#and even if I did it would be a whole pile of drama

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes

omg I love this, let's do it hehe

Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...

Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired

„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.

He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.

You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?

“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.

You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…

It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.

“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.

“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”

It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.

“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”

Little did he know you meant that.

-a week later-

“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”

His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.

“Oh, just work.”

No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.

Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.

You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…

“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“

“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.

Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-

He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.

“Off to bed with you.”

“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.

You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?

Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.

-a few days after-

“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.

You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.

But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.

“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”

Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.

“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”

With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.

“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.

“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.

“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.

“I’m completely back to normal!”

“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.

“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”

Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“

“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.

“The combat training with the first year-“

“Done.”

“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”

“Done.”

“Taking care of-“

“Done.”

This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?

“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”

Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.

“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.

“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”

“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.

“Call her in right now.”

Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.

“And let her leave again in about an hour.”

-an hour later-

“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.

You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.

But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?

“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.

“Ehm...so…well…”

“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“

“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.

“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.

“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”

“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.

“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”

“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”

It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…

You open the door with a swift motion.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.

The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.

He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.

“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.

“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.

“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.

But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-

Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…

“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.

You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.

And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…

“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.

You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.

He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.

“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.

“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”

Tags:

 @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix 

@lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete

@gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3

@sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly

@froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

@chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper

@baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp

@localhehecat @alicerhr @belovedvamp @wifenanami @dlwlrmas-world

@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy

(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 6

chapter 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 7

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after months in the wilderness, you finally arrive at chicago. adapting to this new life has its cons, but also its perks. joel's birthday is around the corner, and you have planned for a couple of things you hope he likes...

a/n: hiya! here's chapter six!! it's packed with a bit of everything, especially drama because why not? 🤷 i want to thank you all ― i just realised that the first 3 chapters have hit over 100 notes each! i'm so damn grateful to all of you, honestly. as much as i'm writing for myself, i'm loving how hooked some of you are with this story 😳 also, i'd like to apologise in advance if i have butchered chicago's layout or its history, i did try my best doing some research. as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. mention of Sarah's death. angst. fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). irresponsible use of contraception (don't do that). consensual somnophilia. dry humping. unprotected piv. masturbation (m and f). creampie. pussy slapping. fisting. squirting. cum play. a bit of assplay. makeup sex. sir kink. “bar” fight. alcohol consumption. blood. stabbing. swear words. mention of past racist events and the precursor to the chicago race riot of 1919. soft!dom!joel. a bit of aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is now 37 (🎉!). no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~6.9k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz

Chicago was definitely not what you had expected at all. Shit had gone down really badly in this place. It took you a week to cross the southwest area, keeping close to Interstate 55 as a reference. The worst you had seen was Chicago Midway International Airport. Airplanes had crashed on the runway, the esplanade was a makeshift cemetery even almost a year after Outbreak Day. Bodies piled on top of each other, fires would break out in the adjacent buildings. The control tower was completely dilapidated. And the grounds were full of clickers.

Tommy, Joel and you made it through the worst neighbourhoods. As you covered more miles, Tommy and Joel realised that this had not been the best idea. But you were already there, so the best option was to move forward. You all had to defend yourselves, and each other. Although the Miller brothers took out many attackers ―humans and infected alike―, you also had your good share of action. You didn’t like it, but you were good at shooting. Your clothes were stained with blood and sweat. You endured, and you survived. That was what mattered.

The whole city was in shambles, divided by two different groups: the government and the rebels. The government held the north side of the Chicago River, from River North Gallery District all the way to Old Town ― basically everything to the east of Interstate 90. The rebels, on the other hand, controlled the south ― all the movable bridges along the whole Wacker Drive, from New Eastside to Chinatown. Anything further south or north, and between Interstates 55 and 90, from Little Village to Naperville, was no man’s land.

You ended up on the rebels’ side randomly. Tommy was not very happy about it, blaming the communists for overpowering the government, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. If you tried to cross any bridge to go northwards, you would be shot at with no warning. From both sides.

It took a while to convince the Rioters ― that was how the rebels called themselves. Two weeks later, on the 20th of August, you were given a place to stay near the Art Institute of Chicago, which was also the operations base. You did try to integrate yourself in this society as you knew it was better to have more friends than foes. The Millers, however, kept to themselves ― Joel more than Tommy, as you had expected. No surprises there.

The flat you were in was in urgent need of repairs but was better than sleeping rough. You and Joel fixed as many things as you both could, while Tommy took cleaning very seriously. It wasn’t much, but it was the place you called home for the last month. The only downside was that it only had two bedrooms, so Joel and you sadly had to share the only double bed available, while Tommy had his own room.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself ― the last four weeks had been pure bliss in a sense. Waking up every day besides Joel had become a delightful habit. He had awakened you many a times either in the middle of the night or in the early morning to give him a hand. Literally. And you had done exactly the same thing when you had needed it. You were sure Tommy was sick and tired of you two, but you didn’t care.

You stretched out, still lying in bed. The morning light had not come through the curtains yet, but it soon would. You rubbed your eyes and then let your arms drop to your sides dramatically. You were not a morning person, but your sleeping schedule was all fucked up. You rolled to your other side in an attempt to get comfortable.

Joel was sleeping on his right side. You had noticed he usually did in the same position. When you had asked him why, he had explained his hearing in his right ear was messed up since his suicide attempt. You wished you could have been faster that day to prevent the gun from going off. Ah, the regrets you both had…

His back was towards you, him facing the door. Despite the repairs you all had done to the flat, it was still not the safest. Every night one of you would make sure all locks were engaged and would bar the front door. A few days ago, someone attempted to break in. Since then, all of you would sleep with a firearm nearby.

Today was Sunday ― 26th of September. Which meant it was Joel’s birthday, as well as the first anniversary of Outbreak Day. The anniversary of Sarah's death would be tomorrow too. You had tried to talk to Joel about today, but he didn’t seem to be interested in celebrating at all, which you completely understood. As much as you wanted to do something, you respected his decision. You had only planned for a couple of low-key things, which you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He had fallen asleep only with his briefs on, the bedsheet draping around his legs. You couldn’t see, but you were damn sure he had his arms crossed at his chest, always on guard. Your eyes dwelled on his upper body, two perfect dimples on his lower back. His shoulders were broad and toned, his waist smaller. He was not the most muscular guy you had ever seen, but he was perfect the way he was. His calloused hands had shown you multiple times how good he was for you, despite what he thought of himself.

You couldn’t resist, your mouth dry. Your fingertips traced the curve of his neck, then his left shoulder down to his elbow. Your hand caressed his left hip and slipped down to his front, following his V line. Your fingers touched the elastic of his briefs ― and something else.

You gulped down the knot in your throat, your heart beating harder in your chest, when your fingertips brushed over the damp tip of his cock. Joel’s morning wood was so prominent, his glans had slipped out of his underwear and was showing. You wetted your lips as you stroked him carefully. A deep, almost guttural growl flowed from Joel’s chest.

You got closer to him in bed, your nipples grazing the skin on his back even through your pyjamas. It probably wasn’t the best time ― you knew he was tired, but you wanted him so badly. Liquid fire was pooling in your furrow, knowing his erection was right there for you to play with.

Your internal battle didn’t last long.

You pulled down his briefs to free his warm dick. You didn’t need to look to know his shaft was resting against his happy trail, the head touching his belly button. With no hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing him delicately. Then you slid your hand down his meaty column, holding him firmly, in a very slow but strong pump.

He groaned, still asleep as far as you could tell, as you started pumping him ― more heat and excitement gathering in your pussy. You dunked your fingers in your panties, touching yourself. You were already wet, the mere thought of making him yours was enough. You kissed his left shoulder at the same time he uncrossed his arms ― his left hand over yours, feeling the rhythm you were imparting on him.

He was awake.

Joel didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he was sure it wasn’t this. When he looked down and saw your tiny hand trying to muffle his cock, he closed his eyes with a sigh. That felt damn good. He was knackered after last night’s patrolling shift, but this was exactly what he needed to decompress.

He turned around, his back flat against the uncomfortable mattress. His eyes were pinned on yours, your sweet hand upping the speed. You leaned towards him and invaded his mouth with your devilish tongue. Joel moaned in the middle of the kiss ― his brain completely switched off. He could not think straight when you were handling him like that.

Quickly letting go of his erection and mouth, you got rid of your pyjama shorts and your underwear. Then you doubled down your efforts with the handjob ― his throbbing cock was calling for you. You could see a few drops of precum sliding off his veiny shaft, which you swiftly gathered with your thumb to rub them against his leaking slit. You felt his dick pulsating hard for you ― your cunt palpitating at exactly the same time, anticipating. Your bodies were fully synchronised.

You then climbed on top of him, his balls welcoming the touch from your puffy lips. You rolled your hips against his, looking for that friction you so much loved, and took a deep breath before taking off the top of your pyjamas, throwing it to one side. You bended down, your mouth looking for his, so thirsty.

“Good morning, handsome”, you whispered as a greeting.

“Mhmmm”, was the only thing he managed to hum, sleepy.

You smiled and broke off the contact, straightening your back. His rough hands slid from your knees, across your thighs, to your butt. He clasped your ass cheeks with assertiveness. With no more words than those, you took his steely cock in your hand and lifted your hips. You glided his glans over your damp fold a few times, your cunt beseeching to be stuffed.

You guided his tip to kiss your entrance and descended on his dick slowly, very slowly, the palms of your hands flat against his lower abdomen to steady yourself. You closed your eyes, head tilted backwards, and whined loudly. Each inch was a blessing. Once his cock was entirely inside of you, you peeked back down at him and did a circular motion with your hips. His eyes were so intense you couldn’t look away while you started riding him.

Joel closed his eyes unwillingly when the muscles in his lower belly cramped. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, so forced himself to open them again ― he loved seeing how the pleasure transformed your beautiful features. Your half-lidded eyes, your lips parted, a river of pearly sweat coming down in between your bosom. Your perfectly round breasts bouncing in front of him. He was a lucky bastard.

