smooches to distract from him pulling your underwear to the side.

The moan you let out when his fingers slid through your folds made him chuckle into your mouth and lose the sweetness of the kiss. As soon as you had a taste, Seungmin made sure to remind you of what you were here for, what he was here for.

He collected your arousal and used it to circle your clit smoothly, making you yelp in surprise when his head fell down to bite roughly into your neck, sure to leave a mark. That was something he never did, Seungmin was sure to never leave any evidence of your agreement. But now he was moving with intention, purposely placing deepening bruises in the most obvious area while you rubbed your bundle of nerves against his hand.

“Stop being a fucking tease,” you murmured and reached between your bodies for his cock, hot and leaking.

“This not making you happy? People will know you’re mine,” Seungmin grumbled back, continuing his assault to your skin with his teeth and letting you stroke him.

“No. You know what will.”

Seungmin incoherently mumbled into you once more before finding your lips again, blindly reaching for his wallet for a condom and swatting your hand away to roll it on. You were about to complain about his rudeness when the blunt head was pressing against your entrance and slowly sinking in, mind falling blank. The car windows were foggy as he bottomed out and bent your knees to your chest, readjusting by pulling your ass further out from under you so you were folded in half. He slid that much deeper and nudged your soft spot, whimpering without filter as your eyes screwed closed.

“Haven’t even done anything yet, pretty,” Seungmin mocked you, smiling to himself and testingly pulling out just to plunge back into you. Lewd sounds filled the car even more, wetness coating his cock with every short, sturdy thrust. His hands were keeping him up on either side of your head. Just to have something to grab onto, you reached up and held onto his wrists, nails digging into his skin.

The longer his movements stayed minimal, the louder you became. Seungmin kept his eyes trained on your face, watching every change in expression. Until you opened your eyes and found him staring, then he closed his and head fell back. The way he avoided it made your cunt clench, doing so on purpose. His pull out, tighten. Push in, relax with him.

“Fuck– doesn’t even feel like I’m pulling out.”

Seungmin shuffled around again, stealing back his hands but replacing your grip onto his biceps so he could push your knees harder against your chest. His thrusts picked up into a full pounding, skin on skin bouncing around the vehicle and for sure making the car shake. You clawed up and down his arms, leaving darkening red streaks along his pale skin. In a way, you were marking him the same way he did to you and it made you proud.

Unholy noises were falling from both your mouths, even more when you let go of his arm to rub at your clit again. The action made him pause and flick your hand away the way he did earlier, replacing your touch with his. You kept your unbound knee to your chest and let him work you up further, dizzy at how well he knew your body.

“Still think Minho could fuck you this good? Still wanna play stupid games you can’t win, pretty?” You whined and whimpered without a straight answer, but that was telling enough. “Didn’t think so. You belong to me. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

You were covered in sweat, body overheating, and on the verge of your orgasm when Seungmin leaned over to bury his head in your neck to leave even more marks. He rubbed harder, faster, just the way you liked and combined with the pain of his teeth breaking your skin, your vision went white with ecstasy. He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop even as your high subsided and used you to chase his own. You pulled him from his hiding place by the back of his hair and stared into his eyes, only whispering, “cum,” and he did. You milked him through his orgasm with hard, steady pulses of your walls until the condom was full.

Seungmin didn’t move, exhausted and shocked that he could come on command. You were surprised as well at how he responded, but chose not to say anything about it as not to scare him away. That was the last thing you wanted.

He pulled out once he started to grow flaccid, pecking your lips a few times and tying off the condom. You don’t know what he did with it, only focusing on adjusting your panties and thinking about what you were going to say to your friends when you met up with them again.

That was your plan, give him an acknowledging smile and go back inside to try and forget about his stupid smile and stupidly good cock that gives you stupidly good orgasms because you were just a hole and he was just a dick to ride.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Seungmin helped pull your dress down and stuffed himself into his pants before opening the door to back out of the car. As you clambered out, he held his hand out for you to take. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll take you home,” he closed the door as you stood up straight just to back you against the side of the car.

His face centimeters from yours, hands on your waist and smirking down at the evidence of his presence on your skin. The marks were full bruises now, entirely too noticeable to even consider going back inside without an interrogation. You snuck a peak at his arms to find them covered with a jacket, no telling of you on him. Your face visibly fell, quickly noted by him and making up for it with a chaste kiss. He didn’t let you escape, nowhere to go between him in front and the cold metal of the car at your back.

It was getting harder to be upset the longer his lips lingered on yours, he was letting you card your fingers through his hair and keep his body against yours by the loops of his pants, all in public where anyone could see. You wished someone would. That is, until his hips pressed against your stomach once more and felt his dick solid again. You sighed into his mouth, hearing him chuckle as he pulled away. “C’mon, pretty. Let me take you home,” he asked again.

“Why should I?” You challenged, not entirely ready to let go of him.

Leaning in to your ear, whispering even though no one was around, “I’ll fuck you so good you, you won’t know how to do anything but cum.”

The thought was tempting. So tempting that you giggled and nodded, letting him kiss you one more time, saccharine and gentle. He opened the passenger door for you, closing it and running around to the driver seat. Seungmin started the car and began the drive to your place, his hand on your thigh and climbing higher.

Content, warm, giggling about the condensation rolling down the windows, so blissfully blind, you asked the million dollar question. “Will you stay the night?”

His hand retreated, “you already know the answer.”

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Gave a 10/10 to a BL... me!

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Nov 2023 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 4 of 8 - I love this show. I adore Tew's the simple backstory. No frills. No fuss. He got dragged in the way many do and he can kill so they kept him. They aren’t trying to make it needlessly complicated (which is rare for Thailand). That said, the pacing is way tf off, the emotional arc is rushed and then sappy out of absolutely nowhere. Before you ask, the kiss is not at issue, we halfway through they should be kissing, but the romantic life changes - too soon. But I don’t care. Finally, they left us this ep reminded of 2 v important things,

this pair kisses beautifully

in BL all mafia be gay

Fun fun!

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - It's official, I love this. It’s a classic caregiver/bodyguard trope where one of them is opening the other one up to the world, but sweetly. I’m enjoying the softness of JimmySea's take and I hope GMM TV takes its cues from the success of My School President and doesn’t push this particular show into rough or edgy territory. Stay on target GMMTV. Don't mess with my bias again!

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 3 of 10 - Finally, our adorable side couple has emerged! This show remains engaging without losing pace (despite the main couple being slow burn), which is all I want from a Thai pulp, and more I could ask for currently from a sports BL. 

(Note: when I dictate the computer always puts "Thai pope" instead of Thai pulp - this is hilarious to me.)

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 14 - I guess they didn’t strip the omegaverse out of this. Unfortunately, I’m not an omegaverse fan, so I find its presence extremely off putting. (But it’s kind of amazing that somebody finally put one on our screen.) Unsurprisingly, it’s a lot of alpha posturing and hyper masculinity, because that’s what this kind of worldbuilding is an excuse for (lazy writing and lazier characterization). This means I don’t like Babe AT ALL except that he’s smell orientated and a bit verse. Way is lovely tho, because Nut is a great soft screen presence amongst the testosterone haze. 

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 2 of 8 - I’m not gonna lie (when have I ever bothered to lie to you all?) I’m struggling with this show. The sound effects are getting worse. That is not allowed. Still I found this installment slightly more bearable than the last last, probably because there was more of the cast in play and less of Jade being too cringe to live. 

