#I'm going to throw things over this goddamned series

[hyperfixation-symposium]

I will never be over the fuckin. Nightmare. God there's so much angst to it, and I am just such a big fan of how everyone has interpreted this situation.

Philza begging for Chayanne to come pick him up, to help him, not because he wants to kill the monster or because he's 100% sure it's safe for Chayanne. Because Tallulah is dying next to him, because he can't let her die, because he knows how strong his son is.

And then Chayanne goes down too, and he can only apologize, over and over to his son, for everything. For this island, for how it wants them dead. For failure, for his granddaughter.

And then everything is fine again.

The kids are back, and for the most part, unshaken. Chayanne promises to be a bit more careful but is still the protective uncle, still determined. Tallulah seems to almost shake off the event entirely, she has nothing but trust.

But Phil, Philza and the adults don't recover that easily. There's parts that still seem to burn, there's fear of every little thing in the dark. Even surrounded by friends, by a school, near his home, the darkness is foreboding. He stays in the light, calling the two closer, even while the other eggs and their parents are so close.

Look at the night sky, Philza. It was just a nightmare. You're safe, the kids are safe, and the stars are beautiful.

But when his friends see him flinch at their movements, linger just a bit closer to the lights, call the kids home just a bit sooner - what do you do when the nightmare seeps back into the real?

How do you help?

How can you be sure the stars are not just eyes staring back at you, their gazes still hungry?

[zarnzarn]

i see all these comments talking about this after the new episode, but. i would like to state for the record that stolitz isn't. toxic.

first off, the concept of a toxic and a healthy relationship are such... vague terms. when you're online, drenched in language and tight moral boundaries, trying to put a nuanced story like helluva boss's into boxes is easy to attempt and impossible to do.

a toxic relationship is one where one or both parties is maliciously affecting the other. I'm talking fetid, nasty, rude interactions where there is more hurt than love. they're unhappy more often than not when they're with their partner, there's no respect or give from the other side.

stolitz is nothing like that.

Stolas actively cares about Blitz and actually has no fear or hesitation in ADMITTING IT OUT LOUD TO OZZIE. he has been calling, texting, commenting, laughing and finding ways to spend time with Blitz. he's throwing everything he has to the wind, finding the courage to move forward with the divorce, putting everything he has into trying to keep him. he's been alone in a palace since he was born, on medication, with such less people dear to him that he remembered the circus boy who spent a day with him DECADES ago- so when blitz comes into his life and brings back in laughter and color and sex, he's holding on with everything he's got.

and blitz does care!!! he cares a LOT, the whole series we see him falling in love with stolas through SHOW NOT TELL (his expressions, his choices, his fear, his lashing out) and utterly unable to process that stolas cares about him too when talking to fizz; almost a desperate kind of denial-

cause yknow. the first time he tried to confess something to someone he really liked, he accidentally killed half the people he knew and ruined the lives of the rest?

thats gonna leave just a teensy impact on the will to express your emotions in the future, methinks.

even before that, he clearly felt like on some level that he was unworthy and he's said twice that he despises himself for the accident even though it wasn't actually his fault. being self aware doesn't stop the emotions from emotioning.

he keeps insisting its only sex so urgently to anyone who doesn't ask because he can't even imagine it being anything else. he's both disappointed and relieved when he repeats that stolas sees him as a novelty, because what else can it be?

(there's a whole other spiel of how brave both Stolas and Blitz have to be to say it out loud even when asmodeus can't afford to, considering how publically and completely beaten down both were at the club.)

(there's also another whole spiel about how frustrating it has been for ME to see all these comments over time with such bad takes based on like,, 20 min worth of info of a show that takes months to release an ep. like godDAMN have some patience?? let the story UNFOLD MAYBE? IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE AN EXPLANATION WHY WOULD YOU CRITICIZE THINGS THAT ARENT EVEN FINISHED ESPECIALLY AN INDIE ANIMATION- i digress)

mind you, this has NOTHING to do with abuse. an abusive relationship is one where one is actively harming the other with full awareness. Stella is an abuser and their marriage is abusive.

and stolitz isn't that; it isn't even unhealthy or toxic. it's a consensual, transactional fuckbuddy relationship that slid into something more for both of them.

but!!!!! one of the main reasons for the problems that everyone looks over is-

they're in a BDSM relationship.

I can't possibly delve into dynamics without making this a 10k research paper BUT even though we've gotten only hints and costumes and dialogue- they're very clearly and undeniably in a BDSM contract. Behind the scenes of this crazy show is a whole different story, of these two delving into the most hardcore kinks out there- knifeplay, painplay, bondage.

if you've gotten into the community, if you've read a couple dozen particularly good fics by authors who know what they're talking about, hell; even if your only experience is fifty shades or 365 or whatever- you gotta know that BDSM scenes are crazy fucking emotionally heavy. there's so much that has gone down between them during their full moons that helluva can't get into!!

but you know how in so many of these popular medias and fics, the dom in the relationship is also like,, the billionaire/mafia heir/prince, etc, the one with financial and physical power? this isnt that. it has been very clearly stated that stolas is subbing, blitz is domming.

now take a moment and think about how much that fucks up the dynamics.

in stolas' eyes, blitz is a confident, dangerous individual who's an old friend and cherished memory of his, who he's trusted wholly with his safety during sex and he's lucky to have; and he has been in an abusive arranged marriage for the past eighteen Years, he's probably not going to be pushing his luck with his dom that much in the first place. plus, blitz is never cowed by him during their conversations- think back to the first phone call right after he stole the book, completely unafraid.

and for blitz, it's someone trusting him again- but it's also a royal- a blue blood who's nearly untouchable and so much more powerful- who couldn't possibly like a piece of shit like him, apart from the sex he gets out of it. he only flirts once he gets some sort of cue from Stolas; he's desperately trying to view this as only a Goetia trying to get his rocks off, despite all the evidence to the contrary, because anything else is unfathomable to him, no matter how clearly Stolas shows it, because of the ptsd.

both of them thinks the other has the power. both of them aren't expecting the other to keep shut if something's bothering them.

and there's so much conflicting messages from the other too!

stolas calls him a plaything when trying to intimidate the humans; stolas cups his face gently and asks if he's alright

blitz asks him on a date and tells him to get better soon; blitz yells that it's only sex and doesn't reply to his messages

ya see?

bring it to fizzozzie for a second now; even though they do look all good on surface, you can still see fizz's trauma and doubt in all their interactions, they're still forced to keep the relationship secret. do you see his face when Ozzie says in hyperbole that he's never leaving the house again, or when someone accuses him of being a pampered house pet or when he got sexualized in the 7th ep? whatever happened in the interim between the accident with mammon, it fucked him UP. even though oz seems to be well aware of this when he tells him not to apologise and in their general interactions, fizz still visibly has trouble separating plaything/commodity from healthy relationship.

shout the fuck out to Ozzie btw, man knows whats UP. rooting for these two so much omg.

i forgot where I was going with this point, I'll edit it when i remember. but yeah! lovely fucking relationship, but damn what angst filled issues.

anyway, to sum up- stolitz is not a toxic relationship. the relationship is stuck sludging through misunderstandings and careless microaggressions and trauma responses, but it's not unhealthy or toxic because of the simple reason that most of the current hurt comes from... a misunderstanding. stolas didn't realise blitz would need reassurance about what they were and blitz didn't see stolas as someone who could get hurt.

unecessarily calling it toxic, even online, is more impactful than people think too. almost all spindlehorse ARE on all social medias; so MANY YouTube animators i know have found jobs there; they see your words, especially since a lot don't tag posts with "anti hb" correctly to keep them out of the main tag. there are Very few queer medias made BY queer people that haven't gone through heavy corporate revisions- helluva boss is practically a historical landmark in its success. it's very very very fucking easy to forget that not ten years ago some of the only queer videos on YouTube were butter lover (one kiss at the end post credits), dirty paws and welcome to hell (subtext).

the amount of "critical talk" helluva boss gets for what it is is very unprecedented. it's a beautiful show. can't wait for the next episode.

[pure-smut]

off limits.

featuring: Togame Jo x f!reader

contains: reader is Choji's sister, brother's best friend trope, a bit of angst, dry humping, outersex I think it's called? that thing where you rub genitals without penetration, someone help a gal out it's embarrassing to write smut and forget the name of the s*x thing you wrote about

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

series: 1. off limits | 2. radioactive

MDNI | 18+ content

a/n: phew boy did this one run away from me. i'm thinking this could be a series? yes no maybe?? let me know y'alls thoughts <3

Everyone knows that you, sister of the leader of Shishitoren, are off limits. It’s the bane of your dating life, every potential boyfriend too scared to even talk to you, let alone go further.

And it’s why you fall so hard for the boy from Bofurin.

He’d approached you on a night out, a rare mix of Shishitoren and Bofurin members in the same place. You asked if he knew who you were and he said yes. You asked if he was scared and he smiled and said no.

In hindsight, you never should have entertained a Bofurin boy. But you were so excited about the prospect that someone might like you enough to disregard the tentative agreement between your gangs. Between secret meet ups and stolen kisses, you let yourself fall for him.

Stupid.

He eventually stops showing up to your secret spot, stops messaging you back as quickly, stops taking your calls. You think you’ve done something wrong – you must have done something wrong – and you become frantic.

Are you leaving me? you message him.

He doesn’t reply for three days.

He’s met someone else, someone on his side of the tracks. It would never have worked out between you two anyway. He’s sorry he led you on, sorry he gave you the wrong idea. It was just a bit of fun anyway, right? You’re a great girl and you’ll find someone soon.

You smash your phone against the wall.

You throw on your shortest dress and your highest heels. You meet your friends at the bar, meet other Shishitoren members, slam your cash on the bar and buy rounds for everyone. You dance and laugh and drink, drink, drink, and on the inside you feel like your heart has been scooped out your chest and dumped on the side of the road.

The night becomes blurred, conversations and people mixing into each other like paint, until you can’t distinguish each from the next. You feel sick but you keep drinking, keep dancing, keep laughing.

You land hard on the ground but you don’t feel anything. Someone says something to you but you can’t hear them.

You feel like you’re in a washing machine, spinning. And then you don’t remember anything at all. *

You wake up to a dark room. You have approximately half a second of peace before the worst headache you’ve ever had in your life starts thumping at the back of your skull. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and when you reach up to rub the sleep from your eyes, you realise you’ve still got last night’s make-up on.

“Uuuugh,” you groan and the taste of your own mouth makes you grimace.

You’re still in last night’s clothes, the dress hiked up to your waist from sleeping in it, but at least you remembered to take your shoes off. You can feel the burn in the balls of your feet from dancing in them too long.

You roll over in bed, blindly groping the nightstand for your phone before you remember you smashed it. You groan again, burying your face in the pillow, as the memories of yesterday come back with a vengeance.

I’ve met someone else.

It was just a bit of fun, right?

You’ll find someone soon.

Rage curdles with heartbreak in your stomach, making you feel nauseous. Who else? you want to cry out. Who the fuck else in this goddamn place will even come close to me?

Pressure builds behind your eyes, forcing you to suck in a deep breath to stem the tears. You refuse to cry any more over that asshole. You exhale shakily. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re so hungover you might expire right here in the bed so you have more immediate concerns you can focus on.

You manage to stumble out of bed, pulling your dress back down, and find the lamp light, casting a warm glow across your studio apartment. It’s only when you try to walk to the kitchen that you notice a dull ache on your leg.

You look down to see your knee is skinned, caked with dry blood, a fresh bruise blooming around it. You vaguely remember falling over but didn’t realise you’d actually hurt yourself.

“Gotta be fucking kidding me…” you mutter to yourself.

You’re annoyed but half-grateful – the physical pain is at least a distraction from your current emotional pain. You limp to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. You drain the whole glass is one go, gulping it down like you’ve been traversing the Savannah for a week, and pour yourself a second glass. Your head is still thumping but you’re pretty sure after you brush your teeth, your mouth will at least go back to normal. But that’s a task for later.

With a heavy sigh, you pad over to the living area.

Except there’s something weird about it. You stare at the couch, blinking. Did you put a pile of blankets on there last night? You frown. You don’t remember doing that but you don’t remember a lot of things past a certain point.

Your eyes trail over the blankets until they settle on something even weirder. It looks like a tuft of jet black hair is sticking out from under the blanket. You blink again, your hungover brain churning as fast as it can to process what you’re seeing.

It’s only when the pile of blankets moves, an arm stretching out, that you scream.

There’s a fucking man in your house.

“Get out!” you screech.

You launch the glass of water at him but miss. It bounces harmlessly off the back of the couch but water goes everywhere, spraying the stranger.

“Ah.” Togame Jo pushes the blanket off himself, half-drenched. He scrubs his hand over his face before pushing back his wet hair. “That was a weird way to wake up.”

“T-Togame?” you stammer out, rooted to the spot. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Togame sits back, his hair still dripping water down his face.

“Oh, hey, y/n,” he says as if just realising you’re there. “Good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning, what are you doing here?” you demand, hand on your hip. “You scared me!”

Togame looks genuinely surprised, his eyebrows raising.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He looks around. “What time is it? Think we slept in.”

You spread your hands, still waiting for him to answer your question, but he only stands up, stretching his arms above his head.

“How you feeling? Oh, I’ll make the coffee.” He yawns and walks past you to the kitchen.

“Togame.”

“Hm?”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“Hmm.”

Togame opens your cupboards, pulling two mugs free, as if he lives here. You cross your arms across your chest, your headache making your patience wear thin.

“Togame…” your tone is warning.

“What’s the rush?” He turns to grin at you. “My guess is you’ve got a hangover that could slay a walrus so why don’t you just… chill?”

If that instruction came from anyone else, it’d make your temper flare. But it’s Togame. He moves like a sloth. You sigh and uncross your arms.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and take a shower. I feel like shit.” You stomp past him to the bathroom. “I want three-”

“Three sugars,” Togame finishes, winking. “Known you long enough to know how you like your coffee, doll.”

You turn away and close the bathroom door before he can see the blush on your cheeks. Truth be told, you had the fattest crush on Togame growing up – he’s only one year your senior and he was always around, being best friends with your brother. It fizzled as you got older but he still has the ability to make your cheeks flush. Sometimes you think he knows it.

You take a long, hot shower, ignoring the sting of your knee as you clean it. It's not so bad once the blood has cleared, just a scrape against the skin. That's one less problem, at least.

Once you’ve scrubbed away the hangover and your mouth feels clean again, you feel almost like normal. Your headache persists but it’s calmed to an annoying throb instead of feeling like a chainsaw in your skull.

You step out of the bathroom in your towel, hair dripping, to find Togame on your bed, scrolling his phone. You give him a flat look.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get off.”

Togame cocks his eyebrow, amused.

“Couch was wet.”

You press your lips together and exhale. You decide to ignore him and start picking through your clothes on the floor, trying to find a clean pair of pyjamas. You have absolutely no intention of leaving your home today.

“Your towel’s a bit short to be bending over like that.”

Togame’s voice makes you snap up to standing. You spin to face him, cheeks hot.

“Togame!”

He only grins wide at you, chuckling.

What has gotten into him? you think as you start searching your clothes again, more carefully this time. Togame’s always been a light flirt but nothing this brazen. And he still hasn’t told you what’s doing here.

A sick feeling overcomes you. You slowly turn to him.

“Togame…” you say and he looks up from his phone. “Last night, we didn’t…”

“Jesus, y/n.” A notch appears between his brow and you realise he looks hurt. “No, nothing happened last night.”

You take a shaky breath, an embarrassed heat crawling up your neck.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Y/n.”

Togame sits up straighter, tugging his t-shirt over his head. You watch, wide-eyed, as he hands it to you.

“Wear this and come lie down already. I’ll tell you why I’m here, alright?”

You try your best to ignore his bare torso and accept his t-shirt. Togame makes a show of covering his eyes as you quickly change into it. Too late you realise you didn’t pick up any clean underwear but Togame’s t-shirt falls to your mid-thigh so it should be fine, you just need to make sure you don’t accidentally flash him.

Togame pats the space on the bed next to him and you cautiously climb on, tugging the hem of his t-shirt down.

“Okay. I’ll start by saying I know you had a rough day yesterday so there’s no judgement here…”

Immediately, your anxiety spikes.

“Your brother and I found you in one of the clubs. You were…” He struggles to find the right words.

“Completely wasted?”

“Yeah.”

You sigh but it’s not unexpected news – you already knew by the hangover and the lack of solid memories.

“You were telling everyone you hate Bofurin.” Togame scratches his head. “That was weird. And then you fell and hurt yourself so I took you back home. Made sure you weren’t going to choke on your own vomit and then took the sofa.”

You groan, drawing your knees up to your chest and putting your face in your hands. Humiliating.

“I don’t hate Bofurin,” you say quietly. “I hate one Bofurin boy.”

“Ah.” Togame clicks his tongue in understanding.

The brutal break-up messages invade your mind again, your chest aching. To your horror, hot tears spill down your cheeks.

You try to twist away before Togame can see but he stops you before you can, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him. His bare chest is hot against your cheek and you can smell the familiar scent of him on his t-shirt. It’s so comforting and familiar, it’s like a dam breaks inside you.

You break down, howling and burying your face in Togame’s chest.

“I hate him,” you sob. “I hate him, I hate him.”

Togame stays quiet, resting his cheek on the top of your head as he lets you cry yourself dry. You eventually pitter out to a sniffle, your nose blocked and eyes puffy.

“I’m just gonna get you a tissue, okay?” Togame says before releasing you.

When he returns, you dry your eyes and blow your nose, taking a deep breath. Even though the hollow feeling inside your hasn’t gone, you feel lighter. Like a weight is off your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say, still sniffling, as he climbs back into bed.

You catch sight of his chest, shiny with your tears and… other things. You wince.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

Togame only shrugs but you feel bad so you kneel beside him, pulling a fresh tissue. You swipe it gently across his chest, cleaning him off. You feel Togame’s eyes on you, watching you, and glance up.

“What?”

“Who was he?”

You look at him properly, hearing the hardness in his voice. Togame usually has a smile on his lips, and he still does, but his green eyes are sharp as emeralds. You heave a sigh.

“You want to fight him.”

“Maybe.”

“Mmm. Thought so.” You shake your head, pulling back and throwing the tissues in the bin. “It’s not worth it, Togame.”

“He hurt you.”

“Yeah, but I let him.” You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. You huff a laugh. “I don’t know if it’s even him I loved or…”

A thickness appears in your throat, tears threatening again.

“Or what?” Togame’s voice softens.

You know if you speak, you’ll cry, so you just shake your head instead.

“Y/n…”

Togame sits up straighter, reaching across to grasp your hand. You inhale deeply, pushing back tears.

“I…” You swallow and try again. “I’m off limits.”

Togame squeezes your hand so you keep going.

“I can never have a proper boyfriend and that fucking sucks. I just got so excited that I found someone.” Your vision swims and you irritably brush away the tears. “I don’t know if it’s him I liked or just the fact that I had someone. Anyone.”

Togame is quiet, his fingers interlaced with yours. You scrub the back of your hand against your cheeks until your tears stop, shoulders sagging.

“Man… Choji sucks,” Togame says, breaking the silence. “I suck too. I didn’t even think about how this would…”

He scratches the back of his neck, wincing.

“I’ll talk to your brother for you.” Togame squeezes your hand again but your head snaps up at his words. “I’ll tell him-”

“No! No, don’t do that.” You shake your head. “It’s awkward and it won’t help. What, is he gonna go to the whole of Shishitoren and say, step right up and bang my sister?”

Togame sniggers and you find yourself chuckling quietly with him, despite yourself.

“You’ve got a point,” he concedes.

You take a deep breath, giving your cheek a couple of light slaps.

“I do feel better though,” you tell him. “After talking to you. So, thank you.”

Togame gives you a lazy grin.

“Anytime.”

“Even though I’m gonna die alone.”

“Not true.” Togame shakes his head with a smile. “If there wasn’t this dumb ‘off limits’ rule, you’d have guys falling at your feet.”

“Shut up,” you say but you’re smiling hard, cheeks warming.

“Seriously,” Togame says, locking eyes with you. “Trust me.”

Did all the air just get sucked out of the room or something? You try to take a breath but your lungs feel tight. Togame’s gaze bores into you and you’re suddenly hyper-aware you’re still holding hands.

Wait, what did he mean by that? Did he mean him? Is he talking about himself?

Despite your spiralling, Togame seems completely unfazed.

“I’m gettin’ hungry. Let’s order in.” He talks like it’s obvious he’s spending the day here. Which you’re not entirely mad about.

“Uh. Yeah, sure.”

You watch as Togame grabs his phone, tapping through to a delivery app. You take the opportunity to really look at him. You know what he looks like, obviously, you’ve known each other most of your lives. But you’ve never really looked before.

His dark hair is still messy from being wet earlier and his undercut is growing back, needing to get shaved again soon. You admire the curve of his strong nose, his sharp jaw. When your eyes fall on his lips, you dart a tongue out to wet your own automatically. Togame glances up to catch you staring and you immediately avert your eyes, pretending to study the ceiling.

“Were you star-” he starts.

“So what food are we getting?” you interrupt him, leaping off the bed and pulling down the hem of your t-shirt.

You’re not entirely sure why you jumped away from him so you pick up your laptop as a cover, except you trip over your clothes on the way, your feet tangling in the fabric. Togame regards you with an amused look, waiting for you to return before handing you his phone.

“Choose whatever you want, my treat,” he says.

You would normally protest, insist on splitting 50/50, but you’re too flustered to do anything except tap in your order and hide your red-hot face as much as possible, climbing back into bed next to him. Togame’s watching you so you focus on searching for a movie on your laptop, not looking at him.

“Y/n,” he says.

“Hmm?”

“Y/n.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

You swallow hard and reluctantly turn to face him.

“Yeah?”

Togame’s face has turned serious, his playful smile gone.

“Put the laptop away,” he says and there’s an undercurrent of a command there that makes you do what he says.

You put the laptop on the nightstand and as soon as you do, Togame pulls you on top of him so you’re straddling his lap. You inhale sharply at the sudden movement, his t-shirt riding up your thighs. You tug the hem back down, covering yourself, and look at Togame with burning cheeks.

“What are you doing?” you protest.

“You like me,” he states plainly. "I didn't want to say anything because I thought it would make you feel worse but..."

Your brow furrows.

"But what?"

Togame gives you a sly grin.

"You were kinda... all over me last night."

Your stomach drops out your butt. Your throat closes to a pinpoint.

"What?" you choke out.

"You told me you got a crush on me."

"Oh, god."

"Said you wanted me to come back to yours."

"Please stop."

"Which I did, obviously, but like, just to make sure you were okay. You were really out of it. So yeah, that's how I know you like me."

Are you having a panic attack? Because this feels like a panic attack. It feels like your lungs have closed up shop. You didn't think your face could burn any hotter but you swear you can cook an egg on your cheeks right now. You've never prayed harder for the floor to swallow you whole.

You go to move out of Togame's lap but he grabs your hips, stopping you. Before you can say anything else, he continues.

“Honestly?" Togame rests his head back against the headboard, regarding you with an easy smile. "I like you too. Have for a while.”

The casualness of his confession is at odds with the way your heart thunders in your chest.

“You’re right – you’re off limits. Choji never explicitly said anything but it’s kinda implied. So, I held back.” Togame gives you an apologetic smile. “I didn’t realise how much of a disservice I was doing to you until today. Until earlier.” He takes a deep breath. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. Your brain churns slowly, still not fully recovered from last night, as you process this, but at least your heart rate slows somewhat. You haven't made a complete fool of yourself if Togame likes you back, right?

“What… w-what does this mean?" you stammer. "Like, what do we…?”

Togame reaches out to brush your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His fingers linger on your cheek.

“I think we should talk to Choji before anything…” His gaze rakes over you. “Happens.”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You’re right. We should talk to Choji first.”

There's not a lot of conviction in your voice even though you know it's the right thing to do. You glance down at Togame’s bare torso. You place your hand on his toned stomach, sliding it up to his chest. He feels so good under you, his skin hot to the touch, the hardness of his muscle. And now he’s yours.

The thought emboldens you. You lean forward, trailing your hand up his neck to his jaw before carding your fingers through his dark hair. It’s softer than you expected, still half-damp, and Togame’s eyelids flutter as your nails scratch his scalp.

“Kissing is fine though, right?” you whisper.

“Mmm,” Togame hums. “If it’s just kissing…”

That’s all the permission you need.

You close the few inches between you, pressing your lips against his. Togame runs one hand up your thigh while the other cradles your jaw. He kisses as slow as you expected, taking his time with you, savouring you. You part your lips to deepen the kiss and Togame gladly obliges, running his tongue across your bottom lip before slipping it inside your mouth.

Your entire crush, which you thought had fizzled out, explodes from its grave. Your skin buzzes, your hands running over his chest, his biceps, up to the nape of his neck to tug on his hair. The Bofurin boy was the only person you ever kissed and it was always nice.

This is so much more.

Togame rolls you over until you’re on your back and he’s on top, never breaking the kiss. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. Your hands are on his back, feeling the muscles move as he supports himself over you. You moan into his mouth and Togame immediately pulls back.

“Ah, you can’t…” He blinks a few times, half-laughing. “You can’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Make that noise. I’m…” Togame glances down and then back up again, fixating on a spot above your head. “I’m hard already.”

A smile crawls across your face, a thrill running through you. You tighten the grip your legs have around his hips, wiggling against him. True to his word, you can feel his boner through his sweatpants.

“Mmm, ah, aha, you’re really not making this any easier on me.”

“It’s just kissing, Jo.” You grin, pleased that you have such an effect on him, and pull his face down for another kiss.

“Mmm, I kinda liked that,” Togame says between kisses, a smile on his lips. “Say it again.”

“Jo,” you say sweetly, bucking your hips to rub against his hard-on again.