He liberated your ass, his hands drifting to your bust, holding your tits. While he kneaded that tender flesh and coddled your nipples, you covered his hands with yours. You were still jumping on top of him, albeit more erratically, as you felt an orgasm hit you with full force. You mewled as your needy pussy discharged the seed of your pleasure all over him, hugging his hard erection, strangling his cock, encouraging him to come with you.

Joel was so damn close to coming, his nuts contracted with equal parts of pain and lust. He could feel your gush soaking his dick. He was about to lose his goddamn mind ― he needed to stop. His hands abandoned your breasts to place them on your butt to help you lift it up, so you would release his cock before it was too late.

“No, it’s okay. Fill me up, please, sir”, you wailed, your palms against his chest, your hips grinding against his.

Joel glimpsed at you with doubt. It was like you could read his mind, because you knew what he was thinking. You smiled softly, your wet pussy palpitating around his cock. You forced your inner walls to contract against him as you leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ve got the morning after pill. Please, please, Joel, come inside, I beg you. Trust me”, you wept, laying down on top of him.

He thought himself mad for believing you, but he did. Because he was mad for you, regardless of what he tried to convince himself of. He lifted your butt up off his lap with his hands ― with the help of his legs, the heels of his feet against the bedsheets, he thrusted into you like a madman while you remained still on top of him. Drilling your weeping cunt, as hard and fast as he could. He just wanted to know how it felt just once; he wanted you to milk him dry.

Joel fucked you like there was no tomorrow, the room echoing with the squishy sounds and the impact of flesh on flesh. He was fucking you so hard that you came again at the same time he spilled his spent in you ― Joel groaned like you never heard him before. The slick warmth you felt inside made you smile, your face buried in the curve of his neck, your nipples brushing his. With his pulsing dick still inside of you, you bit the skin on his neck, leaving a mark behind.

“Happy birthday, sir”, you whispered in his ear.

That was your gift to him. And to yourself, because you had wanted this from the very first time he impaled you in the forest. You had had to trade a few bits for the morning after pill, but it was worth every single one of them. You felt your cave so clogged with him and his cum, you thought you had descended to hell.

You both stilled, catching your breaths. His dick was still twitching, housed by your greedy, soaked cunt.

A minute later, he sat up on the bed, bit your mouth and lifted your butt up, his cock becoming free. He quickly laid you down in fetal position ― resting on your righthand side, back slightly curved, head bowed, your knees bent touching your breasts. He placed a hand on your left hip and tilted your pelvis a bit forward, so he could inspect your heart-shaped ass and your puffy, reddened pussy framed by your inner thighs.

Just in time to see his cum gushing out of your hole, dripping across your perineum and then going downwards, skidding through your butt cheek. One of his digits caught the semen before it hit the bedsheets, retraced its steps back and shoved the cum back inside of you with the push of his finger.

“You can’t waste my gift to you, baby, it’d be so fucking rude of you”, he purred in your ear, his voice coarse and warm at the same time.

He laid on his side behind you, moving his index in a circular motion, looking for your g-spot and finding it. He stroked it dextrously, sliding it in and out slowly. You closed your eyes, and fisted the bedsheet in your hand, trying to hold onto something. Your mouth shaped a perfect ‘O’ when he bottomed out, quickly adding a second finger. And a third. Then a fourth.

It didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust to such delightful intrusion ― your inner walls felt like clay, reshaping around him. Joel could feel you relax around his fingers and took the chance, introducing his thumb in your pussy too. Now his entire hand was buried in your fluttering cunt, down to his wrist. He remained still for a hot minute while your muscles loosened up to house him.

Then he slowly started to pump his fist inside of you, back and forth, building up a steady pace. Joel bit your shoulder and then kissed it ― his tongue tasting the saltiness of your sweat.

By that point you couldn’t stop moaning very loudly ― the whole building was probably listening to your whoring screams as Joel fisted you relentlessly with his whole hand. Each push propelling his cum further inside of you as if he wanted it to take. He was thrusting you so harsh, your entire body was rocking back and forth on the bed. He was fucking you senseless just with his hand ― and you were loving every single second of it.

Your sticky cunt couldn’t take it for much longer ― it was wet, pulsating, contracting, overstimulated, yearning… Your pussy literally was his, and only his. The orgasm had been building up for so long now that when you let it go, weeping at the top of your lungs, it hit you like a motherfucking truck. Your whole body went into shock while you squirted ― you were shaking due to the force of your own release. For fuck’s sake, you could barely breathe.

You whimpered again when he removed his hand and rubbed your wetness all over your delicate folds. Before you could form a coherent thought, he spanked you on your crotch so firmly it tingled ― you almost died and went to heaven right there and then, biting into the pillow underneath your head. He kept on slapping your quivering cunt until your sensitive clit twitched one last time with devastating pleasure, contracting your uterus so the last trickle of cum oozed out of you. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it gently against your asshole, caressing the tight ring, until you fully relaxed.

You sighed, unable to move. You even felt dizzy. Your limbs felt so limp you didn’t think you could sit up, so you just stayed there, melting against the bedsheets. You hadn’t realised your eyes had welled up until a few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of complete, utter joy ― there was no other way of describing it.

You were so damn grateful for this man, you swore to yourself you would never let him go. You had been with others, but none of your sexual partners had been so fucking attentive. Joel would always make sure you were completely satisfied, without fail. And that said a lot about him.

You rolled onto your back to look at him, wiping away the tears with a satisfied smile and dreamy eyes. He was still lying down on his side, his elbow against the bed, his head resting on the palm of his hand. He returned your smile ― such gesture transforming his rugged face. So gorgeous it tugged at your heart.

“Y’know, it was supposed to be all the way around today ― me fucking you until you begged”, you confessed, although it was not a complaint.

He grinned, his hand possessively cupping your mound. You parted your legs slightly so he could massage your sensitive furrow. It felt so calming after all that pussy-slapping he gifted you with.

“As redundant as it sounds, plans rarely go according to plan, sweetheart”.

Understatement of the fucking year, you thought.

You just laughed while his hand was still kneading your sticky flaps. Joel kissed your forehead before he took out his hand from in between your legs, your damp, intimate skin being swept by the cold air.

“The morning after pill?”, he asked a minute later.

“I got it from Kelsey, it’s in date. Don’t panic, it’s okay. I have three days to take it. Which made me think… I don’t need to do it straight away, right?”, you glanced up at him, a wide smile on your lips.

“Mhmm, I mean, it would be a waste otherwise, I guess”, he replied, tucking a stray hairlock behind your ear. “But I need a minute here, darlin’. You work miracles, but even I have limits. Wait up”, he mumbled grumpily as he palmed his left wrist, and then got out of bed while he tucked away his member back in his briefs.

Joel headed towards the en-suite bathroom. He came back out only a few seconds later ― you could see panic in his eyes. You sat back up on the mattress quickly.

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked with worry, kneeling on the bed.

“My wristwatch, I can’t find it. I am sure I left it by the sink before I came to bed last night. I can’t lose it. I can’t”, he was now frantically searching his bedside table, panic growing in his tone.

You bit down your lip, because you knew where it was. In the drawer of your nightstand. You had taken it in the middle of the night because your second present was getting it repaired for him today.

“I have it”, you whispered, shrugging with an apologetic smile.

“What? Why?”, he approached you, extending his hand towards you, his tone so serious. “Give it back now”, he almost growled at you.

His reaction took you completely off guard. Why was he so possessive over a broken watch? Trying to understand the sudden change in Joel, you opened the drawer and took it out.

“I just wanted to get it fixed for you, as a gift”, you didn’t understand what was happening.

“You have not fixed it, have you?! Because if you have―”, he snatched it off your hand, inspecting it.

You frowned ― his attitude towards you was completely off. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking things, is that clear?”, he snapped.

You looked at him blankly, speechless. Then your own temperament started to shimmer under the surface.

“Wow, wow, wow ― Calm the fuck down, Joel. It’s just a broken, useless watch―”, you stopped yourself because of his perplexed look.

“Shut up. It’s not just any watch. You don’t fucking understand”, he yapped.

“I would try and understand if you just fucking explained it to me?!”, you shouted at him while you got dressed. “What is your fucking problem, Joel? What’s up with that watch? I don’t read minds!”.

“Forget it”, he grumbled, strapping the watch to his wrist before putting his trousers on and grabbing a T-shirt, heading towards the door.

“That’s it? You just up and leave?”, you repressed the urge of throwing a pillow to his head.

“I’ve got stuff to do”, he muttered.

A few seconds later, you heard him opening the front door. Then he slammed it shut.

It was around lunchtime now and you had not seen Joel since this catastrophic morning. While you had the impression that Joel’s reaction was due to something he would not speak about, he had no fucking right to treat you that way. You were just trying to do something nice for him, that was all.

You walked through the main hallway of the Art Institute of Chicago. It was rammed with people running around ― some armed, some not. You didn’t think that humanity would prevail in big groups in such circumstances, but it did.

The Rioters had established some sort of order. People had tasks to do, everyone working together to build up a community. Chores were allocated according to people’s skills. Joel had been put on patrolling shifts, Tommy was helping with carpentry and other building jobs, and you were in the hunting group. As much as you hated pulling the trigger, you were a very good shot. All thanks to your good old Texan father.

You were on your way to check with the group if there were any plans of going out today when you got interrupted.

“Hey”, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“What’s up, Joyce?”, you looked at the older woman when you turned around.

Joyce was around fifty five years of age, maybe more, and was the kindest soul you had ever met. She had welcomed you to Chicago like a mother a daughter. Joyce showed you around, explained how the Rioters worked and guided you in the right direction. Because as good as everything looked, there was still darkness lurking around.

She was also the best cook ever. Like, no jokes, she could transform a tasteless rabbit in the most flavourful stew your tastebuds had ever been in contact with.

“I just finished cooking, do you want some stew?”, she asked with a warm smile.

Your stomach growled at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah”, you replied ― your duties could wait, surely.

“Watch your language, kiddo”, Joyce reprimanded you.

“Sorry, sorry”, all that time you spent with Joel was showing.