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - AKA temporal paradox of pain.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Friends Forever ep 13 of 24 - Ooo it’s a bit of a teacher/student (coach/player) thing. Linguistic negotiation and kinkification of phi. Also actually kinky. But not consensually. Gonna get dark. Bummer. 

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 1 of 14(!) eps - Whines. Must I? Gaga doesn’t have a skip ahead button. Sad sack main characters really do not work for me. But this was better than I expected. I wasn’t expecting much. 

Look: This is helmed by Cheewin (shudder) with screenplay by Den (Only Friends - shudder the second) under Copy A Bangkok (they deserve not my shuddders). It's gonna be a shizz show people. It's Thai dark War of Y style - my least favorites. Apparently, there is meant to be a "plot" but when has Cheewin ever bothered with plot?

On a completely different note does the blond look like that Korean actor/idol from At a Distance Spring is Green & Wanna One to anyone else? Or is it just me? (Park Ji Hoon)

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

A Breeze of Love (Korea iQIYI) eps 3-4 of 8 - I like it a lot. Dongwook is so obtuse and socially awkward and reserved and needy and Dohyun is so gay over and simultaneously wildly confused by this behavior. Fantastic. A bit stiff, even for Korea, btu I'm okay with it since everything else I'm watching right now is decidedly NOT stiff.

I finished it!

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo - Japan BL movie 1.5 hr

Best friends life together during university - cheerful sunshine loves to cook, grumpy tsundere loves to eat. Aki is a bit manic pixie dream boy for me (not my favorite archetype) but they’re cute and it’s one of those Japanese slice of life pieces like Our Dining Table that isn’t really a romance in fact it’s barely a drama. This isn’t friends to lovers because they’re basically already in a relationship (which everyone around them knows) they just aren’t fucking. I did spend a lot of time worrying that they weren’t eating any green things whatsoever. In the end this isn’t my thing when there’s no kissing at all, and this was a bit too dull even for JBL. Sorry Japan, one cannot trade on cute and cheese alone. I know, you want to. But that's not a BL or a personality. 6/10 

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan, maybe coming to Netflix) 8 eps - This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.

I LOVE LOVE LOVED THIS. IT'S SO GOOD.

10/10

Let me be perfectly clear: I have watched 646 BLs and only handed out nine 10/10s.

I talk more about why this one made the cut, here.

It's Airing But...

One Room Angel (Japan Gaga) 6 eps - adaptation of Harada’s manga (which I did not like) about a clerk who's stabbed, nearly dies, and returns home to find an angel waiting for him. With only 5 eps and a good chance this won’t end happy, I'm gonna wait and let you tell me how it goes.

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14 eps - I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all) even one featuring Singto and Fluke. I'm holding off on this one and if told it's good I'll binge later.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed. Waiting to be told if I should bother.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until it completes its run.

Next Week Looks Like This

STARTING

11/20 Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - trailer here, stars Ohm (of OhmFluke) opposite Guide (bestie from IFYLITA). This looks like an actually gay version of Antique Bakery (play it again, BL). I'm intrigued, it looks HELLA pretty.

11/22 7 Days Before Valentine (Weds ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk. Adapted from y-novel of the same name, directed by Tu (180 Degree) stars Jet (Why You… Y Me?). When you want your old love again, but fate sends you a reaper instead. All he can do for you is kill people. I'll likely give this a pass and wait to binge if safe.

11/24 VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Screenplay by Lin Pei Yu (WBL) about a chef who courts a shy writer with spicy beef noodles.

11/25 The Sign (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk, but with a suspense and adult characters. Special investigators who loved each other in previous lives reunite in new bodies. Stars Billy Patchanon (BillySeng) & Babe Tanatat (new). Includes other SCOY favorites as a special investigation team. I may give this a try (depending on distribution) because I'm into the non-horror bits.

11/26 The Whisperer (Sun ????) 1 of 10 - trailer here. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). He has dimples (My Ride) but I don't think even that gives me the will. You can tell me how this goes.

11/26 Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 1 of 12 - OffGun are back, trailer here. Adapted from the novel “Love Course! เสื้อกาวน์รุกเสื้อกุ๊กรับ” by iJune4S this is about Prem who runs a not-so-popular restaurant with 2 friends. About to go on a cooking competition with a huge reward, Prem gets involved with Ten, a stressed-out med student who wants Prem to teach him to cook.

Still Coming November BL

11/30 For Him (Thurs ????) ep 1 of 10 - high heat trailer, I suspect iQIYI will scoop this one up. From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night (please no) based on a y-novel, man nursing a heartbreak has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. It looks terribly trashy so I'm in! Maybe I'll do a trash watch?

Nov 2023 line up with screen caps here. Not kept updated.

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

To be fair this was last week but I did get the screen shot until now. (You are Mine)

I Cannot Reach You serving all Japan's favorite tropes plus some very un-Japan decent kisses.

(Last week)

[thewater]

genre i love: queer sports

examples:

Haikyuu!!

Creator: Haruichi Furudate

Sport: Volleyball

Medium: Manga + Anime

Queer coded to hell and back with no explicit canon. A popular anime that's very engaging. Whenever I watch it I feel like I should get my life together. It's super good, but fanbase can be a lil weird.

Fence

Author: C. S. Pacat

Sport: Fencing

Medium: 5 collated graphic novels + 2 novels

This one changed my life. I discovered it and haven’t been the same since. It’s cute, the two main characters are oblivious wee things, but there is canon representation in the older characters. Almost (if not all) of these characters are Queer As Hell. It’s brilliant. If you like Golden-Retriever-Sunshine-Boy-with-Troubled-Past x Grumpy-Black-Cat-with-Emotionally-Distant-Parents trope, then you’ll love this!

Check, Please!

Author: Ngozi Ukazu

Sport: Ice Hockey

Medium: 2 graphic novels

I saw this in my local public library once, picked it up, and never (emotionally) put it down. These books started my craving for 2D queer sports. This is what put me onto “Fence” in the first place. It’s canon, it’s sweet, the main character is a cutie, what more could you want?

Free!

Creator: Kyoto Animation

Sport: Swimming

Medium: Anime

I’ll be real, I didn’t finish all the seasons of this,,, the first two seasons slay the house down. But I dunno, guess it just didn’t keep my focus. I also don’t think anything gets canonized later,,, so it’s still just hashtag queer coded :( which is not slay.

AFTG

Author: Nora Sacavic

Sport: Exy (??!)

Medium: 3 novels

Now, you might think, “Exy isn’t a real sport” and you would be correct. Nora invented it for the novel. It’s like if the basics of lacrosse met the violence of ice hockey and it was played on a football (soccer) sized field with a balance of genders on the teams. This nonsense altered my brain chemistry, for better or worse, we will never know. However. If you seem intrigued, and want to read, PLEASE google the trigger warnings. Anything you think could possibly be triggering is definitely in this book. If you don’t want to google for fear of spoils, feel free to message me. These books are simultaneously the best and worst things I've ever had the (dis)pleasure of reading. I love them. They’re terribly written. They’re a mastery of metaphors set on a background of college sports with a mafia subplot. It’s like if a crazy fanfic got published. ALSO short king representation. Main man is 5’3, second main man is 5’0. I love this to pieces and I hate it to nothings.

Yuri on ice

Creator: MAAPA

Sport: Ice-skating

Medium: Anime

You know this one. If you don't, it’s not technically canon, but they buy each other (engagement) rings and kiss (sort of) on screen. Slays. Victor Nikiforov has my heart.