“Ah, fuck, that feels good…” Togame moves his mouth down to your neck, sucking on the skin there. “Mmm, maybe grinding’s allowed too.”

“I agree,” you say, pulling his hips down to meet yours.

Togame rolls his hips, rubbing his bulge against your naked pussy. The friction against your throbbing clit only spurs you on and you grind back against him. Togame groans into your neck, the stimulation teasing enough for all the blood to rush to his cock but just not quite enough.

“Jo, I need more…” you breathe, almost pleading.

You’ve been teased to the brink of your climax but it’s not enough to push you over the edge.

“I know, baby, me too.” Togame pushes himself up onto his hands, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve got an idea.”

He rolls onto his back, scooping his arms under you to take you with him, as you end up back on top.

“Raise your hips a little for me, baby,” he instructs and you do so.

Once you’ve hovering over him, Togame reaches down to push his sweatpants down slightly, just enough so that his cock springs free. You look down at it, mouth watering, before glancing back at Togame.

“I thought we couldn’t…”

“Don’t worry.” Togame smiles up at you reassuringly.

He presses his cock down against his stomach and, with one hand on your hip, guides you to sit gently on the shaft. As soon as you do, your lips pressed against his cock, he lets out a relieved groan.

“Fuck, that’s better,” he breathes. “Just grind back and forth, baby.”

The feel of Togame’s bare cock against your pussy makes your hole clench around nothing. Togame pushes up your t-shirt to your waist, holding it there so he can watch. Slowly, cautiously, you slide your puffy lips back and forth along his shaft.

“S-shit…” Togame mutters. “Good job, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good, just keep going.”

You rock your hips back and forth, feeling the ridges of Togame’s cock, his fat mushroom head rubbing against your swollen bud so deliciously. You let out a content sigh, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs so you can roll your hips easier.

“Jesus Chris, you’re so fucking hot.” Togame’s usually sleepy eyes are locked onto you, switching between your face to your body to where your slick cunt grinds against his cock.

Your pussy drools for him, making the friction even better. Togame’s grip tightens on your waist, the heat of your wet lips against his girth bringing him to the edge of euphoria. You cant your hips slightly, rubbing your clit against the sensitive head of his cock, and Togame moans out loud. The pleasure you’re both inflicting on each other fuels the other, bringing you to the apex together.

“Jo…” you gasp and Togame knows he’ll do whatever he has to, to make sure he gets to hear you say his name like that again. “I’m gonna…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Your body seizes, your back arching, as you cream over his cock. The sight of you cumming is enough to usher in Togame’s own orgasm. He groans, long and low, his grip like iron on your waist. You feel his cock throb against you and look down in time to see him fire thick ropes of cum across his stomach and chest. You’re hypnotised by the scene – the stripes of creamy cum, the way Togame’s abs move as he breathes heavy, the half-lidded, satisfied look in his eyes.

He finally releases his grip on you, letting your t-shirt fall. You sit back slightly, not wanting to leave your position just yet, and reach for the tissues he got your earlier. With shared grins, you both clean the cum from his torso.

“Come here,” Togame says, opening his arms.

You lean forward, pressing yourself against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“We’ll talk to Choji tonight,” he says. “I don’t think we’ll last until tomorrow.”

You smirk, not disagreeing, but your smile falls.

“What if he says no?” you say quietly.

Togame’s chest rises under you as he breathes deep. He doesn’t have an answer for you.

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[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part three.

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you tell john about your childhood & the things you still want despite it, & he tells you about his, knowing once & for all that you’re meant to belong to him & him alone. · word count: 2,409

You’re just beginning to drift off when you hear a soft knock against the glass.

You groan into your pillow and could swear you hear a deep chuckle from the other side of the door in response.

You slowly rise—head spinning from exhaustion—and pad over to the door, silently flipping the lock before throwing yourself back down face-first into the mattress, pulling a thin blanket over your bare legs.

John enters the room, staring down at you, arms folded behind his back. “What? No dinner for your man tonight?”

You mentally roll your eyes at him calling himself that yet again, but don’t reply to that particular comment. “I already ate. I’m going to sleep.”

He huffs, glancing around your small apartment, then back to you. “Guess I’ll just climb in there with y—”

“Not with your suit still on you aren’t,” you mumble into your pillow.

He raises a brow in interest, smirking, surprised you’re not trying to argue otherwise. Maybe that’s the key to getting his way, then, until you start caving all on your own: take advantage when you have no energy to fight back. When you’re soft and tired and at his will to do with as he pleases.

“See you’re finally starting to see things my way,” he states smugly.

You roll over then, looking at him. “You’re not wearing your outside clothes in my bed. It’s not a come-on.”

He toes off his boots, then settles his hands on his hips, as if he’s debating something internally.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to understand what.

His suit is his metaphorical armor. You still have yet to understand why he’s so insecure, though—why his ego is so fragile. That’s the one thing about him that should be ‘untouchable’, so to speak. Then again, being physically bulletproof doesn’t have any bearing on what’s inside.

And what’s inside seems, still, like a little boy living in a man’s body, to you.

He needs to feel wanted. He’d seemed pleased last night when you’d talked about seeing him again—like you were finally giving him what he’s been desiring since that day he first set eyes upon you in your university’s auditorium: your willing attention.

Your eyes flutter closed, throwing a bone his way. “I’m cold.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remove his suit—leaving him clad only in a pair of dark-blue briefs. And it makes him want to crawl out of his fucking skin.

But you’re all but finally asking for him. You want him. You’ve finally come around.

He knew you would. No woman can resist. Not even you. Young and pretty you may be, but you’re still not educated enough to know what’s in your best interest, clearly. Best interest being him. That’s the problem with all these liberal ‘schools’. They don’t teach what they used to: love of ones country. Instead, they’d tried to turn you against him.

But he can still pull you back. It seems like he already has as you lie there, waiting for him.

So, he climbs into bed next to you, pulling the covers over himself, and then he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He smiles softly when you gently press your palms to his pecks.

“I like you better like this,” you say, cuddling closer, wondering how he’ll react to it.

He tightens his arms around you then and you squeak.

“John, you’re crushing me.”

He loosens his hold, feeling the least bit pathetic.

He’s done this before—held a woman so tightly that it resulted in her life being cut short he was that fucking desperate for affection.

He lets you go entirely then, rolling onto his back, hating himself.

He doesn’t need anyone. Why can’t he get that through his goddamn head? Why the fuck should he care what a weak, useless, lonely little human like you thinks about him—a god? He should just kill you instead. He does that, and you’re no longer all he’s able to fucking think about all day—to a disturbingly obsessive degree. It’d be as simple as—

You scoot closer, sliding a warm, dainty hand up his chest until it’s resting gently against his cheek and his mind immediately goes blank—his face twitching as he fights back tears.

Maybe your superpower is just…comforting maternal gestures, then.

At least with you he won’t have to compete with another to receive them. Unlike Madelyn…and Teddy. The little shit. Taking what should’ve been—had been—his.

But you? There is no competition. He assumes, at least.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks quietly.

You pop an eye open, staring at him as he stares up at the ceiling, his face entirely void of emotion.

Lying would be useless, you’re sure. He works for Vought—or with—you’re sure they could have a comprehensive background check done on you in a handful of minutes…if he hasn’t already done as much. You have half-a-mind to ask, but you’re not sure you want the answer to such a question.

“No.”

His lip twitches, turning upwards into a smile, which leaves you feeling uneasy.

“So you’re all mine, then.”

You open both eyes, blinking at him, heartrate beginning to climb. “I—”

He shakes his head slightly. “No. Wasn’t a question.”

He turns back onto his side then, sliding a heavy hand over your hip, holding you possessively in his grip. “You said you’d tell me about ‘her’ tonight.”

You brush your thumb against his cheek, eyes drifting down to his chest, not wishing to meet his own now.

You want to go back to his comment—one he’s made more than once now, just in varying ways—about…ownership. He surely doesn’t mean it.

But every time you’ve tried to assure yourself of anything concerning him: that he won’t come back, that he won’t really hurt you—you’ve been wrong.

Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you like to think you are. Most of all him.

You just still don’t understand why you’re a subject of fascination for him yet. Like you’d told yourself the other day…what’re you compared to any of the other women in his life? But maybe that’s it, then. Just like him, they’re forced to put on a mask, not letting anyone in deeper than surface-level, lest the plastic cracks.

It seems like he just…wants to connect.

No wonder you’ve been so tired the last couple of days—constantly wracking your mind, trying to understand him. As if it’s even possible. He’s been an actor all his life.

You sigh.

“I’m sure you won’t…be able to relate. I’m envious of you in that: your perfect childhood, and life. I wish I’d had that…”

You trail off for a moment.

“My mother,” you say quietly. “I haven’t seen her since I was eighteen and left for college. Half the reason I even went was to get away from her. I didn’t care about student loans and living in debt if it got me out of that house. For the first couple of years I lived in a dorm room…and it was the first time I’d ever known peace. No more walking on eggshells, no more fighting, or being called horrible names, or having to cautiously measure what mood I think she’s in each day—or hour—lest I provoke her.”

You slide your hand down to his neck, softly curling your fingertips inward. “I can’t…”

You pause, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulls you closer to him, silently encouraging you to continue.

“Yet I still feel like I can’t get away from her. Not even here. Not even hundreds of miles from home—if you can even call it that. Because she’s always with me. In my head. Beating me down, making me feel worthless—like…all my self-worth still needs to hinge upon her and how she feels. If she’s happy. When did it become my job to look after her, and not the other way around? And even when I did…she still abused me for it. Nothing I ever did was right.”

You bite your lip trying to fight back tears.

“When I was young, I wanted what we’re all supposed to once we grow up: a husband, a home, babies. And then I got older, and because of her I tried to convince myself otherwise. Tried to pound into my head that I didn’t want kids. That what I really wanted was a hysterectomy. That way, I’d never have to risk turning into her: becoming the monster of a mother that she was.”

You ignore the tears running down your cheeks now. “But it’s how I’m different from her that matters most. She’s taken enough away from me. Stolen enough of my life. I want children. I deserve to be a mother. To have a family. To make my own. She doesn’t get to have that, too. She doesn’t.”

Your chin wobbles and you let out a small sob. “I’m sorry.”

He only holds you closer, unsure what to even say. He’s never known how to comfort others. He’s always expected it to be provided to him instead. But only from women. And only in secret. Because he can’t be seen as some fucking weakling.

Because he’s not. He’s not.

He is the strongest man in all the world. The most superior. The master of his race.

You continue to softly cry, and it’s then that he makes a decision, knowing that if it ends terribly—with you emasculating him, or betraying his trust—well, it will take no effort from him to rectify the situation. But he’s sure that you won’t, because, little-by-little, you’ve shown your true colors: how maternal you truly are.

You just said it yourself. And it’d sounded like the most beautiful fucking music to his ears to hear: how desperate you are for a child.

You want someone to look after? Well, here he is. He needs your love. He can admit it now. To himself, at least. Even if it tastes like rancid vinegar to do so.

“I didn’t have it: a perfect childhood. It’s all fucking bullshit. You want to know how I was really raised?”

You grow quiet then, only occasionally sniffling as you slip your fingers into his hair, gently stroking his soft, blond strands.

“I grew up in a lab like a rat. These…doctors kept me locked in a sterile white room with nothing but a blanket for comfort. Not even a bed. Not a pillow. No toys. No TV. Nothing. All while they performed test after fucking test after—”

He clenches his teeth. “Watching me every second of every day. No privacy. Treating me like some…sideshow attraction. Burning me and laughing at me and just—watching.”

Your chin wobbles.

“I never knew my parents because I was designed in a test tube. I was created to be this. The greatest superhero the world has ever known. They tried to make me perfect. And I am,” he tacks on.

He’s unsure whether he’s trying to convince himself of that, or you.

“But I’m just—”

“Lonely,” you say, interrupting him with tears slipping down your cheeks—your heart shattering, for him.

You wrap your arms around his neck then, finally understanding him. Finally seeing a shred of humanity behind his ‘tough-man’ facade.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you say between sobs. “I am so sorry for what they did to you.”

All you can picture in your mind’s eye is a sweet, blond little boy sitting in a room all alone, waiting for someone to come for him. To care. To hold, or love him. For them to stop hurting him, all while he was left to wonder what he did wrong to deserve such horrible treatment.

How…how could anyone do that? To a baby? To a little boy?

You shouldn’t care. Not after what he did to you just two nights ago, but you can’t help it. Because in this moment you just see a broken man that has nowhere else to turn.

He slides impossibly closer, burying his face between your breasts, quietly crying.

You shoosh him, running your fingers through his soft hair.

Here lies the most powerful—invincible—man in all the world in your arms—a man who has always seemed a larger than life titan…somehow he feels so small now. You’d been right to see him as just a scared little boy looking for someone to comfort him. And it serves only to break your heart all the more.

 “I’m so sorry, baby,” you say.

And it reminds him of a loving mother consoling her child. Something he’s never had the gift of having.

He mouths it against your breast then, just…wanting to try it—to know how it feels: ‘mommy’.

And it comes to him naturally. Like…this is meant to be.

And he knows in that moment with absolute certainty that you’re the one. You’re supposed to be his. Meant to belong to him alone. You were born to.

He’ll kill anyone who even attempts at coming between the two of you. He’ll rip him in fucking half with his bare hands just to keep you. Just to show you this newfound devotion.

And he’s sure you’d be thankful for it.

Your mother expected you to do everything for her? He can show you the opposite: so long as you love him, he can give you the same.

He’ll take care of you. He’ll make sure you don’t go without anymore. He has more than enough money for the two of you. Is willing to expend the effort to keep you as his sole property.

It’s all he’s ever wanted: to be loved. And now here you are in his arms with an open, maternal heart meant to love him.

Besides…how could you ever dream of doing better than the most singular and superior man in all the world? No other pathetic human specimen could ever compete.

You’ll be thanking him one day for having come into your life. For saving you. But that’s what he does: he saves people. And it seems you—his new purpose—need him most of all.

Before long, you’ll see just how much.

Before long…you won’t have any idea how to live without him. Already he feels the reverse: no idea how to live without you.

Not that he’ll have to, because you’re not going anywhere.

If you tried, he’d simply follow, because there’s nowhere you could hide that he wouldn’t find you.

You’re his.

All his.

His girl.

His woman.

Mommy.

[mktskii]

—Burnt Pancakes and a Loser in Denial

—Synopsis: As a newcomer in a busy restaurant kitchen, you’re a disaster waiting to happen, and Bakugou Katsuki isn’t shy about making that clear. The hot-headed line cook has no time for incompetence, and yet he finds himself begrudgingly stuck with you—his clumsy, relentlessly upbeat coworker who can barely crack an egg. Frustrated with your lack of skill, Bakugou can't explain the nagging urge to keep an eye on you or why your laugh sticks in his mind long after you’ve clocked out. Somewhere between burnt pancakes and late-night cleanups, Bakugou is forced to confront the unsettling truth: he just might be falling for the one person he insists he can’t stand.

—Pairing: Line Cook!Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB!Newbie Line Cook!Reader

—Genre: Slice-of-life, comedy, romance

—Tags: unrequited love (sort of), slow burn, workplace, oblivious crush, enemies to (one-sided) lovers, Bakugou Katsuki x reader, harsh Bakugou, denial, quirkless AU

—Notes: ..uh...hi everyone. soooo exuse my insanly long absence. i could use my excuse that I had lined up but would it really matter?? MOVING ON! i got this idea from @/tokenirainanfriend on tiktok soo go follow him ! THE SERIES WILL BE ON HOLD soly because..well..i need ideas. if you all have any, PLEASE message me! i would like to keep it going for a while. also, apologies to people who can actually cook, I'm taking away your skills for this one. ENJOY!!

Bakugou didn’t understand how anyone could be this goddamn dense. Not in a million years would he have guessed that someone who managed to survive in the world, breathe in and out each day, would lack the most basic ability to crack an egg without turning it into a massacre. And yet, here you were, assigned as his new coworker in the bustling, chaotic depths of the kitchen—his kingdom.

As the restaurant’s most efficient line cook, he’d established a meticulous routine to keep things running at the rapid pace they needed to. No time for nonsense. But now? With you around, it was as if the world itself had taken a nosedive into hellfire. He couldn’t go two seconds without hearing you calling his name over the clattering sounds of spatulas, saucepans, and the relentless sizzle of grills.

“Hey, Bakugou..uh,” you called timidly from behind him, holding a spatula in a death grip.

“What?” He turned, already bracing for whatever catastrophe you were brewing.

You offered him a plate of burnt, vaguely pancake-like shapes. “Do these look…right?”

He took one look. Actually— one GLANCE, and he felt two emotions. Disbelief and pure anger.

“Do they look right?" He scoffed "They look like somethin’ crawled out of a dumpster and got hit by a truck. What the hell do you call that?” He didn’t wait for you to respond, grabbing the plate and practically throwing it into the trash. “You don’t call it food, that’s for sure.”

The embarrassment on your face was plain as day, but you bit your lip, nodded, and set to remaking the pancakes with an exhausted sigh. Bakugou had half a mind to scream—honestly, just to get it out of his system. Why the hell did it bug him that you looked so damn disappointed? It was your own fault for taking a job you clearly had no skills for. And yet…

Goddammit, it pissed him off.

It shouldn’t have, but every time you tripped over your own feet trying to get out of his way, or when you muttered a soft “sorry” as if your very presence was an inconvenience, it lit some unidentifiable fuse in him. Not the usual, angry fuse—something else, something gnawing and ridiculous that had his stomach tying up in impossible knots.

And he wasn’t about to let that feeling win.

A few weeks in, the irritation only intensified. The kitchen was a battleground, and you were making him lose his mind. Bakugou was convinced you were planted there to make him suffer—some sort of karmic punishment for every curse he’d ever muttered and every rude remark he’d thrown.

But something was wrong.

Because somewhere between your second attempt at pancakes and your third night shift, Bakugou found himself…observing you. Watching out of the corner of his eye as you focused, cheeks red with effort, brow furrowed as you strained to not mess up. If someone so much as raised their voice at you (and he was well aware, he’d done more than his fair share), he felt his blood boil with some twisted, misguided desire to tell them to back off.

And he despised that feeling.

Every time he caught himself, Bakugou wanted to smash his head against the freezer door.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered under his breath, scrubbing a pan with more aggression than necessary. But when you glanced his way, offering that usual tentative smile, it was like the damn pan wasn’t even in his hand anymore. For all he knew, it had slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor—but it wouldn’t have mattered, not with the way his pulse thrummed a little harder, just because of you.

“Did you need any…uh, any help, Bakugou?” you asked quietly, probably hoping not to set off his temper.

It was so ridiculous, he almost laughed—almost.

“Pfft, as if I’d need your help. Just don’t get in my way, alright?” he shot back, trying to ignore the weird pang in his chest at the dejection on your face. But before he could stop himself, he added, “But, uh…I mean, maybe later, if you’re still here, you could work on, I dunno, keeping up with me. No sense in dragging everyone down.”

There was that smile again, softer this time. “I’ll do my best, then.”

Bakugou glared at the pan, willing his pulse to slow down, all the while knowing this was some cosmic joke at his expense.

It wasn’t until one night—one particularly quiet closing shift—that the reality hit him like a two-ton truck.

You were cleaning up the kitchen, humming softly under your breath, and Bakugou was stuck restocking supplies, fuming at the sight of you so…comfortable, so at home in the space you’d once fumbled around in.

And for reasons he could barely understand, he just…watched you. Not out of annoyance or critique, not out of irritation, but just because.

For once, you weren’t trying to make conversation, and he wasn’t telling you off. You looked…content. And when you laughed softly to yourself—at some thought he’d never know—his chest squeezed so tight he was damn sure he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Hey, idiot,” he muttered, so low he wasn’t sure if you’d even heard him.

You turned, eyebrows raised, that smile making his stomach churn. “Yeah?”

For a moment, he lost track of every insult, every complaint he’d been about to throw at you. Instead, he felt his cheeks burn, and he cursed under his breath, forcing himself to look away.

“Forget it,” he said gruffly, busily organizing the shelf with furious precision. But his mind was already spiraling into the depths of horror: Oh, no. Hell no. No way. This is not happening.

Bakugou Katsuki, a guy who’d barely thought twice about anyone, was…interested? Him? In you?

The thought was absurd. Impossible. But it sat there in his mind, solid as a rock, completely unmoving and irritatingly present. He wanted to punch something—or better yet, punch the feeling itself out of his gut.

For the next hour, he did everything he could to avoid looking your way, stomping around the kitchen like he was gearing up for war, trying to deny this…this idiotic pull. He wasn’t some clueless fool—he’d seen people fall over themselves, getting all mushy and soft around others. But that wasn’t him, dammit.

Yet the feeling sat there, mocking him.

And when you called out, “Goodnight, Bakugou. See you tomorrow!” as you walked out the door, he barely managed a stiff nod. He had an insane urge to follow after you, to make sure you got home safe. Stupid. You can take care of yourself. And it’s not like you’d want him hovering around, anyway.

He slumped against the counter, rubbing his face, silently willing this “crush” or whatever it was to just burn out like a candle in the wind. But he knew it wouldn’t. Not as long as he saw you, talked to you, heard that laugh and saw that damn smile.

Bakugou Katsuki, now a loser in love, was stuck. He’d be damned before he ever admitted it out loud.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[shadowqueenjude]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

[minhosimthings]

A La Folie ft. Jay || Part 2

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive at the end, SMUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER MY BABIES, mentions of food, mentions of abuse, reader has scars, mention of blood and violence, hurt/comfort, reader has a panic attack, Heeseung suffering a shit ton lmao I'm sorry hee

A/N: I am legit so sorry for the long wait my babies I wanted to make this as perfect as possible! Thank you for the notes on the first part YAY!!! And the next chapter has smut hehe 😏😏

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Memories are said to be core parts of a person's life, no matter good or bad.

The only memories you had were of blood, broken glass, and destroyed homes.

Laughter had always seemed so frightening to you, it reminded you terribly of your mother and father's drunken laughter, as they put the belt to their daughter, just because she was a daughter.

Laughter was no longer how your older brother used to comb your hair, how he used to engulf you in his arms everytime the house was filled with things that a seven year old shouldn't be hearing.

Laughter and love, no longer seemed to exist, as you looked down on the bruises on your skin, and wondered when the last time someone had noticed it under all your setting powder was.

Oh right.

Just over an hour ago by the goddamn king of the place you lived in. The possibility of something going wrong was approximately zero, and yet your powder just had to melt off.

Now you were slumped against your bed, almost about to tear your hair out at how much you were regretting even signing up for an apprentice's position in the palace. At the time, when you were fifteen, it seemed the only possible solution, to get away from your home.

To get away from Jooyeon, atleast.

Knock knock knock.

You let out a loud groan at the sound of tapping on the door. Who on earth was calling for you now?

Checking the clock on the wall, you seethed. Begrudgingly getting up, you dragged yourself to the door, and opened it only to find-

"Your Highness!" You gasped, quickly bending into a curtsey at the light footed man standing before you, "Um..am I of any requirance?"

Heeseung chuckled, and pressed his hand to his chest, returning the respect but bowing to you and sweeping away a stray hair from his forehead.

"Jay just sent me over to you to find out if you were alright, Miss Y/N." He said, with the air of a holy messenger, "You seemed to have rushed out the door on his saying something. Did he offend you perhaps?"

"Oh." You breathed a sigh of relief, not realising your facial expression until you saw Heeseung's amused face looking at you, "Oh no! No absolutely not! No, it's um—its really my fault, sort of. Um—is-is he quite mad?"

Heeseung mused over the question for a bit, quietly laughing to himself at how flustered you were.

"Well I wouldn't say mad." Heeseung finally answered after what seemed like an eternity, "But I would say extremely confused and possibly bleeding out his bandages again."

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath, hoping Heeseung didn't hear what you said, "I'll see it to the matter straight away, Your Highness."

"Oh please, Miss Y/N, call me Heeseung." He winked flirtatiously at you, to which you wanted to slightly gag.

"Is it a custom for all Paradoxica kings to allow their nurses to call them by their names?" You chuckled, remembering how Jay so magnificently told you to call him by his name.

"Maybe just for the handsome ones." Heeseung jested, throwing you another wink, which you tried hard not to frown at.

As Heeseung's footsteps faded away, you turned to the door in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you strode forward and slowly opened the door, having the scent of musk hit your nostrils with a bang again, as your eyes fell upon Jay, sitting calmly against the bedframe with his bandages drenched in red.

"May I come in, Your Majesty?" You forced the sentence out, not daring to meet Jay's eyes. You heard a slight hum of approval, to which you sighed a breath of relief and strode in, immediately going to the tiny table you had set up in the corner of the room and getting your supplies to change Jay's bandages, not noticing how Jay's eyes were following your every movement.

Silence filled the room for many minutes as you went on with your routine of pressing the ointment against his wounds and wrapping them up in clean linen. You hadn't dared to lift your lids up to Jay, all the while you were touching his stomach.

"Who did that to you?"

The air stilled drastically, at Jay's cold question, which he offered in a bittersweet voice, and you knew he could see how you visibly froze, from the hair on top of your head down to your little toe finger.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty?" You said, pretending not to hear the question and quickly wrapping up your tools. But Jay was quicker.

"I said—" he leaned forward, to your figure sitting on the stool and he whispered dangerously in your ear,

"Who gave you that mark on your shoulder?"

Jay's suspicions proved true at your flinch at his tone. Leaning back to look at your face, he saw nothing but pure fear and a few tears. His thoughts immediately started to run wild.

"Forgive me." He sighed, "That was too far."

"It was." The words ran out before you could stop them, and a bit harsher than you had wanted.

"May I be please be excused?" You asked him, trying hard to ignore the pit in your stomach and the urge to throw yourself onto a bed and sob.

