#I’ve been in the fandom for a while and i know many others have as well

[sillymercury]

In the first tags it says most movies/books are not meant to be torn apart but I disagree completely. In fact I think most books/movies are made to dissected and understood on a deeper level. Because whether you like it or not and whether the author meant to or not, books/movies have themes and messages and many people enjoy finding them.

I don’t think it smart to write something(esp things so popular) off as mindless entertainment bc your being fed a message even if you don’t know it. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a book despite whatever message is being sent but when you blatantly ignoring the fact that these things exist is how propaganda propagates. If you are being intentionally fed a narrative without knowing you are likely to internalize it on some level which can be particularly dangerous. The danger presents itself abundantly in this day and age especially when you see people who have such hard stances but cant tell you/explain where those stances originate. Sns thrives off of the want to ‘turn your mind off’ and just consume/enjoy, but that’s never what actually happens. Your subconscious is still processing information but since you’re not consciously dealing with it that leaves room for issues like anxiety, depression, and personality disorder. This seems off topic but ‘mindless consumption’ isn’t a thing, your brain keeps score even when you don’t.

Also a book can have multiple “messages” and you can like some and not the others while still enjoying the piece overall. When I truly love a piece of media I acknowledge is flaws and shortcomings and can see the issues with a story/message while still enjoying it thoroughly. An example for me is I enjoyed the book The Picture of Dorian Gray while recognizing and rejecting the way the characters/book discusses and depicts women.

Like in Nestas book specifically, the main themes are empowerment (specifically female) and growth. This book was my favorite in the series and yet I can still acknowledge all the things wrong with it. Main character were incredibly hypocritical throughout the book, verbal abuse was seemingly over looked/excused, Stockholm syndrome parallels, etc. I identify these things but that still doesn’t detract from my experience instead, adds to it.

Another thing I wanted to mention before bringing this to a close; authors. For the sake of not rambling due to personal feelings I’ll just say, there is nothing wrong with calling out behavior or publicly disagreeing with ideals when it come to public figures. How it’s handled, whether it works, or it’s longevity is a different conversation but there is nothing wrong with speaking out against people in the public eye/people who create mass consumed media.

I understand your take, and I agree people take things way to seriously, but I think your frustration may be displaced. I think the issue with ACOTAR fandom specifically is the same issue with most fandoms. People are delusional, mean, and spoiled. People identify to hard or personalize characters/celebs to the point it becomes an parasocial and problematic. People are also very spoiled in the sense that we feel entitled to the things we want, like we deserve them intrinsically and when there is the threat of not getting what you want (esp is fandoms when discussing this almost mob mentality) or someone challenges your belief/opinion people lash out and get nasty, even feeling personally wronged but a differing stance. When you bring all of these things together it can get nasty very quickly. I’ve been and am still in so many fandoms that I hardly interact with because so much content is toxic or rage bait or whatever. Platforms like Reddit or discord where you can have controlled conversation with a group of people just as dedicated to a topic as you, and you can discuss thoughts and opinions in (what should be) a safe space is an incredible experience but most platforms don’t have moderation that can harbor that so then your left with a mess of often times toxicity and division.

I rambled and diverged a little bit but I thought hard about what I had read and this is what I came up with. Also I feel I should say I’m not a lit major lol but I am educated and I work hard to form my own opinions while still listening to other people takes. And that this is not an attack on op this is pretty much my stream of consciousness after reading the post and I am open to discussion.

my hot take as to why the acotar fandom is a shit show is because too many people with english degrees infiltrated and cannot read a book simply to enjoy it, they must pick it apart and analyze it to the point of just tearing it, the characters and the author apart. and gullible people adopted that same mindset.

in simpler terms: too many people take it way, WAY too seriously lol. like this series is meant for entertainment. sarah didn’t write classic literature with underlying themes on morals and society that’s meant as think pieces. y’all do too much and can never just enjoy things. you’re like the cinephiles that cannot just watch a movie for entertainment purposes, you need citizen kane otherwise you’re shitting on everything because it’s not up to your snobbish standards

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 24 - A Very Royal Christmas ❄️

🎁 Today’s fic is dedicated to the Tarlos Fandom 💕

Summary: A modern-day prince au where TK and Carlos were childhood friends, who have become estranged until now.

Word count: 1244

Dear Tarlos fandom,

We have reached the final day! I have had so much fun crafting these stories to post each day and I love seeing all your reactions to being gifted a fic and just all your sweet encouragement in general. You have all been so wonderful and welcoming to me and I see how kind you are to each other as well. I feel so lucky to be in such an amazing online community with so many other kind people who love tarlos. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve made this year because of this show. You all made 2024 a much better year than it would’ve been for me, and for that, I want to say thank you. Happy holidays, everyone!

With love, Emily

24 Days of Tarlos Masterpost

Prince Carlos has been staring at Prince TK all night at the winter ball, hoping he just might catch the eligible bachelor all by himself.

Carlos just wants a moment of the prince’s attention for a dance. Just a simple dance. TK is the crown prince of his country, and while Carlos isn’t next in line for the throne of his own country, he would be remiss to assume TK would ever spare a second glance at him.

He hasn’t since they were kids anyways. 

They used to be best friends, the two young princes were inseparable as playmates when they were children. Now however, one would think they hated each other for the lengths they’d go to avoid one another at functions such as these. 

Carlos doesn’t really understand where it all went wrong. One day, TK was his best friend, and the next day, he wasn’t. 

The prince in question is currently laughing with a few dukes and duchesses, picking a canapé off a passing tray. Carlos watches him from where he stands with Lady Iris, one of his other longest friends. 

“Stop staring, your highness,” Iris teases. “You might burn a hole right through him.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and turning to his friend. “I’m not staring,” the prince insists. “I’m trying to find my nerve.”

“Your nerve?” Iris raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know,” Carlos glances around to ensure no one is listening to their conversation before he hisses, “to ask him to dance.”

That makes Iris raise another eyebrow at him. “You’re going to ask the prince to dance?”

“Shh!” Carlos’s eyes widen. “Not so loud.”

“Oh my god, Carlos,” Iris grabs Carlos by the sleeve and drags him to a quieter area of the ballroom. “You are grown and acting like a child. TK doesn’t want to be your friend, he’s made that very clear. You need to get over your schoolboy crush on him and move on.”

“I deserve to know why he hates me,” Carlos huffs. “It’s been ten years and he’s still ignoring me. He can’t ignore me here.”

Iris just shakes her head, raising one of her hands. “You know what, I can’t watch this trainwreck. You are my best friend, I can’t watch you make a fool of yourself over a boy.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself. It’s a winter ball, you’re expected to dance with people, even if you don’t like them.”

Iris’s eyes only widen and she stares at Carlos like he’s grown two heads. 

“What?” Carlos scowls. 

It’s only then Carlos realizes Iris is actually staring at a point over his shoulder. He whirls around and comes face to face with Prince TK himself. 

“Oh, your highness, I didn’t see you there…” Carlos stares into bright, green eyes he’s been in love with as long for as he can remember.

TK just smiles at him, all suave and charismatic. “Prince Carlos,” he says, holding up a hand. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Carlos stares at TK, stunned, he glances backwards at Iris who shoos at him with wide eyes. “Um, sure, yeah.”

TK leads Carlos out onto the dance floor before pulling him in by the waist and beginning to lead. Carlos’s own hand settles at TK’s elbow as their remaining hands clasp together. It’s the closest Carlos has been to TK in years and it’s making his head spin in a way neither the champagne or dancing ever could.

“I heard of your father’s passing earlier this year, I’m so sorry, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos furrows his brows. “Thank you, but is this just a pity dance?”

TK’s eyes snap back to Carlos’s. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, TK,” Carlos shakes his head. “You’ve refused to speak to me for years when we used to share everything.”

 “I didn’t cut you out,” TK looks away sheepishly. “I ran away.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carlos huffs.

“Look, you have every right to be pissed,” TK shakes his head. “You have every right to hate me. But it wasn’t until your coming out story this year that I thought…”

“Thought what??”

TK’s gaze finds Carlos’s once more as he softly says, “That I might have a chance with you.”

Now Carlos is even more confused. He’d always known TK is gay. He wasn’t shy about admitting it, unlike Carlos, who always kept that part of himself locked up tight. This year, he felt brave enough to come out on his own accord, because he was tired of the endless marriage proposals and requests from advisors for him to find a nice girl to marry. People get antsy when a handsome prince nears his thirties without a ring on his finger, evidently.

Carlos stares back at TK. “I still don’t understand.”

“Carlos,” TK smiles at the prince sadly. “I’ve been in love with you forever, and I never thought you could even possibly like me back. So I ran. It wasn’t right, and I hate that I lost such an important friendship over it, but I was terrified of losing you regardless.”

“So you made the choice for me.”

“I made the choice for you,” TK agrees.

Carlos glances around the noisy, crowded ballroom. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

TK nods and leads Carlos from the dance floor and towards a quiet balcony that overlooks the grounds, beautifully lit up with Christmas lights over all the shrubbery in the gardens.

“Wow, it’s beautiful out here,” Carlos remarks as he leans up against a stone railing. It’s cold, but he’s warm from the drinks, and dancing, and the man beside him.

TK leans against the railing next to him, head turned to look at Carlos. “It sure is,” he murmurs softly.

Carlos catches TK’s gaze and shakes his head. “You’re impossible, you know.”

“I wouldn’t deserve you.”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Carlos finds himself admitting.

It’s TK’s turn to stare at Carlos in shock. “Come again?”

“It’s true,” Carlos shakes his head with a soft little smile. “Maybe I’m crazy, but even though you walked out of my life, I’ve still thought about you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my head.”

“What does that mean, Carlos?” TK shakes his head, staring at Carlos.

Carlos thought he needed to be brave to ask TK to dance, but the real show of courage comes from this moment. 

“It means, I’d like to kiss you, your highness,” he grins, biting his bottom lip to try and contain his smile. He takes a tentative step forward. “And I hope you might allow me to.”

TK’s eyes dazzle from the glow of the moonlight and the Christmas lights all around. He nods, stepping into Carlos and circling his arms around his neck. “You’re really giving me a chance after all I’ve done to you?”

“I really am.”

The kiss is pure magic, like something out of a movie, as Carlos presses his lips to TK’s. Butterflies dance in the prince’s stomach as he pulls the other prince ever closer, wondering if he’s possibly crazy. He’s unsure how this will even work, or where they’ll go from here, but Carlos decides to be brave anyway. Despite it all, he just can’t let TK go.