SK8 the infinity

Creaotr: Bones

Sport: Skateboarding

Medium: Anime

This one makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside i love it so much. There's angst and love and found family and tragic backstories and funny characters. Not canon though. Hashtag Japan Definitely Doesn’t Have a Homophobia Problem and That’s Definitely Not Why All of The Anime’s on This List Aren’t Canon. Anyways, it’s really cute and I watched t when i was in my own skateboarding era so i loved it so much.

If i remember more, or watch, or read more, I will add them :)

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: I saw this earlier today and Iwa-chan first popped into my mind. Have fun reading lol.

Warnings: slightly suggestive

Genre: fluff

You’re just doing the dishes on a normal Tuesday afternoon, when your phone rings.

Setting aside the plate you were just scrubbing down, you dry your hands with the kitchen towel on the counter before grabbing your vibrating phone.

You don’t recognize the number that’s calling you, so you frown in confusion before swiping your lock screen to answer it.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) speaking.“

“Good afternoon, am I speaking to the spouse of Lieutenant Iwaizumi Hajime?“

You feel your heart drop in your stomach, already fearing the worst: death, accident, arrest, murder, sudden enlistment,…

You gulp down with a heavy heart and answer back.

“Y-Yes, this is them.“

“Hello this is Captain Shimazaki speaking. I am calling to inform you that your spouse Lieutenant Iwaizumi Hajime came into work with a bruise on his neck. Actually multiple dark bruises along his neck.” He stops to cough awkwardly. “Although he looked pretty satisfied and happy this morning, please move your love marks down, so they can’t be seen when in uniform.“

You can feel your face heat up a thousand degrees, utterly embarrassed and wishing to sink 500 feet into the ground to disappear.

“U-Uhm s-sure, I will remember that for next time.“

For next time? Could you have worded that any worse?

“Appreciate it. Have a good day.“

“You as well, goodbye.“

You hang up simultaneously and put your phone down on the counter, leaning both hands on the cool graphite stone to actually process what just happened.

Too much distracted in your thoughts, you don’t even hear the front door unlock.

“Hey baby, I am home.“ Iwaizumi loudly greets you as he steps inside your shared home.

Taking his shoes off and putting them neatly by the door, he waits for your greeting back but receives nothing.

He saw your car in the driveway, so you have to be home.

“(Y/N)?“ The brunette calls out again, this time a little bit louder.

His rough voice finally snaps you out of your trance and you turn to look at him and the first thing you notice are the scattered hickeys along his neck.

Iwaizumi‘s face melts into concern, as he takes in your face. You look like you‘ve seen a ghost because your eyes widen in horror as you stare at your husband.

“Babe, what's wrong? You are as pale as a sheet of paper.“ With deep worry in his voice, he quickly approaches you and puts his warm hands around your face to grasp it gently.

“Uhm.“ You don’t know how to start this conversation.

“Well, your uh… I guess your boss called me earlier, basically saying I should tone it down a notch with uh… my marks on you.“

Iwaizumi takes a few seconds after hearing your words and all of sudden he bursts out laughing.

Slightly jumping at his sudden reaction, you are now even more confused.

“Gosh, this day keeps getting better and better. First I got to make love to my beautiful partner last night and this morning and then had a great day at work and now you’re telling me that you’re the one who should calm down with your marks on me?“ He keeps on laughing and steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently pushing you against the counter.

He leans in and slightly growls in your ear.

“Good thing they can’t see all those markings I left on you last night.“

Something hard starts to press against your stomach.

“Hajime, you can’t be serious.“

You can feel him pressing rough kisses against your neck, occasionally giving you bites and licks that make you swoon and melt on the spot.

“Come on, mark me up some more. Want to show everyone how sexy and seductive my drop dead gorgeous spouse can be.“

You give in and let him carry you bridal style to your bedroom, both of you leaving marks on each other and both of you so exhausted that Iwaizumi and you call in sick for the next day.

@rukia-uchiha-98 @wake-uptoreality @nerd-of-karasuno

[weepingchoir]

DOCTOR WHO SERIES 14: A FULL SEASON REVIEW

Another decade, another frantic Doctor Who resuscitation. (Not that there were news of potential cancellation, but things must’ve been dire for the BBC to sell one of their most storied shows to the Mouse.) Chibnall is out, Moffat on retainer, Russell “Thee” Davies is in. The theme song is the best since Matt Smith, which, through weird and inexplicable coincidence, was also the last time I watched Who with any serious interest. Good start.

The Star Beast

While not technically part of the season, the specials preceding series 14 signal the beginning of a shift in tone and rules for Doctor Who, including the introduction of the new Doctor. Not yet, though. First we get an OLD DOCTOR FUCK YES DAVID TENNANT IS BACK.

I already know Tennant won’t stick around, and I’m glad. That would’ve stunk of Disney nostalgia-raking. Nevertheless, as a returning viewer, I’m grateful for the breakfall. “The Star Beast” doesn’t yet carry the magic that’ll characterize Gatwa’s series. It’s a standard scifi monster of the week serial, and the monster rules. Looking for returning companion Donna Noble, the Doctor runs into the Meep, a no-pronouns gremlin-Yoda puppet living in Donna’s shed, under the care of her daughter, Rose.

UNIT comes under attack by Kamen Riders. The Meep tears off the blorbo mask to reveal a genocidal dictator on the lam from the Intergalactic Criminal Court. It’s a hilarious turn in an episode whose emotional core relies on Rose’s transgenderedness. Pronouns are a real-time strategy game and evil space aliens are better at it than humans.

Quick dustup on weird plot shit: if Donna remembers the Doctor she dies. She has to remember anyway, in order to stop the Meep’s ship from taking off. Turns out that she’s since become immune to Time Lord neuron overload by offloading it on her daughter. Donna and Rose expel the toxic memories by harnessing their feminine emotional intelligence.

I don’t want it to land. Facing the Doctor, who was a woman one episode ago, Rose says that a man could never understand how she just harnessed the divine feminine. Nevertheless it passes, maybe because any representation of a transgender woman as through-and-through female is a gasp of fresh air. For better or worse, this also cues the season’s cardinal rule: what you feel is true is more important than what makes sense.

Wild Blue Yonder

The TARDIS crashlands at the edge of the universe and disappears when it senses danger, one of those things that it’s never done before and will only do again if it’s funny or cool.

The “edge of the universe” is a spaceship floating in ink-black, with Marvin the Paranoid Timebomb making its way down the hall, one step at a time. This is a great opportunity to ease us into the budgetful new Doctor Who, with sleek but understated shots of the spaceship’s exterior. When the Doctor and Donna split up to fix the ship, they converse with each other’s doppelgangers: “not-things” from beyond reality, looking to assimilate physics. Communication with the not-things goes awry as an eerie set of medium close-ups pull back to reveal their overlong limbs.

Backed with half a decade of set chemistry, Tennant and Catherine Tate ace all four characters in this bottle episode. Much of the runtime consists of the Doctor and Donna’s mind games against each other. It’s less a restatement and more a self-justifying exploration of why bother with a last hurrah for two fan favorites. Well-earned, too, as the Doctor nearly leaves the real Donna to die in the ship’s explosion. It’s impossible to be done exploring the fullness of a relationship. But one day, and soon, we will have to move on.

The Giggle

 Two crucial stopgaps against the not-things. One, a line of salt on the floor, which the Doctor tricks them into thinking they can’t cross, since they’re sorta vampires. Two, cognitive dissonance. It’s hard enough for the uncreatures to assimilate beliefs, let alone simultaneous contradictory ideas.