You followed her to the canteen and patiently waited for Joyce to pour some stew in a bowl. You then went with her to a table where more people were sat down. You didn’t know any of them, so Joyce introduced you. You were damn sure you weren’t going to remember one single name by the time you walked out the door.

“So, you’ve never heard the story of Eugene Williams?”, one of the men asked rhetorically to a younger fellow across the table, who shook his head in reply. “He was a black kid in 1919, when racial segregation was still in place here in Chicago. The summer of 1919 was so hot the kid wandered off to the white side of Chicago beach without realising. A man threw stones at him until the kid drowned and died. That was what ignited the Chicago Race Riot of 1919 ― and why we, the resistance, go by the Rioters”.

You listened to every word while you ate your meal. After hearing that explanation, many things made sense. Although they named themselves the Rioters, there were no riots in the streets ― actually, people seemed happy here, given the circumstances.

“That’s right, Walter, younger people need to learn about the past, so those mistakes are never repeated again”, said Joyce.

The conversation then moved on to present times, the people talking about the continuous fight against the so-called government.

Joel got the afternoon patrolling shift that day, which he thought was a killer, considering he did the night shift last night. But it was good in a sense ― it would keep his mind occupied. You had angered him so much this morning, it had set his mood for the rest of the day. The thought of you erasing that memory had maddened him so bad, he had to walk out before he said something he would later regret.

That watch was the only anchor chaining him to what little remained of his humanity. A gentle reminder of what could have been but wasn’t. Every day he wondered how Sarah would be doing in this new world. And most days, he was just somewhat grateful she wasn’t here to see what had become of civilisation. The unspeakable horrors she would have witnessed and suffered but didn’t ― it was very little consolation to a father, but it was better than nothing.

He absentmindedly touched the watch on his wrist, ensuring it was properly fastened.

Joel was stationed with other people in front of Bataan-Corregidor Memorial Bridge. In those long, never-ending hours, there was no activity on the other side of the bridge, but they had to remain vigilant nonetheless. By the time the next group showed up, it was already half eight in the evening.

Joel headed towards the headquarters to sign off and go home. He was already on edge, thinking about what he would say to you to appease you. Because he was damn sure you would be waiting for him, ready to pick up the fight where you both left it. As Joel walked past the canteen, he heard a familiar voice.

Tommy was on his feet, yelling at a man, his accusatory index pointing to the guy. Joel rolled the eyes to the back of his head ― he was sure his brother was so drunk he would probably not remember any of this the next day. Joel shook his head with disappointment ― some things would never change, not even when the world had gone to shit.

He planned to ignore the situation and get back home to you, when a fight started. Joel groaned in despair, debating what to do. But a man chose for him ― he saw how a bloke approached Tommy from behind, knife on hand, and he knew he had to do something. Joel quickly closed the distance in stride and grabbed the man from the neck of his shirt, pulling him backwards until the dude stumbled with his own feet.

Madness broke out, the whole canteen becoming a battling ground. People were fighting each other over absolutely nothing, throwing punches in the air.

“Tommy!”, he shouted angrily, while the younger Miller turned around and simply smiled.

That fucking pissed him off big time.

“Are you fucking out of your mind? How much have you been drinking?!”, Joel wanted to punch his brother so bad, he really had to control himself.

“Not enough”, he babbled.

As Joel approached his brother, ready to fight him if necessary, the man he had pushed away from Tommy tapped his shoulder. When Joel turned around, the dude punched him in the face and then stabbed him in the lower stomach.

Joel froze for a second, his back slightly curved, his brain coming to terms with what just had happened. He looked down while his hand gripped the handle of the knife. He knew not to remove it because it was the blade what prevented him from bleeding out. Then Joel glanced back up at the same guy and, without thinking, he removed the knife from his flesh and sticked it on the man’s shoulder with a growl.

Joel’s wound started to bleed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Not that he noticed anyway, because hell literally broke loose.

It wasn’t late late, only ten in the evening, but none of the brothers was around when you returned home, which was weird. You could understand if Joel was avoiding you, but Tommy? You frowned as you called for them, shutting the main door behind you. Nothing, no reply at all.

Before you could walk to the living room to see if there was a note or something, someone knocked on the door.

You looked through the peephole. Joyce was standing outside, worry wrinkling her aged face. You opened the door.

“What’s the matter, Joyce?”

“It’s Joel, he’s in the infirmary”, she whispered while placing a soft hand on your forearm.

You just stared at her, bewildered.

“Huh? The where?”, you repeated, while her words started to sink in, your stomach contracting with fear.

“Come with me, kiddo”, Joyce took your hand, guiding you through the apartment building.

The next time you blinked, you were in an outbuilding outside the headquarters. Joyce palmed your hand with hers, in a calming gesture, while she took you to the far end of the shelter. The old lady planted you in front of Joel’s bed, and let go of you with a “take care”.

You stood there for a long minute, still trying to grasp what the hell had happened. He was asleep, his head slightly tilted away from you ― or so you hoped he was. Joel had no shirt on, a bloody bandage covering the right side of his abdomen. You got closer, your heart pounding in your throat.

“He’s fine, it’s just a scratch”, you looked up, befuddled.

Tommy was sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of the bed. He was crouching forwards, his elbow against his knee, head pressing against the palm of his hand. Tommy then smiled, which completely perplexed you.

You were about to reply, but suddenly Joel did instead.

“Fuck off, Tommy. Get your ass somewhere else”, he gritted his teeth.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but you had been holding your breath, because suddenly you felt a stone being lifted off your chest. You glanced at the younger Miller, who had gotten up with a smile. When he walked past you to go outside, you smelled it. The stench of alcohol made you wrinkle your nose unconsciously.

Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist to get your attention, so you turned around to look at him, so confused you couldn’t even form a sentence. Joel had already adjusted the pillow on his back so he could be somewhat sat up.

“It’s alright, no need to cry”, he said raising one of his hands to sweep away your tears.

You had not realised you were crying. Giving it a second thought, you probably had been since you left home. You pursed your lips and nodded, quietening your sobs.

“What…?”, you muttered, resting your cheek against his palm before placing a kiss on it.

“Tommy got into a fight in the canteen. He’s so drunk he probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow. A man tried to stab him, and I got in the way ― that’s all, sweetheart. No serious damage, just some stitches”, he tried to calm you.

You wished Tommy was still in the room, because you would have loved to slap the shit out of him for being so irresponsible. What the hell was he thinking? Joel was hurt because of him, and he had just left smiling as if it wasn’t so serious.

“Just leave him be, it’s worthless trying to speak to him in such a state”, something in Joel’s voice told you this wasn’t the first time he had been in this situation.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Joel, please, don’t lie to me―”, you mustered, trying to keep your tears in check, as you caressed his cheek.

He heavily sighed as he scooted over to one end of the tiny bed, leaving enough space for you to join him. You got on the gurney quickly, nestling against him, your arm across his chest in a half embrace. His body heat calmed your nerves a bit, although your hands were still shaking.

“I’m fine, I’m not lying. They won’t let me leave yet though, the nurse said I need to stay here for a couple of hours, until she’s certain the bleeding has stopped”, he explained, his fingertips tracing the shape of your right shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you said with a small voice, your left cheek against his chest.

Joel didn’t fight you on that, so you stayed by his side. His left hand was resting just below your face, his broken watch strapped around his wrist. You bowed your head a bit and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought fixing your watch was a nice thing to do, considering it’s been broken since I met you”, you tried to explain yourself, but Joel hushed you by cupping your chin so your eyes would meet his.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you meant well. It’s just…”, you heard him gulp down, as if the next words were extremely painful to say out loud. “Sarah fixed this watch for me on my last birthday. It’s been stuck at 2.40 AM since… since we both got shot. One of the bullets broke it”, he recounted in a husked voice, his brown eyes focused on the timeless sphere.

Then it hit you. That was Sarah’s time of death. And, unknowingly, you almost ruined the last memento Joel possessed of his daughter. His most precious treasure. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of being responsible for such a thing. Had you known, you would have never even considered doing what you had planned.

“Gosh, Joel, I’m sorry. I swear to you I didn’t know”, you breathed out desperately.

“I know, baby. I should have told you that instead of getting angry and for that I apologise, but I just couldn’t…”, he clenched his jaw, and you tried to soften his expression with the touch of your fingers.

“Don’t apologise, please”, you kissed his bearded jaw and remained in comfortable silence for the next two hours, until Joel was finally discharged.

The next day you both stayed home. Tommy had tried to apologise when he came back to his senses, but Joel was having none of it. The younger Miller eventually understood that his brother just needed space until he decided to forgive him and gave up in his efforts. You were alone with Joel all day, making sure he was okay and helping him clean the wound. Those stitches were going to leave a nasty scar on him, but it was better than the alternative. It was healing well, no signs of infection, for which you were so pleased ― probably more than him. You almost had to tie him to the bed so he would stop fidgeting around ― Joel was going to get the wound open again if he didn’t remain still for a bit.

You knew Joel was just trying to keep his brain busy because this day marked a year since Sarah was wrongly snatched from his life. That was why he was so taciturn and quiet today, and you let him be for the most part.

When he sat down on the couch in the afternoon, you just nestled against his body, in silence, his arm affectionately enveloping you.

Nighttime came around soon enough, and you both got into bed. Joel spooned you as soon as he laid down behind you, his right arm hugging you, his chest against your back. You soon fell asleep in his warm embrace, feeling protected and content.

Joel woke up a few hours later, one of his recurrent nightmares haunting him. He grumbled in displeasure and got out of bed to change the dressing over the wound. He did so efficiently and returned to bed, slipping under the bedsheets quietly.

Another hour went by, and he was still awake, his eyes on the ceiling.

He rolled onto his left side and saw you sleeping peacefully, in the exact same position you fell asleep. You had not moved one inch. Joel smiled softly as he got closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and dragging you over to him, looking for your soothing warmth.

Unconsciously, you wiggled your hips to bury your butt in his bulge, and Joel contained a pitiful moan. Your perfectly round ass was innocently embedded in his groin. Now he was sure as hell he was not going to be able to fall back asleep. Irremediably, he pressed his manhood against your buttocks again, looking for that friction.