That night, you tried everything to fall asleep. Empty packets of chamomile were all strewn over the floor, the heavy scent of lavender candles floated in the air, and yet nothing was knocking you out.

Sleep came very late into the darkness and sleep came disturbed. You had no idea how many times your eyes cracked open and stared at the ceiling above because the nightmare just seemed too damn real to be a figment of your imagination. You wondered how it would have been like if you had stayed with Jay all night in his chambers, you had heard that Mrs.Chun often stayed with him when he was injured.

Secrets and secrets never to be untold, you started to write in your diary again, to kill your time, and hopefully drowse off as soon as your poem was completed.

Little did you know, a certain king was doing the same thing next door.

"So let me get this straight-" Sunghoon ran his fingers through his hair, "You have a very attractive woman your age tending to you, almost touching your abs, talking to you like you want to be talked to, smells like lavender, and an apparently suspicious bruise on her shoulder and you want to find out where that thing came from but she won't tell you?"

"Well when you say it that way." Jay glared at his fellow king, "And anyways I'm pretty sure she's upset with me right now, she practically ran out on me yesterday."

Sunghoon snickered and ran a hand through his hair again. "How are you holding up? With the injury and all?"

"It's much better than Y/N expects me to rest for." Jay scoffed, "Have you seen her out of her chambers when you were coming here?"

"I think she's in the infirmary." Sunghoon scratched his head, "One of the maids told me that she was busy."

If you were in the infirmary, the infirmary was where Jay would go. With a heavy breath, he lunged himself off of the bed and onto his feet, to the concerned brow raise of Sunghoon.

"Alright you should return to your palace now, doesn't the kingdom need you and all?"

"I don't think so." Sunghoon threaded his fingers into his locks, "It's a bright sunny day, Jongsoeng brighten up a bit!"

"If you touch your hair one more time Park Sunghoon, I will brighten up your funeral."

The infirmary was a place of healing. For both physical and mental wounds. For most of your teenage years, Mrs Chun had set about trying heal the latter, by immersing you into the art of healing others. It had been fascinating, you thought, the quiet of the stone walls and the cold air brushing against your skin with kisses you preferred. It made you forget your home.

So it wasn't a surprise that this was the place you came to early in the morning when the king had ordered your presence. You were currently working on a nightmare potion for yourself, trying to mix in some additionalities to make you dream about something else.

Your carefully measured out drops of cranberry juice caught your attention as the vibration from the sound of heavy steps coming from outside made it quiver ever so slightly.

Sighing to yourself when you heard the door knob's knock, you abandoned your chemicals and went towards the door, thankful for your infirmary outfit of trousers because they didn't drag behind you. Why couldn't you have worn this when you were tending to-

"Your Majesty!" You all but screamed, quickly bowing to the man in front of you, "uh....hi." you added awkwardly at the end.

"Hi." Jay replied back, "And I told you not to call me that. Just call me Jay it's fine."

"You're the goddamn king, I can't just call you by your first name." You retorted as Jay walked in and dropped into the chair by the table where your nightmare potion lay, "Do you need anything?"

"Entertainment." Jay replied promptly, curiously poking at some herbs, "Why don't you wear that often?"

"Pardon?" You said before looking down and realising what you were wearing. You quickly grabbed a blanket and covered your lower portion, "That wasn't meant for anyone's eyes."

"You look good." Jay winked, nibbling on the cilantro you had saved for the potion, "Is that a nightmare potion?"

"Mrs Chun told me you were horrible at potions." You laughed, letting do of the blanket and striding over to Jay, plopping down on the chair opposite to him, "Kudos to recognising the potion."

"She's exaggerating, you know how old women are these days."

"How old do you suspect I am?" You asked, curious as to the king's opinions on women's ages. Jay thought for a moment before speaking.

"Depends." He leaned forward and smiled, "How old do you think I am?"

"45." You answered with an air of pride to your voice, to which Jay gasped dramatically and put a hand to his chest.

"You wound me Y/N." He chuckled, "Healers are supposed to heal aren't they?"

"Well depending on how you take your tea with a jar full of honey, you're certainly an old man." You were uncontrollably laughing now, "We're the same age, 22."

There was a moment of silence, in which you silently took the potion away from his radius and into your hands, your eyes widening dangerously at the bubbling liquid.

"Damn it!" You said, wincing at the hot touch. You looked around frantically for something, anything, which could calm the potion down, while Jay looked on, confused at your doings. Nevertheless, he got up and started to look for whatever you wanted.

"What are we looking for?" Jay asked as you ripped open the cupboards, the potion was bubbling aggressively by now.

"Something that can calm the potion down!" You cried, trying to get your mind to think, something to neutralize liquid, "like a lemon, alkali something."

Jay knew nightmare potion was dangerous when it wasn't neutralized, poisoning the skin of those whose grasp it reached. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Mrs Chun had taught him.

"Oh how about that baking soda there!" Jay pointed, wincing slightly as he felt pressure against his wounds but he tried not to show it, "It's alkali is it not?"

You had no time to respond as you grabbed thd baking soda at the speed of lightning and poured it all into the potion. The aggravated liquid seemed to calm down, as the bubbles slowly faded away and the colour changes from green to its normal azure.

"Thank the fucking heavens." You sighed, plopping down on the table much to Jay's amusement, "Thank you, Jay."

"I don't think Mrs Chun would like the state of this room right now." Jay motioned to the floor, where powders and cupboards lay ripped open from your frantic try to find an alkali. He was right of course, Mrs Chun would have killed you. The baking soda was also finished.

"Ah damn." You said, not realising the amount of times you swore in front of the kind today, you had to go out and get new ones now. You started to pick up the bigger jars which were thankfully not broken and arrange them back, not noticing Jay doing the same thing behind you. When you did notice however you were horrified.

"Your Majesty sit down!" You commanded, forcing Jay down onto the chair, "You'll worsen the injury."

"But I want to help." Jay visibly pouted, adorable, you thought, "Please?"

"Absolutely not." You responded, five minutes away from tying him to the chair, "If you're that bored, we can talk, but under no circumstance am I allowing you to bend and work."

Jay considered his options and came to the conclusion that talking was the better option. He wanted to find out more about your mysterious ways of enchanting him so well, about that scar too....

"Shall I start then?" Jay asked, as you nodded and started on the mess again, "Favourite food?"

"That's the best question you could think of?" You scoffed playfully, nevertheless smiling at him, "Apricots. Alright my turn. Hm..allergies?"

"Peaches, which is a pity because I love peaches. Hobbies?"

"Most of the time, reading, but I like experimenting here in the infirmary." You said. You liked this conversation, it was peaceful, bouncing back on each other with questions of all kinds. There was laughter, teasing and perhaps the most happiness you had felt in a lot of time.

"Birds can take over the world, you can fight me on that."

"If I fought you over it, I'd probably lose." Jay laughed, holding his stomach from the amount of bird jokes you both had made in the past fifteen minutes.

"So any siblings?"

Jay's question made you freeze again into that familiar pose Jay had grown to hate now. He wondered whether it was something related to your family that you were making the nightmare potion for.

"I'm sorry, you clearly aren't comfortable with discussing it I won't bring it up agai-"

"No it's alright." You sighed, letting out a breath that felt like it had been caged forever somewhere, "I-Well I don't speak with my family anymore they weren't exactly the loving type, a-and I ran away when I was 14."

14. That was the age when Jay lost everything.

"Well I guess we have a lot in common then." Jay sent you a comforting smile. God he had a gorgeous smile, you wished you could see it on his face at all times of the day.

"That would be a horrible similarly wouldn't it?" You forced a kindred smile. Jay nodded at your statement, and picked up the cilantro again, bringing the smaller leaves to his mouth to chew.

"Well I'll leave you to your work." Jay slumped off of his chair, the pain in his bandages had decreased now, "Good day Y/N."

"Good day Your- I mean Jay."

Jay had no idea how he managed to reach his chambers, his feet managed to trace the path back, all that was on his mind was how much if a mystery you still were.

That night, he opened the glass case in his room for the first time in seven years, taking out the ruby dagger and admiring how much it felt like your touch.

"Hyung are you serious?" Jay's fingers massaged his temple, as Heeseung smirked.

Both of them were sitting outside, in the warm afternoon Sun after you had allowed Jay to go outside on making sure his bandages were healed. It had been a few days since the infirmary incident, and Jay had constantly sneaked up so many times and messed with your potions that you had to threaten to rip apart the infirmary and blame it on him when Mrs Chun returned. Jay had heard worse threats in his life, but never before had he actually listened to them than now.

Plus it was the only thing that could allow him to see you in your shirt and trousers fit which he adores so much, even if you glared at him while he made suggestions for a potion while sitting next to you. Granted, he had been useful sometimes, particularly the time, he carefully bandaged your hand when you got a nasty burn from some dragon scales.

Unbeknownst to him, you though he looked adorable, with his tongue stuck out in pure concentration, as he carefully pressed his fingers across yours. It bought a blush to your face.

"It's the only favour I ask of you Jay" Heeseung tried to put on his best boba eye impression, to manipulate Jay into asking you out on a date. To Heeseung's wedding.

"Why can't you ask?" Jay sighed, talking a sip of his lemonade.

"Because Y/N isn't making my heart beat at the pace of a cheetah, she's making yours." Heeseung smirked, "Wait isn't that her?"

Jay's head whipped around to look behind him, making a crack sound as it went. His eyes landed on someone in the distance, wearing an olive dress and a straw hat, carrying a wickerwork basket, possibly to pick some on the daffodils growing in the garden. Royal healers were always allowed to pick herbs in the garden, so that's what you were probably doing.

God you looked beautiful, Jay thought. It reminded him of earlier, happier days, of days when laughter echoed high through the walls and flowers bloomed. Especially lavender. Lavender, like his mother....

"Jay, you're staring." Heeseung coughed loudly, snapping Jay out of his euphoria.

In the distance, you were willing away your time by plucking out tiny bristles of daffodils, they would do you good in makin the nightmare potions again. It wad a pleasant day today and you hadn't expected Jay to come out, but there he was, sitting alongside Heeseung in a loose white shirt, open slightly at neck. You hoped fervently that there weren't any mind readers present at the scene, lest they read all your extremely unholy thoughts.

The last few days, were fun, happy even. You liked Jay making conversation with you at the infirmary. Sure he annoyed you sometimes, but you didn't think you had laughed this much in ages now. It felt like home, true home, which you hadn't ever known the feeling of.

The sound of loud coughing made you flinch as you turned around to see both the royals snap their heads into the distance from staring at you. Giggling to yourself, you began to walk towards them, basket full of daffodils in hand.

"Fuck she's coming here." Jay whispered, pretending to look busy in fishing the cilantro pieces out from his glass.

"And I thought I was the lovesick one." Heeseung rolled his eyes, quickly putting on his brightest smile, as he saw you approaching.

"Miss Y/N!" Heeseung bowed to you, trying to sound like he wasn't about to possibly ruin Jay's love life, "Are you doing well?"

"Perfect, Your Highness." You curtsied, noticing Jay still hiding his face, "Congratulations on the betrothal, Your Highness, or should I call you Heeseung?"

"You remember?" He shot you a cheeky smile, sitting down on his chair agin, as you sat down on the one a servant brought you, "Well I assume you are coming to the ball? I would be devastated if my darling Queen didn't meet you."

You chuckled and quietly shook your head. "I don't believe I was invited. Plus, i have no family or friend to go with."

"Oh what a coincidence! Jay doesn't either!" Heeseung said, in a fake cheery voice, as Jay groaned silently to himself and fervently wished to disappear from this moment. This was by far the weakest he had ever felt in all his life.

"Oh...um... That's sad?" You were uncertain on what to say. Heeseung took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he had to play Cupid properly.

"Yes it's so sad, don't you think it would so nice if you two went together?"

Perhaps the most frightening thing the birds heard that day was the sound of Jay's cough at Heeseung's sentence.

"Jay! Oh my god-" you panicked, bit Heeseung merely rolled his eyes and harshly patted Jay's back.

"Calm down idiot." Heeseung grumbled, and then turned back to you with a bright smile on his face, "Anyways, as we were saying, how about it Miss Y/N?"

"Well, for starters-" you said, with the air of a true healer, "I have to go out to town and get some supplies, the infirmary is nearly out. And secondly, it is a royal ball. I don't believe I have anything royal to wear."

"Oh pity, I think Jay knows a really good seamstress in town don't you Jay?" Heeseung smirked at a red eared Jay who was doing everything in his power to appear not flustered, "Plus weren't you going to go on your undercover rounds tomorrow Jay? Oh that's perfect! You and Y/N can go get the supplies in town, and get some measurements for her dress and voila! A perfect date to my wedding!"

That night, both you and Jay went to sleep peacefully, without scented candles or chamomile teas.

That night, a healer and a king couldn't wait for tomorrow's gift.

(And Heeseung slept, giggling next to his annoyed but loving wife)

"You look rather dashing." You giggled, clutching a basket tightly in your hand, and leaning against the door, admiring the figure of the man in front of you. Jay was clad in simple clothes today, a workman's attire. And he still looked more handsome that the devil himself.

"Oh shut up." Jay rolled his eyes, "You definetly look prettier."

"Where did you learn to impress a lady like that hmm?" You questioned, as Jay tried everything to adjust his collar and failed, "That's not how you press the fabric down idiot."

"First of all-" Jay glared playfully at you, "I didn't learn it just comes to me naturally" you scoffed at that, "Second of all you just called the king of tis kingdom an idiot. And third of all-" his eyes went round like the ones he used when he wanted something, "Can you adjust this collar please?"

"Idiot." You laughed, putting your basket down and walking over to him, your hands going up towards his unruly collar, "My idiot, unfortunately."

"Since when do healers get to own people?" Jay jested, feeling his entire world freeze at the soft touch of your hands. God you smelled like lavender and love.

Love? That four lettered word? Please, Jay mentally scoffed, it didn't exist.

But as Jay watched you, felt your fingers touching his neck, and your waist pressing against his, as you carefully adjusted the collar, in that very moment, he saw the most beautiful aspects of his life, and he knew he was helplessly in love. He craved your touch, your presence, your eyes stuck to his, anything with you. Was this the love his mother always spoke of?

"And I'm done!" You breathed a sigh of relief, the collar was hard to pull down, and you were relieved when it finally flattened. What you weren't expecting however, was Jay staring at you with widened eyes when you looked up from his neck.

"Um...Jay?" You said, waving your hand in front of him, "Earth to The great King Park Jongsoeng."

Your voice seemed to break Jay out of his temporary trance, as he quickly blinked his eyes and popped his lips together. "We should go." He said, much to your relief.

"Hey wait a second." You stopped him from exiting. Your fingers went up to his hair and quickly ruffled it, making it look messy and unruly

"There." You presented proudly, "now you look like a true town person."

Something in Jay told him that this day would go in a second as all good days went.

Jay had never before gone on his monthly undercover trip to the town, accompanied by anyone else. He feared it would blow his cover to the people. The trip always benefited him, he would get some delicious food, a day without guards, a day with peace, and a free survey of the citizens' wellbeing.

Today was different. He had no interest in looking at the wellbeing of the people, nor on the food. All he cared about was you.

You, with your head held high, easily chatting up the store owners, bargaining for the price of powdered dragon scales and smiling wide at the tiny child who had run up to you and have you a tiny sunflower blossom.

His heart was weak, fragile around you, it contained lovesick blood which he hadn't ever held before. Your hearty laughter, your hair moving in harmony with you and the contagious joy you spread to the people in the bustling market, it made Jay's knees buckle.

"Jongsoeng come on!" You cried, walking perhaps fifteen steps ahead of Jay. He had to jog to keep up. You were calling him by his actual name, since most people outside of royalty didn't know his real name.

"Did you get everything?" Jay panted, peering into your full basket. You nodded.

"Yep! I even got the cilantro you like chewing so much like a cow." You giggled, holding up a few leaves to his mouth, "Say ahh" you teased him as if you were feeding a child.

"Ahhh" Jay opened up his mouth and pushed the cilantro into his mouth, much to your surprise. You flinched slightly at his cold touch.

"Delicious." Jay smacked his lips together dramatically, "Anyways shall we get going?"

"Please don't tell me we're going to some shoe shop, I detest the smell of leather." You groaned, earning a look from Jay.

"That is by far the weirdest thing I've ever heard." Jay chuckled, "And we're going to the best seamstress of this kingdom darling, so keep your socks on."

Your heart fluttered uncontrollably at his nickname.

"Ah my King. Welcome!" A well dressed woman, with her hair tied into a fishtail greeted Jay and you. You assumed she was the Chaeryoung from "Chaeryoung's Seams", signboard outside which indicated her grand castle of a shop. This, according to Jay, was where all the aristocrats obtained their clothes.

"Chaeryoung, I assume you are well?" Jay pressed a kiss to her hand, a custom for most unmarried men, but delivering a pang of jealousy to your heart.

"I do not care about my wellbeing right now, Your Majesty. All I care about-" she shifted her pretty, cat-like eyes to you, "-is this beauty standing before me."

You felt your cheeks heat up at Chaeryoung's complement. You? A beauty? Impossible it seemed, especially next to a pretty woman like Chaeryoung.

"I am Y/N." You curtsied, "You are quite gorgeous yourself, Miss Chaeryoung."

Chaeryoung let out a giggle and blushed red in her ears, turning to Jay. "You found someone quite like yourself, Your Majesty."

"Oh please." You scoffed playfully, "I am much more handsome than him, don't you think?"

To Jay, that was more of a complement than an insult, especially when it came from your mouth.

You stayed in Chaeryoung's shop until the sky darkened. She wouldn't let you go until you tried on every combination she asked you to.

Jay was quite useful in this, you thought, giving Chaeryoung recommendations on necklines and earings and whatnot.

A memory which stayed particularly on your mind, was when you stepped out in a beautiful dress, which hugged your body perfectly, with a neckline that could send any man to heaven if he looked at it.

Any man meant Jay too, who thought he would combust if he saw you on any more dresses. He swore he could have seen pixies sparkling their magic dust over you.

"How does this look?" You stood in front of Jay with a big smile on your face.

"Spin for me." Jay said, standing up, to assess the dress more properly, as you spun, the fabric seemingly obeying your every command and spinning with you like a Scottish Fold's tail. Could you get any prettier?

"I swear to god if you don't get this dress, I will open my bandages." Jay said dramatically, much to Chaeryoung's pleasure who nodded and rushed out of the room, to get your measurements.

"Do I look good?" You asked again, a bit uncertainly this time.

"Good?" Jay scoffed, "You look like the prettiest person on earth."

"You sure know how to make a girl blush, are you sure you haven't had practice?" You giggled, spinning one more time in the dress to admire yourself. You loved the way the fabric felt against your skin, it hugged it in a way that all your scars didn't hurt too much. A perfect dress, you thought.

Perfect. Until you looked down at your collarbone.

Fate has its ways, dear reader. And it has many ways for misfortune.

"Oh no-no no no." You swore under your breath. Well that is, if you were even breathing. You were panicking, and panic attacks weren't exactly cotton candy flavoured for you. You could feel your throat tighten up and your peripheral vision blend out.

You felt cold all around, you felt the harsh words of little girls and the screams of your parents. You felt Jooyeon too....

"Hey hey Y/N, calm down." You could hear Jay's voice faintly behind you, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on anything.

Jay was worried, extremely worried. He hadn't ever seen you panic like this before. Sure you had a few stressful mishaps in the infirmary, but this? Never before. Jay was confused as to why you were currently supporting your entire weight on him but he took one look down at your collarbone and he knew.

"Y/N, darling, I need you to breathe for me." Jay whispered in your ear, unsure of what to do. His hands trailed down to your waist, while one supported your shoulder.

"Shh, I'm right here, I'm right here calm down." Jay coached you, tracing shapes along your neck, which worked effectively.

"I-" you kept your sob in your throat, "I need something to c-cover..."

You felt a warm sort of cloth wrap around your shouder, Jay's jacket.

"Calm down now." Jay whispered again, hearing faint footsteps in the distance, "I'll distract Chaeryoung, you run."

"Your bandages aren't bleeding much, I think they're healed.." You clicked your tongue, pressing against Jay's wounds.

"You sound worried though, darling." Jay said, his eyes never leaving you even as you got up and settled your supplies down.

"You know I won't ever stop worrying about you." You chuckled, sitting opposite him on the bed, with two cups of chamomile. Drinking tea with Jay at night seemed to relax your nerves.

"So..."

"So?"

"Would you like to talk about what happened?"

You bit your lip at his question, savouring the taste of the chamomile for a while.

"Would you really like to know?" You sighed, putting your tea down, "You've been curious over it for a lot of days."

"I would like to know whether you want Jooyeon killed or tortured." Jay calmly sipped his tea.

Jooyeon.

How did he know?!

"How-" you raised your eyes to him, "Do you know about Jooyeon?"

"I'm a King, darling." Jay chuckled, his eyes seemed more dangerous than ever, "I know everything."

"If you knew everything, then why did you ask me?" You said, your tone laced with venom.

Jay's eyes softened. "I know who he is but I don't know what he did to you, darling." He toyed with his empty cup, "and I wanted to know why you hide that scar."

"Because it's ugly!" You cried out, slamming your teacup onto the table next to you, you were surprised it didn't break, "Because everyone I've ever met in my life recoils from it whenever they see it and for some fucking reason you didn't and it's just so weird!"

The air stilled again in that familiar manner, and flashes of memories came into Jay's mind.

'Mum why do you hide your shoulder?'

'its not as beautiful as the rest of me, Jay. Why do you ask?'

'You're still pretty to me mum!'

Your memories on the other hand, were entirely different.

The sound of glass....

The smell of blood....

Jooyeon's grip on your thigh.....

"Y/N, love-"

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have-"

Jay's hand buried you into his chest, as your sob ripped through the air like a siren. He could feel his shirt become damp but he didn't give a single damn. All he cared about was how you were practically shaking apart in his arms.

Your shattered words of 'Im sorry!' broke his heart into tatters and he felt like he was 13 again, listening to his mother son and him not being able to do anything.

Except this time, he could.

In the quiet moments of vulnerability, you shared your fear with him, trusting him with your deepest secrets. And as Jay held you in his arms, he realized that he had become your safe haven, and his love for you blossomed in that tender embrace.

"Y/N, love, look at me?" Jay tilted your head up to him, grabbing your chin with his finger. Your tear stained eyes looked up at him with nothing but calm trust. You did trust him. And love him too.

As your eyes met, a sense of familiarity washed over you. It was as if your souls had known each other in a different time and place. In that profound connection, you realized that the fates had pulled their strings again love unfurled within you.

"I-I want to-"

"Do it."

That's all Jay needed, for him to crash into you and create a magnificent firework display, maybe only he could see all the sparkles and colours. Jay could taste sweet moonlight and honey on your lips. Blood rushed to his heart, which pumped it ever so fastly, it was about to explode out of his chest.

He craved this, he craved it as a battlefield craved blood or as a nightmare potion craved alkali. Ribbons of love and hope rushed out of his neck, where your arms wrapped, sinking into him, with pure trust and love.

Was this the love the poets spoke of?

Maybe not, Jay thought, but he didn't care anymore. This was the love he now wanted, he never wanted to let go of it.

Perhaps he never would.

Silence fell like darkness, as you pulled away slowly, still keeping your eyes close for a second. You couldn't believe what on earth had just happened. Jay couldn't either.

“That felt like a crime against humanity.” you broke the silence, with your serious statement.

The seriousness didn't last long, when Jay looked into your eyes, you looked into his, and the both of you burst out laughing.

"Was that your first kiss?" Jay teased, his fingers were threading through your hair, relaxing you.

"Yours too?" You retorted.

Amidst the moonlight, no one would have suspected that a healer and a king would be laughing raucously, looking at each other with nothing but love, something they never experienced before.

“I mean, I could do with some more of that.” you said shyly, feeling a blush creep up to your face.

"Why don't we then, darling?"

Next chapter coming soon!

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436 + send an ask to be tagged!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

white out is probably one of the more notable episodes of she ra bc it's just catra at her absolute worst behavior, like objectively the portal had far greater consequences but i think the cold got to her in this one bc she's such a fucking menace. "looks like you're mine now adora" "always so perfect, look at you now. you're coming back to the horde under my command" "i wonder which of your friends i'll have you annihilate first" "I'VE GOT CONTROL OVER ADORA. I'M NOT GIVING THAT UP." like when corrupted she ra throws catra at the ground like a ragdoll she deserves it, 100%, no questions asked. there isn't even a time/space anomaly making catra act up, they just put her in outpost 31 from the thing with her ex and suddenly she's the homoerotic joker.

even scorpia's briefly like "ahahah maybe i don't want to have a crush on catra after all" bc she's acting like such a freak. but also scorpia spends the entire episode trying to ask catra out, and tells adora, "you two, even when you're trying to kill each other, you can tell there's a real bond" and she is JEALOUS of that?? actually you know what this is also a catradora at their worst behavior episode too, like the way they immediately start trash talking and then ditch everyone to scrap the second they see each other is beyond unprofessional. catra's favorite number is canonically 42069 (confirmed by nate stevenson) and adora knows this by heart. if those two idiots were in the same room for five minutes while adora's on loopy mode the show would actually just end, and this episode fucking KNOWS it and refuses to give us the satisfaction. bro. scorpia telling loopy adora that catra is misunderstood and shouldn't SHE know that better than anyone else is just like. wow. ouch. rude. scorpia is actually the mvp of this episode she straight up judges adora to her FACE for abandoning catra and swears not to do the same, even though honestly she probably should, because catra fucking SUCKS in this one. scorpia reveals that "catra once used my rock-hard exoskeleton as a nail file" why?? why would you let this happen?? stop simping she's not worth it!! but scorpia is still the mvp bc at the end of the episode she just straight-up realizes that catra is out of her goddamn mind and breaks the 'controlling she ra' disk for catra's own good bc clearly something about low temps and her ex makes catra go 25% more feral than usual and it's pretty cringe. it's like when i dispose of the dead fly my cat has been antagonizing for the past twenty minutes like babygirl i don't like the person you become when you're in these conditions!! and of course OF COURSE we get literally two seconds of sober wordless communication between catra and adora that's just like ohhhh adora's gonna remember this one, you're going to be doing the dishes for the first fifteen years of your relationship once this galactic war shit wraps up and you save the universe by kissing with tongue. oh my god, what the fuck is with this show. how does this show exist. how does this episode exist. how does catra exist. they put this gay catgirl in an environment under 32 degrees farenheit for one episode and it's enough to make her say some of the most toxic, deranged dialogue in the entire series. i think soup would fix her, and also a cocktail of psychiatric medication and cognitive behavioral therapy. she sneezes like a kitten and needs a weighted blanket in the evil uber away from cringefail summit as she's mentally drafting the 'i fucked up' email to her boss. she thanks scorpia and shares the blanket with her bc she's so exhausted by her own bullshit. she ra and the princesses of power season 2 episode 5 white out is for the cold gay heartbroken bitches and it might just be one of the series' best. looks like you're mine now adora, good fucking night.