The Doctor fears that, by invoking fiddly rules at the edge of reality, he’s opened a door for fell mythos. This episode stars the Toymaker, a villain from a partially restored First Doctor serial. Originally a Fu Manchu caricature, the new Toymaker is Neil Patrick Harris putting on a German accent, which he can always do, it’s never racist.

The Toymaker has snuck a mind-warping signal into every screen, starting with the 1925 Stookie Bill experiment. Now mankind is mad , reacting with explosive hostility at any confrontation. Over the last decade, as writers have moved from mocking subsets of people for being on phone to everyone being on phone, we’ve uncovered more cohesive portrayals of what 24/7 connection is doing to us. Writ large, more and more of us are looking to win arguments. Even losing is a thrill.

It’s a contrived plan for a villain whose power transcends mere limitless control over physical matter. The only thing that binds the Toymaker is the rules of the game. We can trace the evolution of TV drama by comparing his first appearance to his last, William Hartnell’s almost congenial gotchas to Tennant’s panic at genuine omnipotence. The Toymaker traps the Doctor and Donna in a theater for a puppet play about the many deaths of the former’s companions. The Doctor, ever the hero, denies them three times.

Well, are they dead? These specials have proven that, even in the megacorp mines, fan favorite returns don’t have to be Rise of Skywalker gruel. Donna, and the Fourth Doctor’s returning Mel Bush, bring necessary continuity to the transition into new-new Who.

Not everything, at least, has to end in tragedy. When the Toymaker commandeers the giant laser gun the government is cool with UNIT keeping in uptown London, the Doctor bigenerates, splitting into straight Tennant (presumably) and gay Ncuti Gatwa. Together they beat the Toymaker at catch, which banishes him for good.

From here on, we follow Gatwa’s Doctor. Tennant stays with Donna. There is movement in rest, organic, within. Their relationship may continue to develop, just where we can’t see it. Not everything is for screen consumption.

The Church On Ruby Road

Every time I see this episode’s title I get Hüsker Dü’s “Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill” stuck in my head, except the Inter Arma cover because that’s the first time I heard that. The Doctor is fortunate enough to run into one of the few actresses that can match his energy, Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday: songwriter, orphan and ingenue. Ruby lives a zoomer kitsch apartment with string lights on the walls, alongside her adoptive mother and grandmother. She suffers from a curse of bad luck, bewitched by an airshipful of baby-eating goblins.

The Doctor and Ruby stop the goblins from eating a baby, to the tune of an R&B paean to Jabba-the-Hut, the only logical step from the Toymaker’s Spice Girls lipsync sequence. The goblins retaliate by traveling in time to eat baby Ruby, abandoned by her mother on Christmas day on the porch of The Church That Lives On Ruby Road. Watching Ruby’s mother go, Gatwa cries his series-first tear of silent grief. He’s very good at that.

The Doctor’s rule of no self-interaction has fucked his opportunity to let Ruby meet her biological mother. Pay attention, this’ll be on the test. Other than that, “The Church” is an easy, fun, low-stakes introduction to the Doctor’s companion and many of the season’s dominos, only some of which will receive a proper knockdown.

Space Babies

The first real ostentatious show of Disney budget is a quick but lush visit to James Cameron's Mesozoic. A CGI diplodocus doesn’t have to be bad. CGI baby mouths, on the other hand.

Budget cuts strand a colony spaceship, replete with babies in a bizarre state of semi-suspended animation: they’ve been toddlers for six years. Only accountant Jocelyn remains. The babies are terrorized by the Boogeyman, a snot monster generated by glitched-out educational software. Jocelyn almost airlocks the Boogeyman until the Doctor reminds her that it’s kind of her baby also.

The Doctor’s memory of Ruby Road changes to feature Ruby’s mother pointing at him. It starts snowing indoors, another magic plot puzzle piece. Cue tear of silent grief. There’s not much else to say about “Space Babies”. It’s a lot of terrible ideas, executed with functional neatness: quoting a friend, the platonic ideal of a Russell T 6/10.

The Devil’s Chord

1925 again! There’s a whole pantheon of Toymaker-type evil gods. This one’s Maestro, the god of music, played by a spectacular Jinkx Monsoon. Over the course of four decades, Maestro ruins music so thoroughly that even Abbey Road sounds like dogwater.

The Doctor and Ruby negotiate with the Beatles, who make dodgy gestures towards the whole of music being an embarrassing business. It’s never made clear how Maestro has convinced the world of this, or, like the Toymaker’s giggle, why they bothered when they have the power to eat music itself. We’ve crossed into the realm of magic. It’s not about the method, but the goal: within a hundred years, musicless mankind will self-exterminate to vent its anger, leaving Maestro to enjoy pure aeolian tones.

It’s hard to agree that music is the salve keeping mankind from abject violence when contending with the history of, Burzum, Chris Brown or Meni Mamtera. Nor does the idea that Maestro can be defeated by a seven-note scale available to basic Western music theory hold much water. “The Devil’s Chord” is an altogether less cohesive “The Giggle”, and only three episodes after its predecessor, too. On the other hand, as a piece of musical cinema, it’s a brilliant watch for Monsoon’s performance, the playful metanarrative gestures, and the closing number, ‘There’s Always A Twist At The End’.

Boom

On the ravaged planet of Kastarion-3, there is only war. A landmine vaporizes a guy, attracting an 'ambulance' automaton to euthanize his friend Vater by reducing him into an awesomely gross flesh tube.

Gatwa leaves the TARDIS in a super-sexy leather jacket and steps on a mine. What follows is ten agonizing minutes of the Doctor and Ruby figuring out the logistics of the situation. The Doctor can’t move off the smart mine or exhibit high emotion. On finding Vater’s tube, Ruby convinces the Doctor to let her hand it to him to use as a counterweight, in a move that almost kills them both. The pressure is immense, achieved with nothing but close-ups to tears of silent grief and a silly prop of a landmine with LEDs.

Vater’s daughter finds the duo, triggering the flesh tube to generate a grief counselor hologram of her father. Ruby gets shot while managing a haywire ambulance. The only way to get the ambulance to treat her is to admit that the Kastarians never existed. With a full third of characters dead, Cyber-Vater betrays its parent corporation to end the war. This is the most stressful Doctor Who gets, in all the best ways. For a second, and against all logic, I was even convinced it might be the end of Ruby Sunday.

“Boom” is the closest Gatwa’s Doctor has to a companion capsule episode. This focus on their relationship might’ve gone over even better if it’d been earlier in the run, especially given “The Devil’s Chord” has the opposite problem. I suspect the prime reason why it’s placed in an awkward middle slot is to not give away the game: “Boom” front-and-centers Susan Twist, who’s played minor roles in almost every episode since “Wild Blue Yonder”, as the face of the combat ambulance AI. There’s always a twist at the end, remember?

73 Yards

The Doctor’s always stepping on some bullshit. After intruding on a ritual circle, he disappears, leaving Ruby alone with a mysterious woman that’s always standing 73 yards away. Everyone who talks to the woman flies goes no-contact with Ruby: a hiker, a bar-goer, UNIT, even, in a harrowing turn, Ruby’s adoptive mother. So Ruby spends the next twenty years alone. Without her family, and also alone in this ethereal way where she’s meant to be on startlit adventures, not half-there on a wine bar date.

Gibson carries this mammoth episode on her shoulders, evolving from panicked 20 year old to middle-aged, purpose-driven mercenary. The closest thing to a co-star is the cinematography, following her eyes towards the woman-shaped hole in the near horizon. This is one of the subtler metanarrative moments of the season: the woman is impossible to photograph, blurry in pictures just as she’s never in focus for the camera.