[novafire-is-thinking]

reblog to give the person you reblogged this from a ⭐️Rodimus Star⭐️

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Imo its more of a mass thing, not individuals. Annie is not a very present character in the sense we don't learn much about her. She's an accessory to a male character which is not good in itself.

So because of how little page time she has, there's no single way to "correctly" characterize her. But I see a lot of hatred towards certain tropes people assign to her. Expressing annoyance that some choose to have her come from an unstable background, annoyance that she has a certain trait. I would understand if it came from a view of infantalizing her due to her mental health issues. I agree with the takes saying that she shouldn't be portrayed as incompetent, due to the implications it has about mentally ill people.

What I'm talking about is constant complaint about backstory choices people make for he r/traits they give her. It's been a while since I've seen people actually just enjoying themselves in the odesta fandom. It's good to discuss differing opinions and viewpoints but the way it is sometimes done on here does not open a welcoming space to discuss these views. Instead they appear to try and assert an objectively "right" way to portray her personality and backstory.

There are others who feel like this, I am aware. I enjoy the debates in the fandom. Whether she was a Career and volunteered, or reaped. Those things. They open for an interesting and broadening discussion. What, and this is only *my* opinion, makes the community unwelcoming is the aforementioned. Constant complaints about the unimportant things that do not serve purpose other than to just re-express personal fanfiction preferences.

I think people need to be more open to other interpretations of Annie.

Yes, I agree people should stop being ableist about her character. But a lot of the community doesn't seem to understand there is a difference between an insensitive portrayal of Annie, and one that they just dislike. To try and discourage the latter and make it out to be the wrong characterization is what makes myself and others feel unwelcomed.

I'm pleased that there is greater awareness of how to write mentally ill people. But the Odesta tumblr community has started to feel like a large but tight private club that you have to gain validation to get into. Rather than being a place to share love for a ship, it has become a community you have to earn a relevant place in by having the "right" opinions.

Not aimed at anyone in particular, I must mention. I have yapped a lot but I hope somewhere I am coherent. 💜

you know what i have been thinking about this too, and i totally agree. We should be wary of portrayals of Annie that are disrespectful but i think that can sometimes be conflated with portrayals that aren’t to our personal tastes.

I also feel like the fandom on here has sort of attributed traits to Annie that have become widely accepted which can make it harder for people to suggest new or contradictory ideas.

Also I’m just going to throw my own popular opinion out there: when it comes to characters like Annie who don’t have a lot of canon info, phrases like “no one understands her like i do” just perpetuate the idea that there is only one possible interpretation. I am aware people say that as a joke and that’s not necessarily a bad thing but like…i don’t know how you can say that when there’s not a lot there to understand in the first place.

Thanks for clarifying!

[jacki-daytona]

UNFORTUNATELY I have discovered I have more to say!

I’ve never been very active in fandom, quite happily and passively observing most of it - but it really was Bi Buck and Tommy Kinard who made me so enthusiastic that I needed to SHARE it.

And not just share and truck along happily with my own company (which tbh, is excellent for the most part hah) but also share WITH you all, engage in conversations and friendships and OF ALL THINGS join a few fandom discord servers. Gosh, it has been a BLAST.

I’ve loved almost every minute of it. And those minutes that I hated, you were all still there with me. Support and care was offered when nasty folks wanted to ruin our fun. I could see the effort that a lot of us expended in protecting ourselves and others from awful things in our ask boxes - but also the effort made to be strong and kind. Checking in with each other - making more FUN (special mention to the romance concocted between the 118 and 217 fire trucks) - being silly and loving while still taking no shit.

Funnily enough, I have a tattoo on my leg that says:

“Do no harm but take no shit” - I’ve tried to live up to that statement many times since I got it and I know we all tried to do that together here.

We’ve made an effort to show that sure, it’s smart to recognise it’s just fandom - and also the wisdom to know that real hurts to real people are not fandom bullshit.

In the new year, may we continue to do no harm as best we can and take no shit.

Ok I’m done. Xoxoxo

This year I am most grateful for the friends I’ve made and the community I’ve seen formed in this little fandom space.

I hope we can continue to share in our love for these characters and continue this magical outpouring of creativity and care.

As I’m Australian, I’ve chosen to donate to Minus18 - an organisation that provides support to LGBTQIA+ youths and education to schools and workplaces and to VACCA - who support Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children - who are over-institutionalised and over-policed in Australia.

[decembermoonskz]

it was so funny seeing a stay I met at the atl concert be chosen for the stay games in the la concert LOL

[griffonsgrove]

omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you. 

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you! 

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out. 

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more. 

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier. 

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

[theonottsbxtch]

Can we get oscar x teacher smau since school is starting over here in America?

Professor Piastri? | OP81

an: thank you so much for this request! i had so much fun with it. i had to remake this three times because tumblr kept deleting my progress 🫠. good luck with the start of school soon!

fc: pinterest

requests: open

messages between oscar and yn

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, mclaren and 983,836 others

only 34 days left 🙃

*tap to load comments*

userone: I WANT MORE B&W PHTOOS 💳💥💳💥

usertwo: what is op81 doing in a library?

landonorris: summer break is in 15 days you muppet

oscarpiastri: i know, i can count

landonorris: right and i’m world champion

userthree: i need more photographer oscar content

logansargeant: i swear it was 28 days the other day?

oscarpiastri: no ☹️

userfour: what does logan know🤨

userfive: me 🤝 oscar, both having important things in 34 days

usersix: ooh what’s yours!!

userfive: school break!

twitter

imessage between oscar and yn

ynprivate

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 19 others

getting to see the hubby live at work 🥰

*tap to load more comments*

yourbestfriend: HOW DOES IT FEEL FHAT OSCAR PIASTRI, YOUR HUSBAND, IS NOW A GRAND PRIX WINNER

ynprivate: SHUT UP SHUT SHUT UP I CANT EVEN CELEBRATE WITH HIM

oscarpiastri: you can celebrate with me in the hotel room

logansargeant: ew get a room

oscarpiastri: i’m trying to

yourcoworker: THIS is why you didn’t want to meet up for coffee and mark papers?!

ynprivate: 😅🤭

logansargeant: my favourite secret wag i swear

ynprivate: how many secret wags do you know?

logansargeant: 🤐

twitter

f1wags

liked by userone, usertwo, userthree and 981,264 others

BREAKING‼️

the shock. the disbelief. the dismay for some. oscar piastri married?! today the world is shocked to find out that one of the grid’s most charming drivers has been secretly married for years! that’s right, married. the news was bought to us after a screenshot was leaked on twitter from yn (his wife)‘s private instagram where she was seen posting him with the caption “getting to see the hubby live at work🥰”. the woman identified as yn ln, still goes by her maiden name was a girl he met while at boarding school.

yn ln is currently a teacher in england, and the couple has managed to keep their relationship entirely under the radar. sources close to the couple reveal that they chose to keep their marriage private due to her career in education, wanting to protect her from the intense public scrutiny that comes with being associated with an f1 star (hence the reason she has kept her maiden name)

the screenshot, which shows a sweet picture of oscar looking into her camera, has sent the f1 fandom into spirals!

despite the sudden exposure, oscar and his wife have yet to comment on the leak. the secrecy surrounding around their relationship only adds to the intrigue, leaving fans and media outlets waiting with bated breath.

who is oscar piastri and what more is he hiding?

*photos credit to yn’s instagram*

oscarpiastri

liked by ynprivate, landonorris, logansargeant and 923,746 others

cats out the bag now, mrs piastri everyone. only 11 more days until her summer break!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: that’s what the countdown was about 🥹

usertwo: oh hell nawh they both hot

userthree: how long have they been together what?!

logansargeant: married for two years but together for much longer, i’ve known since 2019☺️

landonorris: oscar we are NOT friends

oscarpiastri: i am sorry, i had to respect the mrs’ wishes

landonorris: LOGAN HAS KNOWN FOR SIX YEARS THAT YOU HAD A PARTNER

landonorris: i was low-key starting to think you were gay mate

ynprivate: i’m so sorry!! i just didn’t want work and private life to get mixed up

landonorris: i guess i can somewhat forgive him

ynprivate: yay! maybe we can meet for coffee to get to know you better, osc talks so much about you :)

landonorris: he talks about me 🥹

userfour: i think they broke the internet for good this time

userfive: helpppp lando in the comments 😭😭

usersix: imagine your teacher being oscar piastri’s WIFE

userseven: i hope nicole didn’t find out through instagram

nicolepiastri: no, but i did find out he got engaged three weeks after it happened!

alex_albon: @/landonorris take this L and hold it you dweeb

landonorris: 🖕🖕

[kukuandkookie]

Sorry I know you worked hard on this analysis and yes it’s a very lovely and moving read and as others have said, it’s really strong and I can feel the passion—

But also…

BERYL AND SAPPHIRE MENTION??? 🥺🤧🥹

As much as I love Link Click, Beryl and Sapphire will truly always have a special space in my heart.

Especially since Link Click already has a huge fandom internationally too, but Beryl and Sapphire is more underrated globally and I tend to gravitate to loving underrated things even more loudly. But also for Link Click, it’s an objectively really strong donghua almost anyone would recommend to anyone else in a near heartbeat, while for Beryl and Sapphire, maybe it’s more flawed objectively in animation etc, but subjectively I always want to recommend it.

Anyway sorry for the Beryl and Sapphire freak out ahaha. I was just reading this and got hit in the face with them and ahhh I love them (they are actually very Shiguang energy in some arcs if people are into that!). 🥺

Also to touch briefly on why the nature of Shiguang’s relationship may be up to interpretation, I think of it as there being three layers to Chinese media in terms of queerness, mostly because censorship in China is a spectrum so it causes some discrepancies:

1) Uncensored (as much as they can be), explicit, canon BL: usually found in novels and audio dramas and manhua—examples include most popular danmei like Mo Dao Zu Shi or Erha

2) Censored but still intended to be BL and is thus canon through queer-coding (could be in the background or in the foreground): most often seen in donghua and cdramas (which unfortunately gets many BL cdramas labelled “bromance” even though they’re trying to go against censors as best as they can)—examples include the Mo Dao Zu Shi donghua adaptation or Wang Qi and Cui Bei in the background of Dalisi Rizhi or The Spirealm, a cdrama adaptation of danmei novel Kaleidoscope of Death

3) Homoerotic media that isn’t technically intended to be BL because we can’t assume the creative crews’ intentions but can be interpreted as such due to what can also be seen as queer-coding but is also still vague (not queer-baiting, because Chinese creators can’t even afford to queer-bait): most often seen in donghua and cdramas; these are what often get called “sworn brothers” in Chinese fandom, referencing a real historical tradition that’s similar to becoming “blood brothers,” and would be actually fair to call a bromance (personally, I like to call it “BL if you squint”)—for example, Link Click or the cdrama adaptation of Hikaru no Go

Censorship is horrible, but in the way humans adapt, it’s caused a unique situation for Chinese media where besides BL stories evolving to focus on genre and plot beyond just romance, relationships can be very very flexible. It’s really interesting to see, and it does make for lots of analysis potential! I think the recent cdrama The Way Home is a great example of this, as it obviously got past censors by being a story about brotherhood and family, yet everyone who watches it has raised an eyebrow at the potential gayness of it all.