[ceruleanwhore]

I know it's been a minute since Hazbin dropped and I'm late to the hate train but I have things I want to say, so I shall.

First off, the whole thing makes absolutely no fucking sense, conceptually. There is really no good way to execute this batshit idea of Lucifer having a daughter and that daughter deciding to start a fucking hotel in Hell to redeem sinners so they can go to Heaven. Also, the culling shit with the angels showing up to just kill already dead souls for no reason also makes no sense and there really isn't any way to make it make sense.

Secondly, when making yet another piece of media inspired by Christian canon, even if it is Christianity and you hate the religion, you absolutely have to know the source material before you go fucking with it. That's why, for example, Dogma is such a good movie but this series falls flat even though both are comedic critiques of Christianity - Dogma understands the subject well enough to criticize it intelligently whereas Hazbin feels like it was conceptualized and made by someone who only watched like two episodes of Veggie Tales and otherwise knows jack shit about the religion. Throwing Lilith in there is worse because she isn't even in Christianity and it has the same vibes as when CCD classes host a Passover Seder by and for a bunch of gentiles to 'teach' about what Jesus was up to when he was around. It's just so disrespectful. Actually, that's what it is - the creators learned everything they know about Christianity, Heaven, and Hell from Tumblr posts which is definitely why she's in there.

If they knew more about the thing they're trying to make a whole ass show about, Adam and Eve wouldn't have been angels, there would be no hotel because you could just have the creation of Purgatory instead or, at the very least, some take on the harrowing of Hell and salvation of the virtuous pagans in Limbo. Also, even if you don't want to touch the Bible because it's icky (and I mean yeah), all you had to do was read like Dante's Inferno and peep the Ars Goetia and then actually make a structured Hell with a hierarchy and everything. I think kinda like what Rachel Smythe did with the worldbuilding in Lore Olympus, they wanted to modernize Hell for some reason, so the turf war/mafia type shit was supposed to replace a stronger hierarchy of Hell with princes and dukes and presidents and such, but I fucking hate it and there's no goddamn structure.

More importantly, the worldbuilding of Hell itself completely misses the fucking point of Hell as a thing. Hell is there both to contain Satan and the fallen angels who joined him in that uprising thing that one time and also to serve as a place where sinners go when they die and are punished for their sins. We never see even once any sort of actual system for sorting all these souls and punishing them for their sins. On the contrary, characters like Angel Dust appear to get to do drugs for the rest of their immortal lives and, since they're dead, it's not like those are going to kill them so it really doesn't read like a punishment. The closest we get to actual punishments are when the sinners/demons have gone and made deals that give other residents of Hell control over them, like how Husk is under Alastor's control and then Alastor apparently also has some kind of deal screwing him over, and Angel's situation with shitty boa dude is pretty similar too. It feels like they did the extermination shit to replace punishment in Hell along with these deals we see here and there, which is utterly fucking ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense.

The other thing I'd add kind of going off that is that Heaven in this series also makes literally no fucking sense. It's actually also the biggest issue I have with Good Omens that it makes NO SENSE for the angels to have no clue what God's plan is or, in this case, how souls even get into Heaven. The whole fucking point is that there's an entire, nicely structured hierarchy for exactly this. Seraphim, cherubim, and thrones are all closest to God, so they can get the info from Them and pass it to the lower ranks. Hell, this could even be how you get problems, like you make it a bit of a gimmick that Heaven runs on a massive game of telephone. It also could've been a way to have some really cool variety in character design, so maybe some of the higher ranking angels look like the weird biblical shit with all the eyes and fire and they get progressively more normal as you go down the hierarchy. Instead, they picked like three recognizable names, made them into pretty people with wings and potentially also stupid Homestuck looking masks, and threw them in our face while just refusing to actually bother with worldbuilding or character design.

That brings me to the third thing which is that, when doing a series like this based on something like Christianity, you really have to sit down and figure out what kind of God your Christian God in your series is going to be, even if They never show up on screen. Is this God distant and neglectful and that's how all this shit is happening? Or do we have the wrathful God of the Israelites who regularly exterminates Hell out of pure sadistic rage? Or do we have a weak God on the verge of death who is barely present out of necessity while the angels take advantage of that absence and run amok? And it's not even just that determining what kind of God is supposed to be the God of this series would inform why stuff happens like it does, it would also help the writers to have a sense of direction and motive for what happens.

The writing in the show is all over the fucking place and figuring out what kind of God this God is meant to be is the very first question they should've asked themselves and it would've prevented most of the problems that currently exist in the show. If we had that, then maybe we wouldn't have weird shit with Lucifer where he very much does not feel like he's the devil at all and also Charlie is supposed to have daddy issues but then he shows up and is just a really adoring and supportive dad so that doesn't make sense. If we had that, then maybe Hell would have a fucking structure because we would actually have the motive behind Hell itself and why it exists. If we had that, then maybe we could get into the nitty gritty of the ethical/theological complexities of Hell and how, no matter how you slice it, it's really God's will at the end of the day so we could get a whole debate over if Lucifer is even evil or if God is just controlling and sadistic and all that. If we had that then maybe we could even have some reveal about how sin isn't even a concrete thing and the true nature of Hell is that it's a place people choose to go when they die because they don't feel worthy of salvation and they feel in their soul that they need to be punished. Anything, really.

Fourth is that it really, really shouldn't be a musical series. The pacing fucking sucks and they overexplain everything and I just feel like if you took all the time spent on shitty musical numbers and instead put it into showing, not telling, and also developing characters and relationships, it could be a lot better. If there was more time for shit, then maybe Charlie could not be a Mary Sue and Vaggie could have a personality and Angel could be an actual fucking character that isn't just an animated twink with trauma who gets off on violating people's boundaries. Also, I just really didn't like most of the songs in the series (outside the series they're fine) and I skipped a lot of those scenes.

Fifth and final is that it really just wasn't funny. A lot of the stuff that was supposed to be funny was just excessive swearing that felt completely unnatural, like that tiktok going around of that girl saying the n word. If you're bothering to do a whole series set in Hell that's ostensibly about Christianity, then why tf aren't you leaning more into biting criticism of Christianity for your humor? If they'd just gone full Dogma with this, it would've been so much better but no.

So yeah, it fucking sucked and so did the character design.

[brucebocchi]

Winter 2024 anime, Pt. 2: Mixed reactions, the bench, and the gems

hey y'all, this is also up on my ko-fi! it's free to read both here and there, but i'm struggling financially rn so i could appreciate if you'd throw a few bucks my way if you liked it! part 1 can be found here.

And we're back for part 2! Here's all the new stuff I finished this season, and one more I'll get back to later. As with before, these are sorted alphabetically within each category and are not ranked as of yet.

Also as before, the OP for each series is linked in the title. Check them all out if the header images aren't giving you the right feel for each show, but also check them out because most of them were actually pretty damn good this season.

[Solo Leveling OP voice] LET'S GET IT!

Mixed Bags:

Hokkaido Gals Are Super Adorable!

Your standard, quasi-harem “easily flustered Regular Guy wins over hot girls just by being really nice” shonen romcom. I really don’t have much to say about this one other than if you’ve seen My Dress-Up Darling, you’ve basically seen this already. The only thing that really sets it apart is the setting.

Tsubasa (voiced by Nobunaga Shimazaki, in a FAR cry from his turn as Mahito in Jujutsu Kaisen) is a straight-laced Tokyoite whose family situation lands him in a small city in the frozen boonies of Hokkaido. While looking for the bus to his new house, he runs into a gyaru in the snowy wild, the underdressed, hilariously-proportioned Minami, and they hit it off. It turns out they go to the same school, there are other cute girls there who take a shine to him as well, it’s nothing new.

I ultimately don’t have much to say about Hokkaido Gals, but I do have a soft spot for series like this, and after reading ahead in the manga I felt obligated to see it through. This is all junk food, but it’s all stuff you’ve seen done better in other series. I also have a soft spot for gyaru in anime and manga, and while I do like Minami just fine, she isn’t Marin Kitagawa or Rumiko Manbagi. I don’t really have it in me to recommend this show to many, though, at least not until another season rolls around, if that ever happens. The manga genuinely does get a lot better as it goes on, but the really worthwhile stuff may not happen until a third season, and I just don’t see that happening. 

The manga has issues that the anime isn’t willing or able to solve, chief of which being the visuals. The art style of the manga is wildly inconsistent, and getting a mediocre animation team on this didn’t help matters at all. While the colors often pop nicely against the pretty, snowy backdrops, nobody looks all that great overall. The characters are recognizable, but they just plain don’t look great a lot of the time, nor do they look consistent from one cut to the next; I said that Minami’s proportions are hilarious, but just as hilarious is how wildly they vacillate from one scene to the next for the sake of trying to titillate the viewer.

My biggest takeaway from both the manga and anime was everything I learned about Hokkaido in the process, and if the series is taking subsidies from the island’s tourism bureau, then it’s a job well done. I want some goddamn jingisukan now. The OP is a great time, though. I’m shocked it took over a decade for us to get a proper “Uptown Funk” knockoff in an anime.

Metallic Rouge

I’ll be upfront in saying that this was my biggest disappointment of the season by far. This show had so much going for it, and what we got was… ugh.

There was an unbelievable amount of promise from the outset: This was Studio Bones’ commemorative 25th anniversary production, and coming from the studio that gave us all-timer adaptations like Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood and Mob Psycho 100, not to mention later works from Cowboy Bebop creator Shinichiro Watanabe (including the Cowboy Bebop movie), you can’t fault anyone for having high expectations. It looked to be a fitting production as well: Watanabe’s influence shines through immediately in the gorgeous, lived-in cyberpunk off-world locales and racially diverse cast. Action takes the form of dope robo-tokusatsu transformation fisticuffs, and it’s entirely in 2D animation to boot. The first couple of episodes were killer, too; everything looked and sounded amazing, and there were just enough plot threads teased out that I just had to see how they’d unravel.

It brings me no joy, then, to say that Metallic Rouge collapses into a jumbled mess. I don’t even want to bother talking about what happens in the show because I don’t fucking care anymore. There are few media experiences more sobering than to have it dawn on you over a span of several weeks that “oh… this isn’t actually all that good, is it?” Episode after episode piles on with sloppy lore, weak worldbuilding, warring factions whose names you immediately forget, pointless double-crosses, and the most predictable twist you’ve ever seen. For a while I was willing to accept the fact that I didn’t know what was going on half the time and expected things to become clearer, but now I’m not entirely sure the writers knew either. The stakes apparently kept rising and everything just kept getting more claustrophobic. I’m glad it’s over, if only because if I had to hear “Clair de Lune” one more fucking time, I was going to go ballistic. 

There are several attempts at emotional beats, as the story is rife with tragedy and sacrifice, and every single one lands with a wet thud. Nobody gets enough time, motivation, or characterization for any of these things to feel like they actually matter, and that’s especially a shame because the finale might have been able to stick the landing if the previous episodes were less dense and better paced. Emphasis on “almost,” though, because just before the season ends, we get the absolute most pointless fakeout I’ve seen since The Rise of Skywalker, which is the lowest point of comparison you can make for any work of sci-fi.

This is especially frustrating because on paper, there is so much to like here. Rouge and Naomi are likable-enough deuteragonists with a fun dynamic, and they’d make easy yuri bait in a better show. The characters are all pretty and uniquely designed across the board, and the overall aesthetic, almost a pastiche of late-90’s anime futurism, is undeniable. The toku suit designs are neat and several of the action scenes are gorgeous. The score and soundtrack are outstanding (except for the aforementioned Debussy indulgence). I have few complaints about how the show looks and sounds; the style is great! All of my issues lie with the substance.

Metallic Rouge may have had all the ingredients, but it just needed more time to cook; whether that would have been by doubling the episode count or by more carefully planning the pacing and trimming some of the fat from the lore, I’m still not sure. Probably both. It probably needed better writers, too. Maybe it just isn’t as smart as it acts and there was no way to satisfyingly resolve the clumsy civil rights allegories that bring it uncomfortably close to the likes of Detroit: Become Human. So all of the above, I guess. I tend to adore stories that involve artificially-intelligent beings developing their own wills and emotions and learning to cut their own strings (the likes of Blade Runner, Nier Automata, even a couple of character arcs in the Persona series), but this ain’t it. I’m not even mad anymore. I’m just disappointed.

If there are two positives that will stick with me, though, they would be the absolute banger of an OP and, of course, Naomi Orthmann herself (pictured above, left). Outstanding character design. I’m mildly obsessed. She deserved a better show.

The Unwanted Undead Adventurer

This one isn’t even worth talking about, so here’s a brief synopsis, then I’ll add some commentary, and then we’ll all move on with our lives. 

Rentt, a beloved but mediocre adventurer in a fantasy town, gets lost in the mysterious labyrinth that all adventurers explore for personal gain, gets waxed by a dragon, and awakens as a shitty-looking CGI skeleton. He notices, though, that he’s able to level up better as a skeleton than he did as a human, and with the more monsters he defeats, the more he evolves into something closer to human. The rest isn’t really worth discussing.

If I’m being honest, I should’ve dropped this show much sooner. It looks kinda lousy most of the time, the plot (inasmuch as there even is one) is boring, character designs are forgettable (except for Rentt’s closest ally, Lorraine, holy hell) and it seems wholly uninterested in actually building its own setting. If it returns for a second season, I won’t be there, nor will I feel like I’m missing anything. Each episode felt like a chore to watch. I probably only saw it through because 1) I liked looking at Lorraine, I know what I’m about, and 2) I didn’t want to lump it in with the shows I did drop. The Unwanted Undead Adventurer isn’t as patently upsetting or frustrating as those three, but it just plain isn’t a very good show.

The Witch and the Beast

This show could have been so much more. I was drawn in by the gorgeous character designs and intriguing blend of Victorian gothic aesthetics and architecture with modern infrastructure, and very quickly disappointed by just about everything else. The first episode is an exceptional proof of concept, and almost everything that follows is an upsetting showcase of what could have been.

The story centers around Ashaf, a languid, chain-smoking agent of the governing church with a big-ass coffin strapped to his back, and his partner Guideau, a snarling hyena in a young woman’s body, as they investigate abuses of magic across the continent in search of nefarious witches. Guideau in particular has a bone to pick with witches, as the body they presently inhabit is the result of a witch’s curse, and they remain in furious pursuit of the one who cursed them. The curse can be temporarily undone by a kiss with a witch, allowing Guideau’s true body, a hulking brute confined to the coffin, to escape and wreak havoc. Meaning that on a few occasions we get a girl-on-girl kiss followed by a big dude wrecking shit. There’s also other investigations of serial killings, necromancy, and a cursed sword, and here’s hoping you like those, because the coffin breaks are few and far between.

This wasn’t great! By the third episode I had the sneaking suspicion that the animation talent on hand just wasn’t enough to support the aesthetic. While the character designs are exceptional, almost everyone looks awful in any shot that isn’t completely focused on them. This is especially true of Guideau, who looks so inconsistently off-model from one shot to the next that I’m still not entirely sure what they’re supposed to look like, and that’s kind of unforgivable when we’re talking about a main character. Everything looks too dim and too shiny at the same time, and action scenes look like shit more often than they look interesting. I can see so many flickers of something excellent (or at least really good-looking) in Witch and the Beast, and everything else that keeps those flickers from actually igniting makes it so much more frustrating to watch. Maybe just read the manga instead; the panels I've seen from it were uniformly gorgeous.

Actually, yeah, you should probably just read the manga, because for a season of anime, the pacing is atrocious too. It’s clearly trying to angle for a monster-of-the-week format, but each of these mini-arcs is a little too dense for a single episode, so multiple episodes are dedicated to these one-off curiosities, most of which do nothing to advance the plot or show off what the show does best. And if one of them isn’t particularly interesting, you’re saddled with it for the next two weeks like you've been stuck munching on a mealy apple. And I know you can only adapt so much in a 12-episode season, but the decision to end the season on a flashback arc and a lore dump was baffling. That’s not world-building, that’s lazy, and it made the show’s existing pacing issues feel that much more inane.

I feel like I was sold a false bill of goods. I can only imagine how the mangaka feels about this. Dull and uninspiring all around. What a waste.

The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic

Isekai, unassuming high school boy gains a unique power, impending war with the Demon Lord, yadda yadda yadda. The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic isn’t anything new or special by any means, nor is it particularly well-animated or -paced, but at its best it’s silly and charming enough that it made a nice, brainless palate cleanser on Fridays.

Usato, your standard quiet high schooler, ends up walking home on a rainy evening with the popular, attractive student council president and VP, when an isekai portal happens. It turns out that it was just the seito-kai that was invited along for the ride (and President Suzune, as it turns out, is fucking psyched to get to be in an isekai), and Usato got caught along with them. When tested for magical aptitude, Suzune and VP Kazuki hit the jackpot with electric and light affinities, respectively, but things go awry when Usato’s reading turns up with healing magic. Terror strikes the palace as the intimidating dommy-mommy Captain Rose barges in to spirit Usato away from his new friends and into her squadron of goons to train him as a combat medic.

As character comedy goes, this one is actually pretty solid at times. Shogo Sakata is plenty of fun as the put-upon, lippy Usato (a much louder role than Chainsaw Man’s Aki Hayakawa), and Atsuko Tanaka (Major Kusanagi herself!) is a blast as the terrifying Rose, an uncompromising slave driver of a drill sergeant with a secret soft side. The dynamic between them is great, too; Usato is over Rose’s shit from the beginning and isn’t afraid to talk back to her, but before you know it, this transforms into friendly banter as Rose clearly takes a shine to Usato and knows he can handle any punishment she doles out. Suzune’s also a bunch of fun now that she’s broken away from having to be the competent, popular girl at school and gets to fully lean into being a complete dork.

Wrong Way also works decently as an isekai, because it makes an effort to stay rooted in high fantasy rather than fall back on JRPG mechanics, meaning there are no stat screens! It also avoids the trappings of wish-fulfillment isekai series by having Usato start out as a regular-ass guy; he’s not a Kirito type, just someone Rose sees as a rough gem in need of cutting. There are no cheat skills or OP weapons or anything, just a kid training every day to get stronger so he can protect the people close to him, and that’s the kind of anime protagonist you should want to be.

For better and for worse, I get serious mid-00s vibes from this one; watch the OP if you don’t believe me. Some of the colors pop uncannily in that early-digipaint-era way, and the animation is pretty middling; the most fluid animation we see is whenever Suzune is acting like a creep. Much like those mid-00s anime, though, Wrong Way may have benefited from being weekly (or twice as long) rather than seasonal. There’s a ton of planting with very little payoff, and it doesn’t feel like the actual scope of the story has even been addressed yet. We don’t even learn why the series has the name it does until someone literally says it aloud in the 11th episode. I may have to reevaluate this season after a possible second, if we ever get one, because this doesn’t stand too well on its own.

Of the anime in this “mixed bags” segment, I’d say I enjoyed Wrong Way the most, but it still had enough problems for me to keep it here. It’s not a particularly bad anime, but it’s not especially good either. I guess we can slot it into what Hazel refers to as “good mid.”

On Hold: 

Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! (three episodes watched)

Man, what a title. That was the main draw for this BL series, which on paper is basically a gay version of the Mel Gibson vehicle What Women Want. 

Adachi (a surname that will always make me laugh thanks to Persona 4), a gloomy salaryman, has hit the big 3-0 without getting any, and now he can somehow read anyone’s thoughts just by making physical contact with them. Just as he laments that this is his life now, he accidentally bumps into his handsome, popular coworker, Kurosawa, whom he learns has been harboring a massive crush on Adachi this whole time. Well dang, what now? Kurosawa’s a really nice, thoughtful dude, but Adachi’s never even thought about being with a man before! And isn’t there something wrong with already knowing this secret? How can he even go into the office and look Kurosawa in those big, handsome eyes… every single day…

What I’ve seen so far has been pretty solid, if not particularly well animated. The visuals are really my only gripe here; I just put it off for way too long and didn’t have it in me to finish it on time to actually get this thing written and published. Yaoi isn’t my forte, which feels like a shortcoming on my end as a fledgling bisexual, and I’ve already remarked on the solid LGBT representation this past season, so I do plan on hopping back on this one.

I gotta say, the co-leading voice actors put in serious work this season. Adachi is voiced by Chiaki Kobayashi, who continued his role as Stark in Frieren, returned to Mashle as Mash Burnedead, and contributed to Metallic Rouge’s cluttered cast as Noid. Kurosawa’s seiyuu, Ryota Suzuki (of whom I’ll always be a fan for his masterful turn as Yu Ishigami in Kaguya-sama), also held down leading roles in Bang Brave Bang Bravern and The Unwanted Undead Adventurer. They’ve been great in the few episodes of Cherry Magic! that I’ve seen so far, and they’ll be a huge part of what brings me back.

The Gems:

Bang Brave Bang Bravern

I feel like the mark of a perfectly audacious piece of media is in the moments where I find myself incredulously shouting “WHAT THE FUCK AM I WATCHING” at the screen, and Bravern made me do that at least once per episode. I have so many things to say about what makes this show great but all of it can be summed up as “it fucks so goddamn hard.”

A joint military exercise in Hawaii between Japanese and American mech pilots goes south as a sudden invasion by metalloid aliens portends certain doom for humanity. Just in the nick of time, though, a bombastic, autonomous mech named Bravern arrives from space and insists that ace pilot Isami Ao take his reins. Isami reluctantly agrees, and to his consternation, Bravern goes full tokusatsu on everyone’s asses, complete with fully-diegetic theme music, and keeps the threat at bay. With Bravern continuing to pester him to act as a pilot, Isami is forced to take up the mantle of a reluctant hero as everyone rallies around Bravern to save Earth. Tagging along is blond-haired, blue-eyed American pilot Lewis Smith, who gets to live out all of his Top Gun fantasies, right down to the latent homosexuality.

That last point isn’t a projection or anything: This show is legitimately gay as hell, and it rules. Bravern’s feelings towards Isami feel far more romantic than what you’d expect from a literal robot, and his description of how it felt to have Isami pilot him for the first time, as relayed to a grim-faced military council, is riddled with hilarious innuendo. Isami struggles not only with shouldering the burden of needing to be a hero to all of humanity, but also being beset on both sides by a loud, insistent mecha and a dewy-eyed gaijin, both of whom very well seem to want to get in his pants. Intricate rituals punctuate Isami and Lewis’ angsty relationship as these broad-shouldered, muscular men grow ever closer. It’s also worth reiterating that Isami is voiced by Ryota Suzuki, who also voiced Kurosawa in Cherry Magic!, and that may not have even been his gayest role this season. I’m not super well-versed in mecha as a genre, but I do know that there’s a lot of Warrior’s Bond-type stuff in these series, and Bravern lays it on thick. And hard.

This show looks killer, by the way. CGI implementation in 2D anime is still a touchy subject, but Bravern features some of the best I’ve ever seen. Simple cel-shading goes a long way to the point where, outside of some uncanny motion, Bravern himself feels perfectly blended into the hand-drawn animation. Mecha designs range from realistic military-style tech to otherworldly sentient robots, and battle sequences run the same gamut as the stakes rise. As goofy as all of the above may sound, it’s committed to being a grandiose, big-time mecha showcase.

This is as good as camp gets in anime; Bravern does for the mecha genre what Akiba Maid War did for yakuza film pastiche (I have also heard positive comparisons to Samurai Flamenco, which I’ll have to get on ASAP). It’s an excellent mecha show in its own right, and wildly hilarious to boot. Bravern himself is very genre-savvy and seemingly a bit of an otaku himself; he loves acting like a mecha hero, to everyone else’s chagrin. Several of the villains (also mechanical beings, voiced by an all-star seiyuu roster that includes Kenjiro Tsuda, the aforementioned Atsuko Tanaka, and Rie Kugimiya) are total dorks themselves. A CIA interrogator tries to waterboard a mecha at one point. Bravern is a deeply silly show, but its heart is planted as firmly on its sleeve as its tongue is in its cheek: For as wacky as it can get, the story still unfolds with a straight face and excellent emotional beats. 

This show also has the most unskippable ED of any anime since Chainsaw Man dropped a new one every week. I will not say what happens. You cannot predict what it is. Just watch it. One of the top YouTube comments on that video says “When I saw this ending after episode 2, I thought I was going crazy.” That’s a ringing endorsement.

Chained Soldier

On the heels of 100 Girlfriends completely rewiring my brain, I was raring for some more good old-fashioned anime trash. I was told that there would be plenty this season, but you can consult the “dropped” section to see how well that worked out for me. Chained Soldier came with some significant hype, and soon enough into the first episode I realized that I’d actually skimmed through this manga before (don’t ask why), so I was on board immediately. Now here’s some nice trashy fun.