Ruby makes up a mission: save the world from ‘Mad Jack’ Roger ap Gwilliam, a presidential candidate whom the Doctor off-hand warned would lead the world to nuclear ruin. Infiltrating, Jack’s presidential campaign, she maneuvers the woman into manifesting next to him, which makes him run screaming from office. The world is saved. Ruby isn’t. As she lays dying of old age, alone, the mystery woman is revealed to be herself, traveling back in time to warn the Doctor off the circle.

This is the furthest Doctor Who can stray from its own standards before becoming a different show altogether. The theme song doesn’t even play (shame). Not a coincidence, it’s also the episode to most demand that we trust emotion over logic, and it pays back that trust with dividends. It doesn’t matter that we never find out why there was a shrine to Mad Jack atop a cliff in Wales twenty years before his time, or the mechanism by which Ruby created a closed time loop. The important bit is the emotional resonance, the click of catharsis when we discover just enough details to let it rest.

Dot and Bubble

I feared, as “Dot” opened on a woman so dependent on social media that she can’t navigate her immediate surroundings without GPS, that this would be the Phone Bad episode “The Giggle” had managed to surpass. The truth is more complex: Finetime’s residents can afford to spend all day Whatsapping because they’re the offspring of another planet’s leisure class, here on permanent vacation.

Giant man-eating slugs have invaded Finetime, and the Dot-Bubble navigation system is walking people straight into their maws. Our lead is neither Gatwa nor Gibson, but Callie Cooke as Lindy Pepper-Bean in yet another of the acting masterclasses that characterize this season. An ongoing tension point is whether Lindy can keep her Bubble down long enough to string together two tasks. This means the season’s highest ratio of close-ups to other shots. Cooke carries this focus with recidivist disdain, processing the situation in arbitrary bursts only to default to anger at the Doctor for intruding on her groupchat, or elation at meeting a celebrity singer.

The slugs are an invention of the Dot, which, after years of servicing Finetime, has learned hate. Huddled outside the habitat dome, the all-white survivors reject the Doctor’s 'dirty' safe passage, and strike out to colonize the wilderness, ‘like their ancestors’.

Laterally to Phone Bad, an ongoing trend in wronghead fiction is Rich Bad. Movies like Bodies Bodies Bodies portray the bourgeoise as a self-obsessed bunch who will fall snarling on themselves at the first provocation. This is not what makes the bourgeoise dangerous, but in fact the exact opposite: because the rich have everything to lose, they will close ranks against you, no matter how much good you’ve done for them, no matter what you could yet do.

Rogue

Before the season ends, anybody want to defend England one last time? Playing nobility at a Regency London ball, the Doctor runs into Rogue, a bounty hunter who mistakes him (at gunpoint) for a shapeshifting, murderous Chuldur.

The Chuldur are fans of Bridgerton, on Earth to cosplay it to death. In order to lure them out, The Doctor and Rogue publicize their whirlwind romance. If “Dot and Bubble” was a response to the idea that Gatwa might run into racism if he travels to the past, “Rogue” is its inversion: the plan works because the modern Chuldur can’t resist the titillation of wearing a black gay man. They run after the hypervisible Doctor, while the white Rogue becomes “the other one”. He’s less problematized, less interesting, the one you get stuck with if you don’t call intersectional shotgun.

After the trap is sprung by accident, Rogue's banished alongside the Chuldur to a random dimension of nobody’s knowing. The Doctor declares it’s impossible to find him. We’ll see about that.

For all its nods towards fandom, “Rogue” isn’t a po-faced condemnation of fan culture. Ultimately, the Chuldur too are defeated through cosplay. Plus, it’s a straight beat-by-beat of the strongest points in Who structure: strong side characters, scifi logistics, a villain as goofy as it’s horrific. Whether its back-to-back placement with its thematic mirror, or as a segue to the season finale, is ideal, is anyone’s guess. 

The Legend of Ruby Sunday

The Doctor asks for UNIT’s help in figuring out why Susan Twist follows him everywhere. On 2024 Earth, she’s Susan Triad, tech CEO on the verge of releasing some kind of Alexa thing. But before we get to that, the Doctor decides now’s the time to meet Ruby’s biomom.

Using a ‘Time Window’, Ruby visualizes The Church That Lives On Ruby Road. Ruby cries: the Window refuses to show her mother’s face. The machine goes all creepypasta on some UNIT boot. Panicked, the Doctor chases down Triad, who reveals she can remember her past lives in dreams.

Triad pulls away to her conference. Though she’s live worldwide, her soundstage is empty, the crowd canned. Where much of this season has dealt with the phenomenons of mass media and TV, “The Legend” digs into a grief specific to Doctor Who, an ill-kempt archive of decades forever on the verge of cancellation.

Little else happens, for two good reasons. First, this episode is a two-parter. Second, much of its runtime is dedicated to extracting maximum stress out of the situation. Ruby is too compromised to act, while the Doctor and UNIT are late from the start, only just figuring out the situation in time to witness it unfold. The big reveal paying off all this anxiety, crossed purposes, fear and despair is, unfortunately, a CGI dog with a hat.

Empire of Death

Sutekh is a Fourth Doctor villain who’s been locked in the Time Vortex for thousands of years or a dozen seasons, whichever’s longest. He has spawned harbingers like Triad in every planet that the Doctor’s visited, and his “dust of death” has the power to kill nost just everyone, but everyone at every point in time. In the era of streaming television (and stream-only television), the C-suite can overnight erase all evidence that a show ever existed.

Through a bit of absurd circular logic, the Doctor declares that the Time Window’s memory of a TARDIS is in fact a functioning TARDIS. The crew escapes to roam a deserted universe. The memory TARDIS begs to tie long-dangling plot strands into knots of neat logic. Instead, a bunch of nonsense dialogue happens. When Ruby asks the Doctor why Sutekh has a The Mummy thing going on, the Doctor answers “cultural appropriation”, and fails to elaborate. Laterally, when Ruby casually lists the chameleon circuit’s AOE as 73 yards, the Doctor asks how she knew that. She’s not sure. Nothing comes of this.

Because Sutekh is incapable of seeing Ruby’s mother, the Doctor decides it’s all tied together and heads to a government office in Mad Jack Britain, containing the UK’s forcibly harvested genetic data. Much more cohesive commentary on racism than reminding us cultural appropration is a thing Doctor Who has done. Armed with knowledge, the Doctor baits Sutekh into the Time Vortex, where he forces him to, like, kill death and then die in turn.

It’s a fantastic turn of character for the Doctor, who oft makes a spurious point of not killing in order to condemn villains to fates worse than death, or adopts a ‘War Doctor’ persona which kills a bunch of people anyway. It’s a matter of framing, but also a genuine point of no return. As for less satisfying character beats: Ruby gets to meet her mother, who’s just some middle-aged Instagrammer with a bad haircut and a passion for rocky beaches.

So why was this character immune to everyone from the Time Window to Sutekh, and the unwitting carrier of Ruby’s inherited power to make it snow? Because, the Doctor explains, we cared about her.

Which begs the question: who is we?

The easiest answer is: the last people left alive in the universe. But Ruby’s been making it snow since “Space Babies”. Not proximity to the Doctor either, else the Doctor himself would have magic powers: on the contrary, he’s spent the whole season grappling with his limited ratfic ability to deal with the supernatural. And there’s millions of orphans out there. Ruby is, in this regard as in most else, not special.