Joel felt his cock tense up, an erection taking hold. He freed his manhood, slowly pumping himself ― his leaky tip brushing your asscheek until a wet patch adorned your panties. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist. You were all curled up, drooling on the pillow, faintly snoring, your knees slightly bent. He cut the distance between you and shoved his dick in your thigh gap, his shaft rubbing against your pussy covered by your underwear.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, your thighs sweetly compressing his cock ― the tip feeling cold when it overhung on the other side. Joel kissed your shoulder, his hand gently placed on your hip to steady himself.

“C’mon, baby, wake up”, he husked near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe.

You hummed, half awake. You felt your body being rocked, your eyes fluttering open and looking downwards. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Joel’s glans sticking out through your thigh nook, then disappearing from sight to reappear again. You smiled pleasantly, shutting your eyes, as you felt your needy cunt melt for him. You pursed your lips with delight.

“Can I have my birthday present again, sweetheart?”, he whispered in a constrained tone.

You nodded, scatterbrained.

You were drenching your underwear so bad, there was a visible damp, darken spot right in the middle. Joel pulled back from in between your legs and pushed the bridge of your panties to one side. He lodged his cock in between your puffy lips, sliding it through your entire slit a couple of times to douse himself with your fluids.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”, he muttered as you let out a soft moan when Joel pressed his tip against your dripping hole, your flesh parting as the Red Sea.

Then Joel slowly pushed his hard cock in inch by inch down to his balls. His right arm hugged you, poising you in place and sneaking his hand under your pyjama top to hold one of your full breasts. He stilled for a second, feeling your cunt sheathing him like a warm glove. He thrusted once, twice, thrice. You lost count after that, Joel plunging into you from behind, gaining erratic speed. You grasped the bedsheet in your fist, your spit pooling on the pillowcase.

You placed a hand on your mound and a few seconds later, you slipped it under your panties. With the palm against your clit to cause some grinding, you could feel Joel coming in and out of you in between your index and middle fingers. Your gushing cunt started palpitating around his slick cock, your inner walls squeezing him hard as you came, mewling like a kitten in heat.

Joel quickly followed you, his cum filling you up, breathing roughly behind you. You tilted your head towards your right to look at him over your shoulder. He kissed you, first gently, then more demanding, while his dick was still throbbing with the last wave of his release. Joel pinched your nipple before freeing your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart, so you don’t forget who you and your tight pussy belong to”, he groaned as he pulled out of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you said gratefully.

Joel put your underwear back in place and pressed the palm of his hand against your wet panties, his cum trickling out with yours and swamping the piece of clothing even more, saturating it, almost as if you had pissed yourself.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’”, he kissed the nape of your neck, his hand still lodged in your thigh gap, hard pressed against your satisfied, clothed pussy. You loved how possessive he was of you, literally claiming your cunt for himself at every chance he got.

With a pleased sigh, you tucked your hands under your head and fell back asleep within seconds.

The earth was round again.

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 2]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 2: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Mr. Rogerson has awesome dalmatians and his wife makes even better cookies. Meanwhile, Crewel continues to be an emotionally constipated mess, and Crowley is... himself.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

You were met at the door by a pair of over enthusiastic dalmatians—the chaotically cute duo sending you ass-first to the office floor in a merry greeting that was more of a graceless tackle than anything else.

“You brought Poe and Perdy!” you exclaimed, laughing past the face kisses.

“Well, they’d never forgive me if I didn’t,” Mister Rogerson huffed good naturedly. “Do you know how much this little nutter cried when I came home the other day and he realized you’d been by? Ages, I’m telling you. Thought he was going to pout me into an early grave.”

You squished both of them affectionately and showered the lovely, spotted, beasts with every compliment under the sun.

“Oh! Before I forget…” the professor rustled around in his leather messenger bag and retrieved a neatly packaged pastry box all bundled up in a colorful, twine, bow. You accepted the treats happily and removed yourself from the dog-pile to take your usual place on the well-worn piano bench. “Annie made you some more cookies, seeing as you liked the last ones so much.”

“Did you help?” you asked.

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

You held up the first treat from the pile—half-singed on one side and squishy with raw dough on the other.

“You caught me!” he laughed, and retrieved a second box. “These are from Annie. Those are my failures.”

“Such horrible lies,” you tutted, dramatic. “Trying to trick an innocent victim into ingesting poison just so that you can keep all the good ones for yourself.”

“Hey, they’re not that bad!” he defended, taking a large chomp out of one of the less charred looking of his creations. Immediately his cheeks went nearly green. “Or… maybe they are.”

You pushed a water bottle in his direction which he accepted gratefully. There was always a stash of them just to the left of his composer’s stand, and another hoard in a conspicuous looking storage cube closer to the piano at which you’d perched yourself. There were more sweets hidden in his desk drawers too, for when something stronger than water was needed to wash away whatever awful thing he’d tried to ingest. You knew where a lot of ‘secret’ things were in this room. It felt nice, to be so privy to all its little treasures.

“You know,” he smiled, finishing the last of his water with a final gulp. “Annie keeps pestering me to have you come by for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you hesitated, looking around the room where so many of your little odds and ends had already started to accumulate. Empty mugs, the patch that had fallen off your jacket, the thread which you’d intended to use to fix said patch. Just… little footprints showing you’d been by.  “Well, any more at least.”

“Nonsense,” Mister Rogerson laughed. “You’re more than welcome! But we don’t mean to pressure you, of course! Especially if you’re busy! Just something to think about if you’d like. Anyways, how has your day been?”

And thus began your afternoon ritual. You would sit and split Annie’s delicious cookies as you rambled about your various grievances. Mister Rogerson would inevitably come and take a seat beside you on the piano bench and start playing some gentle strains of this or that—‘just little things he was working on,’ he’d said. Occasionally you’d accidentally lean on the keys, throwing the whole thing into a cacophonous mess. But he would just chuckle and replay whatever the piano had just screeched, calling it a ‘fascinating addition’ and merrily jotting bits of it into his notes. It was nice. Better than nice. And you didn’t realize just how comfortable you’d become in your daily chitchats until you’d become perhaps a bit too comfortable.

“It’s just been so exhausting. And on top of all the other ridiculous things, I’m so sick of that fact that it’s like my job to be their personal punching bags or whatever when they’re Overblotting all over the place, and—”

The piano cut off abruptly.

Mister Rogerson’s hazel eyes had gone wide, as if he was spooked. Immediately you realized that you’d said something that you should not have.

“There are students at Night Raven College who have Overblotted?” he asked, slow, like he couldn’t even believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

“What? No. Of course not!” you lied, like a liar.

“Kiddo,” he frowned, stern. “You just said—"

“—I mean, no one’s actually Overblotted, Overblotted,” you spluttered hastily, rifling frantically through your brain for every plausible excuse you could cough up. “It’s more that I’ve heard a lot about Blot, and how it becomes a—you know—Overblot. Which sounds really scary, and like something that I never, ever, want to actually see! And it’s just that everyone there is a mess, so I guess I should I have said that I’m more just worried about Overblotting.” 

A pause.

“Which, again, I’ve never, ever, actually seen.”

More silence.

“…Ever.”

Mister Rogerson sighed, apparently relieved by your bullshitting, and slumped forward over the piano keys.

“That’s… That’s good. You really scared me there for a moment, kiddo. Overblots are no small matter. They have to be reported to the proper authorities and dealt with accordingly. It’s a whole fiasco, and paperwork and legal proceedings aside, it’s dangerous.” He laid a gentle hand across your shoulder. “I’m just glad you haven’t been anywhere near something like that.”

You swallowed a chunk of wayward cookie, hoping you didn’t look horrifically guilty. But then some other part of what he’d just rattled off stuck in your head and that shame was wiped away by panic.

“They’d be taken away?” you whispered, something unpleasant and nervous curling in your gut.

Mister Rogerson looked down at you with a sympathetic wrinkle to his brow. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?”

You thought of Riddle, crying into his hands after years of emotional neglect—and then of the pair of you sitting in the Heartslabyul gardens after all was said and done, eating strawberry tarts with your fingers like little children. You thought of Leona, miserable and bitter as he was, finally breaking after an entire lifetime of feeling like nothing but a failure who slunk about in his brother’s shadow—and then how just last week the beastman had been lounging in the sun with his head in your lap, grouchily demanding your leftovers. You thought of Azul, and his bullies, and his stupid desire to take on the world just to prove he could. You thought of all the friends you’d made, and of just how many of them really needed a goddamn therapist. You thought about them being taken away to who-even-knew-where. Where you’d probably never see any of them again. And where you wouldn’t even know what was happening to them.

General grumpiness with the lot of them aside, your friends were the one, genuine, beacon of warmth in this miserable, cold, new world. Sure, they were all assholes. Mega assholes. But you knew that they’d stand by you through anything—do anything, if you needed the help.

 And the idea of giving up on them? Just like that? Because it was protocol?

Your stomach roiled and you set the cookies off to the side.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Mister Rogerson frowned, taking in whatever unpleasant expression was no doubt twisting your face into knots. “We shouldn’t talk about it anymore. It’s not a fun topic.” He slid a new page of sheet music across the piano’s sleek, black, shelf. “Here. I started writing this the other day. What do you think?”

Strains of upbeat jazz threaded through the room and Perdy and Poe came over to mouth playfully at your ankles—no doubt begging for crumbs. Soon enough you were laughing along, clapping off beat and making jokes at the expense of his nonsense lyrics. You still liked Mister Rogerson. You liked him a lot. And you didn’t doubt that he was a genuinely kind person.

You’d just… maybe have to be a bit more careful about what you let slip.

.

.

“It’s kinda like being in therapy,” you explained to a very frustrated looking Deuce. “Like, how you want to say just enough to get help but not enough for them to throw you into an asylum. You feel?”

“What in the fuck are you on,” Ace gaped.

“See, if any of you actually even knew what therapy was, you’d get it.”