The world is in peril thanks to creatures called Shuuki that can advance on our world via portals from another dimension. Women primarily lead the charge against these monsters, as this dimension produces a special fruit that can lend them (and not men) otherworldly powers to help them in the fight. Yuuki, a perfectly normal young man, ends up in grave danger as he stumbles into a portal, where he is saved by the beautiful Kyouka, a commander who is able to subjugate Shuuki at will and use them to fight others. In a bind, she asks Yuuki if she can subjugate him, which he agrees to by licking her finger and transforming into a monster himself, at her beck and call. Because of his utility in battle, Yuuki is enlisted into her squad of baddies (and also an 11-year-old), living in their home as a caretaker and answering directly to Kyouka as her “slave.”

I know. Hear me out.

I put “slave” in scare quotes because Chained Soldier fortunately isn’t going full Shield Hero on us; this arrangement has a give-and-take baked in. See, every time Yuuki completes his service, Kyouka (or whomever else takes advantage of this anomaly) is compelled to carry out whatever suitable “reward” springs from his unconscious, and this is where the ecchi kicks in. Sometimes it’s a kiss, and sometimes it’s something a little more; the reward corresponds to the length and intensity of Yuuki’s contributions to battle, so the heat can turn up in the form of, say, clothed face-sitting, a good scrubbing in the bath, or some nice, casual CBT. All of this is to say that “slave” is a bit of a buzzword here: It’s more of a dom/sub situationship with a lot of extra steps.

Yes, just about everything that isn’t an action setup is full-on harem trash, and Chained Soldier lays it on thick, right down to full-on nudity. Nothing about this show resembles high art, but I can’t help but admire such a high level of commitment to its aesthetic, including the sleaze. It fully commits to the bit and doesn’t even bother lampshading its own trashiness. Chained Soldier knows what it’s about, and I respect that. It also has the good sense not to sexualize the youngest girl, which is a point in its favor that I can’t award a couple other shows previously discussed.

And while this show is plenty fun, the action sequences often excellent, and the character designs usually delightful, there’s not actually a whole lot going on here. As I said with Mashle, I know that battle manga like this can take a minute to really get cooking, and as I said with Witch and the Beast, 12 episodes may not always be a sufficient runtime to adapt enough to break ground, but the debut season feels more like a proof of concept than anything else. That being said, Chained Soldier’s manga has a very effusive audience, and its praises don’t seem to entirely be about the boobs and butts, so I’ll wait patiently for the second season. I think it’s earned that much.

Delicious in Dungeon

This is the one I’m having the hardest time writing about because it so confidently and so completely speaks for itself that anything I could add would feel like scattering sawdust at the beach. Dungeon Meshi (I refuse to call it by its official English title) is a widely beloved manga among those who’ve read it, and for Studio Trigger to do an honest-to-goodness manga adaptation for the first time might as well be front page news among anime fans. 

The story follows Laios, the deeply weird human hero, as he delves back into a bizarre and mysterious dungeon to rescue his sister Falin from the belly of a dragon, along with his misfit party: The neurotic half-elven mage Marcille, the temperamental halfling rogue Chilchuck, and the dwarven warrior-slash-chef Senshi. The party is frequently low on supplies, so to survive the trip they’ll need to subsist on the most abundant resource in the dungeon: Monsters. Senshi’s aptitude in the kitchen helps ensure that everything is edible and sufficiently tasty, regardless of how nasty the monster it came from may have been. With monster obstructions out of the way and their bellies filled, our party delves deeper into the dungeon as the mysteries deepen in kind.

I love the character dynamics in this so goddamn much. Marcille and Chilchuck are frequently put off by the dubious monster food presented to them, but their consternation is worsened by the fact that Laios’ fascination with the monsters it came from annoys the shit out of them. I referred to him as “deeply weird,” but that doesn’t begin to describe his absolute galaxy brain, and I mean it as a term of endearment. Laios is deeply knowledgeable and curious about the fauna in the dungeon, and not just how they taste: He is vocally curious about how certain monster attacks may feel, sings along with siren songs, and even keeps a hardcover bestiary inside his breastplate. He’s one of those people you turn to if you have a question on a hyperspecific subject, but you have to be careful how you ask it or else you’re trapped for the next two hours. And I love him for it.

Even putting the comedy aside, there is a fascinating human element at play in Dungeon Meshi, and I can tell that that surface has barely even been scratched yet. Marcille is just as dogged in her pursuit of saving Falin as Laios is, maybe even moreso (remember what I keep saying about LGBT representation this season?). Chilchuck continues to convince himself that he’s only in the job for his own personal gain, but you can see that mask slipping. And I still wanna know what Senshi’s deal is. Even with the five major players I listed, there’s an increasingly deep roster surrounding them—showcasing a broad spectrum of races and ethnicities, both real and fantastical—each with their own histories and motivations, and I cannot wait to see how they play out and interact with one another. There seem to be much deeper themes at play here as well as we learn more about perceptions and grudges between differing races, oppositional magics, clashing ideologies, and the monetary incentives that drive both the dungeon’s exploration and its very existence. I’m here for it.

I’ve been holding off on reading the manga until the season is up in June (though I could crack any day), but I know a loving adaptation when I see one. Not that Trigger ever slacks off in the animation department, but they absolutely brought their A-game here. Everyone looks bouncy and cartoony in the way only Trigger can pull off while still looking as close as possible to Ryoko Kui’s source material (as far as I can tell). As with Frieren, the action sequences aren’t frequent, nor are they entirely what the show is about, but they look incredible every single time. And the food, of course, looks incredible, no matter how weird. This is practically a cooking anime and a fantasy dungeon anime at the same time, and both aspects are visually on point at all times.

I’m obviously speaking from my own bubble as one of the six people who still use Tumblr in 2024, but I rarely see new anime make a splash like this on social media every single week, and the ones that I do are usually the monster shonen hits like Chainsaw Man or Jujutsu Kaisen. Dungeon Meshi deserves the exposure and success it’s attained, and I’m excited to see it continue. I’d easily slot this right up there with Bravern as one of the best new anime of the season.

A Sign of Affection

I’ve seen a hell of a lot of shonen slice-of-life romances in the past year and change, so a nice fluffy shoujo like this was an excellent palate cleanser. There were a hell of a lot of Big Action Setpieces and panicky teens and grim dungeon crawlers this season, and at the end of the week I wanted to unwind with a bunch of pretty twenty-somethings falling in love with each other.

The show centers on Yuki, a young woman living with congenital hearing loss, making do at a public college after growing up at a school for the deaf. Though she’s able to get by with LINE messages and lip reading, she’s unprepared when a foreigner asks for help, but she’s saved by a handsome and mysterious young man named Itsuomi. He’s able to help out, and takes an interest in her when he realizes his fellow undergrad is deaf, and Yuki takes an interest in kind because he’s really goddamn hot. It turns out that he’s a polyglot and an avid world-traveler, but sign language is not in his purview. This mutual interest sparks the concern of her childhood friend, Oushi, one of the few people in her life who already use sign language, who wants to be sure that nothing untoward is happening. And it isn’t, because this is just a really lovely, low-stakes romance story.

This is pure, unfiltered shoujo at its best. Yuki’s internal monologue is peppered with flowery prose, and everything and everyone looks soft and beautiful. Fashionable, doe-eyed women and pillowy-lipped ikemen abound (seriously, holy shit, the lips on these boys) as the scope widens and the main love interests’ friends explore their own possible love stories. Itsuomi is very much of the “mysterious boy” archetype you’ll find in romance stories in this demographic, but he’s not hiding any sort of dark past like you’d typically expect; he’s just an interesting guy who keeps his personal life close to the vest. He’s a self-appointed world citizen who loves learning about how people of all cultures live their lives, and in Yuki he sees someone within his home turf who happens to live in her own world entirely. And it’s easy to see his forward behavior with Yuki as infantilizing at first (Oushi sure does, and I’ll get back to him in a second), but as they grow closer Itsuomi quickly becomes much more considerate of her boundaries and learns to accommodate her as he studies sign language and gestures that help ensure her comfort. This is a story about Yuki’s horizons broadening just as much as it is about Itsuomi wanting to be let into Yuki’s narrow world, and that sort of synergy makes for some exceptional romance.

A Sign of Affection deserves some credit for refusing to shy away from Yuki’s disability and making a point of depicting her world as one that does little to accommodate her. Very few people in her daily life ever bothered to learn sign language, she relies on a friend to take notes during lectures, and work is hard to come by. It’s an honest depiction that makes an effort not to be exploitative, which is a breath of fresh air. Not only that, but there’s some interesting meta-commentary in there: The only major conflict in the story stems from Oushi’s jealousy, and his reservations about Itsuomi possibly “taking advantage of” Yuki almost feel like he believes that he’s the only one who knows what’s best for her just because he’s done the bare minimum to accommodate her. He thinks he’s coming from a good place, but he winds up accidentally infantilizing her in exactly the way he thinks Itsuomi might. That’s a particularly interesting bit of irony!

I’ve seen enough shonen-oriented romcoms where an unassuming Regular Guy gets flustered as a way-too-casual girl pushes his buttons (hell, I’ve already reviewed two of those this season), so it’s nice to see the formula flipped for a shoujo as Yuki and her best friend Rin blush and squee over Itsuomi and his coworker Kyouya, respectively. A Sign of Affection isn’t afraid to get a little silly with it, either; plenty of these moments are punctuated by characters’ faces going low-detail or full chibi, and they are cute as shit every single time.

This one was just cozy as hell. If you’re into this sort of thing, swaddle yourself in it and bask.

Solo Leveling

I let this one collect dust after the third episode and didn’t pick it back up until the season was almost up, and honestly, I was kinda dreading it: The trailers didn’t look too promising, the show was slow to start, and it looked like yet another derivative JRPG-style dungeon crawler that managed to get popular. Turns out, nah, this show actually kinda fucks and the web novel series and webtoon it’s based on are popular for a reason. The story is nothing special, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a perfectly serviceable turn-your-brain-off action spectacle with a bit more lying beneath the surface.

In a modern-day South Korea where portals to mysterious dungeons open up and threaten the populace, those who can brave the dungeons, known as hunters, are an invaluable human resource. Once someone is assigned a grade as a hunter, they have that grade for life, barring some rare occurrences. Sung Jinwoo is at the lowest rung on that ladder as an E-rank, incapable of improvement, assigned the epithet “the weakest hunter of all mankind.” He mostly shows up to portal raids as a warm body to fill a quota, and one such job goes haywire as most of the raid party, Jinwoo included, is brutally slaughtered in an arcane secondary dungeon within a portal. He somehow wakes up in a hospital, unharmed, and able to access a digital menu before his eyes that exhorts him to do the One Punch Man workout every day, lest he incur punishment. He gets hilariously chadly in the span of a few days in the hospital, including an inexplicable haircut, and finds access to dungeons only he can enter and levels up within this new system.

This one gets off to a slow start and may have benefited from a longer premiere like Oshi no Ko or Frieren, but once the table is fully set, Solo Leveling really starts to cook. Jinwoo’s titular leveling process is a blast from one fight to the next, and as he moves to work in the dungeons that other hunters can access, it turns out he’s been training with the weights on. He’s suddenly fighting way above his pay grade, and after staving off attacks from hunters taking advantage of portals for nefarious ends, he is recruited by an ambitious corporate scion to make some real coin and establish an independent association of hunters.

While it can feel like there’s a whole bunch of table-setting between portal sequences, it’s some smart worldbuilding on Solo Leveling’s end to establish how portal hunting became a central pillar of this society, and doubly so how political and capitalist interests can leave a wide berth for corruption and bad actors. If there’s money to be made in hunting, of course people will find ways to make even more at the expense of others, both at the corporate and individual levels. There’s a lot of talk in there about “survival of the fittest” and “natural selection” and that… makes me nervous.

Those are terms that can be used to justify immoral actions in the name of money, sure, but Jinwoo also uses them to justify his own process. To what end is he constantly improving himself? Sure, he's doing what he can to provide for his younger sister and their ailing mother, but I see less and less humanity in him as this goes on. There are constant hints at something far more sinister at play than just a dude getting stronger for himself, not the least of which being “the system,” the UI that implores him to keep taking on these “quests.” Something, or someone, seems to be guiding him. Whenever another hunter turns on Jinwoo, of course his self-defense instincts kick in, but system pop-ups instruct him to defeat X number of hostiles like it’s a normal video game scenario. There’s something eerily depersonalized about these encounters, despite them being full-on mortal combat, that gives me serious Ender’s Game vibes. Consider me intrigued.

I’d heard that the Solo Leveling manhwa’s main draw was its visuals, and though I had my doubts early on, I'm sold now. This is a pretty solid presentation! Hiroyuki Sawano turned in yet another banger soundtrack to punctuate all the action setpieces, helping to stitch together a fairly complete tapestry. Said setpieces are exhilarating and almost impressively bloody, and while the animation is nothing impressive in the day-to-day, it goes absolutely batshit when the gloves come off. Movement is inhumanly fluid and the visuals can go into the same loose, psychedelic territories we’ve seen in the likes of Mob Psycho and the second season of Jujutsu Kaisen. If this is the new meta for shonen action, I’m not complaining.

By all rights, this is a pretty decent show, but if I’m being honest, this one just hasn’t stuck with me much. And that’s fine! Sometimes I just wanna see some nutty action stuff and move on with my day. Solo Leveling hits that spot perfectly, and I'll be right back there when it returns for its next season.

‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess

I was surprised to learn that the gag manga this is based on, with such a seemingly simple premise, has been running for well over 200 chapters and counting. As the anime progressed, I was far more pleasantly surprised to learn that it actually works.

In a standard anime fantasy world where the forces of good are fighting the demonic Hellhorde, an unnamed warrior princess and her talking enchanted sword are taken prisoner and subjected to torture as they’re squeezed for intel. Said “torture,” as the title’s scare quotes would suggest, is mildly unconventional, as the demon baddie inquisitor, aptly named Torture Tortura, attempts to ply the princess by presenting her with tantalizingly delicious-looking food that she can only partake in if she coughs up some info. Naturally, the princess caves every single time, but her intel is often inane and useless, so the “torture” continues. It’s not all food, though: The princess is soon held out of arm’s reach of adorable baby animals by a gyaru beastgirl, pampered into submission by a spa-loving giantess, and is faced with a tsundere vampire faildaughter, who… tries. 

And you’d think that would be it; the joke wears thin and you move onto something else. Before you realize it, though, something’s changed: The princess and her captors are quickly becoming friends. The premise almost feels perfunctory: These inquisitors are actual people just doing their jobs, and whatever happens after the princess’ myriad confessions is fair game. There’s no malice or animosity, even during the “torture” sessions themselves: Everyone will have a blast and grow closer as friends, and then the princess will voluntarily go back to her bedless cell. It’s like Sam and Ralph after they clock out, except they’re almost always off the clock. Everyone is genuinely looking out for each other in all directions, and the only thing that keeps the torture going is the need for a status quo to return to, even as it grows more elastic. If anything, Time for "Torture" is a good example of committing to the bit without having to necessarily rely on it.

The real irony in all of this is that it becomes increasingly apparent that the princess is having her needs met in captivity far better than she ever did back home. In her proud proclamations about how she’ll never cave to the temptations before her (shortly before she does just that), the princess often talks about her upbringing and her time as the head of an imperial legion, but these stories often betray her lack of friendship or any of the little things that make life worth living. Her life as royalty was one of isolation and deprivation, to the point where she finds more freedom and fulfillment as a prisoner. She truly lives in a society.

Hellholm, on the other hand, has a surprisingly healthy approach to things like work-life balance, food, and leisure, and its most valuable prisoner is no exception. The Hell-Lord himself is a surprising exemplar of this; for as much as he looks and talks like your standard terrifying JRPG demon king, he’s a surprisingly good dude! He looks after his family, employees, and even the captive princess as if they are all one and the same; he exhibits strong principles and an aversion to conflict, sees to his employees' needs and wants alike, and is a supportive, loving father to his unbelievably precious little daughter (who also serves as a “torturer,” to the princess’ delight). He’s also a big time anime dork, and even bonds with a knight attempting to rescue the princess over their shared otakudom before sending him off peacefully. As “villains” go, he’s top tier.

Time for "Torture" is nothing groundbreaking by any stretch, but it’s a cute, silly time and it plays with anime fantasy tropes in the same way a six-month-old German shepherd “plays” with a cheap stuffed toy. How long the premise holds up is entirely up to you, but I had a lot of fun with it. I have no idea how this ended up being one of the better shows this season, but I guess it just scratched the right itch for me.

[asheurbanipal]

'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place

on Ao3

<<Previous Episode : Next Episode>>

Summary:

As their relationship moves forward, Logan and Wade start to see what being together actually looks like. Wade has a brain that doesn't work correctly. Logan is still dealing with the trauma of his previous existence. And in the middle is something new that neither quite know what to do with.

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: 8629

One-shot in series

Content: angst, talk of memory loss, baby in danger!, hand stuff, hand stuff while driving, dad vibes, sex jokes

"Wade, how can I put this delicately…" 

"Why the hell are you here for breakfast, again?" 

Logan choked on his bite of eggs. Hank's attempts at the aforementioned delicacy were completely obliterated by Scott's irritation. He tried to swallow faster to answer.

"Man needs a hearty meal after getting ruthlessly fucked all night," Wade answered. From beside him, Wade reached his foot over and wove it around Logan's ankle. 

"Please don't be so crass in the manor," Hank admonished, returning to his toast. Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses. They had sense enough to not take Wade at literal face value and snap at the bait, but he wasn't exactly lying. Logan wasn't quite sure where their perception of his and Wade's relationship had landed. No one talked about that kind of shit like adults in this goddamn place. He hadn't realized how annoying that was until he had some distance from it.

"We were running drills in the Danger Room." Logan tapped his fork to his plate nonchalantly. "We run it hard, and it's two hours back to his place. I didn't think it was a big deal for him to crash in my room, instead." 

Another technical truth. Between the Void and that stupid robot thing upstate, he could feel the way his body had slowed down from disuse. If he was going to keep up in this timeline, he needed to get back in fighting shape. He had finally just taken up the offer of private simulation time. Throwing Deadpool into the mix just made it more interesting and upped the difficulty. 

What the simulation computer data logs wouldn't show, though, is that after a couple hours of nighttime training, they were both so amped up the only way to reign it in was to go back to Logan's room and put their dicks in each other in various fashions. They almost didn't make it back to Logan's room one time before he remembered the simulation chamber had very good cameras. 

"If it's a matter of food stock…" Logan offered vaguely.

"No, it's fine." Scott waved him off, but he was still agitated.

"What's up, Cy-boy? Did-wait-" Wade leaned over. He didn't have to come far, his chair already practically touching Logan's.

"What's the Jean situation, right now?" he whispered way too fucking loud.

 "It's complicated," Logan responded with a small nod.

 "Then I'll check the Wiki before I come back to that one. Don't want to insult a grieving maybe-widower."

"I admire your restraint," Scott chuffed then pushed back from the table, standing. "Don't let him out of your sight while he's in the manor." He sauntered through the arch toward the parlor. 

"I hadn't planned on it." Logan lifted his eyebrows at the space where Scott had just been. 

"If you're really in that much need, I'm happy to train with you, Logan." Storm had been quiet, holding her coffee mug with two hands as she sipped it. She kept looking at him softly. From his Storm it would have been affection. From this one it felt like pity.

Logan shook his head, dipping it back to his plate as casually as he could.

"No, I've been overdoing it. Wade already got on me last night about it."

"Multiple times," Wade added. His foot was still hooked around Logan's, and he pulled it a little closer under the table. He was in slippers, so it wasn't exactly a graceful action.

"If you want me to be able to do more cohesive teamwork, I am going to need to start being pulled for team training. Otherwise I'm not gonna be any good to you." Logan tapped very sharply on the plate. 

"Let me talk to everyone about it," Storm said softly, nodding. They'd been doing that. Saying they'd all "talk" about it, meanwhile no one would talk to him directly.

"Can I borrow one of the cars again? To take Wade back. He's got a job to prep for." Logan lifted Wade's foot where it rested on top of his, ignoring the way the rest of the table briefly flicked away from mention of Wade's return to his old vocation. Not like he could work at CarMax, anymore, and if he was going to wear the suit again, might as well slip back into the merc life. 

"Let me see what's available," Hank nodded. Which was code for "what we're willing to part with on the chance that something goes horrifically wrong." They'd all heard about the mini-van incident. Somehow…

He glanced at Wade. 

"Thanks," he said.

"When are you gonna be back?" Laura appeared in the same arch of doorway that Scott had left through, eating an apple off one of her claws. The kid had settled in quickly, blending with the younger cohort. Some of them knew her story, some of them didn't. Either way, she had gone through the standard new student fare. Get through the initial hazing, then she was part of the crowd. 

She was certainly more at home than he was. 

His first week back in the mansion, he had hovered at a distance, unexpected fatherly affection pulling him into a wide orbit around her. He also didn't know this younger generation of mutants. They were their own people to him, not sickly mirrors of the people he once knew. That made them easier to be around.

But he was an old man, and Laura needed the space. Deserved the space. Deserved to be just a kid. 

She continued to wait for his answer as he considered his day. He half-glanced at Wade, but he was focusing intensely on his bagel with strawberry cream cheese. 

"If not by dinner, then right after. Take Wade back. Run a couple errands. Then back here." The errands were making sure Wade had food in the fridge, Althea hadn't OD'd, and filling up the coin jar with quarters for the laundromat. Maybe vacuum and mop. Take Puppins for a walk and check her treat stash. They must have functioned before he showed up, but he wasn't sure how.

If there was time, there'd also be some making out on the couch at minimum. How much farther that got would depend on Wade's timeframe. 

"You askin' for a specific reason?" Logan raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Because I also need to do some training, and you're the only one I can go all out on, right now. But you've been...busy." The next bit of apple crunched loudly. The first emotion the broiled up was anger. He didn't know where it came from and it wasn't useful, so he breathed through it. That's what the on-staff therapist recommended. 

"I apologize for not being available. But in the future, please tell me if there's something you need from me. Open communication and…stuff." Logan replayed the words in his head to make sure he had crafted them okay. Good enough. He was getting a little better at it.

"Now that is some beautiful therapy speak. You should weaponize that, kitten whiskers." Wade poked him in the cheek. 

"If you actually went to your appointments…"

"Uh-unh, that's not an 'I feel' statement." 

"I feel like I'm gonna kick your ass in a minute." Logan kicked Wade's foot under the table with a grin. 

 "I feel you use violence to mask your overwhelming urge to suck my cock."

"WADE, THIS IS A PLACE OF LEARNING!" Hank interjected. 

"I feel like you're both stupid as fuck," Laura finished. "But I guess that just means you're made for each other." She took another bite of apple. "I'll see you tonight, Logan."

"Bye, kid." But she was already turning the corner of the wall. 

#####

Everything was light and bright and fluffy and yellow colored. He couldn't remember the last time he felt good . Genuinely. Whatever memory that might have been was now just a fuzzy gray space. He hated when that happened. 

Cold as fuck down here, Christ. Which is me, I guess. I wonder if that's blasphemy. 

"You were quieter than usual at breakfast." Logan tapped his fingers to Wade's palm as they moved through one of the basement hallways toward the motor pool. "Fucking weird, honestly." Wade dipped his hand into Logan's and curled their fingers together.

"I was just thinking about stuff."

"Thinking? Dangerous." 

"Surprise myself with that sometimes, too." Wade swung their arms in the space between them dramatically. "Just…I don't know…thinking about the job tonight, I guess? Then some other stuff."

"Something you need to talk about? Work through your feelings?"

"Ew no. Gross. It's more like…hm…" 

Fuck. 

Keep being told to think before I speak, and the first time I do it, it doesn't work. I spent all of breakfast putting the words together, and now they're all garbled. Shoulda written it down. Wish I could write. 

"You ever feel lost?" Wade asked. Logan stopped cold in the hallway. 

"Babe," Logan  murmured. Then he did this thing that Wade knew was going in the spank bank immediately. He slammed Wade back against the wall, metal cold on his spine. Logan pressed up tight against him, hip to hip, giving him an immediate hard-on. Logan's hands slipped around his waist. 

"My life is just one long sequence of feeling lost with short periods of knowing what I'm doing. So…kind of an expert." Logan pressed his lips to Wade, and Wade dragged him in in response, deepening the kiss. 

I love this.

I hate this.

I hate that I love this.

Fuck these fucking stupid fuck-ass emotions.  

Falling in love with Vanessa had been from before The Cancer. Before The Healing Factor. Wade knew how to do all that shit, knew how to put his boyish charm and adult-ish mouth to work. From what he had learned since coming back from the Void, other versions of Deadpool had mixed but overall successful amorous experiences, too. This particular Deadpool was drowning.  

Logan pulled away but not before pressing a few small kisses along Wade's jaw and cheek. 

"Anything I can do to help?" Logan squeezed him around the waist a little tighter, dropping his hands a little lower to rest on the top of his hips. 

"Make me an X-Man so I have a salaried position?" Wade offered.

"You're not a full-on mutant. Also…I don't have control over that even if you were." The words went up at the end like a question. It was so fucking cute. 

"Alright then maybe just this, for now." Wade leaned down, pressed his face into Logan's chest, then motorboated the shit out of his pecs for about forty-five seconds. He stayed there, pressing his nose into Logan's shirt and breathing him in. 

Oh yeah, that's a thousand times better, already. 

"You're lucky you're cute." Logan kissed Wade on the top of the head and brought his arms around Wade's back, squeezing him tighter. 

"Logan." The voice came from down the hallway. Logan snapped back, his whole body releasing Wade at once and very literally jumping halfway across the width of the hall. 

Well that doesn't feel great, but I sort of get it. 

At least the fucker looked contrite, doing that fist squeeze thing with this hands that he did when he was every so slightly nervous. Scott sauntered down the hallway, stopping short to toss a set of keys that Logan caught mid-air. 