That being said, sorry for derailing SLFNSKSH. I love media analyses but I don’t have anything more worthwhile than the insight you’ve already provided to share about Shiguang.

I do have some ideas about queer-coding in Chinese media in general and why real life bodies can’t portray it as much as animated or non-bodies (via audio dramas) can, which is the subject of an academic thing I’ve been trying to work on, but that’s no longer about Shiguang and Link Click itself. 😅

But it’s truly such an interesting thing to talk about it from so many possible angles!

Vortex We Took Every Breath to Follow : Shiguang and Their Companionship Through Life and Beyond

@justfrolikin I hope this will be a suitable reply to the question you asked; what I think about the nature of the bond Shiguang share.

First, a few words from me :

Even though I love engaging in fandom spaces and enjoy ship fanarts, fanfictions etc, till today my heart truly belongs to a very few ships. Shiguang is one of them. As long as one is not blinded by homophobic delusions, I enjoy discussing any kind of interpretation of my OTPs, be it 'Platonic', just friends™, romantic or whatever. But I have a fixed category (which very ironically is not quite fixed if you read the whole discussion) that fulfills my idea of true love.

for me, Love is a dialogic discourse with your existential other.

The terms I used are very loaded terms; 'dialogue' and 'other' come from the Bakhtinian philosophy of ethics, 'discourse' is a Foucauldian term and existentialism has a long postmodern and post-structuralist philosophical tradition. The reason I LOVE Link Click is because of their postmodern lens and the narratives of the characters, not only the protagonists fundamentally question what is the real purpose of life? Why do human bondings matter? The answers reside in the simplest vignette of everyday life. Grief, trauma, hope, memory, reconciliation, remembrance, love, family - these are the central themes of Link Click. Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's separate existence and their interpersonal dialogue thematically and structurally complements the main ethos of Link Click.

When asked about the nature of Shiguang relationship Director Li Haoling answered : 是生死之交咯! (Shì shēngsǐ zhī jiāo gē! - It's a life and death relationship!)

source :

Fate, mortality, death, remembrance are the building blocks of their relationship as we perceive it.

Now let me talk about something. When I first watched Link Click on September 17th, 2024, the first Intertexual connection I drew was with another text called Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. Funnily enough, early in this year I wrote a crossover Hamlet adaptation (and won the second prize in a competition hehe) interweaving a few elements from Godot. Time loop, fragmentation of time and space, panopticon with no exit - all these elements featured in that. I recommend Waiting for Godot to you all, you'll understand why it resonates so much with Link Click.

Now,

Lu Guang is a person who is shown to be a character who has some mysterious powers to manipulate time and space. Even from the very beginning, he has this dominant (and sometimes seemingly monologic that feels problematic to new viewers) voice with which he guides Cheng Xiaoshi through the dives. He is apparently headstrong and has acquired all kinds of praises ™ like hypocrite, selfish (lol) and what not. Again quoting Li Haoling "Lu Guang is a complex and delicate character." But after the release of 'The Eye' and 'The Lull', I think we are pretty sure that Lu Guang has been trapped in a rewind, like a Sisyphus figure. A friend of mine told me the other day, "Superficially, Lu Guang is presented as an archetypal strategist, the one who guides, the one who keeps things in control, but in reality, he has no agency whatsoever." Lu Guang lacks the fundamental agency in life (we all do but we have to accept it one day or other) and that mortifying realisation comes to him with the death of Cheng Xiaoshi. What is unacceptable to him is the most obvious outcome of a mortal life : death. Lu Guang's tragic flaw stems from this unacceptability of Cheng Xiaoshi's death and him attempting to manipulate time, very Sisyphus of him. Till now, we are yet to see Lu Guang's character traits without any reference to Cheng Xiaoshi but this does not reduce his character depth. His denial is actually very delicious ( I almost wrote a paper on this, taking the popular sci-fi trope of time travel as an allegorical and symbolic means of resistance and subversion but anyway, it's not relevant here)

Lu Guang's character makes me fall in love with the song Flash by Gorilla Attack. It is from Lu Guang's character, no one can convince me otherwise.

Just a loop A bored 'n loop Should I do this now 'til the end? Into the story As just an extra You are the reason I live But you don't remember me? Oh, can I be with you?

And

The only thing that I got, just like a little lamp I gotta go in one-way smoke Resist the lifeless scenario Become the person The person I wished for that day The room like a coffin, too bright A groove that I lost faraway Blanket, I need a blanket Not a synthetic one Notice the regret engraved so hard

And the line that keeps coming back as a haunting refrain :

Flash me, flash me Gotta get the power to rewrite I just wanna deny, I just wanna rewrite, yeah

Every time I listen to this song, these lines send a chill down my spine. But Lu Guang's obsession with 'rewrite' echoes with what my professor said to be Hamlet's constant meta-theatrical discomfort with the script, role, play he has been provided with. He does not comply with the playwright's words. Apart from time and death, I think Lu Guang's most wretched enemy is Li Haoling himself. That's why he constantly wants to 'rewrite', but all he has got till now is 'rewind'. Now whether his 'urge to rewrite' will turn into a successful 'write back' is the central play of the plot we are looking up to. What is my personal opinion on the ending?

The ending which is so dryly plausible in our real world is Lu Guang accepting his defeat and carries within him the remembrance of Cheng Xiaoshi.

But my question is, my brother in Buddhism Li Haoling, why the fuck would I watch your Link Click to know that death is the node that can't be changed? Is it not the given fact? It's a cultural text, however modern or postmodern a text might be, it ultimately uses the plot to defamiliarise and convey well known concepts and emotions with a critical engagement. A plot is just a vehicle, a crucial one, to help us have a greater and more nuanced vision of life. Due to non-linear narrative and active subversion of chronotope, complex plot will have plot twists and cliffhangers BUT it still has to perform a crucial, non negotiable role - the arc. If the beginning point and the ending point have the same temperaments, what kind of significance will it even achieve?

If Lu Guang can't write back at the end of Link Click, the structure of the plot will be like this :

1. Exposition, rising action : Cheng Xiaoshi died at the very beginning, Lu Guang is fucked.

2. Climactic stage : shit and shit and complex quantum physics, hallelujah hot villains, 'I am a great writer I can kill any character TeeeHeeeeHeeee', backstories, parallel narratives, foil characters have no relevance and rendered completely meaningless,

3. Falling action and resolution : Cheng Xiaoshi is still dead to the very ending, Lu Guang is still fucked.

No catharsis, not a milimeter of displacement from the beginning point.

What is the fucking point?! From the perspective of a writer and a critical reader, I can say it will be a sheer waste of money, time and potential. I would rather watch... whatever.

The friend I mentioned before told me, " You know why Emma or Chen Bin die? They had to die. Emma had a loving family, she got the job she wanted, she had her hardships but she didn't begin with tragedy. And when tragedy came, she was so not ready to negotiate the problem and considered self-annihilation as her first choice. She actively erased the possibility of dialogue with herself. If Emma were an orphan, struggling with unemployment and other hardships from the very beginning, I don't think Emma would die that easily. Emma was denied the conflict of life which very ironically tests human agency itself."

And for Chen Bin...during my first watch, the moment I saw him my instincts told me he was going to die. He had a loving wife, a daughter, he loved her, she accepted the proposal and they married soon. Conflict where? To bring his story to a full circle, he had to die.

I can say every parallel story in Link Click can be judged from this lens. People who had a point of conflict (the noodle lesbians, the couple who lost their child, Xu Shanshan, that old man) engaged in dialogue with themselves, others and social forces ultimately got a happy ending. Even in the earthquake episode, it's a story of reconciliation with the past, the man got his mother's photos and it's plausible and satisfying (and bittersweet resolution). He got his (absent) father back.

Another thing, we as a fandom have a collective amnesia about....*drumrolls* Cheng Xiaoshi's character! Congratulations! The man, the freaking protagonist just dies at the beginning, accepts his death, and remains dead. Doomed yaoi allegations are just nonsense. Link Click is doomed if Shiguang doesn't get a happy ending. Link Click is NOT a dramatic monologue told from Lu Guang's perspective, engaging with his perpetual trance of melancholy and him holding onto Cheng Xiaoshi's memento mori.

If Lu Guang is attempting to write back to Li Haoling and the doomed yaoi allegations, Cheng is attempting to write back to Lu Guang himself, not in confirming his own death, but saving Lu Guang from the loop of eternity and by being together. Cheng Xiaoshi is always seen to be guided by Lu Guang, he has to witness repercussions of his actions. Even with all this knowledge I will say, Cheng Xiaoshi has way more agency than Lu Guang has. During my first watch, I could feel Lu Guang has this barrier of guilt and unsettled emotions wrapped around him which denies Cheng Xiaoshi access into the deepest core of his subjectivity. Even though he achingly wishes to be together with Cheng Xiaoshi, the burden of his past actions and PTSD holds him back from being together with him, as if his existence is antithetical to Cheng Xiaoshi's existence. Cheng Xiaoshi is that glitch in the matrix that messes up Lu Guang's plans of withdrawing himself from Cheng Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi should not listen to everything Lu Guang orders. In season 1, he mostly conforms to Lu Guang's ideals, but in season 2, when Lu Guang was hospitalised, Cheng Xiaoshi became more active and you could tell a layer of barrier melted away. He was less of a stone statue, showed more emotions (the S2ep1 lmao when he said "would you prefer if I die?" abhimaan we call it), then the unique high five that feels like Lu Guang accepting Cheng Xiaoshi's proposal or something :

(LMAO ignore my comments, but what I said is true)

My point is, Cheng Xiaoshi is Lu Guang's existential other and vice versa. They cannot live without each other. They cannot exist without each other. If one dies, the other will die and I want them living happily ever after in heaven. Cause 'Break' clearly depicts them as soulmates. I personally take Break as the ultimate canonical ending

Do you see? each of them has one wing missing, meaning that it's their cumulative effort that will make them fly successfully. FYI, there is another Haoling directed, Haoliners Animation League animated canonical queer donghua called 'Beryl and Sapphire'. A separate episode, episode 13 just explores this 'one wing soulmate trope'.