Taken all together along with the season’s metanarrative overtures, which keep going right up to the last second of “Empire”, the only answer is that we are the audience. Or the audience and the crew, anyhow: the camera, the screen, Ruby’s protagonism and the people that accept it. We have imbued Ruby Sunday with transcendental power, because we would like her to transcend.

This doesn’t work unless I am more emotionally than narratively invested in Ruby Sunday.

Not that I didn’t get torn up when Ruby met her mother. But that’s just cinema trickery. A season’s worth of promises, a bit of music, very good acting: of course I was going to care. Not more than I care about finding out what the fuck was going on, though. As an explanation, this all rounds out to: what was going on is what was going on. Ruby’s mom was important because she mattered to us, and it mattered to us because she was important. Me, I refuse to be complicit.

There is an unpleasant extreme to the logical lens, the CinemaSinners combing through scripts, sacrificing the greater story to the tendentious idol of Plot Holes. Doctor Who has long been plagued by these types, pitfalls of being an easy-watching BBC show with a large audience. Series 14 scans like a concerted effort to not give these guys an inch. In overcorrecting, it created a maudlin mess of unfulfilled promise.

That is as far as the season's connected plotline goes. Fortunately, most of the episodes are gems, directed with a sense of fun almost unseen in the revival series’ longstanding gloom. The Doctor has turned into a killer, maybe for good. We are promised that his tale will end in tragedy. I hold out hope that, next time the story tries to hit me where it hurts, it’ll follow through.

7/10

[megamuscle885-blog]

Severed - Worm Fanfiction Review

CW: Suicide and canon typical gore.

I don't think I've so eagerly anticipated an imaginary and, likely unwritten at the time of this post, scene in fanfiction than @heyitschartic's Severed. I've been following this series since it was posted three years ago. I'll avoid spoilers and the scene I'm imagining in question will be under the cut, but the basic premise is that Jack Slash chooses Skitter as his nominee during the Slaughterhouse 9 arc, rather than Oni Lee, who was disappointing, and Golem, who he later contrived the entire S9k arc for.

I will say that this work is a beautiful plunge into What Ifs which look all the more horrifying if you compare them against canon. You get flashback snippets of the S9 arc retold from a few perspectives before being thrust into post-GM, maybe pre-Ward? era with modern Skitter. I can certainly say that Severed blows all other S9!Taylors out of the water, Taylor is authentic in ways I haven't seen with anyone else. 10/10, each chapter is at it's absolute peak and it has 11 chapters as of this post. Each gut-punch has me anticipating the next chapter, only for the next chapter to explain why Taylor's friends and enemies hate her so much. I gasped when Tattletale said that to her. I strongly recommend Severed to anyone and everyone who hasn't already read it yet. Here's the link:

Oh wait does this count as the first of my Worm fanfic reviews--

So, I've read chapter 11 and I've been having Taylor and her clone rotating in my head endlessly, but the scene I'm anticipating is the one hinted at in Chapter where Defiant wants Taylor to go under the knife with Bonesaw again so Riley can fix all of Taylor's everything that is physically wrong with her, because her body is practically bio-tinkertech, even after they ripped almost everything else out.

I can only imagine Taylor reiterating that she refuses to be put under for the procedure, and using every moment to vent her anger and frustration on a Riley that is likely seeing marked improvement in her therapy (maybe). But Taylor keeps hitting her with blow after blow. "They'll never let you work on anyone else ever again, so you had better not kill me." and "Nobody will ever let you willingly touch them, I'm the only one who you can use your tinker abilities on, and that can change if I don't need you anymore." "If you ever find someone you can trick into letting you touch them, hold them, or even work on them, I'll kill them. It'd be better than the fate worse than death that letting you touch someone inflicts, and I should know, I'm living through it."

Maybe Chartic has something else planned, but I would like to see this Bonesaw cry. An unshakable, unmoved Taylor just heaps on the abuse through her own tears of pain, holding Riley hostage even as she roots through her guts to put her back together. It's very Taylor to fight through pain to force people to help her. The last time they saw each-other, Riley was doing well. I don't think she'll be doing very well after they meet again.

Maybe an overseeing team of surgeons and Capes become increasingly uncomfortable as Riley is tormented. They find themselves defending Bonesaw of all people, from one of her former victims too.

I'm sorry if this is unsolicited Chartic, but I can't wait to see their reunion, whatever form it takes. Severed's way of making Taylor suffer the consequences of her own actions, while invoking sympathy simultaneously with disgust at Taylor's betrayals; the depths she's sunken to, and then to finally wrap it up with shame and admonishment of her friends, turned victims, is masterful. How dare either they or I judge her for what she had to do to survive. Each chapter reveals that it got worse and worse. At some point, I suspect that (one of) the reasons that Taylor is being given such little leeway by the rest of the cast and remains constantly under the threat of harsh re-imprisonment or execution by vengeful kill-teams is because she somehow became the worst member of the Slaughterhouse Nine or even surpassed them in notoriety.

Tattletale telling Skitter to kill herself was such an insane scene that I stood up and covered my mouth. I was in disbelief. But knowing now that Skitter had betrayed the Undersiders to a slaughter by Mannequin (after having sacrificed her own father and, essentially, her own pre-cape life and innocence with him. The Taylor that she did not want to be, embracing the Skitter she chose to become) and then at some point caused the remainder of the Livsey family to kill themselves the same way Reggie did, with gunshot wounds, really clarifies that Taylor did something unforgivable. She exploited her friendship with Lisa to injure her in a way that can never be repaired. Lisa in canon never really had much to do with her parents ever again, but she probably didn't want them dead for neglecting Reggie.

I may edit this later, or reblog it, as new thoughts on the work come to me.

[remusluvr]

say it ain't so | steve harrington

summary: Byers reader and Steve's last night together before leaving for California. content: female reader, angst, f oral, sex, no usage of y/n

The bedroom you have lived in for the last eighteen years is nearly completely vacant. All that's left in it is your bed and your duffle bag for the trip. It's weird seeing your once vibrant room so dull.

"I don't like it," you say, crossing your arms as you stand in the doorway whilst Steve is laid out on your bed.

"Neither do I, none of your personality is in here anymore," Steve sighs before proceeding to sit up. You shut the door behind you to go sit with him.

Tomorrow morning you'll be in a car driving to California with your family. There was no other choice for you since you still have your senior year to complete, which means you have to leave Steve behind for nearly an entire year.

Curling yourself into his lap, his arms wrap around you. You two have already discussed visiting each other many times, how he'll fly out to you and you'll fly back to Hawkins to see him. And you and he have already made spring break plans for you to come back to Hawkins for nearly two weeks.

It'll work, you'll work.

Your heart aches at the mere idea of not being able to see him every day, or hear his voice, or visit him at work, or have him climb through your bedroom window so you two can have sleepovers. Usually, Joyce was a lot more strict about sleepovers with significant others but with you leaving tomorrow, it's okay for tonight.

All you want is for this night to never end so you never have to leave Steve.

His hand rakes through your hair as you lay on him, "I'm going to miss you so fucking much."

You're already quite emotional that you have to leave everything and everyone you've ever known and Steve is simultaneously making it worse and better. He turns your face up to look at him and he coos down at you when he notices the tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"It's just not fair, Stevie. Why can't I just live at your house for the rest of the school year? You can work at the video store, I'll go to school, and then at night, we sleep in the same bed like we live together."

"I know, baby. It's not fair at all. But you'll love California and imagine when I come to visit. We'll drive to the beach and spend the whole day there. Just you and me."

"That'll be nice," you hum. The image is crisp in your mind and you're giddy about it. Steve always knows exactly what you need to hear. "Ah, and then you'll come back to the house and I'll show you my new room. I'm not sure how I want to decorate yet."