"Civic's gassed up." He glanced at Wade. "Take as much time as you need."

#####

Logan squeezed the steering wheel hard enough the shape of his claws became visible under his skin. The radio was doing a best of the nineties hour, and he'd already sat through a who's who of pop diva and boy bands of the era. Multiple times he'd considered changing it, but Wade was a little too invested in singing along. He didn't want to take that from him.

It was also, dare he say it, kind of fun?    

When the opening riff of a smooth rock song started, Wade scrambled to change it, his chatter breaking off into something about "blow jobs" and "Kid Rock." They ended up on a talk radio station that was a little less nerve-wracking. He leaned back into the seat as Wade provided a parallel commentary with the show host.

He lifted his hand from the wheel and placed it palm up across the center console. Wade took the opening and dropped his hand into Logan's.

"I'm sorry about the thing in the hallway outside the motor pool," Logan said, chewing the words in embarrassment. 

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout?" 

Logan considered for a moment whether Wade was deflecting or he genuinely didn't catch it. They were both equally likely. 

"When Scott showed up?" He hinted. 

"OH! Oh that. No biggie, sugar bean." He squeezed Logan's hand tight enough to break a hand made of regular bone. "No grab-ass in the mansion. I get it." 

"Well, yeah that." Logan ran his thumb over the back of Wade's hand. "I don't know what their Logan was like, but I used to…uh…get around a little bit."

"You slut!" Wade gasped. Logan certainly wasn't going to deny it.

"Charles used to get on my ass about it-"

"In the sexy way, I hope."

"-'we have to be models of decency for the students' he'd remind me. He never threatened to kick me out, or anything." 

"He was probably waiting for his turn." 

"I'm on thin ice, here, though. They only invited me back on the team as a courtesy, and they don't know how to feel about you, yet."

"Oh, no, they hate me," Wade said.

"I was trying to be nicer about it." Logan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Wade was staring out the window, watching the landscape. "I haven't really done the physical affection thing in awhile, either. So I'm gun-shy, but I want to work on it. Just go a little slow with me."

"I'm not exactly the touchy feely type, either, peanut, so don't stress over it."

"You slap my ass basically every chance you get." 

"That's a totally different thing. I don't know how anyone in that house keeps their hands off those rosy peaches." He smirked and winked. There was something glinting dark underneath, though. Maybe that meant Wade would spend his time thinking instead of filling up the car with noise. 

Wade pulled Logan's hand further over the console. He heard a zip, then his hand was curled around the warmth of Wade's half-hard cock. 

"Are we really doing this?" Logan didn't dare drop his eyes from the road for too long, but he took half a chance to verify that what he thought was happening was actually happening. 

"When I tried to give you head the last time, you stabbed me in the ribs."

"Because I didn't want to drive us into a fucking tree, and that was the only way to get you to stop."

"Yeah, so that's why I'm doing this instead. Just let me do all the work." 

"You're deflecting from something. You need to start using your words to communicate, not your dick."

"Ngh, I'll work on it." Wade was already grunting, tiny little moans as he pressed Logan's hand around his dick and stroked himself. It was a shoddy and fast thing, Wade getting hard quickly and tensing toward completion just as fast. Wade orgasmed with barely a trickle of cum, shoulders rolling against the passenger seat as he arched his back. His voice was tight in his throat, squeaking. Soft words tumbled out between the other sounds, though, and Logan honed in tighter with his hearing. 

It was his name. 

Wade was whispering "Logan" over and over and over again just under his breath. 

That was new. 

Wade panted as he came down from his finish, licked his own semen from Logan's hand because he was simply a freak like that, then zipped up. 

"Ooh, there's an IHOP up here. We should get pancakes for lunch." Wade made that weird little self-satisfied smile of his, and dropped his hands between his legs.

"Whatever you want, babe," Logan sighed, keeping his hand off the wheel as he turned into the parking lot of the strip mall. 

#####

You have to tell him.

No you don't. Keep that shit bottled up. 

He's already figured out something's going on with you. Just get it over with, and you can work through it. 

Fucking FINE. OKAY. 

don't yell at me. 

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." 

Logan stared at him across the table, pouring "this ain't real fuckin' maple syrup" over his fat stack of pancakes, already through his sausage and eggs and ham and potatoes. Wade looked down at his own pancakes, a smiley face made with chocolate chips and bananas. A piece was already cut out that he didn't remember eating. He didn't remember the eggs and bacon, either, but they were devoured, too. 

Shit.

No. You just weren't paying attention, that's all. It's not the other thing.

I think.

He stabbed his fork down through the middle of the pancakes in frustration. 

"You good?" Logan stopped, fork midway between the plate and his mouth. He set it down to focus that laser attention on Wade. The gaze that made him either turn to jelly or grow a few more bones depending on context.  

Wade re-sorted his thoughts. It was just so hard.

"The constant cellular regeneration. It fucks my memory. Sometimes I just never form them. Sometimes I lose stuff. Sometimes it's nothing. Sometimes it's something really fucking important. But I can't predict it. I'll be looking for this specific little red Fiat in the back lot to sell to some douchebag, and it's not there when I remember it was there that morning. And turns out it's actually been four days." Wade sliced down into the pancakes and took a bite.

"Freaks me the fuck out." He chewed a few times, then spit it into his napkin with a gag. "Why did I fucking get this? I hate this." 

"Were those the deep thoughts in the car? The ones that made you whip your dick out?" Logan tapped his fork to the plate, and it was so…it was so annoying when he did that. That high-pitched sound. And there was this look. This pitying look. 

"Don't make fun of me." Wade's eyebrows creased hard, and he felt a scrim of tears well up.

God, this fucking sucks. Fuck this. Fuck this.

Logan paused on his own words, then snapped his jaw shut.

"Sorry. I misread the room. I'm just trying to understand. Same with some of the other stuff you do. Like when you freak out when you don't see me for a day."

I'm not nearly as smooth as I thought I was, shit. I didn't realize he noticed that.

"I feel like it's all connected." Logan dropped his fork and leaned his forearms on the table. "I just want to understand, Wade." 

"I'm terrified of losing you. Losing parts of you. Memories. The thing that I'm usually able to hang on to is the muscle memory shit. I've never forgotten how to fight or fuck, so I'd like specifically, not forget you how to fuck you. Specifically. So I keep thinking if I just-" He lifted his hands and made a squeezing motion in front of Logan's chest "-then I won't lose it as easily."

"And that makes sense to you?"

"Bitch-ass, what did I say about making fun of me?" 

"I'm not…" He craned his neck, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "I'm not a stranger to amnesia. I know how scary it is. I'm just trying to understand your logic because it doesn't make sense to me. I don't get it."

"You don't get me," Wade snapped. 

"I don't. Not in this." 

"Cool. Awesome." Wade got up from the table. He made it to the door, then paused. He returned and dropped down into the booth, arms crossed over his chest. 

Logan has the car keys. 

#####

Wade let Logan rest his hand on his thigh, so that was something, at least. He wasn't getting frozen out. He'd been through that before, and it wasn't pleasant. 

Wade was silent, though, and that was scary. He had only seen it a handful of times over the last few months. Wade was thinking and thinking hard, focusing so he could properly turn everything over. Something was going to come out the other side of this that was important. So far it had been mostly positive, but there had to be a moment when the tide turned. 

"Logan, stop. Pull over." Wade was sitting up, eyes focused on something out his window. He obeyed immediately, trying to find what had grabbed Wade's attention. 

They were approaching a river. Along the perpendicular road, the one that connected to the main highway, two cars had pulled over to take care of what looked like a minor front-end crash. The car wasn't even stopped before Wade was tumbling out and running toward the scene of the crash.

"Wade, what're you doing?" Logan slid across the hood to keep up. "It's just a car wreck." They were approaching quickly, the two people exchanging insurance looking up in a panic. Logan tried to assure them from a distance. 

Then a loud whoosh went up, and one of the cars was overtaken by flames. 

#####

The 2010 -2016 Kia Soul was among a group of cars known to catch on fire after collision. 2.3 million of them had been recalled for it. 

That Kia, in particular, was starting to smoke under the hood. 

And now I'm running across the grass, and I'm not sure how I got here. But I'm not freaked out about it, yet. That's just adrenaline.

The fire went up just as he reached the car. A woman screamed behind him, but he knew Logan was there. Logan would take care of them. He had seen the baby in the back seat. The flames were hot on his skin as he went digging for the switchblade in his back pocket. The butt of the knife handle had a knob, and he slammed it into the corner of the back window. 

That's the weakest part of the window.

He dived through the now broken window, crunching up into the back seat. He sliced through the seatbelt and carseat anchor, but the fucker was in one of those fuck-ass bases. Whatever. He took off his shirt, threw it over the carseat, then kicked everything he had into the door. It broke off the hinges. 

"Wolverine, catch!" Then he threw the carseat clear of the vehicle.

Shit shit shit I just threw a fucking baby. Wait, the car seat should absorb the shock, oh, wait, Logan caught it.

Okay. 

A sizzling sound meant the fire was moving up the engine block through the wiring. Smoke started seeping through the cabin, but the missing door should have been enough to…to…

Hm. Something's wrong. 

"Wade, you idiot." Logan's voice. The SHNK of claws through the door behind him, then he was being scruffed around the neck. 

He lost some minutes in the confusion of his body being manhandled by familiar arms. 

"I swear to God, why don't you think ? You're going to kill me if you die."

Wade snapped back as the water hit him, Logan's arms wrapped around him tightly. 

"I got you," Logan murmured in his ear as they resurfaced. They kneeled together in the shallow water. The flames crawling up the car hit the gas tank, and the fire shifted color and increased intensity.

"Why am I in the water?" Wade asked. 

"You were literally on fire," Logan growled. "Full on human torch."

"Oh, is that what that was?" Wade settled back into the plane of Logan's chest. Fire was tricky. It would keep eating through cells as long as they regenerated. Surprisingly draining to heal from.

"How is it that you can fight endless mobs of yourself without breaking a sweat, but doing a basic smash and grab rescue you look like a drunk frat boy with a hernia." Logan was also a little out of breath, though. They both knew that these little on the spot jobs were the hardest. With a full on mission, you were ready. You warmed up. Zero-to-hero took a little more out of you. It was more personal. More up close. Bunch of people die during a dab of super-villainy, sure. If someone kicked it right in front of you because you couldn't pull them off the subway tracks in time, that sucked a syphilitic dick.

And I don't exactly randomly rescue people. Not before this. Waste of cardio.

What have you done to me, my dearest darling? Heart of my heart.

"I didn't have the suit on," Wade replied as a way to wrap up all those thoughts. Logan kissed the back of his head. 

"If I tell you to communicate better, will you remember?" Logan sighed. "I'm being extremely serious. You might forget things, but I remember. And I remember well when I'm at full mental capabilities. Got a lot of trauma up there, so there's not a lot of room left." He squeezed Wade even tighter, the breath puffing out of him. "And I can't manage both our impulse control issues." 

"No promises, honey badger. This brain doesn't always connect to this body." 

"I…okay. That I might understand."

#####

They slinked through the door into Wade and Althea's apartment, clothes still dripping wet. Logan didn't smell anyone, so Althea was out and had taken Puppins. Reasonable. Wade loved that damn dog, but he wasn't home consistently enough, right now, to take care of her in full. Wade had been chattering endlessly about car recalls and leaking gas tank valves, but he fell instantly silent once they passed the threshold.  

"I don't like being here alone," he said flatly. 

"I'm here."

"But you're going to go back to the mansion later."

"Yeah, but you're gonna be working. I can stay until you leave. If Scott gets shitty about the car, then whatever."

"Yeah, but-" 

"Wade. Babe." 

Wade spun around in the middle of the living space, arms flopping.

"Why did you decide on 'babe?'" Wade pouted.

"You call me whatever new thing you think of at the moment, but I'm more of a find a pet name and stick to it kinda guy." Logan rested his hands on his hips, trying to decide where this was going.

"You called me 'daarrrlin' the first time." The impression was pretty spot on. "Then it was 'honey.' Then it was 'sweetness.' But now you've landed on 'babe,' and you stayed there. I want to know why. Show your work."

Logan blinked at him a few times. He wasn't sure he could actually explain it. 

"I went to call you 'bub' one time in front of the others, and it came out 'babe.' And I just…liked it. So I kept it. It…fit."

"You've called me, 'babe' in front of the others?"

"Yeah, probably a few times. I'm not really counting."

"Do they know we're together?"

"I haven't been keeping it a secret, so yeah, probably. They're not stupid, and we're not exactly discreet. Last week you asked Scott if there was any flavored lube in the next delivery because, and I quote, 'when I eat Logan's ass later, I want to make sure I pair it with the right wine.'" 

"Witty banter. I didn't know they were imagining us fucking night and day all over the house."

"Night and day, sure, technically. I think 'my room' isn't really 'all over the house.'"

"There was that one time in that empty classroom." 

"That doesn't count," Logan choked. 

"Mmmhmm." Wade clucked, popping his tongue loudly against the floor of his mouth. "So, to be clear, the entirety of the X-Men know that I've been all up in this." He made a waving motion that circled all of Logan's body with special attention on the crotch region.

"Again, yes. Probably." 

"That's extremely embarrassing for you," Wade smirked. 

"I'd like to go back to the ass-slapping."

"I told you. Those cheeks are irresistible. I cannot be contained." He moved forward a few steps and wrapped his hand around Logan's wrist. "Let's change. You can wear my sweats."

"Please don't give me one of the blow-job shirts," Logan said as he was pulled across the room to the set of hampers where Wade kept his mishmash of clothes. 

"Now you're getting the cum slut booty shorts." 

Wade started to strip, his body moving with slow, awkward, weirdly normal movements. It was the second degree burns and smoke inhalation. On the surface they looked like they healed quickly, just a little knitting of flesh. But they hurt underneath a lot longer than other injuries. That was probably why he still seemed off. But there was also…

"Wade." Logan waited for Wade to turn around. His flannel was now sitting wet and balled up in the back of the Civic. Instead, he pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt slowly, tantalizing, letting it whip over his head with a stretch of his body. "So you can remember better." He held out his arms, canted slightly into a soft U-shape. He turned slowly, trying to give Wade some kind of show. He wasn't exactly good at this sort of thing, but something about it made sense.

#####

Oh, you sweet sweet idiot. 

Logan was just standing there, back to him, triceps fucking rippling. 

Do you have a license? For those guns?!?

"You stupid slut," Wade whispered. He moved to Logan, and whipped his arms around his waist from behind. He had been stopped with his wet boxes halfway down his hips, and he just let them fall the rest of the way.

He needed Logan to be naked, too. Not anything more than that, surprisingly. Just naked. He struggled with his belt buckle, but the damp leather had swollen in the metal loop. Logan cut through it with the tip of one of his ever so slightly extended claws. He retracted then turned in the circle of Wade's arms, breaking the loop with his taught ass. 

JESUS. 

Wade pulled the broken belt free, then somehow managed to fumble down the zipper and top button of his jeans. But the slim cut of the pants was clinging to his glutes and thighs. Wade yanked on them, and they wouldn't budge. 

Oh, god, I'm going to cry over pants. 

"I can't get them off." He already knew he was mumbling, the rattle of his thoughts only slipping out in little breathy whispers. 

"What was that?" Logan asked gently, leaning in and up to Wade's ear. 

"TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS."

Logan didn't question the zero to one hundred reaction, just slid his pants down himself, taking his boxer briefs with him, then stepping out of them. Wade slammed himself into Logan's body, wrapping his arm around him again, digging his nails into his spine and shoulder blades. Logan's arms came up from below to hug him back, tight, pulling their chests and stomachs and hips together.

Wade attacked him with his mouth. That was the only word for it. He wanted to bite and chomp at Logan's face. To rip the flesh from his immaculate cheeks. The only thing holding him back from going full animal was how tired he was. 

"Pick me up," he whined into Logan's neck, then jumped until his knees were locked around his hips. Logan made a little oomph sound, but snagged him around the waist and under his ass. 

He dropped them both on the couch. It was only just big enough to hold them, but not nearly long enough. Logan ended up with one leg up on the back of the couch, bent at the knee, shoulders propped on the arm. Wade settled into the shape his body made, curling one ankle underneath Logan's other leg. They were immediately intertwined. 

Their lips fell against each other, desperate and stupid from adrenaline. Familiar, though. It should be. They'd been doing this very thing almost every day for months. 

The end of this honeymoon phase was going to be a bitch .

Can you get That Good Dick DTs?

That feels insensitive…

FOCUS. 

They were getting hard against each other as they kissed, the weight of Wade's body pressing him deeper into Logan. 

Then that asshole pulled away.

"Probably shouldn't get too caught up in this. You've got your job tonight." 

Wade groaned, stretching a little. 

"There's no jooooob. There never was one." 

Logan's hands went extremely tight on Wade's skin. The very very very tippy tips of Logan's claws pierced his flesh, and he shivered in the pain-pleasure-pain. 

"If you say the words 'educated wish'..." His warning delivered, he retracted his claws again. 

Wade rolled his forehead across Logan's chest. 

"I started talking to my old merc contacts when we got back from the Void. I started picking up small jobs when you moved out. Real easy security shit. Made it easier to deal with you not being here. But then after the robot thing the jobs felt…boring. And any time I had to choose between working or spending time with you, I chose you. So I started getting picky."

"How are you paying your half of the rent?"

"That's the weird advantage of the merc work/shithole apartment combo. Couple good jobs and you're covered for the month. Not dressing in Givenchy, but you make it work." 

Logan sat up, forcing Wade to do a weird little half curl just to keep himself wrapped around his body.

"But why lie about it? I don't like you lying to me." His voice was sharp. Angry. Wade rolled back over his thighs to sit up on the couch. He brought a pillow over his half-hard cock to not distract himself then shoved one over Logan's for the same reason. 

"I don't know. I was embarrassed? Maybe? Worried you'd get tired of me, but also worried if I said I needed space you'd think I was tired of you . Problem solved in both directions if I have to go to a job. But I hate not being around you. It physically hurts when I don't get to see you for some reason. 

"Well not for some reason. There's a reason. It's because I still can't seem to remember what you smell like when you're not around. And you can smell me; you know what I smell like. You know I'm coming. I actually stole one of your shirts, and I sniff it when we're not together. And I'm like 'mmhmm, yep, that's Logan.' My boner certainly recognizes you. So why can't I smell you from a distance? Clearly that means I can't remember what you smell like. Then obviously there's other things I'm probably forgetting too, and I don't even realize it. 

"But what kind of needy-ass bitch tells someone 'hey, I have to sew my face to your ass Human Centipede style because I'm worried I'll forget what it tastes like.' Listen to how insane that sounds." 

"I do agree that you sound completely unhinged," Logan nodded. 

"Thank you for validating my emotions. I appreciate it." He leaned back on the couch. 

I'm actually completely serious; why does that sound so sarcastic?

#####

Logan traced the hunched curve of Wade's body as he curled up on himself. That was the thing that no one understood about Wade. The thing that he had to keep reminding himself when he told Wade to slow down and think. Wade did think. It was just too quick and frenzied, ideas cycling as fast as his brain regenerated new neurons. 

So when those thoughts emerged they sounded like madness.

"Wade." Logan stopped. Careful. Gentle. Breathe. "I can smell you because I have super senses. Other people can't smell each other from down the hallway. I need to be sure that you understand that before you spiral." 

"I want to be able to smell you," Wade replied blankly. 

"What if I wore a very specific cologne that you pick? Then you'll be able to smell me from farther away."

"But then you wouldn't smell like you anymore."

"So, see, you do know what I smell like."

Wade attempted to retort, then stopped, pursing his lips on his objection. Logan leaned over and rested his forehead on Wade's shoulder. Careful. Gentle. Breathe. 

"Don't lie to me, again." It was a bark, immediately losing the pattern of his mantra. "I can't do this if you lie to me." Wade's body tensed. 

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm saying I love you. But love's not enough if you're going to keep big things from me. We're fine, still. It's okay. But it's not something I can ignore." Logan pressed his palms together and squeezed. Too much shit happened to his brain that he couldn't control. He didn't need additional complications.

Wade's hands crawled into the square of Logan's forearms and gripped them tight at the crook of his elbows. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't end us when we just started. I love you." He pushed his body into Logan's forcing them back into the position they were in before. "I'll show you. What do you want? Just tell me what to put where."

"Babe, shut up." Logan clapped his hand around the back of Wade's head and pressed it to his chest. "If you don't have to rush off somewhere, then just lay here with me. There's too little of that in my life." He dragged his fingers up and down Wade's spine. He had been too intense, let the trauma do too much of the talking.

The half-lie that made him follow Wade in the beginning had turned out all right. It was a falsehood he could understand the desperation of in hindsight. A little white lie about a gig from a man who literally didn't understand how his own brain worked wasn't the kind of thing to blow up a whole relationship for. And Wade understood. He wasn't ignoring him or disregarding his feelings on the matter.

Wade would remember this.

"You don't have to solve everything with sex or violence," Logan said. 

"What about sex and violence?"

"Sure. Okay. But only if they're at exactly the same time in equal amounts. "

"I love it when you pull out the quips. It's so sexy." Wade dragged his teeth down Logan's chest and kissed his nipple, running his tongue over it in little flicks.

"What did I just say about using sex to solve your problems?" But they'd also just had an incredibly serious conversation while both completely naked, so maybe Wade deserved at least a little credit. 

"My dick is shaking hands with yours, right now. Where did you think this was going?" 

Wade's arm snaked down into the space between them. His large hand came around both of them, pressing their shafts together. Just a little bit of movement, and the friction of his rough palm started Logan on the long, spiraling draw toward pleasure. He met his own hand with Wade's between them, wrapping around the other side of their paired lengths. Logan ran his other hand up the back of Wade's neck, pressing his fingers into the back of his skull. 

"That feels so goddamn good," Logan growled. 

"And you said not to use my cock to communicate." Wade ran a few kisses along Logan's jaw before nibbling on his skin. 

"Why do you use your teeth so much?" Logan asked between little kissing pecks across his lips.

"Because I'm a freak. Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no."

Wade nipped at Logan's chin harder.

"Why don't you use yours?" Wade asked. "Bring more of that mustelid energy to the bedroom."

"I have no idea what that means, but if that's what you want…" 

#####

Logan's teeth sunk hard into his shoulder where it met his neck and-

-fuck shit if I was closer I would have come a fountain. 

Logan's jaws locked into place, and he dropped the hand that had been on the back of Wade's head to around the small of his back. His hand tilted to grip around the shape of his ass, and their lower bodies pressed together tighter. Logan's hand grappled with his until he couldn't be sure who was stroking who, everything a mass of sensation on the back of that quick, hot buildup.

Slowly, the thoughts dripped out of his head until there was nothing left but need . Raw. Nerve endings that normally fired in pain instead trilling with pleasure.

Sex and violence. 

He pumped faster, trying to focus on the man underneath him at the same time. How Logan's skin felt against his. The scratch of Logan's body hair on his stomach and beard on his cheek. The sting of Logan's teeth in his muscles and the way his body kept trying to heal around them. The sloppy weep of Logan's precum dripping over his hand. The steam of Logan's sweat as it curled around their bodies. 

Tobacco and orange peel and leather and a jar of nickels. That's what Logan smells like. I know what Logan smells like. 

Logan fucked up into his hand from below, their heels and toes tangling together as they both tried to push against the couch for leverage. Logan's whole body tensed, hips thrusting up to lift them both. He released his mouth from Wade's shoulder and howled as he erupted over their hands. 

Wade crushed his mouth against Logan's as Logan brought him the rest of the way.

"Fuck," he whispered into Logan's mouth as the spring broke and his own cum spread out between their stomachs. He tried to dig for something else to say. Some little jokey joke to break the tension. He couldn't find anything, his brain flaring back to life with a gasp and a scream, full of nothing but Logan. 

#####

Logan flicked over Wade's shirt with a half-extended claw and caught it in his fist.

"Sit up," he murmured into Wade's ear. 

"Dun wanna." Wade tucked his arms under Logan's shoulders in protest. He stabbed Wade in the ass a little with the still out claw, and that startled him into rolling off just enough. "Love it when you use the claws to push me around."

"Do you actually?" He wiped them both down and threw the shirt on the floor. Wade rolled back, resting his head on Logan's chest. "Because I spend a lot of energy attempting to not spear people I care about through the stomach. If you're into it, though, I could be convinced to reconsider."

"Our safeword can be Graymalkin. Because I'm one of…Cable's ships…that…that one didn't come together." 

He was too tired to rise to the bait of whatever Wade was talking about and rested his hands gently on Wade's back instead. The TV across the room flicked on. 

"Found the remote. It was between the cushions." Wade flicked through some channels then stopped with a soft "oooh."

"What the fuck is this?"

"Say Yes to the Dress. Wedding dress shopping, but each one costs three month's rent."

"Shit, weddings are expensive." He watched the movement on the TV for a careful few minutes. "Okay, that dress looks great on her. Why is her mom being a bitch about it?"

"FUCKING RIGHT?"

Logan woke at the sound of someone at the door. They had fallen asleep on the couch and it had grown dark in the interim. He pulled an arm out from under Wade's weight, shook the pins and needles out, and prepped his claws to spring free. Whoever it was slid a key into the lock. He relaxed. Althea. She had caught them in worse, and at least she wouldn't see they were currently naked on her couch. Logan shook Wade awake a little. 

"Althea's home. We should maybe pretend we're decent people."

"We're absolutely not, though," Wade said sleepily but moved to sit up. He half pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, but was still waking up and moving slowly. 

The lock clicked and the door cracked. 

"Hey, you old slut," Wade yawned. Then the door finished opening. 

"Oh my god. I'm gonna gouge my own eyes out." Laura pushed Colossus in front of her and used his body to block her view. For his part, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes and turned away. 

"I said to knock when entering a man's private home." His deep Russian accent was caught between admonishment and embarrassment. 