“I still can’t believe that’s where you’ve been every afternoon,” Deuce frowned, poking at his lunch with a consternated sort of look on his face. “Don’t you—I don’t know…”

“What?” you asked.

“Feel horrifically guilty and maybe like you should be burnt at the stake?” Ace complained, reaching over to swipe a fry from your plate. Grim hissed and swatted at his fingers—his little mouth stuffed too full of your half-eaten burger to yell much of anything else. “You’re a traitor, that’s what you are. Prancing around with those goody-two-shoes in their stupid, shiny, building every damn day like a—like a—”

“A frog?” Deuce suggested.

“What, no. Dude—”

“Frogs prance!”

“Frogs fucking jump, you ingrate—”

A heavy box landed on the table with a THUD, sending the quarrelling duo into silence. A mountain of homemade chocolate chip cookies stared back at them, nearly sparkling in their brilliance.

“Yes,” you intoned, stern. “It’s worth it.”

“It’s worth it,” Grim and Ace agreed heartily, already busy swapping their lunches for sweets.

Deuce sighed and reached for his own cookie. “If you’re sure...”

.

.

Being called into the Headmaster’s Office was not something with which you were unfamiliar. In fact, Crowley not having summoned you into his gloomy chamber over the past few weeks was more of an anomaly than not. Normally he was hurling new jobs at you left and right—organize this event, Prefect. Pick up my groceries, Prefect. The main hall is looking a little dirty, Prefect. Go stop my students from committing mass murder, Prefect. Maybe your wave of insults had rattled him enough to leave you alone for that little while. Or maybe he’d just been biding his time until he could think of something equally as nasty to say back.

Of all the things you were expecting upon trudging back into that office, a scowling Professor Crewel was not one of them.

You blinked owlishly, taken aback.

“Good afternoon, Professor.”

His lip curled, sour, and you fought the intense and suicidal urge to ask him just who’d pissed in his cornflakes that morning because damn. You hadn’t even done anything. That you could remember. Maybe. And besides, if either of you had any right to be acting all bitter and pissy it was you. Not Mister ‘I Have No Intention of Playing Parent to Anyone.’ The memory had your eyes stinging and your blood boiling all over again. When neither of the men deigned to greet you, you cleared you throat irritably and crossed your arms.

“Can I help you with something, Professor? Headmaster?”

“It has come to our attention that you’ve been sneaking off campus in the evenings,” Professor Crewel declared, with all the civility of an off-grid hermit. “Which I’m certain that you are fully aware is against school policy.”

Crowley just nodded, stiff lipped and robotic, and his silence immediately had you suspicious.

“Well?” Crewel snipped. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then another.

You smiled, icy. “Then I’m sure this is just another infraction to add to my file. Which I’m very sure totally exists. Right, Headmaster?”

Crewel’s dark glower swiveled in Crowley’s direction, and you watched the Old Crow audibly gulp.

“Because of course, you keep proper records on all your students here,” you continued, happy to push your luck. “Especially the ones in special circumstances, and whose documentation is therefore not automatically forwarded to you by their previous schools. Right, Headmaster?”

You’d never seen a more apt demonstration of the expression ‘sweating bullets.’ It was intensely satisfying. Professor Crewel looked like he was heavily debating turning Crowley into a feather boa. After a too-long moment where you were pretty sure you were about to witness a murder, the two-toned professor sighed and turned back to you with a stiff sneer.

“It’s not safe,” he said, and you gaped at him.

“What?”

“It’s not safe,” he repeated, practically grinding his teeth. “What were you even thinking? Leaving Night Raven when you know full that you have no other connections in this entire world! Running off with a complete stranger on top of that.”

“Mister Rogerson isn’t a stranger!” you defended, resentment bubbling beneath your skin. How dare he? Now he cared? Now you weren’t just a leech, or a brat, or—or—No. It wasn’t fair. “And it’s not like I ran off into the woods or something! I’m at another school!”

Crowley slammed his clawed hands down onto his desk with a metallic BANG!

“AH-HAH! YOU ADMIT IT!” he howled. “YOU’VE BEEN GOING TO THE ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY BEHIND OUR BACKS!”

“I left you a note telling you that was exactly where I was!”

“YOU’VE BEEN CONSORTING WITH OUR ENEMY! AND AFTER I’VE WORKED SO HARD TO RAISE YOU AS MY OWN!” He wailed, inconsolable. “ARE YOU TRADING OFF MY GRIMOIRE TO AMBROSE, TOO? WOULD YOU STOP AT NOTHING TO SHATTER MY POOR HEART?!”

“I don’t even know what that means, but I wish I was!”

“Enough!” Crewel snarled, cracking his pointer across the desktop. “Both of you!”

“But he—!” you defended.

“Detention!” he barked.

“What?! That’s no fair!—”

“Detention!” he snapped again. “Three weeks!”

“Are you joking?! I didn’t even do anything!—”

“Four weeks,” he growled.

You pressed your lips shut, feeling your mouth wobble and your eyes warm with frustrated tears.

“Yes, sir,” you finally managed to grit out, and then turned without another word and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind you.

.

.

.

‘That may have been too much,’ Crowley had the gall to say to him, after Crewel had just watched the man have an entire meltdown in his desk chair and accuse you of outright subterfuge.

‘That may have been too much.’

The alchemist had watched, carefully stone faced, as your eyes had welled and you’d glared him down with a look that was a step or two past betrayed. Something tightened uncomfortably in his chest, and he refused to put a name to it. Naming things gave them power, allowed them to grow and spread. Like a tumor. This was all your own doing, and the subsequent punishment was clearly for your own good. So, what? He steps a bit too far and says something that’s perhaps just a bit too cold, and you go running off to—to Cliff Rogerson of all people? Pettiness is not an excuse for making poor, stupid, unsafe, decisions. And he would have certainly responded to any other student in exactly the same fashion.

‘That may have been too much.’

Crewel grit his teeth and fought the urge to run his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally he could use Badun as a stress ball, but he’d stopped bringing the dogs to campus when you’d continued to refuse to show up to his office. It had stressed them terribly, and it was unfair to force them to sit through the same, dull, solitude that he had to endure just on the off chance that you may change your mind and come wandering in. Jasper hardly acknowledged him at all anymore—only grumbled at him miserably when he returned in the evenings before curling up by the fireplace for the rest of the night.   

‘That may have been too much.’

It… It really, probably, was. And he really should… apologize, shouldn’t he?

Divus Crewel could deny it all he liked, but he knew well and good that he wouldn’t have treated your classmates in such a manner. That unnamed twinge behind his ribs may have influenced his reaction a bit more than it should have, especially when he himself had so clearly relegated your place in his life to ‘by professional association only.’

So he forced himself to straighten his fur coat and start the trek to Ramshackle. It was a grueling walk, with broken pathways and rivers of mud. No wonder you were always running late to things. Perhaps he should bring this up to Crowley, and—

A familiar face stopped him in his tracks, and a wave of red-hot irritation worked its way through his veins as efficiently and viciously as one of the poisons he was so keen to brew.

“Oh,” Cliff Rogerson blinked back at him, “Divus! Good to see you.” It was not. It didn’t sound like Cliff thought it was either.“No need to call campus security or anything. I’m just here to pick up the Prefect for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Crewel repeated. It sounded bitter in his mouth.

“Annie’s making lasagna,” Cliff stage-whispered, like a secret.

“Can we get going?” you called and Crewel startled, noticing you off to the side for the first time. You looked so… small, for some reason. Hunched, maybe. Just, not your usual larger-than-life self—the Otherworldly Hero who showed up swinging to every fight, always armed to the teeth and ready to duel any monster, every horror. It made something in his gut twist unpleasantly. “I’m starving.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Cliff laughed and tossed an arm across your shoulders.

“How lovely,” Crewel interrupted, trying and failing to force the steel from his voice, “But I think that maybe you should reexamine your professional priorities. That hardly seems appropriate.”

“Oh, come now,” Cliff smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “It’s only dinner. And besides,” he chuckled, and gave your arm a fond squeeze, “Annie and I have always wanted kids.”

‘I have no intention of playing parent to anyone.’

A deep, cold, sort of dread rattled through Divus Crewel’s bones and settled all the way in the pit of his stomach. It was similar to the sensation that had been slowly clawing its way through him these past few weeks—the very same unpleasantness that he had refused to name.

‘You know,’ Crowley’s grating voice swam through his head once more. ‘That really may have been too much.’

.

.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm finding rankings difficult, there's a lot of middle of the pack action and some serious top contenders

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

Dec 2023 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 -  I love how they’re slowly revealing bits of their past to each other. It parallels the slow burn of them falling in love with each other. Knowledge + understanding = affection. I cried during the part with his doubles partner, of course I did. As has been mentioned many times in this blog, I am a sap. Also I’m realizing that there is something particularly clever about this show: Because Day is blind, there must be a ton of physical touch. And physical touch is something that Thai BL does really well. 

(I gotta say, while I ADORE JimmySea in these roles, a small part of me wonders how JoongDunk would have handled these parts.)

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 3 of 10 - Phaya is SO DAMN SMITTEN. It’s great. Have I mentioned recently how glad I am Billy got this role? This was the: “it’s not a date” date ep. 

I gotta say these 2 BLs are neck and neck favorites right now.

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Uh oh. I like it a lot. I think I was always going to because I have a soft spot for TayNew on screen. It is such funny to watch Tay play such a stiff character. I like it. This is very fast paced for a Thai BL I wonder where they’ll take it with this speed, are they’ll following the manga more closely? 

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - Wait, no. Wahl you’re such a problem. The pacing of this is very KBL. I’m not mad about it but it feels odd in Thai. Still enjoying this one the most as my "early in the week" offering.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - The booty call flirting is next level with these two. Like Bed Friends but with less pain. I love that Nail is such needy evil wild child - the story gets all its tension from that.

Baby boy gives off so many danger signals I wouldn't tap that with a 10 ft… pole. Him is a braver queer than I. I do like how the high heat is being used to drive the story. It stands in stark contrast to Playboyy. Which is using high heat to drive, well... piles apparently.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 6 of 10 - I'm enjoying it again, the main couple is getting more BLish. 

Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 3 of 6 - Shin and Peach flirting is very cute. Although they got into that sack swiftly. Guy leaving was contrived and reactions overwrought but okay babies. 

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Now I'm mostly just confused.

Which timeline are we in?

Do they know each other in this one's past or not?

Have they met yet?

Who has which memories of what?

I feel like I’ve been through a lot for the show.

I’m not saying the reunion scene in the theater was worth it, but it was a really spectacular reunion scene. I’m terrified that there’s one more episode. I wish it had ended here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 2 of 12 - I’m just not that into it. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 14 - A new ship has been set afloat, we are now Team #WayKim / #KimWay and if you're not with us, you're against us. Trash watch happening here.

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 5 of 8 - oh look, it’s everybody’s favorite big brother!

That was a kind (and kind of lovely) coming out sequence. KingUea being the worst best Gay Advice Dads is awesome. Mai is SO SWEET. And we end on some good old miscommunication / misinterpretation, so that Jade can behave in an even more unhinged manner next ep. Our brief respite from absurdity has ended. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Fake Love ep 16 of 24 - They cute fake bf but it’s oddly unappealing. I mean most us queers have slept with each others exes, that’s swimming in a small pool, for ya. In my experience, only hets get butt hurt about it. (Hets never use enoug lube, they butt hurt about everything.) So the whole drama just felt confusing to me. Or maybe that's just my experience with swimming in lube? 4/10 whatever... not recommended

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 4 of 14 eps - I’m seriously considering dropping this. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - They cute. Are aquariums now gay? That’s not the definition of fish that I grew up with. 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - I'm suffering from terrible second lead syndrome. Glasses guy is new Best Boy. Also, Rise is trying to earn the Namgoong Award for Best Wingman. 

It Finished But...

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14 eps - completed it's run. Reports are:

It's pretty good horror but not BL. Ending is unresolved.

Given that info and this review here, it's not for me. DNF

It's Airing But...

Behind the Shadows (Korea movie) - a historical I'm interested in (if it's BL) but have no idea how to find.

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if it's safe.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed with ep 1. Been told I shouldn't bother.

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

Next Week Looks Like This

12/14 Dear Kitakyushu (Thai/Japan movie) in theaters in country only, I know nothing about distribution.

Still coming:

12/23 Dead Friend Forever (Thai horror) iQIYI

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED). With the end of the year upon us I'll do an "announced for 2023 but never happened list" soon.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Of course I loved all the little language moments. I am here for the kinkification of phi.

That request for a shirt was v sexy phi+na. Thank you Jimmy.

Last Twilight bringing the pronoun and particle game to play hard.

It was a nice kiss. (Absolute Zero)

This as a perfunctory flirting kiss, I anticipate we still have The Kiss to come.

I love that Phaya's personality seems to be spin doctor, just accuse the boy of doing that you are already doing to him (or want him to do to you).

Boyfriend shirts!

And a meta reference.

The Sign is basically made for me.

(Last week)

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me Part 4

Yeah...I’m sorry for the long wait on this one. I’m like a crow, I see a shiny, I go after said shiny. But I’m back to working on this one. Just a heads up tag limit is 50 and it’s been reached, so I haven’t replied to you about being on the list, that’s why. I’m sorry. I don’t know how people can do lists of 100 or more. I just can’t.

But because it took forever, this part is longer than usual. And you get Max AND Wayne.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

*

It was the last day before winter break and Steve still sat by himself. It wasn’t that Eddie hadn’t asked him to sit with him and his friends but Steve was resolute in keeping his distance from the Corroded Coffin boys. His reasoning was he was trying to protect them from the popular kids.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but respected his wishes. After all he had the rest of the year to wear him down.

But not today. Eddie immediately sat down when Steve did.

Steve looked around him in fear. “You can’t keep doing this, man. I don’t them to pick on you, too.” Billy had hip checked him into his locker just that morning.

Eddie grinned. “I’m immune.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “No one is immune, Eds.”

Eddie leaned forward. “Their drug dealer is, especially if they want to keep buying weed.”

Steve blinked. “Oh shit. You’re the one Tommy would buy from.”

Eddie’s grin turned feral. “And if I wanted to make their lives miserable, I could get up on this table and declare you off limits and all the bullying would come to a complete standstill.”

Steve’s mouth worked but no words came. He settled for blushing and going back to digging at his food.

“But that’s not why I’m here, Harrington,” he continued, gleefully. “I was wondering what you were doing for Christmas.”

Steve’s brain went off line and it took a bit to come back on. “Um...I don’t know. My parents didn’t come home last year, just sent me a check to buy myself presents.”

Eddie winced. “Ouch.”

“If they weren’t expecting to see piles of loot around the house, I would have blown the whole thing on booze and weed.”

Eddie scoffed. “How much did they send you?”

Steve looked down at his tray, poking at his food. He licked his lips and coughed, “$375.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “That’s a lot.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t want fancy cars or piles of clothes I’m only going to wear once. Instruments I’ll never play. The latest movies and the biggest TV. I don’t want any of that.” He stabbed at his food again, this time with more force.

“You want them to care enough to come home,” Eddie reasoned. “When was the last time they were home?”

Steve scratched his cheek in thought. “Before Thanksgiving.”

“But not for Thanksgiving?” Eddie asked. The picture Steve was painting was starting to look pretty fucking grim.

“I think I ordered in,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, okay, dude,” Eddie growled. “If they don’t come home, you are coming over to my place.”

Steve put down his fork. “No, man. Please. I’ll be fine.”

Eddie jumped up on the table and slid across it. He planted both feet on the bench next to Steve and clasped his hands. “It’s not okay, dude. I know.”

Steve looked up at him in shock. “I didn’t‒I mean.” He looked down at his tray again. “That sucks.”

Eddie nudged him with his foot. “So you’ll come over if they don’t come home?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll give you my phone number, if you’ll give me yours.”

Eddie grinned. “And if you pretend that they came home, I will find out. I promise that.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man.”

“Munson!” the lunch lady screamed. “Get off the table!”

Eddie grinned. “And that’s my cue.” He jumped up.

“Exit stage left?” Steve asked.

Eddie laughed. “Drama’s already got it’s hooks into you, hasn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s been fun.”

“I’ll put my number in your locker later,” Eddie said.

“And I’ll get you mine after school,” Steve replied.

Eddie walked back to his table with his friends waiting for him.

“So what did he say?” Jeff asked.

Gareth huffed. “Let me guess, skiing in Aspen or even the Alps.”

Eddie shook his head. “His parents haven’t been home since before Thanksgiving.”

“But they’ll just send him a plane ticket to wherever they are, right?” Brian asked.

Again Eddie shook his head. “Last year they sent him a check to buy his own presents.”

The three other boys looked at each other in shock.

“What? Jeff squeaked.

“That’s what he said,” Eddie huffed. “I don’t think he’d lie. Not about that.”

“That is so messed up,” Gareth grumbled. “He loses his friends to fucking Bill Hargrove, his girlfriend to Byers, and now his parents aren’t coming home for Christmas? What the hell did this dude do in a past life to get fucked up so hard in this one?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said softly.

They all looked over at Steve who was pushing his food around his tray morosely.

“We’ve got do something for him,” Jeff said. “Eddie you know him the best.”

Eddie munched on a pretzel. “I guess. It’s not very well.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Brian pleaded.

Eddie dropped the pretzel he was holding. “Actually, I think I might have an idea on how to get more information on him without letting him know we’re doing it.”

The other three shared glances.

“Watcha got?” Gareth asked leaning forward.

“I’ve got a Max.”

They all looked confused as Eddie grinned.

*

Eddie had called Steve a couple of times over the weekend, but he was biding his time until his opportunity opened up.

It came that Sunday when Max slipped in front of her trailer while Eddie was cleaning off Wayne’s truck so that he could get to work.

“Whoa!” Eddie called out and jogged over to her. “Hey, you okay?”

She looked down at jeans and cursed when she saw a rip in the knee. “No. Those were my favorite jeans.”

Eddie winced. “I know how that goes.” He pointed to a rip in the knee of his own jeans.

“Yeah, but you make them look cool,” she grumbled. “I’m Max.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, Max, I’m Eddie.” He jutted his head over to the trailer behind him. “I live just over there.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know.”

“Which part?” he asked with a wink.

“All of it.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Fair enough.”

“Billy buys from you,” Max muttered.

Eddie grimaced. “Ah.”

She shrugged. “I get it, really. No judgment here.”

He stood up and held out his hand to her. She looked at it as if it would turn into a serpent, but sighed, taking it anyway. She slid a couple of times but he held her steady until she was firm on her feet.

“Want some hot chocolate?” he asked jutting his thumb behind him.

She looked at her trailer and then nodded. He opened the door and let her in. “I just need to finish the truck and I’ll be right in. And don’t worry about Uncle Wayne. He doesn’t bite.”

Uncle Wayne burst out laughing from inside the trailer. “Not hard anyway.”

Max smiled and went inside.

Eddie finished clearing off the truck of snow and went inside. He found Max at the counter with a mug in front of her. She had chosen the “Fuck Off Before I’ve Had My Coffee” mug. Eddie liked her already.

He picked the Garfield mug and went to cupboard, getting out the can of cocoa mix.

“How rich do you like it?” he asked, digging out a couple of spoons from the drawer.

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I like mine super rich, like half the cup is mix rich,” he said.

Max grimaced. “Not that rich.”

Eddie laughed. “About half that, then. You can always add more if you want.”

“Sure.”

He filled their mugs and went to the fridge. He pulled out milk and added some to his mug.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“Can’t afford to buy whip cream all the time,” he explained with a shrug. “So it adds a little creaminess to it.”

She scoffed. “Still weird.”

“Don’t knock until you try it.”

Just then the kettle went off and he filled their mugs with hot water.

“What grade are you in?” he asked after taking a sip.

She leaned over the counter. “How come yours is frothy and mine isn’t?”

Eddie grinned. “Should have had that milk, kid.”

Max thumped back into her seat. “I didn’t know it could do that.”