Now take them as friends, platonic friends with no erotic feelings, pure familial feelings or whatever, they are like Yin and Yang, like Shiv and Shakti, and Yin changes to Yang and Yang changes to Yin actively as they interact. You will have a hard time pointing out who is who. I have watched TGCF and Beryl and Sapphire and a tiny bit of Spiritpact - all three directed by Li Haoling and I am well aware of his narrative strategy to represent soulmates and Link Click seems to be the one of the greatest (and my favourite) product of that genius mind.

I began with team Lu Guang cause he is a scorpio, I understand him, his birthday almost coincides with mine, we share some identical issues. But the fandom's often yeeting Cheng Xiaoshi out of the narrative phenomenon brought back my due attention to him. Is Cheng Xiaoshi so willing to be doomed? Does he not yearn to be with Lu Guang? Let me whisper to your ear...he yearns for him too.

so he

does understand that the person who dies...dies, death affects them the least who dies, it's the people, the family and loved ones who actually suffer. This man will leave his Lu Guang on his own volition? eh.

Also I wanna talk about Link Click's strategy of deliberate misdirection. The first and second seasons are so deliberately crafted (manipulation of narrative you can say) to actively erase Lu Guang's subjectivity and nuance. We are just denied access his perspective. He is mysterious but not that aligns itself with a viewer's emotions. In fact, during my recent re-watch, I felt "wtf Lu Guang, why are you interacting with Cheng Xiaoshi like a straight dudebro?" He is a menace, the kind I usually don't like. But there also seemed to be a critical undercurrent which I couldn't really grasp, but it was surely there. It was adding up to my increasing discomfort and made me question - "was it just my wishful projection? they do not share that bond at all." I was so pissed at that thought that I almost decided I am not gonna abandon Link Click. BUT BRO, BRO

'The Eye' and 'Lull' just blew my mind. I was not that affected by Cheng Xiaoshi's corpse advertisement agenda (that corpse is drawing people's attention who is suddenly aware of Yingdu release, great tactic, Haoling) what pleasantly brought me out of despair is Lu Guang's love for Cheng Xiaoshi was acknowledged in these songs. You will read between the lines on your own in season 1 and season 2 if you have that critical method to engage with a cultural text, but the silencing narrative was also very prominent. I very much felt that the Shiguang story is actually the central action, and not the creative sci-fi archtexual exercise of genres, which again, is just the vehicle. But The Eye and Lull focus upon them, them and them. Their emotions are acknowledged, they are no longer behind the veils of symbolism, parallel narratives, intense defamiliarisation; their emotional dialogue now not only demands a voice of their own but also has the potential to reclaim the central part of the stage as they struggle and negotiate power and agency. And I am here for it.

@guangshi-091305 I present to you my rubbish.

[mokulule]

While I fail to focus after my night shift have a peek at another of my brain worms

Untitled, I am still waiting for that moment of divine inspiration. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)  Fandom: DP x DC 

The only sounds in the Batcave were the bats chittering amongst themselves high above. Bruce rubbed his chin absently as he took in the information displayed on the large screens with narrowed eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. Somebody was lying.

No matter how many times he looked over the information, that was his conclusion. It nagged at him that he didn’t know what, if any, information he could use. He hated being so in the dark. 

A silent notification in the corner of his screen alerted him to a call from the Watchtower. He took it and Superman’s face appeared in a smaller rectangle on the center of the screen. Bruce kept outwardly placid but from behind the cowl nobody would see the way his gaze instantly zeroed in on the massive black eye Superman had acquired, and the general strain around his unhurt eye and mouth. He was worn out. 

“Phantom has been apprehended,” Superman said with a long sigh. It had clearly not been an easy fight. 

“I’ll be there,” Batman said and ended the call. Maybe they’d finally get some real answers. 

He stood and walked towards the zeta tube. Another call came in, this time on the comm in his cowl. 

“Hood,” he greeted.

“Hey, old man. I’m at the location. You were right it’s absolutely crawling with the white suits and their weaponry is not like anything I’ve seen before.”

Bruce felt like a hand squeezed his heart. Hood out of anyone knew his weapons, if he didn’t know them they weren’t on the market. He absolutely hated asking any of his kids to walk into an unknown situation. Unfortunately he didn’t have any other options. 

“Be careful, Hood.”

“Aww, is that worry I detect?”

“Just don’t take unnecessary risks,” Bruce cautioned.

“You wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t think it was necessary, old man. Don’t worry, I’ll get you your intel.”

Bruce grunted. Jason was right. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it was important. Didn’t mean he had to like it, nor the fact that Red Hood’s criminal reputation made him perfect for breaking into a government building; even if Hood was seen the Justice League kept plausible deniability. 

Everyone knew Red Hood was a wild card. 

“Check in regularly with Oracle.”

He could practically feel the way Jason rolled his eyes at him.

“Not my first rodeo, B.”

With that the connection cut off. Bruce couldn’t help the bad feeling he had about everything. 

He really hated this stage of an investigation. 

Two months ago the US government contacted the Justice League about a problem. Several bases of a government agency named the GIW had been hit by a malicious creature they called Phantom. The attacks had been gaining in severity and frequency and their measures had so far failed to stop it. 

Since then, a member of the Justice League had arrived too late to five such attacks. They’d stood no chance against Phantom, who’d then disappeared, living up to the name.

To their eyes Phantom was outwardly a humanoid, possibly a meta or alien. The GIW called him a ghost from a different dimension.

They had been at a loss of how exactly to contain such a powerful foe, who not only could go toe to toe with their heavy hitters like Superman, but also disappear by means unknown. This time they’d been prepared. They’d had various team configurations ready to go depending on who was available. 

Something that seemed to have paid off, but Bruce did not like that Clark was injured. Because if Clark was injured…

A zeta tube ride later and he met Superman on the Watchtower. Something that hadn’t been apparent on the call was the sling Superman’s left arm was in. Another visible injury added to the swollen eye. 

“Is everyone alright?” He had to ask.

“Nobody’s permanently hurt.” Clark hurried to assure as they started walking towards the interrogation room, but there was a but. Bruce kept his stare steady until Clark tiredly elaborated: “But nobody got out the fight unscathed. John won’t be walking for a while. J’onn is suffering from psychic backlash. Diana has some broken ribs and scrapes and you can see my own wounds. Everyone is tired, it was a long fight.”

Batman’s lips thinned. At least there had been no casualties. 

Almost as if reading his mind. Superman added quietly. 

“We got there while the base was still standing. Phantom made eye contact with me for a moment, before he unleashed this… sonic attack…” His face turned pained, as he looked for words that came halting. “It was a scream, I can’t describe it, it felt- it felt like I was dying. None of us could get close.”

Superman looked away.

“When it was over the base was gone, eradicated, like the others. There was just a large crater. Who knows how many people were still in there.”

Bruce set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was never easy to deal with casualties. 

“The one good thing about it was that the scream seemed to drain quite a bit of energy from him.” Clark barked a laugh, short and hysterical. Bruce knew Clark would have rather faced Phantom at full power if it meant more people had lived. 

“And still it was all we could do to subdue him. We barely won.”

They barely won. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter, and they barely won. The knowledge sat like a heavy ball in Bruce’s chest. 

Now, maybe they could get intel that wasn’t most reluctantly handed over by a government agency, that didn’t even want to reveal what their alphabet soup name was an abbreviation of. “We had to turn off the ‘Ghost Shield’ to get Phantom inside the base, so we at least know it works, even if for some reason it doesn’t protect the GIW bases,” Superman remarked.  

Bruce hnn’ed to show he’d heard. It was one more discrepancy among many.

Batman entered the observation room with Superman at his back. Wonder Woman was there and he quickly took in her unusually disheveled appearance, she looked tired and uncomfortable, shaken (but whole, safe). He nodded in greeting and she gave him a tight smile in return. He turned to the observation window and felt his breath stick in his throat.

Phantom was- 

The glitchy footage they’d managed to get on earlier encounters couldn’t have prepared him. Bruce felt his jaw clench. Phantom looked young. There was still a hint of baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks. He was short and wiry like Tim but maybe a bit younger than Jason, technically an adult, but to Bruce he still looked painfully young. The overall glowing and the slowly seeping green wound at his hairline didn’t take away just how human he looked. 

Bruce looked at Phantom and saw a kid. Worse, supposedly a dead kid, a ghost, if the most basic of their intel was to be believed, which even that he wasn’t entirely sure of.

A weight was heavy on his shoulders. He had to remind himself that he had found evidence of Phantom throughout history and if a ghost was truly what he was, he was most likely a very old, very powerful spirit, for whom age didn’t matter. It would be a mistake to trust the youthful appearance. 

He was chained to the chair both by wide cuffs at his wrists and ankles so he could only move very little. The cuffs were the best they had when it came to meta power suppression cuffs with some added ghost specific sigils courtesy of Zatanna’s research. She would have liked Constantine to look them over too as that sort of thing was more his area of expertise, but he’d been off on one of his extra-dimensional missions since long before this started and they hadn’t been able to contact him. 

The cuffs kept Phantom here in any case and he didn’t look happy about it. His lips were a flat line and the thick black brows were drawn together over narrowed green eyes. His head was held high (stubbornness? Pride?), chin tilted in a way that showed off a bright green-purple line around his throat, which had it been red and on a human would have looked like rope burn-

Bruce looked to Diana and he suddenly understood part of her discomfort.

“He was about to use another sonic attack, I didn’t see any other way.” Her words were quiet, regretful, but she faced his gaze head on. Bruce nodded. She never would have used the lasso like that under normal circumstances. It was incredibly worrying how much it had taken to subdue him. 

For a moment the three of them just stood there in silence, watching Phantom watch the door.

It was finally time for answers. 

Bruce didn’t make any outward sign that he was about to move, but of course Clark caught on even before he’d moved, stepping aside letting Bruce take point. They went into the interrogation room, Diana staying back to observe and be ready with security measures, they didn’t know for sure would even work.

They entered the room and immediately sharp green eyes locked onto him. There was a quick glance towards Superman, but the eyes quickly focused back on Batman. There was a calculating sort of intelligence behind those eyes. 