Logan snatched the blanket and threw it over both of them. 

"If you don't want to see my ass, then hand me some pants," Logan barked, gesturing toward the clothes hampers. 

Colossus volunteered himself for the task, still keeping his back to them as he grabbed a set of shorts and a pair of sweats and threw them across the room. Logan gave Wade the shorts and shimmied into the sweat pants. 

"Laura, what the fuck are you doing here?" He stood, moving away from the couch. She gave half a glance over her shoulder then turned when she could confirm he was half-dressed. 

"You said you were going to train with me tonight, but you didn't come back." 

"Shit." Logan pressed his palms to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, kid. Wade's job…got canceled-" the lie came easy and he hated himself a little for it "-and I lost track of time."

"Yeah, I can see that," she tsked. 

"You didn't need to come all the way here."

"That idiot throwing a baby out of a car is getting memed on TikTok, right now." Laura gestured to Wade. 

"Oooh, I've never been viral before. Well, not on the internet. Been viral a few other ways." Wade had propped himself up on the arm of the couch. 

"So I called your phone to check on you. When you didn't answer, I got worried. Colossus offered to drive me over, and Yukio gave me her emergency key."

"My phone…" Logan lifted his hand to his chest where his shirt pocket would have been. The shirt that was currently curled up in the back of the Civic. "Shit."

Logan dropped on the arm of the couch, scooting Wade over a few inches. 

"Okay, how do I fix this?" Logan asked.

"I don't know. You're not dead, so I get to be mad at you. But you're not dead, so I'm also relieved." Laura spread her hands in a weird half-shrug.

"You could set up a training schedule," Colossus tried to mediate. 

"Wait, that's actually a really good idea." Wade hung half-off the couch. "Because I'll fight you. Like, I'll kick your fucking ass as hard as you want."

"I could go for that," Laura replied. 

"Your level of enthusiasm worries me," Logan said. 

"It's your DNA," Wade reminded him. He pressed his eyes shut in annoyance, realizing he was right, and that was really fucking weird the more he thought about it. 

"Let's set that up, okay? Book us into the Danger Room. We'll make it a standing date."

"Yeah," Laura said quietly. She bit her lip and took several hard breaths. He recognized that coping mechanism. "Come here a sec." She moved into the corner of the kitchen part of the space. Not a lot of room from the other two but they had a vague sense of privacy if Logan created a body-wall. She lowered her voice. 

"You're not my dad," she started.

"I…am, though…"

"You know what I mean," she sighed. "You were the closest thing I ever had to a real parent who actually loved me. But our time together was so short. And we kicked ass in the Void. But you're also dead. I mourned you. But now you're here."

"And I'm not your Logan. No, I get it." He crossed his arms over his chest, hyper aware of being shirtless, still. 

"I'd like you to be one of my Logans, though. But I'm not totally sure what that looks like or how to do that. And as much as it annoys me, I'm also dealing with the fact that I have to share you."

Logan glanced down, looking for Wade out of the corner of his eye. Wade was watching them over the top of the couch, peeking up just the top of his head.

"I already had this conversation with him, but I haven't really been part of a family in awhile. So if I fuck it up…"

"Hey." She punched him in the arm. "If I end up living as long as you do, we got time to figure it out, right?"

"Those smarts aren't my DNA."

"Nurture vs nature?" She patted her hands on her thighs. "Well, you're alive. So I'll go. Forgive me if I don't hug you goodbye."

"Yeah." He reached out and patted her on the side of the arm. "Thank you for giving a shit about me, kid. And Wade, even though he's an idiot."

"You're both easy to give a shit about it." She paused. "Also, your pants say Big Booty Goddess on the back. Thought you should know."

#####

Easy to give a shit about. 

Ringing endorsement, honestly. 

They had finally found the note that Al left them about a long weekend in Atlantic City. Logan had already decided to stay that night, but that secured it. Didn't mean he didn't freak out a little when the other half of the fold out sofa was empty an hour after they had gone to bed.  

Logan had only gone as far as the dining table, though, talking on the cellphone he had finally retrieved from the car and working through the last few swallows of a floral juice glass of Jack Daniels. Wade watched him with his chin on the back of the couch.

"Okay so she's in her room…Okay…Thanks, Hank…She was supposed to text me when she got back, but…No I recognize the hypocrisy doesn't mean I didn't want to check on her." Logan chuckled darkly. "Um, I was going to talk to you about this tomorrow, but since I have you I figured I'd give you a heads up. Not blind side you. If there's a place for me on the X-Men, I don't want to lose it, but I want to live with my boyfriend. Maybe be available for freelance. Only if that's doable, though."

boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend

"Can we talk about what that might look like? Yeah…Okay… Yeah. I'll be back in the morning…Yes I'll talk to Scott….yeah. Okay. Thanks again, Hank." He set the phone down gently, considered the opposite wall for a minute, then stood.

He noticed Wade watching, but didn't say anything before crawling back into bed. He opened his arms and made a gesture that Wade should settle in. He didn't hesitate, curling up against Logan's chest.

"Boyfriend?" Wade asked.

"Are you not?"

"No I…I am…" Wade pressed a hand to Logan's chest. "Can I be serious with you?"

"God, please do." 

"Don't give up being an X-Men just because I'm a wreck. Don't pick me over them."

Logan kissed him on the forehead. 

"Not off the team, yet. And even if that's how things work out, it wouldn't be picking you. It'd be picking me. Picking a life I built myself that wants you in it."

Wade pressed tighter to Logan's body. Scent. Sight. Touch. Taste. He wanted to take it all in, to capture this exact moment in time. 

I'm not fucking forgetting this.

[nyaagolor]

Now that you’ve played through all the episodes, how would you rank them?

Oooo this is tough, in part bc I like all of them a LOT. The designations between a few of them, especially in the middle category, are gonna be kinda arbitrary, but I'll do my best :)

Also this got stupid long so I put it under a readmore! Spoilers abound, as one might expect

8. Dawn of the Golden Witch (Episode 6)

I have some... mixed feelings on this one. I understand what Ryukishi was going for in using chick-Beato and Battler's interactions to parallel Battler with Kinzo and show Kinzo's dynamic with Kuwadorian Beatrice via analogy, but I also think it kinda fumbles a bit. There are points (cookie scene being a big one) where I feel like the characters take a backseat to the themes and the whole narrative feels off. Chapters 5 and 6 are supposed to be a perversion of the original story that Beatrice has lost control over, but there are points during 6 especially where I think it kinda loses itself. The rest of it is great (Erika's VA is a goddamn champion) but the very beginning of this chapter is easily my least favorite part of the series

7. Requiem of the Golden Witch (Episode 7)

I don't really have strong feelings on this episode. It would have been the high point in just about any other VN, but Umineko is so consistently fantastic that Episode 7 didn't really hit me as hard as the others. It did make me wish we got more Kyrie though, even if I know exactly why she wasn't as prominent as many of the others. Kind of insane that my second least-favorite arc is something I would rank like an 8 or 9 out of 10, Umineko is just that goated (get it???)

6. Turn of the Golden Witch (Episode 2)

While I do love watching the worst woman ever conceived have a 48 hour progressive mental breakdown, Alliance hits every point I like about the Rosa / Maria dynamic but does it better. It's still an arc I absolutely adore, so it feels weird to rank it so low, but I think about it a lot less than the other arcs so down here it goes. Shoutout to this arc for making me laugh to the point I could no longer speak not once, but twice. Kanon chuuni jacket and leashed Battler you will always be famous

5. Twilight of the Golden Witch (Episode 8)

I know that ranking episode 8 in the bottom half sounds like sacrilege but this arc had so much Kinzo and while I understand his narrative importance I Do Not Like Him. The fact that Kinzo is in the Golden Land but Kuwadorian Beatrice isn't makes me want to throw bricks at things. Other than that though, absolutely stellar. I bawled at the ending. The next day I thought about it more, misinterpreted it, and cried more, then I thought about it more deeply and talked with friends, really started to understand the core messages, and sobbed even harder. As these things tend to go. This episode ruined my life. Would recommend.

4. Legend of the Golden Witch (Episode 1)

note: 4 and 3 are interchangeable I like them both a lot for different reasons

The first time I read this episode, I thought it was great. The further I got into Umineko, the better it got. Now, with a full understanding of the plot and knowing how this chapter serves as self-reflection through the other (Sayo via Natsuhi) it serves as probably the most raw glimpse into Sayo's mindset we get. This episode ruins me and I'm pretty sure when I inevitably reread it I am going to dissolve into a puddle of goo. Also Natsuhi is there and she's my favorite of the matriarchs so I'm a little bit biased :)

3. Banquet of the Golden Witch (Episode 3)

This is one of the funniest pieces of literature I have ever read in my life. EVA-Beatrice, the entire sob story (that I, like Battler, fell for completely), the two towers fight scene... 10/10 no notes. I don't even have the words for how much I adored this one. I wish I could read it again for the first time.

2. Alliance of the Golden Witch (Episode 4)

Ok so fun fact I thought this arc was kinda boring at first, and was a little miffed I had to constantly go through Ange's little side quests when I just wanted to see Beatrice and Battler again. Fortunately, Ryukishi has a beautiful way of changing my mind very very quickly and the more I think about this Episode the more I love it. It has some of the most powerful emotional moments, a really good rehashing of the themes, and is a lot tighter and more condensed than I gave it credit for. There's a LOT that happens in this chapter, and it's been growing on me a lot-- while it doesn't take the number one spot in terms of my favorites, I do think it's the best written of the 8 episodes. As a bonus it focuses a lot on Maria who is one of the best characters ever and my darling baby angel.

End of the Golden Witch (Episode 5)

This is the platonic ideal of Umineko to me. The layers of metanarrative, the perversion of a formula to reiterate its structure, the use of genre conventions as a dual-use in-universe and metanarrative element, Erika. End of the Golden Witch is when I changed from someone who loved Umineko to someone who was obsessed with Umineko. The ending is one of the most visceral parts of the VN and I will fully admit I cried. There is so much happening in this episode I could talk about it all day. Also Natsuhi is there. Hey girlie <3

[bleach-your-panties]

💔the pathological liar - pro hero! yo shindou x fem! pro hero! gf! reader

warnings: characters aged up to 20+, lying, cheating, arguing, manipulation, gaslighting, sexual activities, non-con (reader does say no), dub-con, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, name-calling, physical struggles, physical fighting (one-sided, so assault?), reader has a smart ass mouth and is kinda toxic as well, slight!yandere!yo, toxic relationships, toxic mindsets, false imprisonment, triggering subject at the end. read at your own risk!

☠️: some dialogue/actions inspired by true events.

💔: banner images from pinterest. 

💔: banner made by me with canva. 

post themes: say my name - destiny's child

                      confessions, parts I & II - usher

                      take a bow - rihanna

                      shake it off - mariah carey

💔 3.5k words

💔read in dark mode for best experience!

🖤series 🖤touya.

—--

—--

I know you say that I am assuming things

Something's going down that's the way it seems

Shouldn't be no reason why you're acting strange

If nobody's holding you back from me

'Cause I know how you usually do

When you're saying everything to me times two

Why can't you just tell the truth?

If somebody's there, then tell me who

—--

"Baby, ain't nothing good. It's all bad."

—--

'Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system: 

"Shindou, Yo". Cannot come to the phone right now, please leave your message at the tone-'

Before the recording could finish, you were throwing your iPhone across your bed as you shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders.

Your boyfriend, Yo Shindou, never answered his phone when you called. Never when you called, but he'd always immediately send a text or call you back hours later, claiming that his phone was dead or that he'd misplaced it somewhere at the agency. 

Like now, for example. 

'ding'

'Sorry babe, got caught up in something last minute at the agency. Call you back when I'm home. Love you.'

You scoffed as you read over the message.

You wouldn't be getting a call back, that much you knew for certain.

With a sudden urge to be petty, you texted back:

'Something like what, Yo? Another bitch's pussy? Yeah, people at my agency are starting to talk and guess who's the topic of conversation? Just know that the label of 'cheating boyfriend' won't do your "picture perfect" image any justice. Bitch.'

After hitting send, you tossed the phone back onto your bed and that was where it would lay until you got out of the shower. 

As soon as your bathroom door closed, the phone vibrated with another text. 

'Oh, so we're doing this shit again? Bet. I'll be over in 20.'

—

After moisturizing your body and putting on some pajamas, you climbed into bed and pulled out the book that you'd been reading. Leaving your phone discarded somewhere in the covers.

It was starting to get to one of the more interesting parts when a chorus of loud, booming knocks came on your front door.

"Who in the fuck?" You threw the covers back furiously and slipped your fluffy slippers on. 

You walked out of your room and down the hallway, the beating at the door only growing more intense as you sucked your teeth.

"I'm coming, dammit!"

Pulling the door open without checking the peephole first would be your first mistake of the night.

When the messy mop of dark locks, green/yellow hero uniform, and chiseled pecs came into your view, you immediately tried to slam the door shut. Yo wasn't having any of that.

He grabbed the edge of the door, wedging half of his body inside of your apartment before he pushed it forward with force, making it slam and bounce off of the wall. 

Once his boots made contact with the carpeted floor of your apartment, you took multiple steps back, putting about two feet of distance between the two of you.

"What's wrong, baby? You don't look too happy to see me."

Scoffing harshly, you bit your bottom lip between your teeth as you glared up at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Beating on my goddamn door like you've lost your mind. Thought you were caught up in something? That just goes to show that all you do is fucking lie. You bitch." 

Yo just looked at you with his face scrunched up. He was clearly irritated with your antics, especially the name-calling. Kicking off his boots, he began to walk towards you. 

"Stop fucking being difficult, Y/N. You know, baby, if you missed me and wanted some dick, all you had to do was ask nicely." 

He said in that irritating, condescending tone that he always uses when talking to those that he feels are beneath him. You being one of those. Even though you're a pro-hero just like he is. 

Not believing what you were hearing, your mouth dropped open. You could feel the blood begin to rise in your ears, loud and whooshing against your skull. 

A dry chuckle then left your lips. 

"You think…that all of this is because I want some dick? Trust me, sweetie, if I just wanted some dick I could go get it from any one of your co-workers. A lot of them have been giving me the eye, you know. Especially since you're never around and I just changed up my hero uniform, so the skirt is short-" 

Yo cut you off by grabbing you by the biceps and yanking you towards him, making you stumble and throw your arms out to try to balance yourself before he then slammed you up against the wall. 

"Don't fucking play with me, Y/N. If you know what's good for you, you'll think twice about trying to entertain one of those bastards. Especially-" 

"Especially who? Bakugou? Oh, he'd be my first choice if I were to step out on you." You smirked up at him. 

He snarled. Your smirk widened as you could physically hear him grinding his teeth. 

Yo was quiet for a moment, just glaring at you as you stared right back at him with a bored look on your face. You even went as far as to yawn.

"Yeah, it's not so fun when the rabbit has the gun, huh?" 

He didn't answer, but instead pulled you off of the wall and hoisted you up over his shoulder. A big hand came up and smacked forcefully against your ass. 

"That's alright. I know how to fix you." He chortled darkly, moving away to begin walking down the hallway to your bedroom. 

"I don't want your community ass dick! Put me down, Yo!" 

He just ignored you and kicked open the door to the room. 

"Sure you don't. You always do this shit to get my attention, Y/N. Catch an attitude, start a stupid ass argument, and then I fuck it out of you. Same shit, different goddamn day, baby." 

Yo said after tossing you onto the bed, making your forgotten phone flop onto the floor. He gave it a puzzled look. 

"Oh, so that's why you seemed so surprised to see me. You didn't read my text." 

He chuckled, reaching to grab your hip to flip you over onto your stomach as if you were a pancake. 

Rough hands began to caress your feet, ankles, and legs, all the way up to your inner thighs and bottom of your ass cheeks, just under the hem of your nightdress. 

"No panties? Yeah, you were definitely planning on getting dicked down tonight, you needy little slut." 

SMACK

SMACK 

Your back arched off of the bed at the painful stinging of Yo's slaps. His hands felt heavy as lead as they connected with your soft flesh. 

SMACK

SMACK

SMACK

"Where are you going? Thought you liked when I spank you, huh?"

Yo wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you back when you tried crawling up the bed to escape him.

"Stop it, Yo…hurts…" You whined. 

"It hurts, Yo, please stop." He mocked. "Stop being a fucking brat, then."

He grabbed one of your ass cheeks and squeezed hard, making you moan out involuntarily. 

"Moaning like this but you don't want my dick? I bet you're dripping fucking wet for me right now, Y/N. Dare me to check?"

You didn't respond, which prompted Yo to do as he suggested and slip two fingers underneath you between your ass cheeks to get to your slick folds.

"Damn baby, all this for me, yeah? Only me."

He growled. With his large hand, he covered your entire bare pussy and activated his Quirk.

A harsh shiver wracked through your entire body, another soft moan leaving your lips. Yo only pressed harder, moving his fingertips to graze over your clit repeatedly.

"Y-Yo…please, daddy…" You whined, making him smirk down at you. He increased the vibration of his fingers along with rubbing your clit from side to side.

"Say you're sorry for bringing up Bakugou and I might let you feel this fat dick next..." Yo rested his upper body against your back and snaked his free arm under you to hold you up off the bed just a bit.

"No..I'm…n-not sorry. I meant it. Oh fuck!" 

Yo grimaced before grabbing you and flipping you back over onto your back. 

"What did you say?" 

Your e/c eyes were wet with unshed tears as you frowned up at his handsome face. You didn't falter.

"You heard me." 

"I thought I told you that if you know what's good for you, you won't even think about that motherfucker!" He seethed.

"I obviously don't know what's good for me if I'm still fucking around with you!"

Before you knew what was happening, Yo had pinned you to the bed by your throat. Moving between your legs, he used his knees to spread them.

"Yo, stop!"

"Shut up, bitch. You'll learn to stop pissing me off one day."

His belt hit the bed as he undid it, his black pants and underwear soon following it. You tried to pull your legs up, but he surged forward, pushing his hard dick inside you with one thrust.

Head falling back against the soft mattress, you couldn't help but keen as Yo began a rough, fast pace. He gripped your calf to pull you closer and stretch you open wider for him.

"Yes, Yo…right there! I'm going to cum!" 

Yo grunted in response, trying to hold back from cumming himself.

"Yeah, baby? My fingers got you all ready to cum on my dick? Let it go then, oh shit." 

He sped up even more, making your free breasts bounce outside of your nightgown and the headboard hit the wall. It already had a small dent in it from your previous heated romps, but neither of you seemed to care very much.

It could be painted over once you moved out.

"Oh God, I…!" 

Your release splashed against Yo's pelvis and drenched the sheets beneath you.

"Ah, fuck. Yeah, made that little pussy squirt, huh? Stay still for me, baby. I'm about to nut." 

Your eyes widened. "Yo, no. You're not wearing a condom and I haven't replaced my NuvaRing yet!" 

It had been out for five days now while you waited on your doctor to send in a new prescription. 

That didn't stop him. Either he was too deep into his impending orgasm to hear you, or he was flat out ignoring you. 

"Yo!"

"SHIT! AGHH!" 

Blind fury clouded your vision while Yo's was clouded for a completely different reason altogether.

"Damn…" He breathed out, making sure to stay deep inside you until he was finished cumming.

Once you got your bearings, you sat up abruptly, making Yo stumble back onto his elbows. He sucked his teeth once he saw your angered face. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart? You don't want to have my baby?"

"Yo, we're both in our early 20's at the height of our hero careers. We're nowhere near ready for a damn baby!" 

The raven-haired man was about to respond until a soft, vibrating sound silenced the both of you.

You slowly swung your legs over the side of the bed, searching for the source of the noise.

Bending down, you surveyed the floor briefly. Your forgotten cell phone lay halfway underneath the bed.

It's not your phone going off. 

Yo could've been mistaken for a ghost; you watched his face blanch white while he patted the pockets of his discarded pants searching for the missing device.

A race against time, but you spotted it first.

With the rectangular device being tangled in your covers, Yo almost knocked you off the bed trying to get to it, but you were way faster than him. It was already in your hand.

tatas💕: my appointment is at 3pm tomorrow. are you going to be able to make it?

You scrunched your nose and swatted Yo's hand away while reading the text.

"Appointment? What is this about, and why does Tatami need you there?"

Cold e/c eyes turned to stone while you watched Yo fidget nervously. This is one of the only times you've seen him like this; the other when he asked you out for the first time.

"Y/N…do you love me?"

"What kind of question is that, Yo? If I didn't, would I still be with you?"

"Unconditionally?"

Your nose scrunched. Something isn't right…

You knew all about Tatami. Yo's ex-girlfriend from high school. He told you that he broke it off during their third year because she was becoming too clingy. You'd even met her once, when you had a joint mission with her agency.

"Yes…"

"Say you'll never leave me?"

Oh hell no. He was asking too many questions now.

"What did you do, Yo? Huh?!" 

He just hung his head. His phone vibrated again in your hand. 

----

Everything that I've been doing is all bad

I've got a chick on the side

With the crib and the ride 

I've been telling you so many lies 

Aint none good, it's all bad

And I just wanna confess, it's been going on so long 

Girl I been doing you so wrong and I want you to know that 

----

"Everytime you called my phone, I wasn't at the agency working overtime…I..I was with Tatami."

A long, loud sigh left your lips. Your free hand came up, knuckles resting against your forehead.

I don't want to look, but I know I have to…

"Y/N.." Yo warned.

new message

"Y/N, please, baby…"

tatas💕: i know the doctor said that we won't know the sex until about 20 weeks, but i can't help being so excited! we're possibly going to have a little yo running around soon! 👶🏻

Your grip on the phone tightened. 

----

If I could turn back the hands of time 

And start all over I would

Instead of everything being all bad, baby

Everything'll be all good

I know today is the day that I end all the lying and the playing and the bullshit, girl 

----

"Y/N, I'm sorr-" 

WHAM!

Your knuckles that you'd been resting against your forehead went across Yo's face at the speed of light. You punched him hard as hell in his face, making him tumble over and off the foot of the bed. The sight would've been hilarious if you weren't so fucking pissed.

"I knew I was right…." You chuckled. "I fucking knew it. You knew that she was pregnant, too. You've known for months."

Yo looked up at you with big, watery eyes full of regret. Almost like he was a different person entirely. 

One hand clutched his throbbing cheek. You'd hit him so hard that his lower lip busted. His perfect face would soon be discolored black and blue, across his forehead, nose (that was also bleeding now), and right eye.

"I'm sorry! Baby, I'm sorry!" 

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YO! YOU'RE ONLY SORRY BECAUSE YOU GOT FUCKING CAUGHT!"  You raged. You lunged off the bed at him and started hitting him everywhere, as hard as you could. You even grabbed two handfuls of his black hair and yanked his head around.

Yo finally grabbed your arms and pinned them against your chest. You'd grown exhausted, so you just let yourself fall against his naked chest.

A bitter chuckle, then the tears, hot and angry. You couldn't hold them any longer as you looked up at Yo, staring at his swollen, beaten face.

"You're so fucking ugly when you cry. What the fuck are you crying for, huh? I'm the one that got cheated on. Lied to, played with, manipulated." 

"Not only did you fucking lie to me and cheat on me, but you fucked around and got the bitch pregnant, too. This has got to be a joke."

Yo slowly crawled up from the floor with you in his arms, blood dripping down his nose and lip, staining the carpet, then the bedsheets while you covered your face with your hands and sobbed. 

He cradled you gently and laid his head against yours, lips kissing at the temples.

"Baby, please…we can work this out. I don't love her. I love you, but I…I still want to be there for the baby…"

Your brokenhearted wails only increased in volume.

"Don't cry, baby. I promise I'll be here for you and our baby, too."

—-

Three Months Later 

Yo made good on his word to be there for you.

Shortly after his "confession", you found out that you were pregnant as well.

Tatami is currently six months along, while you're only three.

Turns out that all of this was a part of Yo's twisted plan. 

Instead of your late birth control being due to your doctor's or the pharmacy's incompetence, it was Yo who called the doctor's office pretending to be your husband and had them cancel your refill request. 

Yo then demanded suggested that you take time off from hero work while you were carrying his child, which you slightly agreed with, but still did so with reluctance.

You don't know how he did it, but you guessed being one of the top 20 heroes carried with it a lot of weight for him to be able to take off enough to make it to all of yours and Tatami's appointments.

He even moved you out of your apartment and into his. Into your own room. 

The reason that you had your own room was because Tatami ended up losing her apartment due to being out of work, so Yo moved her in as well. 

With the way that the living arrangements had been set up, you and Tatami might as well have been sister wives.

To attempt to keep things "fair" between the both of you, Yo would designate certain nights where either of you would get to sleep in the room with him. So neither of you would feel neglected by him.

His heart was in the right place, wasn't it? 

Even when you could clearly hear the whispered moans and soft creaking of the bed from Yo's room on Tatami's nights.

No matter how you tried to make yourself not hear it. 

Yo didn't want you stressing out, he claimed, so he bought you many expensive gifts and gadgets to help you get a good night's rest.

None of them worked. 

Not when the walls in that apartment were paper thin.

Many nights you cried and raged to yourself. 

Obviously all of that stress wasn't healthy for the baby.

Which leads you to today.

A pair of dark sunglasses hiding your eyes along with a long trench coat and hat to conceal the rest of your persona.

They were loud and jarring as you walked in, but your world had gone numb three months ago. Now you were trapped inside your own world as you stepped up three flat steps into a white, brick building. 

A ghost clutching a brown clipboard only made the atmosphere even gloomier before whisking you away from the judgemental eyes and into a plainly decorated room with blue walls.

She read over the papers first then handed the clipboard to you, one more questioning look being shot your way. 

You just gave a simple nod.

—-

"You have reached the voicemail box of L/n, Y/n. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!"

BEEP.

Yo sighed heavily and put his head in his hands before standing up to walk out of your completely barren bedroom.