“Next cup,” he promised.

“You’re on,” she murmured.

“Still haven’t answered the question,” he said smiling over his mug.

“What are you the cops?” Max grumbled.

“I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, I guess. Eighth.”

“You like it here?” he asked.

She scoffed. “No.”

Eddie laughed. “I hear that.”

Max frowned. “Weren’t you like, born here?”

“Oh hell, no,” Eddie said after drinking from his mug. “Moved out here when I nine or ten.”

Wayne came out of the bathroom, tucking his shirt into his pants. “You were nine. It was just before your birthday.”

Eddie grinned. “There you go. I can never remember if it was before or after.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Wayne said with a chuckle. “You came to me with a concussion.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Best day ever, though.”

Wayne just shook his head. He grabbed his coat and gave Eddie a kiss on the cheek. “Be sure to lock up if you go anywhere.”

“Waaaayyynnne,” Eddie whined. “I’m nineteen! I’ve got this figured out.”

Wayne just raised an eyebrow before waving goodbye to them both.

Eddie looked over at Max who was glaring at him. “I thought you were in Steve’s class.”

Eddie grimaced. “Yeah...about that.”

She raised both her eyebrows.

“I didn’t graduate last year when I was supposed to,” he explained. “So they’re making me do a do-over.”

“You suck,” she said and went back to her cocoa.

“How do you know Steve?” Eddie asked leaning on the counter. “Like you said, he’s in my classes. You, however are an enigma.”

She shrugged. “He saved my life from a pack of rabid junkyard dogs.”

Eddie blinked. “Come again?”

Again she shrugged. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Eddie raised his hands. “Okay then.”

She wrapped both hands around the cooling mug. “He talks about you a lot.”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, what’s he say?” He wrapped his arms around his waist.

“That you’re too good for your own good,” she said.

“That was not what I was expecting, I was honest,” he murmured, shoving his hair into mouth.

Max reared her head back. “Why?”

“You’re new so you probably haven’t heard,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but they call me ‘The Freak’. I’ve tried to turn it into a positive, but it still stings.”

Again she shrugged. “I’ve heard Steve used to be an asshole. But I have yet to see it, so...”

Eddie set his mug down and hopped up on the counter. “He keeps trying to protect me, it’s a little disconcerting to be honest.”

Max laughed. “That’s Steve for you. It’s like an honest to god superhero.”

Eddie hunched his shoulders up around his ears. “I’m older than he is. I really don’t need his protection.”

She huffed out a breath. “You’re going to just have to deal with it.”

“I’m starting to get that,” he said. “But I’m going to wear him down and befriend the asshole if it takes until graduation.”

She shook her head. “Good luck. Usually it takes trauma for people to break to down his unusually high walls.”

“And you know all about those high walls, wouldn’t you?” Eddie said with a sly smile.

“It’s safer.” She paused for a moment. “But it would be good for Steve to have friends his own age that don’t include his ex and her new boyfriend.”

He winced. “Tell me about it. He spends time with them, but I can tell it hurts to do so.”

“I could help,” she murmured. “I could tell you what his interests and hobbies are.”

“You’re on.”

Eddie grinned. That worked better than planned.

Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

Tag List: @the-redthread @howincrediblysapphicofyou @lovelyscot @dangdirtydemons @jaywhohasthegay @whimsicalwitchm @xjessicafaithx @cr0w-culture @kohlraedirectioner @jinxjinn @be-the-spark-bitch @chasinggeese @reportinglivefromsoda @bookbinderbitch @awkwardgravity1 @shucks-yuckyuck @stevesbipanic @phantypurple @huniibee @ashwinmeird @justforthedead89 @emly03 @evix-syne666 @renaissan-vvitch @deadlydodos @scarletzgo @messrs-weasley @kodaik97 @thedragonsaunt @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @nelotegreitic @sundead @artiststarme @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @thing-a-ling @anaibis @garden-of-gay @matchingbatbites @spectrum-spectre @winterbuckwild @steve-the-hairrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @babyblender @cursedfoxteeth @novelnovella @throwbackthrowaway @strangersteddierthings @shrimply-a-menace

[oh-no-its-bird]

I kind of ended up w a small pile of Hatake ocs and lore to fill the early konoha timeline void, and a big thing is like. They all die to preserve the narrative. A lot of them very young bc again, made to fill the time line, so logically, there had to be some Hatake kids/teenagers who met an unfortunate end.

So I'm kinda sitting here considering a 4 part fic where each chapter revolves around a specific Hatake and their inevitable death, w maybe a bonus chapter at the end being about Sakumo

"Death of the Wolves," the unfortunate end of the Hatake's, told in 4 parts

The Hatake's helped set the Konoha standard rule of "a team can only be made up of so many % of one clan" (with special exceptions) after a large chunk of them got sent on a mission together bc of their specializations and all wound up dead, wiping out a solid 90% of the clan in one night.

Actually, expanding on that bc the tragedy is so good -> I already established that in my time line, the Hatake head, Haruka (Sakumo's mother, Tobirama and Hashirama's aunt) died under a week after Tobirama's death, and she would have lead that failed mission. Does that mean one of Hiruzen's first acts as war time Hokage resulted in the accidental slaughter of his beloved dead Sensei's mother's clan? That's amazing actually, so much drama there. I bet him Danzo and Kagami argued like crazy after that monumental fuck up, probably went on to define how he feels ab being Hokage / what that entails. Fun times!

Anyways, I'd also be very interested in exploring early konoha politics n stuff. Especially from the multiple views of not the people in charge of making the village but the ones who are living in it. The view from the ground up, instead of looking down from the tower. The younger generations being brought to this new village, going from their isolated clan lands to suddenly being surrounded by others their age from different clans, possible for the first time ever depending on their age and their clans level of secrecy.

Also, I really wanna poke at the outsider pov of Madara and other founders— but mostly Madara bc I find his downfall very fun to think about, especially from the POV of someone not in his clan.

I'm so in love w the take of the Hatake's being fond of Madara bc "he'd make a very good Hatake." Something about the two tropes of the Uchiha being a clan that loves love and the Hatake being a clan w similar values when it comes to family and loyalty just meshes so well.

Comedy moment where Haruka is weirdly insistent on Madara potentially marrying into the clan, not even for the politics or anything but specifically bc she NEEDS a cute squishy Hatake baby with his massive hair. She NEEDS IT, MADARA.

Anyways also just the early konoha inter clan drama but like. From the eyes of the clan kids. The Uchiha kids seem to be having some sort of terf war with the Senju— but it was interrupted by the Hyuuga, and now the Senju and Uchiha kids are somehow banding together against the Hyuuga? But oh no now the Nara kids are teaming up w the Hyuuga, and the Hatake kid (singular bc there's literally only like 1) seems to have an actual blood feud going on with the Hyuuga clan heir— but the older Hatake teenagers are fond of the Hyuuga's baby clan heir so it's just a mess. All the clan drama but with none of the tragedy bc everyone involved is a child.

Meanwhile the older clan members are somehow bonding over their children's fights bc they're all struggling to pull them away, or going "what the fuck do you mean you teamed up with the SENJU??" Then sharing a disbelieving Look(tm) w the opposing Senju's parents before realizing what they just did and having a crisis of faith ab it

Meanwhile the teenagers are having a wonderful time, especially those from smaller more isolated clans like the Hatake. There's so much romantic drama, there's probably a whole shinobi soap opera happening in that direction. Hormonal shinobi teenagers from opposing clans just got dropped into the same dating pool it's gonna be a MESSSS.

Even funnier if you take crumbs from my senju weed empire au and like. Some of these clans regularly smoke n stuff. Meanwhile other clans have never touched a psychedelic in their life. Some are especially vulnerable to drugs due to heightened senses (Orochi, Inuzuka, Hatake) while others have been smoking since they were younger and have an insane tolerance and very much distorted views of a reasonable amount of weed to smoke (Senju, Nara, Shiranui) There is no way in hell that goes well. Someone is going to get fucked up in a MAJOR way.

Well-intentioned Nara accidentally gets a bunch of dog wired guys and one snake high out of their fucking minds, the high lasts a full week for some of them and one sometimes wonders if they ever really came down from it

Anyways I got a bit off track but yeah! Early Konoha fic that revolves around the daily lives of differently aged Hatake ocs, taking a look from different angles of Konoha and all the silly clan drama and daily lives of an early Konoha shinobi— each chapter being different degrees of generally lighthearted, but ending in the Hatake's death. The fact that each Hatake is in with a different crowd and is a different age would make it even more fun and easier to explore the different layers Konoha has to offer! It's for sure on my list of things I wanna write

(Also I'd really love to have it just so I can point to it as a good introduction for my Hatake ocs. I love tricking people into learning ab my ocs it's great)

[hunterevie]

Story - Cas’s new wardrobe

Pairing - Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating - Teen

Word count - 2230

Summary - Dean decides Cas needs some new clothes now he’s spending more time on Earth. Not trusting the Angel to go and pick out some flattering new outfits for himself, he decides to take the angel clothes shopping.

Since they got him back from the empty, Cas had still worn that same stupid get up. The suit, the tie that sometimes is tight but other times just hangs loosely around his neck, and that dorky tan trench coat. In the past it didn’t bother Dean, he was so used to the angels clothes he barely gave them a second glance. But now whenever he looked at Cas he could just see that confession of love; the tears in his eyes before he sacrificed himself and was taken by that black goo.

That was why Dean needed to get him a new wardrobe.

He found his husband in their little cave. A pile of fiction books around him on the floor. Everything from crime, horror, romance and drama. Ever since they had given up their hunting days, Cas would just sit and consume as many books as possible. In the last month he believed he had managed to read through at least 100 novels. Being an angel meant he was able to consume the words on the page more quickly.

Or at least that was what he claimed. Dean didn’t know either way.

“Cas come on, we’re going clothes shopping.” Dean informed him, pulling him away from the current book he was reading. A Clash of Kings, the second of the Game of Thrones books. One that Dean had been meaning to read but Branns story just bored the hell out of him and every-time he tried he found his focus waning. Cas looked up from the pages, raising an eyebrow at his husband whilst replacing the bookmark in the pages.