That was one question immediately answered, but it was one he could have inferred. It was very hard to believe the claim that this “ghost” was non-sentient, when he specifically targeted the bases of a specific government agency and nothing else. Though of course they could have had something that attracted the ghost, but nobody could look at Phantom and think non sentient. 

Now the question was, why?

Bruce sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table from Phantom. Clark had a moment’s pause before he joined them. Bruce pulled out a tablet from underneath his cape and laid it carefully out on the table, turning it on. At this point most people in the room with the Batman would have started getting nervous, but evidently not Phantom. He was still just passively defiant, not to mention he hadn’t yet said a word.

“Phantom, is that your preferred manner of address?” Bruce decided to start out neutral. 

There was a glitter of amusement in green eyes and the barest uptick of his lips, but he remained silent. Bruce could do silence. 

The silence stretched between them until Clark broke it.

“Why do you destroy those bases?”

Phantom glanced to Clark and his earnest question, then back to Bruce, barely raising an eyebrow, like as if to say “really, this the best you can do?” Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Clark was usually a better foil for him at interrogations, but then most people didn’t choose total silence.

Bruce decided to be frank with him.

“We are trying to understand your motivation. That’s all.” He studied Phantom’s face which had settled into a stony glare. “But first I’d just like to know if it’s alright to call you Phantom and what your pronouns are? We have been using he/him based on your appearance but you might have another preference?”

The glare softened a bit and for a moment Bruce actually thought he’d lured a response out of him, but Phantom just looked away. Incidentally drawing attention to the line at his throat. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Are you so hurt, that you’re unable to speak?”

Phantom slowly looked back at him. He seemed to actually be contemplating giving some sort of answer.

That’s when his comm clicked on barely audible.

“The GIW has been in contact,” Diana informed him quietly over the comms. Phantom stiffened across from him, his gaze narrowing like a cat - so they could add enhanced hearing to his powers. “They are requesting we hand over Phantom.”

Bruce looked straight at Phantom as he spoke, “They have no jurisdiction in space. I presume you declined?”

“Of course.”

Phantom’s face turned unreadable for a moment. His gaze went from him, to Superman and the opaque glass that hid the observation room. Finally he huffed. 

“Phantom, he/him is fine.” His voice had an echoey quality to it. 

It seemed they were finally going somewhere. 

-

They were not going somewhere. 

Even hours later Phantom kept up his silence. They’d held several breaks. Phantom had been offered food and water but had declined nonverbally. 

They were going in circles, trying the same questions again and again. Prolonged silence didn’t help any either. 

If only J’onn was an option, but he was already suffering from psychic backlash from trying to go into Phantom’s mind during the fight. 

So far the only things Bruce could add to the certain facts were that Phantom was sentient, intelligent and didn’t like the GIW to the point that he would commit mass murder to take them down. 

And Bruce would just really like to know why? Because with the kinds of powers he’d shown off he could have easily killed the members of the Justice League sent to apprehend him. He seemed to have no qualms about killing, yet he’d stayed his hands?

Bruce had hoped that meant Phantom considered them at least somewhat neutral in this conflict. But apparently not neutral enough to talk to. 

Clark had tried and Diana had tried. Nothing helped. 

Bruce was considering his options, when the door opened. 

“B, I need to speak with you.” That was Tim, he looked pale. Something had happened. Bruce got up, Clark following. Bruce decidedly ignored the sudden curiosity from Phantom. They closed the door and walked down the hall. When Bruce felt they were far enough from Phantom he stopped.

“Red Robin, report.”

“We’ve lost contact with Hood.”

Bruce’s heart dropped cold into his stomach. No. It couldn’t be. 

“When?”

“Two hours ago is when he last checked in. He’s since missed several check-ins.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Could be he’s just not in a position to respond, or they have scramblers in the base.”

It was likely, in fact very likely that was the case with how secretive the GIW were being, but two hours were a long time to miss check-ins. Clark’s hand landed on his shoulder which he only now realized how tense was, but no, now was not the time to relax or calm down. He shrugged Clark’s hand off and stalked back down the hall.

The GIW were mum about any details. There was only one person who could tell them what Jason was facing in that building.

He burst into the interrogation room and slammed his hands on the table. That got Phantom’s attention his eyes widening before narrowing and his lips splitting in a snarl that showed off fangs, but Bruce sneered right back.

“We lost contact with an agent sent to infiltrate a GIW-base, you will tell me what you know about them, or so help me I will make you wish you stayed in that dimension you came from.”

“Batman, please, maybe you should step out-“ Clark began good hand hovering shy of Bruce, but he was interrupted by the bark of laughter coming from Phantom.

And then he laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Bruce punched him. Clark pulled him back. 

Phantom slowly turned his head back to look at them, working his jaw. 

“There we have it after all. Your true colors: attacking a chained up captive.” He wiggled his fingers drawing attention to the wide thick cuffs dwarfing his wrists. His eyes held only cold judgment. “But don’t worry, Batman, your agent has nothing to fear from the GIW unless they are dead.”

Bruce couldn’t help the flinch and he felt Clark do the same. Something in the very air stilled then, making it hard to breathe. 

“You,” Phantom began standing up, right out of the restraints as if they weren’t there, “are going to explain to me what that reaction means…“ He carefully put his hands down on the table and leaned forward in a way that made it very apparent he was holding himself back. He glared holes into Bruce’s skull with blazing green eyes. “Unless you want your agent back in pieces.”

-

Psssst. this is actually the beginning of the fic where this is from (CW: relatively graphic aftermath of vivisection)

So basically Phantom is public enemy number one, or at least top of the US government and GIW's shit list XD Huh, "Wanted: Dead or Alive", might actually be a pretty fun title, what do you guys think?

[farfromstrange]

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago. 

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him. 

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him. 

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be. 

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you. 

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit. 

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission. 

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline. 

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you. 

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off.  Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand. 

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human? 

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises. 

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go. 

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“You’re home,” you whisper. 

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time. 

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman. 

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?  

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?” 

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair. 

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone. 

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.” 

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…” 

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway. 

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.  

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet. 

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop? 

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.” 

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you. 

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too. 

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath. 

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto. 

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says. 

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it. 

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could. 

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall. 

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap. 

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do. 

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can. 

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever. 

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you. 

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you. 

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly. 

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.” 

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

[senlinyu]

I'm excited to announce that I have signed a book deal with Del Rey at Penguin Random House in the US and Michael Joseph in the UK for my debut novel, Alchemised, a standalone dark fantasy set in a war-torn world of necromancy and alchemy, in which a healer with amnesia is taken as a prisoner of war and must fight to protect her lost memories and the secrets hidden among them. It will grapple with themes of trauma and survival, legacy, and the way that love can drive one to extreme darkness, and it is, as you may be able to tell, a reimagined version of Manacled.

I know I’ve been rather quiet about my publishing journey, and a lot of that has been because I didn’t want to spark any concerns or worry that I might be abruptly taking away a story that is such a deep part of myself and that I know has meant so much to so many people. This process has unfolded very slowly and quietly because I have tried to be mindful as I could be in every step of the way. 

As most of you know, I have been a reader in fandom long before I ever began to write. Fanfiction is incredibly special to me, and I have tried to do my best not to undermine its legal protection or allow my works to do so either. During the last several years, there has been a growing issue with illegal sales of Manacled, putting both me and the incredible community that shares fanfiction freely in legal jeopardy. 

After consulting with the OTW as well as other lawyers, it has grown clear that as a transformative writer I have limited options in protecting my stories from this kind of exploitation, but I wasn’t sure what to do; I didn’t want to just take the story down, in part because I worried that might only exacerbate the issue, but I didn’t know what other options I had. Then I suddenly had this idea of alchemy, which was peculiarly appropriate; an academic world filled with unique transmutational abilities, and a necromantic war against people who had discovered the secrets of immortality, and I could see a path to reimagining the story while still holding on to as much of the original spirit of Manacled as possible. 

I began redrafting the concept privately around Christmas 2022, and then as if the universe had aligned, just as I was finishing, Caitlin Mahony and Rivka Bergman of WME reached out to me and were delightfully enthusiastic about concepts and ideas for my new alchemical world and the ways I had reimagined the story. 

I'm thrilled to be working with Emily Archbold, my visionary editor at Del Rey, along with Rebecca Hilsdon at Michael Joseph in the UK, to polish this novel for publication in Fall 2025. I feel uniquely privileged that both my publishing teams are familiar with Manacled and understand how special it is to so many people, and how important it is that this reimagining captures the same spirit while also having its own wings. 

Manacled is not going anywhere at present. It will remain online throughout 2024, at which point it will, if you’ll pardon the pun, alchemise for 2025 and be removed from AO3. 

I'm so thankful to all of you who've enjoyed my works, and I hope that I can continue to rely on your support as I take my next steps as an author.

[sapphlopods]

This will be one of the hardest things I ever have to do, but I need help even though I hate asking for it.

Please help me escape my homophobic and financially abusive parents. More under "Keep Reading"

I'm Chaim, and ever since I graduated high school, I’ve lived with my parents. Australia has an incredibly bad housing crisis, and it’s nearly impossible for me to move out without friends or roommates who have a pre-established house, which I have none. 

Over the course of the past 4 years, I have watched my father devolve into this angry right-wing conspiracy theorist who thinks all “Wokes” should d1e. He has no idea I’m a lesbian as I fear for what he will do if he ever finds out. 

My mother has a range of health issues, in 2022 she had a heart attack, and this year, she was diagnosed with brain and kidney cancer, which she is in and out of hospital for. Her financial assistance has been delayed over and over, we still need to wait 2 months to get help. 

So, my household's only income is from my father and me. My father has an incredibly bad gambling, drinking and tobacco addiction, he goes through a pack of 30 cans and a pack of 30 cigarettes in 2 days. Tobacco and alcohol are heavily taxed here and are upwards of $60+ each; that’s $120 every 2 days, he earns $1600 fortnightly and spends roughly $840 of it on just his addictions; that’s more than half his pay, and that isn’t including the horse races he bets on. 

That leaves me to pick up the slack on groceries, rent, my mother's medicine and lend them money when Dad “overspends” at the pub. My father would rather starve than lessen his addictions a bit so we can afford to stay in our house and have food to eat. 

This has been happening for years even before my mother fell so ill she couldn’t work but it's gotten worse. I do not want to leave my mother, but she will not leave my father no matter what since she sees nothing wrong with what he does. I’m tired of being nothing more than a piggybank and a maid to my parents since I will never be able to move out when all my money goes towards keeping a roof over our heads. Even while I was on vacation, they still called me up and asked for money. 