Before he closed the door, he whispered softly,

"Why, Y/n?" 

Your location on his phone showed him exactly where you were.

—-

Gotta make that move 

Find somebody who

Appreciates all the love I give

Boy, I gotta 

Gotta do what's best for me

Baby and that means I gotta shake you off

—--

a/n: i think this piece was a pretty strong start to the series! i'm really proud of it! stay tuned, there's plenty more bullshit to come!

*remember, if you get angry enough at your partner that you feel like wanting to put your hands on them, just walk away! 

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Hi, Hello, Hi.

I'm the anon that previously asked for your advice on wether I should start watching Gotham, especially for BatJokes and I have to tell you that since then, not only I started it but I've currently finished 3x06 and good god.

PENGUIN AND NYGMA.

I NEEDED A WARNING FOR WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM??!! 3X06 left me gagging and screaming and throwing up- what do you mean Oswald was rehearsing how to tell Ed that he LOVED HIM(!!!!) over a nice dinner(!!!) while SMH the writers thought to fuck him up again by having Kristen/Isabella appear in front of Nygma again???? I LEGIT SCREAMED "COWARDS!!!" IN MY BEDROOM AND WENT TO GET SOME AIR. Sorry if it's too long but goddamn the frustration is ON. I wanted to watch more but I decided to calm down a bit and resume the watch some other time this week because dhdjdjdkdjdm. And the fact that these scenes may not even be the worst that I'm gonna see......ha. I'm in danger. But damn I'm so glad I have them two to distract myself before the insanity that will be BatJokes :) *sorry once more for the length, I may come back(?) if I need to scream again-*

Good morning bestie you inhaled the series hhhh. much respect very kodus

And i cackled at the capslock PENGUIN AND NYGMA, i live for the fact that everyone gets into Gotham FOX for one thing or another and everyone gets absolutely BLINDSIDED by Oswald and Edward out of the left field, noone ever sees it coming, it's one suckerpunch of a surprise. But also YES i feel you, i lost count on the number of times i screamed "COWARDS!!!!" at my laptop in my first watch, and no, these absolutely are not the most gutwrenching scenes you'll be subjected to in Gotham lol

Goodluck and godspeed on your pious and perilous journey, and absolutely feel free to drop by and yell at me about Gotham anytime 😁❤️💕

[fernsnailz]

February 2024 Review Roundup

well i sure did watch some stuff and read one book this month

the things i finished this month reminded me that for every incredible piece of art i find myself enjoying, i end up watching some Hot Garbage immediately after to balance things out again. idk why i do this.

i have quite a bit to say about both the things i enjoyed and the things that brought me physical pain this month, so there is um. a lot under the cut. any previous desire for brevity i had in january has been completely thrown out the window as i use these roundups as an outlet to gush about things i like and complain about things i didn't. fair warning, if you open the readmore you will be scrolling for a while. enjoy i guess

House of Leaves

does any other book out there have the balls to write a completely fake interview with stephen king

House of Leaves is a novel you gotta throw around a little bit. It feels really weird that my copy is still in the pristine state I bought it in - It seems like it should have water damage and smell like mildew with its pages falling out and spine cracked into pieces. Getting the full story from this book requires flipping back and forth, turning it around, searching for answers. All things considered it’s not that difficult of a read, but its format still allows you to feel like you’re discovering every hidden piece for yourself, and I really liked that interactivity. I was engaged pretty much the whole way through.

I don’t really think I’ll be able to revisit this book anytime soon though. It’s difficult for me to format what else I’d like to say about it because to be honest, it caught me off guard and disturbed me on a fairly personal level. There’s a relief I feel when I remember that I don’t actually know what was going on with the house - maybe that was intentional on the book’s behalf, maybe I just didn’t look hard enough for answers. I don’t know. But the implication that something divine was down there was enough of an answer for me. The book's good. read it if you want a spooooooky time or if you never want to look at a hallway the same way again

Doctor Who (Series 1-4) (rewatch)

ok so this is a fuckload of doctor who to cover so i’m gonna give some thoughts on a few of the characters and my favorite + least favorite episodes

9th doctor: My favorite butch lesbian. Christopher Eccleston truly embodies the concept of The Doctor so, so well: otherworldly guy who knows too much, genuinely cares about life across the universe, and also has a bit of deep, unresolved rage. His moments of joy and careless fun stick with me the most, he absolutely radiates with life and brings so much to this character.

Rose: I first watched Doctor Who when I was in middle school, and I didn’t like Rose that much back then. And guys. I have bad news. I'm still not really much of a Rose fan

I definitely understood her more this watch through - that desire for adventure and some sort of control over her life, emotions so strong that she’s willing to throw near everything away. That’s just what being 19 is like sometimes. I think Rose is a very compelling character who just happens to frustrate me a bit. And that’s kinda the point, her co-dependent relationship with the Doctor is doomed to fail and it's meant to hurt. Ultimately, I think when I first watched the show I was too young to understand Rose, and now I’m just too old to relate to her.

Captain Jack: Jack is my favorite character. I fucking love this guy. Dude has the worst luck in the whole universe and still cannot be stopped. Legendary. Every episode with him is a goddamn delight because he has so much chemistry with every single cast member. No notes 10/10 i love my problematic bisexual king

10th doctor: About four episodes into David Tennant’s run I realized that he dresses like a Hazbin Hotel character and it made me very sad. Still, there’s a reason this guy inspired every middle schooler to buy a pair of converse in 2008. He has style, he has depth, he’s got the sauce. It’s genuinely terrifying to see his anger, I like that a lot of 10’s run is about his denial of godhood and power over life in the universe, something that the rest of the time lords desired. idk i like my sad pathetic little weasel but he's also a huge fucking asshole sometimes which sucks. especially when it's directed at Martha.

Martha: Martha I am so sorry for what this show put you through. Martha was my favorite companion when I first watched the show, and I still have a huge soft spot for her. Her ability to hold her own and navigate foreign worlds using her own intelligence absolutely rules, and her drive forward is unbreakable. But the show seems to put her down at every possible opportunity, most notably with how 10 treats her. Her struggles and wants are constantly ignored, and she's often treated as a rebound from Rose. And I like that she eventually chooses to end it by not traveling with 10 anymore, but it hurts because it feels like she was never given the same chance or care that Rose and Donna were. This era of Doctor Who really doesn’t treat its black companions well because Mickey goes through something similar - both Martha and Mickey are characters designed to be ignored or left behind, and it sucks.

Donna: Donna Noble is one of the greatest fictional characters to ever exist. Despite seemingly living a fairly average life and working a fairly average job, Donna reflects the idea that no one is truly "average" and every single person is brimming with personality, life, and love. I love that her relationship with 10 is purely platonic, personally their friendship feels like it has a lot more depth than either of the romance-oriented relationships 10 had with Rose and Martha. 10 and Donna bounce off of each other so well and it's delightful, Donna brings so much humor and life to every world she's taken to and it's incredible. I wish her and Captain Jack could have interacted more.

My favorite episode: The Runaway Bride is hard to not choose as my favorite. I have a blast every time I watch this episode and it’s such a good introduction for Donna. Also the Tardis car chase kills me, I love when it cuts to the kids in the back of another car clapping and cheering. I was also surprised by the episode Midnight - it’s dreadful to watch and I kinda loved it. So much spirals out of control when shit hits the fan, even though no one has any idea what they’re trying to fight against. Really interesting exploration as to how fear can drive people apart.

My least favorite episode: It’s Love & Monsters. I wish I liked this episode - stories that follow regular ass people living in this world are often some of the best episodes in the series (Weeping Angels and all that). And this episode definitely has some of that. It’s honestly really touching to see this group of nerds get together and enjoy life in the first part of the episode. I think the antagonist of “guy who absorbs people” ends up dragging down any charm this story had because he just. eats all of the interesting characters. But despite me disliking this episode, I honestly have a deep respect for it - it’s fucking crazy. It ends with the main guy telling us about his sex life with his girlfriend who is now stuck in a piece of concrete. Where else are you going to get a story like this. It fucking sucks and that’s hilarious

oh also the production design: GODDDDDD I FUCKING LOVE THE PRODUCTION DESIGN AND SETS ON THIS SHOW. I love how dirty and rundown a lot of the spaceship sets look with wires and lights scattered everywhere. And a number of alien designs also go CRAZY with the prosthetics - I keep thinking about the Hath from The Doctor’s Daughter and how every head prosthetic had liquid inside it that could bubble. Absolutely crazy. I also love the moments where you can clearly see they did not have that much time and just had to throw something together or pain a bald cap green. Jank is the nature of sci-fi production design and I dearly love and miss that Doctor Who jank.

Rebuild of Evangelion

Last year after finishing the original Evangelion series + End of Evangelion, I remember going through the Evangelion tumblr tag and being very confused by the number of slice of life/found family-esque fanworks of the cast. It left me puzzled and thinking “...did we even watch the same thing??”

APPARENTLY NOT

[spoiler warning here because these movies are very good and i give the best parts away. if you want to watch these movies then DO IT NOW!!!!!!!!]

I honestly never expected a world where these characters got a happy ending. I so, so badly wish I could see 3.0 and 3.0+1.0 in theaters - these movies are stunning. I know I say things “go crazy” a lot, but man. They go fucking CRAZY.

While I have a few issues with how the first two movies adapted the original show, I do think the changes they made better serve the story this rebuild is trying to tell. For example, my favorite episode in the original Eva series is episode 18, where Toji is chosen to pilot Unit 03. It’s absolutely terrifying because Shinji doesn’t know who 03’s pilot is, yet he’s forced to be inside Unit 01 as it tears 03 apart. His resolve not to kill anyone despite not even knowing who’s in danger is an aspect of that episode I love and speaks to Shinji's inherent humanity, and when he learns Toji was in there it hurts even more. The rebuild movies change Unit 03’s pilot to Auska, and Shinji knows she’s in there from the start. I think this choice works for the movies and is still an effective emotional beat, but personally I still prefer the version where Shinji had no idea who was in there. That lack of knowledge is infinitely more terrifying to me.

I really like what these movies did with some of the angel designs though. The sixth angel (the fuckin. blue diamond cube thing) works really well in 3D/CG animation. The way the thing warps and moves is otherly and terrifying - and it’s just a fucking cube. I’ve always really loved how the Eva series approaches angel designs and the divine - despite the alien-like designs, there’s often something extremely familiar about them. They’re often reminiscent of an animal, a machine, or a human. This is also how they approached the anti-universe in these movies, I loved how it takes the form of various locations from the series and turns them into a movie set. It’s deeply familiar, but ultimately just an illusion of familiarity like the angels and the divine.

Also I gotta say. I fucking love Mari. I think she’s hilarious. She first meets Shinji by accidentally parachuting into him and then immediately starts crawling on all fours to sniff him. This girl also introduces “Beast Mode” where the Eva pilots can go wild turn their mechs into a fucking. superpowered beast of some sort. And also she defeats a whole army by using the Eiffel Tower as a spear. She’s such an absurd character and I honestly kinda love it. The only thing I knew about these movies before watching them was this gif of her Backing That Shit Up and she truly lives up to the insane nature of this shot.

My favorite section of these movies is definitely the first part of 3.0+1.0 where the pilots are basically just living a domestic life in a small town - it’s truly beautiful. The growth that Rei’s copy goes through here is fantastic, I love stories about seemingly emotionless beings learning how to live. And right after she dies, we get the shot that absolutely broke me the first time I saw it:

This shit. The way you can just barely tell he’s been crying from the red around his eyes. They don't talk about it, they barely linger on it, but it's allowed just enough time to punch you in the gut. I don’t know why this shot got me as hard as it did but goddamn. jesus christ. i want to throw up

There’s some goofy shit in these movies. The infinite synch rate. Misato’s stupidass hat and sunglasses. Some goofy ass 3D animation that doesn’t age super well. The rainbow that shows up every time an angel dies. But these things really didn’t take me out of the core of these films, and there’s so much genuine emotion and beauty in this series that had me absolutely hooked - especially in the last two films. They go crazy. My favorite line is 100% “The only thing a son can do for his father is pat him on the shoulder… or kill him.” and man. ain’t that what Evangelion is all about. i love these movies

High School Musical 3

kinda slaps just a little bit

High School Musical 3 starts with a finale number. The last high school basketball game of Troy Bolton’s life - and it goes kinda hard. The classic pep band brass that’s essential to so many High School Musical numbers returns, and the constant theme of two feuding cheer teams in the background? Genius. This is truly art. I love listening to Now or Never without visuals because in the middle Troy just starts coughing and gagging seemingly out of nowhere

Unfortunately, starting the movie at such a high point means that the rest of the runtime doesn’t quite match up to it. The story lags and meanders quite a bit, but part of me kinda appreciates that - it’s their last semester of high school, which is always a time of confusion and turmoil. However, I do have a pitch for how they could have countered the constant falling action this movie seems to go through:

The Wildcats should have lost their last game at the beginning of the movie.

What if the game is instead the inciting incident that leads Troy and his besties through their tumultuous last semester? Troy is still torn between basketball and theater, but his identity would be even further challenged here - is winning and success all that matters for him, or is it the love of sport and performance that keeps him going? idk whatever this movie came out 16 years ago i can’t be out here writing AUs for it jgnfsgfnjdksg

Some miscellaneous thoughts about this movie that i don’t care about formatting into larger paragraphs:

Ryan and Sharpay’s number (I Want It All) slaps as usual. The part where Ryan shouts “MADISON SQUARE GARDEN!!!!!!!” makes me so happy every time i hear it

The production design and sets go absolutely fucking crazy. I still have no idea how they pulled off the spinning hallway in Scream.

One of the classic staples of HSM is Chad’s shirts. Most of them are fairly silly and like something you would expect to find in the walmart clearance section. However, there’s one shirt he has in this movie that confused the hell out of me. It’s this one:

What the FUCK does Greenster mean. Is it just a combination of Green and Monster?? Why??? What green monster are we talking about here????? Where the fuck did this shirt come from?????????

Avatar The Last Airbender (2024)

There’s really only one word I can think of to describe what this show is like: sauceless. No flavor. No depth. No character. No sauce. This show is honestly so fucking boring and seems to fundamentally misunderstand what the appeal of the original Avatar series is - not necessarily because things are changed or removed from the original, but because nothing of substance is added in return. 

Most of the characters are mere echoes of their original counterparts when compared to their source material. Sokka is reduced to a guy who wants to fight good, Katara’s stubborn and confrontational nature is very rarely utilized, and Aang’s mischievous antics and love of fun is sorely missing. One of the major reasons for the dull interpretations seems to be the directing - While I have faith that most of these actors are trying their best (especially since a number of them are kids/young adults), the direction seems to be incredibly lackluster and takes away nearly every cast member’s stage presence or personality. There’s a number of reaction shots of the main trio that just look like this: 😐😐😐 as if they were just told to “look concerned” at the events unfolding before them. And these issues are apparent in the majority of the performances - for example, General Zhao talks like he’s in a board meeting up until the last episode, and it’s an incredibly flat performance. He talks somewhat monotone in the original series as well, but this live-action take on the character often meanders with his dialogue and lacks that sharp, terrifying quality that I think this character needs. Uncle Iroh also feels incredibly stiff in this adaptation, and it’s a goddamn crime that they took away the cunty little outfit and chains he was originally wearing when he gets captured by earthbenders. wait who said that

Credit where credit is due, there’s a few cast members that seem to be giving their best. It’s clear that Aang’s actor enjoys the role and does pretty well despite the lackluster direction and dialogue he’s given. On top of that, I think Zuko’s actor is honestly the best part of the show. His take on Zuko leans much more into teenage tendencies and sarcasm, which, although it can be silly, is a welcome take of the character in my opinion and pretty fun to watch. There’s this one line he has at the beginning of episode 2 where, in an incredibly whiny tone of voice, he goes “He RAN! The ultimate warrior! He’s a Coward :((((“ and the read is so. fucking funny

The case of bad direction isn’t limited to the performances, however. It’s also stunningly apparent in how everything is shot. Despite being in a widescreen format, most shots are incredibly centered - you could crop the entire runtime into a 4:3 frame and you wouldn’t be cutting out much of anything. I’ve seen some speculation that this was an intentional choice to make things more adaptable or readable for TikTok/phone video, but honestly I think that’s a dumb take. I think the issue stems from a lack of creativity and thoughtless composition. Keeping everything staged in the center can make shots feel disjointed, lacking much depth, or completely empty. It’s a boring way to shoot and indicates that the show lacks any unique vision at all.

Overall, this show doesn't really seem to understand what makes Avatar interesting in the first place. It's more interested in spectacle and action than the characters' relationships, emotions, and mistakes. I try not to compare it too much to the original since it's allowed to take liberties with its adaptation, but very few of its changes add much to the end result or give it a unique voice. It's just sauceless and boring.

Some YouTube videos i liked in February:

💥 My House.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod (some supplemental House of Leaves material for ya) 💥 Martha Jones Deserved Better (this video explains how Doctor Who did Martha dirty better than i ever could) 💥 bringing JUSTICE to the worst garfield game 💥 Selling Kids for Clout: The Downfall of Family Channels

And that’s my roundup for February! Thank you for reading, I promise there are no more reviews left to scroll through below this goodbye. Nope, nothing else I watched this month. Bye!

…ok is everyone gone. phew, i’m glad no one noticed i pulled an hbomberguy and hid the largest part of this post under a false ending. Anyway holy shit i need to talk about hazbin hotel

Hazbin Hotel

well i didn’t like it

Hazbin Hotel is a weird, fascinating mess of a show. Every episode left me wondering what creative decisions (or lack thereof) led to the sequence of images I just watched. There’s been a lot of discussion of this show recently and I’m not interested in covering every critique I have, but there’s a few things that I'd like to talk about somewhat in-depth.

Hell is real and it's just Red Chicago

The setting of Hell is kinda boring in this show.

Let me try to put this into perspective. Aside from the hotel, here’s a list of the locations we see in Hell:

A boardroom

A video store

Vox’s evil lair (it has cyber sharks which is kinda cool)

Various streets

Another boardroom

A BDSM club

Carmilla’s house (it’s gray and has. balconies?)

A porn studio

A bar

Another bar

A town square (full of cannibals)

None of these locations really take on any sort of otherworldly form besides some vague demonic imagery scattered throughout (and the cannibals. i guess. whatever). In short, Hazbin Hotel’s setting resembles Chicago more than it does Hell.

I can see a world where that’s intentional. Perhaps making Hell resemble a modern city could be used as a thematic tool or point of relatability? But Hazbin doesn’t really do anything like that - since the characters rarely ever interact with their environments, these locations end up seeming like they lack creativity, like they’re just cardboard sets where characters go to swear. They all start to blend together after a while - every street feels the same, every boardroom fades into the background, and every bar feels like a google image search result for the word “club.” This world feels stunningly empty despite the busy designs and colors. Even though the backgrounds are painted and designed fairly well, nothing of substance is ever really added to them through the story.

However, a few musical numbers take effort to break away from these settings. This felt like a weight off of my shoulders whenever it happened, it was nice to see some interesting setpieces and backgrounds that weren’t red. I liked the bombastic and over-the-top broadway lights in Loser and the glowing alternate world in Charlie and Lucifer’s song. But these moments are few and crowded by the dull locations in Hell - or worse, the Hotel itself.

Despite being the namesake of the show, the actual Hazbin Hotel is… lifeless. Which, yeah, it’s a hotel where dead people go in the afterlife, but it’s missing any sort of personality or history besides “it’s old and falling apart.” I expected the hotel to be full of secrets - like maybe some hidden passages or rooms, or mysterious cabinets full of rotted meats, or old valuables hidden under the rugs by the previous owners. Something for the cast to explore and discover, and as they get closer to each other they also start to understand the hotel more. Alastor seems very intent on keeping the physical hotel standing for some reason, but I never really understood why. There’s nothing there. And that nothingness is fully realized when at the end of the show, they just rebuild the entire hotel to be grand and beautiful - an emotional beat that didn’t hit me at all because I never felt like I knew the hotel in the first place. Despite rebuilding it from the ground up, it will feel just as empty.

3 SHOTS THAT DRIVE ME CRAZY

I was truly baffled at how some of these scenes are timed and put together. Multiple sequences left me feeling nauseous and dazed - the camera moves like it’s being swung on the end of a rope, and there’s so many misplaced or meaningless cuts scattered through these episodes.

There’s a sequence of three shots in the first episode that I want to dissect. I will fully admit that I'm breaching nitpicking territory here, but the shot composition issues in this show are pretty rampant and my analysis here is just a hyper-specific look at a single part of that larger problem. Hopefully you can also use it as a quick storyboarding lesson too idk

First, we see Adam teasing Charlie.

Then, it cuts straight to this shot:

A few things here. 

Shot 2 is just closer on the characters, which is not a great idea to cut to after the previous waist-up shot. On top of being a jarring jump cut, there is no purpose for this new shot. All the information we see here (Adam laughs, Charlie fake laughs) could have just been conveyed in the previous shot.

Despite the characters being in the same position as the last shot, the background changes. This straight up just feels like an error. I think the idea is supposed to be that the camera is at a different angle, but the position of the characters does not convey that. It looks like reality changes behind them.

And if that’s not enough, this is the shot we get immediately after those two:

In this shot, the residents of the hotel sit on the couch as Vaggie walks into the shot, framing them between her legs. But there’s something… off.

Vaggie either looks like she’s floating or she’s three stories tall. Quick storyboard lesson as to why:

The main problem with this shot is that the perspective of the background doesn’t match up with where Vaggie is placed. The couch is framed as if the camera were above it, but Vaggie is framed like the camera is floor-level below her. I’ve traced the shot and added a perspective grid to hopefully better illustrate this:

Do you see what I mean? If the camera WAS actually on the floor like Vaggie’s position in the shot suggests, the composition would look more like this:

Notice how much closer the floor grid is to the bottom of the frame and how you can see the underside of the couch.

And to be fair, this is probably what the original storyboard for this shot looked like! Personally I think something went wrong in the compositing stage - this might be a couch background from another shot that was reused here to save time, or whoever approved this shot just let the error slide since the shot is so short (i've been there. sometimes you let the jank slide). Most animated shows will have some poorly framed shots and continuity errors because mistakes are bound to happen, but two egregious ones right next to each other like this is. pretty bad. It's so noticeable from a directing perspective.

Here’s the thing: these three shots happen in the span of like 10 seconds. Most viewers probably wouldn’t notice these issues, and that's fine. But even though these errors are quick, they stack upon each other so fast that even if you can’t pinpoint exactly what’s wrong, something still feels wrong. There’s so many other moments where the show breaks extremely basic shot composition, continuity, and staging rules - for example, the second musical number of the show breaks the 180 rule like four times for no good reason. The whole show feels like a dizzy, nauseating mess because the shots rarely feel like they form anything cohesive.

MY ROOMMATE TOLD ME TO GO TO BED SO HERE ARE SOME FINAL THOUGHTS

Here’s a rundown on some other thoughts that I don’t care to format into larger sections:

The show seems to lack much to say about sin and redemption other than “redemption good.” like sure, but what are they being redeemed from? Is heaven truly the place they deserve to go after being redeemed, even though it’s shown to be unjust? Are there sins that are too great to be redeemed from, or others that shouldn't be considered sins at all? I asked myself a number of questions like this, but never got many answers from Hazbin.

This show has a bad relationship with kink and sex. Both are mostly used as a punchline or a form of control. I didn’t like it. Perhaps the reason Hazbin never really comments on the nature of sin is because it needs you to consider sex and kink sinful or otherly for these jokes to hit.

Some of the animation is crazy good. I will praise any animator that even attempts to make these character designs move. A number of extremely talented people worked on this show, a few of the musical sequences in particular have some incredible movement.

Alastor is a very boring character. It’s wild that most of the side characters in this show only exist to talk about how much they like or hate Alastor, he mostly just stands to the side of some shots or kills random nameless goons. I expected him to have a much larger role in the story, but he just gets his ass kicked in the final episode and then crawls back to the hotel.

Episode 4 is the most cohesive, and i think Angel is the best character in the show. Unfortunately, the fact that Hazbin takes so much effort to show Angel’s misery left me… concerned? None of the other characters get treated as poorly as Angel by the narrative. There’s a few smaller explorations of trauma, but nothing remotely compares to what Angel is put through on-screen. This isn’t to say that I think the whole cast needs to be extremely traumatized and constantly miserable, but rather that I find it concerning that the only character subjected to incredibly graphic abuse and torture (that we see or hear about) is the gay sex worker. Which sucks, because I think the concept of hypersexuality resulted from sexual abuse is an important topic worthy of discussing in adult media. I just think they tried to execute this theme without much critical thought beforehand.

I think the voice cast does a fantastic job for the most part. Keith David is way too good for Husk.

I really liked the one shot where Charlie opens her phone and we see that she has a contact for every individual egg minion.

I was very brave and got through this whole review without talking about my new least favorite character of all time, Vox. here’s what I think of him:

The overall vision and end result of Hazbin Hotel is just mediocre. While I don’t know what led to the messy state this show ended up in, my guess is that it was probably the result of inadequate direction, sloppy writing, and lacking creative support from the studios involved. Because of this, please understand that I have no desire or intention to put down any individual artists that worked on this show - I hope it's clear that most of my criticisms are directed at the larger vision these artists were given to execute and/or the lack of creative support they received while working on this show.

I also don’t really have much desire to participate in any further Hazbin discussion or discourse because it has wasted enough of my time already and I want to be free of this curse. please spare my inbox from hazbin hotel discourse. please. i'm begging.

You want to know what the most fucked up thing about this is though? Despite everything I said about Hazbin, Avatar the Last Airbender 2024 is still the worst show I watched this month. I would take Hazbin over Avatar 2024 literally any day.

well if you got this far. thanks for reading. also sorry you read all that. whelp alright back into my hole i go bye bye