"Send me pictures. I wanna see everything you get up to out there."

"That's such a good idea but I don't have a camera," you whine, flopping your head down onto his shoulder. He laughs and moves you off of him. "Where are you going?"

He reaches under the bed where he's hidden your going away present. A camera, a stack of envelopes, paper, pens, and stamps. The perfect concoction for when your relationship is about to go long distance.

"I got myself the same stuff. I expect at least one letter a week and at least five phone calls a day," he proclaims, watching as you smile down into the box. You laugh before setting the box to the side and climbing back to him. "Not an ideal situation by any means but everything will be fine. I promise."

You kiss him from your position in his lap. He kisses back with even more fervor. Your hands drape themselves around his neck as his grab at your hips. Any time you kiss Steve, it makes you dizzy but especially now. When he's putting everything unsaid into this kiss, how could it not?

It hits you as he flips you over onto your back that this is the last time you'll be able to do this in a while. Your lips stutter against his and he pulls back, thumb coming up to rub over them. There's no need to bring down his mood by addressing the elephant in the room. Tonight, you'll just enjoy the fact that he's here.

"So pretty," he whispers, leaning down again for a quick kiss before his thumbs slip just underneath the waistband of your shorts so he can slide them down. He moves slowly, deliberately, so he can savor this moment forever.

And once they're off and thrown to the side, he's laying on the bed between your legs. His lips are like fire on your legs as he kisses a path up to where you want him the most. He won't let you rush him though, making sure to take his sweet ol' time to nip at your inner thighs.

He's cruel with his teasing, fingers ghosting idly over your panties. Pulling down your underwear has his vision glazing over as he focuses in on the very thing he's been planning since the beginning.

"It'll be hard, very hard, to not be able to eat this pussy any time I want," he sighs, leaning in to lick at your clit. You're panting from all this teasing and his words don't help at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to you. He grins into you, finally giving you what you want.

If there's anything Steve is the best at it is eating you out. He goes to town, sloppy and wet just to make you feel your very best. His lips suction around your clit before moving down to dip his tongue into you. It's world-changing. You don't know how you'll survive months without him.

Your thighs squeeze his head and he moans, letting the vibration move through you. It has your legs shaking as his hands grip at your thighs, keeping them spread enough for him to do his job properly. He loves it though, loves every little thing you do.

"Steve!" you whine, remembering that there are other people in this house but when you're getting the best head of your life, there's bound to be escaped noises. Steve is a cocky boy and you can feel his smile against you. It's boosting his ego knowing you're having this much trouble keeping it down.

You don't even warn him at all before cumming but he knows. Steve always knows. From the clench of your fingers in his hair, to your hips bucking into his face, and your sudden gasp of breath it's not hard to figure out. And he takes everything you give him, watching as you bite down on the pillow beside you so you don't wake the whole house. There's nothing more that he wants right now than to hear you, it's killing him.

He huffs as he settles in next to you, letting you cuddle into him so you can regain some of your breathing.

"Wonder if those cameras do video cause I don't how I'll last without hearing your pretty sounds for so long," he groans, tossing his head back against your headboard. You giggle as you look up at him. You press upward, sucking at his neck whilst you climb into his lap.

"We can always call each other," you whisper directly beside his ear, biting at it for extra measure, "Think I'm getting my own phone for my room."

"P-perfect, baby." He's whining quietly as you continue the assault on his neck, maybe getting too carried away but the look on his face is worth it. There is still a t-shirt and pajama pants on him and while the fabric may feel nice on your bare cunt, you need him out of them immediately.

"Take your shirt off for me, Stevie?" It's off before you can even make it down the bed at all to pull at his pants. He chastises you for teasing but it's no different than what he was doing. "Poor baby, you're so hard."

He's panting and it feels nice to be the one in control of him. Your fingers run over his tip, leaving him to chase your touch.

"Please, put me out of my misery, sweetheart." Smiling at him, you do. His inhale is sharp once he's inside you. You lean your forehead on his shoulder as you get used to him. "You're my lovely girl, god, I love you so much."

He grips onto your hips, helping you bounce on him. All of your confidence faded away as soon as you got what you wanted, turning to mush instead. You just need him to take care of you.

It doesn't take all that long before you're close again, sensitive from your first orgasm. And the way you're clenching around him has right there with you. His lips press messily onto yours as he tries to fight off his impending orgasm so this doesn't have to end. Your hands are glued to the sides of his face and he's never felt this loved.

"Mmpfh, g-gonna cum. W-where you want it?" he groans into your lips.

"Inside please," you whine, grinding down onto him to meet his thrusts, "Please, I want it. I'll get the m-morning-after pill."

It's too much for Steve and he cums with a loud moan that you have to muffle by clamping your hands over his mouth. You don't blame him because you have to bite down on his shoulder as you finish. And when you're both done, he's so drunk off of you that he whines when you get off his lap.

"I don't want you to leave me," Steve frowns as you lay on his chest.

"I know. But I'm not gone forever, you're not losing me." He's still upset and he will be for the next few months as he gets used to it. All he can think about is how much money he's about to make because that's all he'll be doing, work. But he'd be okay with being the poorest man in the world if it meant that you were with him.

"We should get some sleep since you have to be up early," he instructs, trying to be firm and ignore the ache in his chest. Once he's asleep, he'll have to wake up to you leaving him and he's not ready. He'll never be ready and you're not ready but it's what will happen.

"Probably. I love you."

"I love you more."

[johnnycagesrightnut]

Can I unlock the JonTim rant?

RARARARRARARARARARRARA I AM ACTUALLY BARKING I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED 😁👁️

JonTim. First of all, to understand these two it is vital you Know they never dated. Never. Not once did the two of them date. Not for lack of feelings, they had plenty, but because they just never got the chance. They never had time. They were doomed, they were an unchangeable tragedy.

I firmly believe pre season 1, before our beloved horror podcast even starts taking place, pre promotion in Research Days they had stupid little crushes on each other. No bad feelings like in later developed seasons, purely wholesome feelings of nothing but adoration and awe. They were actual friends, the amount of shit those two got in together out following up on statements or whatever, they were like no one else. Nobody else had a bond like those two, not even Tim and Sasha. They were each others person.

I do think when Tim had finally gathered the stones and was ready, he planned on asking Jon out the next Friday. But then they got promoted.

Season One.

They never had time. Jon got busy and despite his overall done-with-everything-and-everyone vibe in S1 it never really came about when it was Just Tim. Just them alone again. Maybe in a sarcastic way but never really. Tim put off asking him out, figuring they were busy now and there would be a better time. He didn’t know now was the best time he would get, because every time after would be worse. If he had known maybe he would have asked. Maybe later he thinks about that in kicks himself in retrospect. Maybe he thinks about Jon when he presses the detonator.

Season Two.

S2 was perfect. The angst is setting in. Jon was paranoid. Everyone was a little paranoid sometimes after the Prentiss incident but Jon was the worst of it. Tim had started seeing him outside his house for god sakes. Jon was so suspicious of Tim, and less because he truly thought he was up to something and more so because he needed to Know Tim wasn’t. He needed to Know the one person who had been there wasn’t doing anything. Obviously Tim took it as suspicion and that drove wedge through them a bit. Their argument in episode 65 is SUCH a lovers quarrel energy. It’s SUCH a lover quarrel. Because you can love someone and be as angry as they were at each other. Those things can be felt simultaneously, and believe me when I tell you I do wholeheartedly believe they never loved anyone else the way they loved each other. Tim and Sasha were iconic, Jon and Martin were iconic and undeniably in love, but it wasn’t the type of love Jon and Tim had, nothing could ever rival that, and nothing ever did. If there was an option when Jon was happy with Martin in the safe house, happily in love if he could have Tim back alive, back with him but Martin wouldn’t be with them, he would hesitate.