I’ve wanted to move out for a long time, but my situation is getting direr by the day, and I can’t save a single cent to leave like this. I know many problems are going on in the world right now that deserve people’s time more than this so thank you for reading this far. 

If you can spare anything, please send it to my ko-fi. It'll be going towards getting stuff sorted so I can move to my partner Cinna, who lives far away in Chile, but I have no other option now. 11/12

I also have a few items listed on my eBay that people might like, a lot of it is fandom stuff and collector things I have accumulated, I'll be putting more stuff up slowly as I sort through my things preparing to move. https://www.ebay.com.au/usr/sapphlopods

[biancadoes1]

FAVE ANON HERE 😏

It’s been a minute since I’ve submitted but after the vitriol I have seen on Twitter this weekend, I felt the need to speak…

First things first, all of us are brought here with one definitive common thread - we are all fans of Bridgerton. If we were not, we would probably not find ourselves in this fandom at all.

With that being said, if you’re on this blog you are probably a fan of both Nicola AND Luke. More than likely, you want them to be together romantically or believe they already are. And if you don’t want any of that, I don’t know why you’re here reading this posts. This is how you become a troll.

You are allowed to be a fan of one and not the other. This is not a dictatorship and no one is holding a gun to your heads. But this is the point where it is VITAL for me to remind you how many times Nic and Luke have a real love for each other and at the core are best friends. WHAT THIS MEANS IS you cannot call yourself a fan of one of them while simultaneously spreading hate and contempt and overall nastiness about the other one all over social media.

Now I have approached the topic of the RUMORED insignificant others. Did you know that there is no general rule of fandom that states if you are a fan of a character performer that you must also become a fan of any performers they may date now or in the future? WHAT THIS MEANS IS THAT no one is required to become Jake’s #1 fan just because the rumor mill wants to say Nic is dating him. Hell no one has to become his #1 fan if Nic herself came out and said she was dating him. Again, there is no need to speak with malice about his looks or his talent all over the internet but you do not have to be a fan. Same goes for the dancer who shall not be named (I know it’s a trigger for many around here). And if they act in deplorable ways - such as the dancer has displayed in the past - you are allowed to speak out on it while using decorum.

This is ultimately bringing me back to why I wrote this today. Tell me why I’m seeing tweets talking about how Jake is a more successful and more talented actor than Luke. Tweets saying Luke can’t act and how amazing Jake is. These tweets are from Bridgerton “fans”. These tweets are from Nicola “fans”. Based on everything I’ve written up until now, the math ain’t mathing on the word “fan”.

I’m not spreading hate to Jake. Fact of the matter, he’s a 24 year old kid almost fresh out of drama school. He has had one season of a failed show on a streaming network riddled with failed shows. He now has a small part in a movie that probably is not even recognized yet out of this fandom and extreme movie fans - if we’re being honest. Luke is 31 and is on his 4th season of one of Netflix’s top shows. He was the male lead last season and the season broke records. He was on a Disney channel show when he was younger. He was on multiple stage shows on the West End. He’s had many other roles in smaller projects and just picked up a lead role in a new film. While it is considered an independent film, it is a LEAD role.

With that evidence laid out, how can anyone actually say with their full chest that Jake is the better and more successful actor? Oh right they can’t. What it comes down to is the fact that the “Jakola shipping” movement is not based on anything more than being an Anti-Luke Newton movement and it is GROSS. No matter what they tell you, there was no “relationship” being universally talked about prior to late summer. On August 25 those festival pictures were released and some very twisted narcissistic people in this fandom took them and ran with them. They created a narrative to help dictate what and who people in this fandom are allowed to discuss online. They’ve bullied creators off of TikTok and Twitter and gaslight the hell out of everyone when called on it. A 24 year old gay man (OMG I SAID IT) is being bullied on the internet and the blame is fully being put on “Lukolas” when the truth is that no one would be paying any attention to him if this narrative wasn’t perpetuated in the first place. (Side note: if you’re sending hate to Jake on behalf of being a Lukola, please stop. Please treat him like you treat every other one of Nic’s male friends. No one should be getting hate.)

The majority of the hate and toxicity in this fandom stems with the Jakolas Jackholes and those who blindly follow and defend a certain creator. I’m not going to say her name because I know how much she gets off on people talking about her (even when it’s bad) AHAH. This is the shit that everyone else is afraid to say out loud but it’s true. And for those of you in that discord reading this to report back, hiiii!

Oh and if anyone has a problem with this and wants to call me out for being on Anon, let me know and I’ll DM you because I’m not afraid. I’m grownup.

Xx

Finally seeing people with common sense!

My fave anon pulls through yet again.

Everyone say thank you fave anon.

[kyuuumie]

this is just a ramble about billdip/billford since i’ve seen a bunch of posts and want to share my thoughts on it!

i find a lot of the comparisons between billdip and billford to be a bit off the mark. while it’s true they share some surface-level similarities—mainly because they both involve bill cipher and a “smart guy”—their dynamics are vastly different. in billford, ford initially placed an enormous amount of trust in bill. he practically revered him, as seen in the tapestries in his lab and all the one-eyed triangle symbols throughout the mystery shack. ford’s trust was so deep that he allowed bill to lead him down a dark path, ultimately resulting in betrayal. bill has since been shown relishing in taunting ford, making their relationship one of broken trust and regret.

on the other hand, billdip presents a way different dynamic. dipper never trusted bill in the first place. from the very beginning, their relationship was antagonistic. unlike ford, dipper wasn’t lured in by the promise of knowledge or power; he had to be manipulated, and even then, he was extremely hesitant to allow bill to possess him. bill never had dipper’s trust to betray, which sets the stage for a completely different kind of tension. in billford, the conflict stems from a deep betrayal of trust, whereas in billdip, it’s more about the struggle between manipulation and resistance, with dipper trying to outsmart someone he knows he can’t trust.

i want to clarify that i don’t hate or even dislike billford. they have an undeniably interesting dynamic, and under different circumstances, i’d probably be more invested in it. however, my enthusiasm for the ship is dampened by the behavior of some of its shippers. it often feels like many people ship billford not because they genuinely enjoy the dynamic, but rather out of a desire to distance themselves from billdip. it’s as if shipping billford has become a way to proclaim, “at least i don’t ship billdip.” but spite shouldn’t be the driving force behind creating content for a ship. shipping should be about passion, about enjoying the dynamic and wanting to explore it through art, writing, and discussion because it genuinely interests you.

that said, i do wish people would keep the discourse civil and avoid leaving hateful comments about either ship. unfortunately, that might be asking for too much in fandom spaces. but it would be nice to see more respect and understanding for different preferences, even if we don’t all share the same ships ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶꒱ა

[rootedinrevisions]

Snowed In With You

SUMMARY: You and Glen spend a cozy weekend together at a cozy mountain where you get the rare chance to slow down and reconnect. With nothing but each other, Glen's dog Brisktet, and the warmth of the fire to keep you company, the weekend becomes a beautiful escape from the world.

A/N: This is the first of a few holiday fics that I have planned or in the works! Please let me know what you guys think with hearts, reblogs, and comments! I love getting feedback from you guys!

WARNINGS: None. Just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

Snowflakes swirl in the crisp mountain air as your car crunches up the gravel driveway to the cabin Glen has rented for the weekend. You barely have time to put the car in park before the front door creaks open, and Glen steps outside, a grin stretching across his face. Brisket bounds down the steps, tail wagging furiously as he makes a beeline for you.

“Brisket!” You laugh, bending down just as he leaps up, his paws landing on your thighs. His warm tongue darts out to give your cheeks a wet greeting, and you scratch behind his ears with both hands, his soft fur a welcome comfort against the chilly air.

Behind him, Glen strolls towards you. He’s got a hoodie on that’s slightly wrinkled, and his jeans hang just right, as the little bits of snow catch in his slightly messy hair. His smile widens as you stand up and he pulls you into a tight bear hug, lifting you off the ground just enough to make you laugh.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and full of emotion.

You start to answer as Glen sets you back down, but Brisket, not one to be ignored, nudges his way between the two of you, his wet nose pressing insistently against your hand as he stands on his back legs to reach.

Glen chuckles, leaning down and scratching Brisket behind the ears. “Okay, okay, but I get her first, bud.” His voice is playful, but there’s an undertone of something else–longing maybe, that makes your heart flutter.

He looks down at you and leans in, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, as if savoring the moment. The kiss deepens, and you feel the tension of the past month and a half melting away. Being apart for so long while he was filming in London had left an ache you didn’t realize was so deep until now.

Brisket’s sharp bark cuts through the moment, his impatience impossible to ignore. Glen pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he laughs, his breath warm against your skin.

“Guess someone’s feeling left out,” he says with a smirk, stepping back and gesturing toward Brisket, who’s now wagging his tail so hard his entire body wiggles. “Better give him some love before he starts a full-on protest.”

You kneel back down to give Brisket the attention he’s clearly been craving, rubbing his belly as he flops onto his back.

Meanwhile, Glen moves to the back of your car, popping the trunk to grab your bags. He pauses, eyebrows lifting as he surveys the number of bags you brought. “You know we’re only here for two days, right?” He teases, pulling out your suitcase and then throwing your weekender bag over his shoulder. 

You stand, brushing snow off your knees, and flash him a mock glare. “I like to be prepared!”

“For what? A week-long expedition?” he jokes, slinging one bag over his shoulder while hoisting the other in his hand.

“Very funny,” you retort, walking over to him to try to take the smaller bag from him. “I wasn’t sure what the plan was or if we’d be doing anything fancy. So I brought different outfits just in case.”

“Fancy?” Glen repeats, looking around dramatically as if searching for a five-star restaurant in the middle of the mountains. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s nothing fancy out here.”

You laugh, swatting his arm as he leads the way up the cabin steps, Brisket bounding ahead to push the door open with his nose. Warmth immediately greets you as you step inside, the crackling of the fire warming the space. The smell of cedar and something faintly sweet lingers in the air, and you sigh, already feeling relaxed.

Glen sets your bags down by the couch, turning to you with that signature mischievous smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Welcome to our little getaway. Now are you ready to relax and let me spoil you for the next two days?”

You grin, taking in the cozy space–the twinkling string lights, the oversized plaid blankets draped across the couch, and the promise of uninterrupted time with Glen. “Only if you let me spoil you right back.”

“Deal,” he says, leaning in for another kiss, his arms wrapping around you like he never wants to let go.

The moment stretches between you, the cabin’s cozy warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Glen doesn’t let go, his hands resting gently on your waist as he looks down at you. You feel the world outside fade into nothingness–no schedules, no interviews, no appearances,  no planes to catch, no distance between you.

He breaks the silence with a quiet chuckle, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Come on,” he says, his voice a low murmur as he gently takes your hand. “Let’s get comfortable.”

You let him guide you to the couch, his hand warm and steady in yours. The cushions are soft, layered with thick plaid blankets and pillows that practically beg you to sink into them. Glen sits down first, leaning back and looking completely at ease in the glow of the firelight. 

Then, with a playful tug of your hand, he pulls you down with him, his arms encircling you like they were always meant to.

“Much better,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nestle against him, his hoodie soft beneath your cheek and his heartbeat steady against your ear. One hand rubs soothing circles on your back, while the other tangles gently in your hair, his fingers trailing through the strands as though he’s memorizing every detail of you all over again.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its golden glow casting flickering patterns across the walls. Outside, the snow continues to fall, silent and relentless, blanketing the world in quiet serenity. The warmth of the fire contrasts with the chill you’d felt stepping out of the car moments earlier, making you sink deeper into Glen’s embrace.

The smell of pine lingers faintly in the room, mingling with the faint musk of Glen’s cologne—a scent you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much until now. It’s grounding, familiar, and comforting, pulling you even further into this moment.

He shifts slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his cheek there. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been counting down the days.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your hand coming up to rest against his chest. “Me too,” you admit softly. “It’s been too long.”

He smiles, a small, private thing meant just for you. “Well,” he says, tightening his arms around you, “we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the sound of the fire, and the stillness of the moment. For the first time in weeks, it feels like you can finally breathe again.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet with a soft nudge. “Tell me everything about London. How’s filming going?”

Glen exhales, his smile lighting up as he starts to talk. “It’s been amazing, honestly. The city, the crew, the whole experience–it’s been one of the best projects I’ve worked on in awhile. The story’s incredible, and I can’t wait for you to see it. I think you’re going to love it.”

“I bet I will,” you say, looking up at him. “I’m always proud of you, Glen, but I love seeing how excited you are about this one.”

He grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s good, but man, it’s been a grind. Long days, a lot of pressure, you know? But that’s just part of it.”

“I’m sure it will all be worth it,” you reply, your voice full of conviction. “You always give it your all, and it shows.”

The conversation shifts naturally, and soon, he’s asking about you–how life’s been while he’s been away. You fill him in on the little things: the funny story about your new neighbor, a new hobby you’ve been trying, and how work has been busier than usual.

“And,” you add, a touch of pride in your voice, “I got that promotion I was telling you about.”

His face lights up, his grin wide and genuine. “Babe, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laugh, shrugging. “I guess I wanted to hear about London first. But yeah, it’s a lot more responsibility, which is a little scary, but exciting too.”

“You’re going to crush it. I know you will,” he says. He pulls you closer, kissing the side of your head. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

The conversation drifts back and forth, light and easy, until Glen’s tone shifts ever so slightly. He leans his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before speaking.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m always…on,” he admits quietly. “Like, I have to be the fun guy, the charming guy, the one who’s always ready to take a picture, sign something, or do an interview. It’s not that I don’t love what I do, because I do. But…sometimes it’s a lot, you know?”

You sit up a little, turning to look at him. “Glen-”

He shakes his head, offering you a small smile. “Being with you, though–it’s different. I don’t have to be anyone but me. You make it easy to just…breathe. I can just be me.”

The honesty in his words tugs at something inside you, and you find yourself confessing things you’ve kept tucked away. 

“I get that,” you say softly. “I mean, not the same way you do, but…sometimes I feel like I’m not enough, being with someone like you. Like, I see how the world sees you, and I can’t help but wonder if when we do start telling people about us if I’ll be able to measure up to all that.”

His brows knit together, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

“Hey,” he says gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Don’t say that. You don’t have to be anything other than you for me to love you. Do you know that?”

You nod, your throat tight with emotion.

“I mean it,” he continues, his voice steady. “You’re the person I want to come back to, the one who makes all the noise in my head fade. I don’t care about anything else as long as I have you.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away as his thumb catches one that escapes. The moment lingers, until he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss is slow and lingering, a quiet reassurance in the way his hand stays on your cheek, grounding you.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and the softest smile plays on his lips. “You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “Don’t ever forget that.”

You nod again, unable to find the words, and instead, you kiss him, pouring everything you feel into that single, tender moment. The world outside fades again, leaving only the warmth of the fire and the steady presence of the mean holding you like you’re the only thing that matters.

Glen's laughter fills the room as your stomach lets out an unmistakable growl. He presses a playful kiss to your temple before standing and stretching. “Alright, let’s fix that. I can’t have you starving on my watch.”

You smile as he heads into the small kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and pans clinking filling the cozy cabin.

You follow him, leaning against the doorway. “You’ve been working nonstop for weeks. Maybe I should cook for you for a change.”

Glen turns around, eyebrow raised. “You? Cook for me? You’re supposed to be relaxing this weekend, baby.”

“And you’re supposed to be relaxing too, Mr. Leading Man,” you counter, stepping into the kitchen and gently nudging him aside. “Come on, let me spoil you a little.”

He folds his arms, giving you an exaggerated skeptical look. “Spoil me, huh? You sure I’ll be okay eating your cooking?”

“Oh, hush,” you say, laughing. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding us. And besides, who says we can’t cook together?”

Glen’s grin softens into something warmer. “Alright,” he concedes, holding up his hands in surrender. “Cooking together it is. But I’m in charge of the playlist.”

“Deal,” you say, grabbing an apron from a hook on the wall.

As Glen connects his phone to the cabin’s Bluetooth speaker, the kitchen fills with the smooth croon of a soulful Christmas song. You both fall into a natural rhythm, chopping vegetables and seasoning ingredients while the cozy warmth of the cabin wraps around you.

At one point, you can’t resist sneaking a spoonful of sauce to taste. Glen catches you mid-act, his hand resting on his hip.

“You’re gonna eat half of this before it even makes it to the plate,” Glen teases.

You grin, shrugging as you savor the taste. “Quality control. Someone has to make sure it’s good.”

“It’s unhygienic,” he chides, though the twinkle in his eye betrays him.

“Oh, please,” you shoot back, leaning against the counter with a grin. “I’m not too worried about spreading germs with you. Not after the way we kiss.”

Glen laughs, shaking his head as he stirs the sauce. “Fair point,” he concedes, his lips quirking into a smile.

The kitchen is cozy but compact, and as you move around, you inevitably bump into each other. One such moment has you accidentally backing into Glen while reaching for a spice jar. His hands instinctively catch your waist to steady you.

“Careful,” he says softly, his voice laced with amusement. His hands linger, warm and steady, as his gaze flicks down to meet yours.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your cheeks flushing as the moment stretches just a second longer than expected.

He grins, his thumbs brushing gently against your sides before letting go. “I don’t mind,” he says, his tone low and teasing.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off the butterflies suddenly fluttering in your stomach and turn back to the counter. 

By the time dinner is ready, the cabin smells like garlic, tomatoes, and the faint sweetness of basil. Glen sets the table while you plate the food, and when you both sit down to eat, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Dinner passes in a warm haze of laughter and conversation. You and Glen share stories, the clink of silverware against plates blending with the crackle of the fire. The pasta you made together turns out delicious—though Glen insists it’s because of his sauce, and you playfully argue that your perfectly chopped vegetables were the real hero. Brisket stays close, hoping for scraps, and earns a bite of garlic-free bread when Glen gives in to his pleading eyes.

After clearing the table and stacking dishes in the sink—"They can wait until tomorrow," Glen declares—you both migrate to the couch. Glen pulls a blanket off the armrest and drapes it over you as you settle in with mugs of hot cocoa, the sweetness of marshmallows melting into the creamy warmth. Brisket curls up at your feet, his soft snores the only sound aside from the faint hiss of wind outside.

Glen leans back, stretching an arm across the back of the couch as he takes a sip of his drink. “Hey, would you mind if I looked over a script real quick?” he asks, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “The director wants to know by next week if I’m interested, and I’ve been meaning to give it a read.”

“Of course, go ahead,” you reply with a smile. “I brought a book anyway.”

He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before grabbing the script from his bag near the fireplace. You retrieve your book from the coffee table and settle back into the couch, tucking yourself under the blanket as Glen takes a seat beside you.

Without a word, you drape your legs over his lap, and he shifts slightly to make room for you, resting one hand on your shin as he flips through the pages of the script with the other. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the subtle curve of his jaw and the faint concentration in his eyes.

The moment is quiet but comfortable, the kind of peaceful intimacy that comes from truly knowing each other. The rhythmic scratch of Brisket’s paws against the blanket as he shifts in his sleep and the occasional turn of a page are the only sounds.

At one point, Glen glances over, his lips quirking into a small smile when he catches you sneaking a look at him instead of reading. “What?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

“Nothing,” you say, fighting a grin as you look back at your book.

“Uh-huh,” he teases, giving your calf a light squeeze before returning to his script.

The hours melt away in the warmth of the cabin, the storm outside a distant hum against the sturdy walls. It’s not about what either of you is doing; it’s about being here, together, in this moment, where everything feels perfectly right.

As the hours pass, the fire in the hearth settles into glowing embers, casting soft, flickering shadows across the room. Glen turns the last page of the script, his brow furrowed in thought. He leans forward to set the stack of papers on the coffee table, grabs his phone, and types out a quick text to the director. His message is short but enthusiastic, praising the script and confirming he’s interested in the role.

Satisfied, Glen sets his phone aside and stretches, his muscles shifting under the soft cotton of his hoodie. When he turns to suggest heading to bed, he freezes, his gaze landing on you.

You’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the armrest, your book lying open on your chest. The faint rise and fall of your breathing is the only movement, and a lock of hair has fallen across your face. Glen feels a tug at his chest as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face, the way the firelight catches on your skin.

He stands and pads over to you, careful not to wake you. Gently, he takes the book from your chest, marking your place before setting it on the coffee table. Then he leans down and slides an arm under your knees and another behind your back, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You stir slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but your head naturally tilts into the curve of his neck. Glen chuckles softly, his breath warm against your hair as he whispers, “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Carrying you into the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot and steps inside. The room is dimly lit by the glow of the snow outside, the bed neatly made with thick blankets and soft pillows. Glen carefully lowers you onto the bed, tucking you in and brushing that stray lock of hair behind your ear.

He changes quickly, trading his hoodie and jeans for a pair of flannel pajama pants. The air feels cooler here, away from the fire, but the bed already feels warm and inviting. Glen slides in beside you, careful not to disturb your sleep, and pulls you into his arms.