Season Three. (The Grande Finale)

Tim has never been angrier. He is so alone. Nobody understands, not even the one person who used to understand everything, his everything, didn’t get it anymore. Tim’s lost everything. He doesn’t have anything left for him anymore. I’m not even sure if most of S3 he even knew Jon still loved him, but he knows in the end. Despite being in the Unknowing, Tim knows. He’s aware at the end. He knows Jon loves him more than anything, and he knows he feels the same. He knows then that there has never been a time Jon did not love him. He knows he’s glad to do this, to get back at something and his last moments to be a big ‘Fuck You’ to these entities, this thing that took his brother and in turn his entire life, but he knows he’s going to miss Jon, if you can miss from the grave. Even if you can’t he will miss Jon enough that he can. He knows he’s never going to see his love again, never will he make him laugh, or get stoned somewhere in the Institute like they did in Research Days, Tim regrets in these last moments never asking Jon. He thinks of how different things would have been if he had. And he doesn’t want to think of that anymore. He thinks of everything he’s doing, how now that this is what’s happening he won’t (can’t) change it, and grins, his last moments the biggest ‘Fuck You’ anyone’s ever seen. He thinks of a time he made Jon laugh in Research Days, remembers how pretty he thought Jon looked laughing, and he clicks the detonator.

Season Four (Encore.)

Jon wakes up six months later from a coma. Once he can form a coherent thought it’s about Tim. Where is he? What room is he in? After everything, after all this they had survived, and Jon knows Now. Now he has to make a move, he has to hold and be held by his friend, his lover. It’s a good thing Georgie and Basira are there when he wakes up, he can ask them. Ask them what room Tim was in. When he asks if Tim is alive it’s just for clarification, he knows what answer he’s going to get, that Tim was somewhere in the hospital. His heart shatters when they’re silent. Oh. He’s just woken up from a six month long coma and the love of his life is dead. No this couldn’t be happening. Please. Not Tim. He gets dizzy and he can’t see straight, too consumed by the hard hitting feeling of grief because for the first time ever, Tim is not there. He’s nowhere. He isn’t anymore. He was all he wanted and he did not exist anymore. He was ready now, he was going to ask Tim. Even now Tim was gone they paralleled each other, Jon was ready to ask and he couldn’t anymore, and Tim was ready to ask and felt he couldn’t. Death couldn’t stop them from being intertwined irreversibly with each other. Nothing could.

Season Five (honourable mention.)

Jon still feels him around. He’s happy with Martin but some night when he’s staring up at the ceiling he is reminded of earlier times of being absolutely baked at work with Tim, staring up at the ceiling of his office while they lay on the floor. He thinks of Tim laughing, and realizes he can still imagine Tim’s voice perfectly. And he misses him more than anything. He can feel him around the safe house sometimes, thinks he hears his voice. Sometimes he hears Martin’s footsteps and turns around faster than you’d ever see because for just a moment, he thinks it’s someone else. He loves Martin. But it’s not the way he loved Tim. Nothing will ever be like how he loved Tim. He just wants Tim back sometimes. He wants his best friend. He wants his lover back. And sometimes he can hear Tim’s voice so clearly in his head, imagines what he’d say if he could see Jon now. He can feel Tim’s hand gently in his face, wiping the stray tear away like he had done once before in research days. He can feel himself burying his face in Tim’s chest or shoulder. He missed Tim. Nothing would ever make that feeling go away. Tim would always be, and always had been his lover. Because you don’t need to be dating to be lovers, as long as you do love each other you are lovers. And no one could take that love from them. Jon obviously thinks about Martin and being happy Somewhere Else when he dies, but for a quick fleeting second, the last second he is alive, he thinks about Tim. And how maybe if he ends up Sonewhere Else it would be him Jon saw.

I did cry writing this.

@cult-of-the-eye

[wickedwitzh]

Something short that I wrote last night when I couldn’t sleep - fits within my broad AU from 2x10 onwards that so far only exists in my head.

Margo x Sergei, 670 words, mature

December 1984

Stockholm is, for the lack of a better word, nice.

Freezing, for sure. Loud, but at the same time, startlingly quiet for a capital. A bit bleak. With streets more narrow than what Margo is used to, and more cars, somehow.

It’s also quite breathtaking, in a very understated sort of way.

And there is snow. Margo has only seen snow a handful times in her life, and seeing the white-ish mass brings her a disproportionate amount of joy that she tries (and fails) to hide from her fellow attendees, especially the Russians.

She is still not quite sure why they are here. Technically it’s a four-way meeting about the future of the international space programme, where the United States and the USSR, flanked by South Korea and China respectively, are supposed to discuss their future endeavours. It’s hosted by the ESA, because the four countries in question could not agree on the logistics and besides, Europe wants its slice of the space cake. And so Margo, and Molly, and Bill, and Aleida, all end up in Stockholm, arguing with the Soviets and the Chinese and even with the Europeans, sometimes.

It’s simultaneously worse and better than the ICA, Margo thinks. Like, sure, the ICA is less interactive, which, on the other hand, means that she doesn’t get tired so easily. And the ICA is about scientific progress, not politics. And the hotels usually have better bars. And the conferences are held in early Autumn, mostly in London, where the temperatures are bearable, and not in Sweden in December, just after the Nobel week.

Margo doesn’t take well to the cold climate. Her nose is running constantly and she doesn’t have proper gloves and she is cold almost all the time, but then… But then. Sergei’s hands are warm against her skin; the heat hits her cheeks when his fingers trace intricate patterns on the inside of her thighs; and when he pushes her against the mattress — gently, but decisively, in such perfect proportions that it makes her go insane with want — for a few moments, the chill disappears.

When he buries himself deep inside her, Margo only sighs with pleasure and twists her hips, all thoughts banished from her head. It’s only after, when they lay, panting, buried under the ridiculously puffy comforter, that she realizes that he’s still, technically, married.

She doesn’t see the ring anymore, though.

“We’ve started the divorce proceedings,” Sergei says into her hair. “It’s as amicable as possible. Jurij has already proposed; Yulia will marry him as soon as our divorce is through.”

It still amazes Margo sometimes, this strange geometric shape of human affairs that Sergei is able to navigate, but she’s met Yulia, she knows that his marriage has been over for quite some time already. It makes her feel a tiny bit better about sleeping with a married man.

They discuss other things too, of course. The Mars programme. The new nuclear fuels. Their coworkers and their bosses and the insane timelines imposed on them.

They talk about these things in between the conference proceedings; on a wooden bench overlooking Skeppsbron; under the bare cherry trees in Kungsträdgården; as they stroll down Kastanjgatan, a little behind the rest of the group that is on the lookout for the next pub where they’ve been told to ask for something called “Norrlands guld”.

They vaguely remember that their babysitters — the KGB and the CIA alike — are trailing somewhere behind them, but it’s terrifyingly easy to pretend that it’s only the two of them, in this strange city that’s oozing European charm but is not popular enough to serve as a backdrop in Hollywood movies.

They get careless, though. They are too open with each other, too happy in each other’s presence. Not to mention the other, more intimate stuff. It’s a stupid mistake that only two people absurdly in love could make. But it’s still a mistake, and as it turns out a few months later, there will be a price to pay.