You instinctively curl into him, your head resting against his chest, your hand finding its way to his side. Glen wraps the blanket snugly around the both of you and lets out a contented sigh, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers softly, his voice full of warmth and love.

The storm outside howls faintly, but inside, the world feels perfectly still. Glen closes his eyes, his hand tracing gentle circles on your back as he drifts off, holding you close and savoring the quiet, precious moment.

* * * *

The first thing you notice as you wake is the soft golden light streaming through the windows, illuminating the room in a warm glow. The second is the smell of freshly brewed coffee, rich and inviting, curling its way into the bedroom like a gentle wake-up call.

You stretch lazily under the covers, the bed still cozy from the warmth of the blankets and Glen’s presence last night. Just as you start to fully stir, Glen appears in the doorway, holding a steaming mug. His flannel pajama pants hang low on his hips, and his hair is a mess of soft, disheveled waves from sleep. A lazy, boyish smile spreads across his face as he makes his way over to you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, his voice still gravelly. He hands you the mug, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit up to take it. “Figured I’d let you sleep in a little after you passed out on me last night.”

You smile up at him, taking a careful sip of the coffee. It’s perfect—just the way you like it. “Thanks, Glen. And for the record, that book was really interesting,” you tease, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Mm-hmm,” he replies, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling back to look at you.

After a simple breakfast of eggs and toast, Glen suggests taking Brisket out for a walk to enjoy the fresh snow that fell overnight. You eagerly agree, bundling up in layers before heading outside.

The air is crisp and sharp against your cheeks as you step into the snow-dusted woods surrounding the cabin. Brisket bounds ahead, tail wagging as he leaves a trail of paw prints in the untouched snow. The trees are heavy with frost, their branches glinting like crystals in the sunlight.

Glen reaches for your hand, his fingers warm against yours despite the chill. He holds it firmly but gently, giving it a soft squeeze whenever you stumble over a patch of uneven ground. The path winds through the woods, quiet except for the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional bark from Brisket, who seems to be having the time of his life.

Without warning, something cold and wet splats against your shoulder. You stop in your tracks, turning to find Glen standing a few feet away, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

“Did you just—”

Before you can finish, he’s already crouching to scoop up another handful of snow. You shriek and duck, dodging the second snowball as it sails past you.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” you say, dropping his hand and gathering snow of your own.

The snowball you throw hits him square in the chest, making him laugh. But when your next one lands down the back of his jacket, he lets out an exaggerated yelp. “Oh, you’re playing dirty now!”

Before you can make a run for it, Glen closes the distance between you in a few long strides. He scoops you up effortlessly, spinning you around in the snow. You’re laughing too hard to protest, your breath visible in the cold air as you cling to his shoulders.

“Say you surrender!” he teases, his own laughter mixing with yours.

“Never!” you manage to gasp between giggles.

Brisket, not wanting to be left out, comes bounding over, barking excitedly and leaping between you two. He jumps up, his paws hitting Glen’s legs as if trying to “help” in the playful battle.

Glen finally sets you back on your feet, both of you breathless and grinning as Brisket dances around you. You lean against him for support, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.

“Truce?” you offer, still catching your breath.

“Truce,” Glen agrees, pressing a quick kiss to your cold nose before pulling you into a warm hug. Brisket barks again, wagging his tail as if to seal the deal.

Together, the three of you continue down the snowy path, your laughter echoing through the quiet woods as the morning sun rises higher in the sky.

Back at the cabin, the warmth from the fire greets you as you shrug off your layers, brushing the last bits of snow from your coat. Brisket shakes himself off by the door, and Glen ruffles his ears before turning to you.

“Alright,” Glen says, his grin still playful from your snowball fight, “how about some cookies? Nothing says cozy cabin vibes like baking something sweet.”

You agree, rummaging through the kitchen to find the ingredients Glen had picked up earlier. Soon, the counter is covered with bags of flour, sugar, butter, and colorful sprinkles, along with a small tub of frosting. Glen insists on being your “assistant,” though he’s more interested in taste-testing than actually helping.

“Are you sure you measured this right?” he teases, stealing a pinch of cookie dough from the bowl as you mix it.

“Glen, if you keep eating the dough, there won’t be any cookies to bake,” you warn, swatting at his hand.

He smirks but relents, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll wait.”

The two of you work together to shape the cookies, laughing as Glen insists on making a few in odd shapes—a heart, a misshapen star, and what he claims is a snowman but looks more like a blob.

Once the cookies are in the oven, Glen grabs the frosting and sprinkles, declaring himself the "official decorator." The first few cookies turn out surprisingly neat, but as he gets more creative, things take a turn for the chaotic. Frosting ends up smeared in uneven patterns, and sprinkles are scattered everywhere—on the counter, on the floor, and even in Glen’s hair.

You can’t stop laughing when you see the “masterpiece” he’s holding up proudly. “Glen, that’s not a snowflake. That’s… I don’t even know what that is!”

“It’s abstract,” he counters, grinning as he picks up another cookie. But in his focus, he doesn’t notice the frosting on his hand until you point it out.

“You’ve got a little something… right there,” you say, trying to keep a straight face while gesturing to his cheek.

Glen swipes at it with his sleeve but misses. “Did I get it?”

“Nope,” you giggle, and before you can offer to help, he dips his finger in the frosting and smears a dab onto your nose.

“Now we’re even,” he says, smirking as you gasp in mock outrage.

“Oh, it’s on!” you say, grabbing a spoonful of frosting and aiming for him. But Glen is quicker, catching your wrist and spinning you into his arms. The spoon clatters onto the counter as you both dissolve into laughter, your breath mingling as you’re suddenly very close.

Glen reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His hand lingers, his fingers warm against your cheek as his expression softens. “I love seeing you laugh like that,” he says, his voice quiet but full of sincerity.

The room falls still for a moment, the scent of cookies baking in the oven mingling with the crackle of the fire. You smile up at him, your heart full as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Alright,” he says after a beat, pulling back just enough to look at you, “but seriously, that snowflake cookie was art.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you playfully nudge his chest. “Keep telling yourself that, Powell.”

The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers in the cabin as you and Glen sit together at the kitchen table, admiring your hilariously messy creations. Brisket snores softly on the rug nearby, and the fire crackles in the background, casting a golden glow over the room. You’re mid-bite into a slightly misshapen star cookie when Glen clears his throat, a hint of nervousness in his expression.

“I’ve got something for you,” he says, his lips curving into a smile as he stands and heads toward his suitcase.

You blink in surprise, watching as he unzips a compartment and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. He returns to you, holding it behind his back for a moment as his grin widens. “Close your eyes.”

You roll your eyes playfully but oblige, closing them and holding out your hands. You feel the weight of the package as he sets it in your palms.

“Okay, open,” Glen says, and his excitement is almost childlike as he watches you unwrap the gift.

Carefully, you peel back the wrapping paper to reveal a slim envelope. Inside, your breath catches as you pull out two tickets to your dream destination, the one you’ve talked about visiting for years. Your eyes widen as you glance up at him.

“Glen…”

He beams, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’ve already got it booked. Flights, accommodations, everything. And before you ask, yes, I’ve cleared it with my team. No work, no interviews, no appearances. Just us.”

Your heart swells as you look at the tickets again, imagining the two of you exploring a place you’ve only dreamed of. “I can’t believe you did this. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupts, his tone soft but firm. “I’ve been wanting to take you somewhere special for ages, and this felt perfect.”

You reach across the table, squeezing his hand as a smile tugs at your lips. “Well, now I feel silly for what I got you.”

He tilts his head. “You got me something?”

“It’s nothing compared to this,” you say with a self-conscious laugh, standing up and heading to your bag. You retrieve a small, gift-wrapped box and hand it to him, chewing your bottom lip as he unties the ribbon.

Inside, Glen finds a framed photo of you, him, and Brisket, a candid moment you’d captured on your phone without him realizing. His expression softens as he stares at it, his thumb brushing over the glass.

“I remembered you saying you wanted a picture of the three of us to take with you when you travel,” you explain, your voice quieter now. “So I had two made. One for your wallet and this one, for your trailer or hotel room. You know, if you want to…”

Glen pulls the smaller print from the box, smiling as he takes his wallet from his pocket and carefully slides it into place. “It’s perfect,” he says, his voice warm with sincerity.

You laugh nervously. “It’s really not. I should’ve thought of something bigger or—”

“Hey.” Glen sets the frame down and crosses to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He tilts your chin up with a gentle finger, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I don't need anything but you.”

Your cheeks flush as he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. His arms tighten around you, holding you close as if to emphasize his words.

* * * *

The next morning, light filters through the windows, casting a pale glow over the cabin as you sip your coffee, watching the snow begin to fall more steadily. Glen stands by the door, bundling up in a thick coat and scarf as Brisket circles his feet, tail wagging.

“I’m going to check on the weather and see how bad it is,” Glen says, tugging on his boots.

“Be careful,” you call out, wrapping your hands around the warm mug and glancing out at the swirling snow.

The door closes behind him, and you can hear Brisket barking playfully as they step out into the cold. A few minutes later, Glen returns, covered in snow from head to toe, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He shakes his head like a golden retriever, sending snow flying everywhere, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he stomps his boots on the mat.

“Bad news,” he says, brushing the snow from his hair and grinning as he pulls out his phone. “Road closures all over the area. Looks like we won’t be leaving for a little while.” He holds up his phone to show you the alert, his grin widening. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

You roll your eyes playfully, setting your mug down. “Oh no, how will I survive?”

“Don’t sound too disappointed,” he teases, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, his cold hands making you yelp as they press against your back.

You swat at him, laughing. “Your hands are freezing! Go warm up by the fire while I grab some extra wood.”

“I can do it,” Glen offers, but you shake your head.

“Nope. You’re already half-frozen. Just sit down and thaw out.”

He smirks, holding his hands up in surrender as he moves to the couch. Brisket hops up beside him, wagging his tail and settling in as Glen scratches behind his ears.

You pull on your coat and boots, stepping out into the crisp, snowy air to gather a few more logs from the covered woodpile. The snow is already piling up, muffling the usual sounds of the woods and leaving the world feeling quiet and serene.

As the fire crackles and the snow continues to fall heavily outside, the two of you settle back into the cozy rhythm of cabin life. There’s a quiet excitement in the air, knowing that the unexpected snowstorm has given you more uninterrupted time together—a gift neither of you were expecting but both secretly cherish.