“Clothes shopping. Why?” The fact he even needed to ask that question was a good indication they this trip was long overdue.

“You mean aside from the fact you have been wearing the same clothes since I first met you in that barn?” Cas looked down at them, opening his trench coat and examining the suit.

“No I haven’t.”

“Oh I’m sorry. My mistake. The trench coat is different.” Dean responded, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Disbelieving that his husband was even disagreeing on this one minor point. “Come on Cas, wouldn’t it feel nice to have a whole new wardrobe?”

“It would. Maybe I do need some more clothes.” He said, thinking to himself before looking back to his husband. “But you don’t need to come with me. I can do this on my own.” Oh no, that was not going to happen. He did not want to see what kind of weird and bizarre things Cas would come back with if he was let loose in a clothing store alone.

“Er…no that’s okay. I don’t mind coming with. It could be a fun couples activity.” The little tilted head and eye squint was enough to show Dean that Cas didn’t believe him.

“You don’t trust me to buy my own clothes.”

“It’s not…okay yes it’s that. Come on Cas you don’t have a great record in dressing yourself. I mean look at when we found you at Aprils? The colours were all off and just didn’t look right together.”

“Dean, I was homeless and my suit had blood on it. I didn’t exactly have many options in the clothing department.” Oh that was a bad example. Dean felt bad about that one, he completely forgot the April incident happened when Cas was at his most vulnerable.

“Well…how about when I found you married to that woman…” Dean started, wanting to move on as quickly as possible.

“Daphne.”

“Yeah Daphne.” He did his best to stop the malice coming out in his voice when he said her name. What kind of woman finds a guy with amnesia and marries him without finding out who he really was? An oddball. He was just grateful they didn’t consummate that marriage. He could barely contain his possessiveness as it was. “You were dressed like some bible bashing house husband.”

“I had little say in what I wore then. Daphne was very specific on how she expected her husband to dress.” Oof, two and zero for Dean there. Neither was a very good example. Not knowing how to respond to that revelation about Daphne he just got back to the matter at hand.

“Okay well, I’m going to take you shopping anyway. So come on, I’ll meet you in baby in 5.”

———

Cas grumbled about the need for having a chaperone to buy new clothes all the way to the store. By the half way mark Dean was starting to become annoyed, knowing his husband wouldn’t let it drop he made a deal. Cas could pick out some clothes he would like to try on, and Dean would pick out some he thought his husband would look good in. It seemed to appease Cas somewhat and he was a little happier for the remainder of the journey.

When they arrived they both did their own things. Cas choosing the, likely dorky, clothes that he was used to wearing and Dean going for things a little more comfortable. Day to day clothes rather than suits and shirts. By the time he had finished, Cas was already in the changing room trying things on. He took up residence on the sofa outside, sending a message to say he was there for Cas to show what he had picked out. He scrolled through the latest news as he waited for his husband to pop out in his first outfit.

He was not surprised when he did.

“Cas…that’s basically what you already wear.” Dean said when Cas walked out dressed in a black suit with white shirt on. The only difference was the red tie he wore and the fact it was slightly more fitted. Whilst he did look good in it, and Dean was more than happy for him to buy it, it did defeat the purpose of a new wardrobe as he was keen to get him away from these kind of clothes.

“I know but I feel comfortable in it. And it’s very good quality.”

“I get that. We will get it. Your suit could probably use an upgrade anyway. Let’s see what else you picked out angel.” Cas skittered back into the changing room, emerging only a couple of seconds later with a new outfit. Dean could only chuckle, it was obvious he was using his grace to get unchanged and changed quickly. Clearly deciding that changing like a normal person was too onerous.

“A cardigan Cas really? You look about 80.” It was brown and just not a very nice colour. One that you probably would find on your grandad in.

“Well I am older than time itself Dean.” Smartass!

“But you’re in the body of a man in his 40s so no. Not that.” With that he floated back into the room. Again emerging less than a couple of seconds later. Dean really hoped nobody was seeing this on CCTV. That would result in some uncomfortable questions about how his husband was so quick to change.

“What are you a bee surgeon?” The heated glare from his husband didn’t stop him from being happy that he came up with that line. Chuckling to himself as Cas just continued to show his displeasure. It was a bright yellow shirt, which would have been bad enough, but for some reason there were large black blobs on it. It was one of those shirts he would probably buy Cas as a joke, but wouldn’t expect him to wear. The fact he picked it out for himself was a concern to Dean. “I think a no for that sweetheart.”

And it continued like that. Cas modelling what he had found and Dean providing harsh critiques on each outfit. Out of the 20 or so, Dean liked only 3 and they were put in the to buy pile. The rest were hung back up ready to be put back in the racks. One thing that Dean noticed was his husband didn’t look for trousers outside of black slacks. No jeans, nothing comfortable for the bunker, just those uncomfortable suit trousers that he was so used to wearing.

This was exactly why he didn’t want to leave him to do this alone.

“Okay. Now my stuff.” He picked up the pile of clothes next to him and handed them to his husband who eyed him sceptically.

“There’s no flannel in here is there?”

“Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t pull off flannel.” A small chuckle came from Deans throat before he moved forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Cas’s lips, aware he hadn’t kissed him since early this morning and missing that connection to his husband. “Come on scoot. Try on the clothes.”

When Cas shuffled back into the room, Dean could feel the anticipation coursing through his veins. Excited at the prospect of his husband wearing some of the nice t-shirts he picked out for him. Knowing that he would look good in all of them.

When he came out in the first outfit, he wasn’t disappointed.

It was a nice dark red polo shirt. The arms stretched nicely across Cas’s thick arm muscles, almost straining to keep them in as he crossed his arms ahead of him. With it he picked out the nice navy jeans that Dean had found. They rested nicely on his hips and pulled tight against his thick thighs and bulge, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

“Wow Cas, you look…so so amazing.” Dean breathed out, standing again and making his way to his husband. Sliding a hand up his bicep and squeezing a little. Oh yeah he was a good judge of clothes. Unable to stop himself, he crowded his husband back against the wall. Pressing his body close as he took his lips for another kiss, this time harsher than the last. Small shivers went down Cas’s spine as he felt hands rubbing up and down hips, a tiny whimper left his lips as his husband deepened the kiss. Massaging their lips together and pulling stuttering little breaths with every movement. It took Cas all of his strength to not just whisk them back home.

When they broke apart they stayed connected, foreheads touching as Dean played with the collar on the polo shirt. The world had condensed to just them, they were in their own little bubble and as far as they were concerned nobody else existed at this moment.

“You’re gorgeous sweetheart.” Dean verbalised again.

“I guess this is on the yes pile then?” Cas asked with a smirk on his lips, bringing a small snort of laughter from his husband.

“Go try on the rest of your clothes angel so we can get home.” Dean responded, patting him lightly on the hip before kissing him chastely one more time. They uncoupled, Dean going back to his seat and Cas back to try on the rest of the clothes.

If Dean thought Cas looked good in the t-shirt he hadn’t seen anything yet. When he emerged he was in the black leather jacket that Dean thought was cool, but didn’t expect Cas to be able to pull off. But oh, he pulled it off. The leather jacket was accompanied by a black low v necked t-shirt, showing his elegant neck off; as well as that some lovely black jeans also.

This was such a great idea by Dean. He knew his husband was sexy without clothes but he could never imagine how gorgeous he would look with clothes on.

“Yes?” Cas asked, Dean couldn’t talk anymore. He shifted his legs, trying to get more comfortable and nodded his head. Aware that his mouth was slightly agape. Cas just nodded and pushed back into the changing room, leaving his husband to stare at the door in shock. Wondering how he managed to nab such a hottie.

By the end Cas had decided he liked everything Dean had picked. When they went to pay the overall cost came to just under $1000. More than Dean expected but as they would be paying with a credit card they wouldn’t ever pay off, Dean didn’t mind.

After loading everything into the car, Cas grabbed his husband. Pushing him against baby and kissing him hard on the lips. Using tongue to gain access and lick into Deans mouth before pulling away. One hand running up his back and playing with the soft hairs at the back of his neck.

“Thank you for this Dean. I love my new wardrobe.” Cas whispered, leaning forward and kissing him again.

“I’m glad angel. You look so good in it all.” And he did. He was getting hot under the collar seeing how amazing Cas looked in all those wonderful new clothes. Smirking, Cas leaned forward. Lips ghosting against Deans ear, causing his husband to shudder at the hot breaths.

“Maybe next time, we could come update your wardrobe. Make you look less like a lumberjack.” When he pulled away he was laughing, upon seeing Deans offended face the laughs became harder. Shaking his head he walked over to the other side of the car, popping open the door and sliding into the seat. Giggling hard to himself with every movement.

Dean couldn’t wait to get him home and get him back for that one in the bedroom.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hey how are you hope you ok

I got a request for Tommy Shelby if that ok

So basically you and Tommy are dating and one day in a meeting you was having theses really bad stomach pains and you thought nothing of at than when u got home and I got worse and than u went to Tommy crying in pain still and he said you might be in labour ( u don’t know u pregnant) than he calls polly and then u gived birth to you boy or girl up to you and then next day every one was  Shock and yh hope that make sense u don’t have to do it x

Dear Anon,

Thank you for waiting! I changed things up a bit and I apologize for any mistakes as I'm editing on mobile at work. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: childbirth, mentions of Hugh stress and poor eating habits. Peaky related themes and magic.

Dating Thomas was a life changing decision in more ways than you had originally realsied. Your whole life plan had been derailed by the constant ups and downs. 

Every new accomplishment and high was met with an even more dangerous low. You were along for the ride while managing your position at the book shop you owned. Long days and fun nights occupied these past few months so much that you realised that your period was late. 

Very late. 

You thought about it for a while and realised it was probably what used to happen when you were a teenager. High times of stress would stop it altogether. You had no other symptoms that women had told you about. No weird cravings, or morning sickness. Just lots of drama and stres.

You pushed the thought from your mind as you went about your usual routines. 

________6 months later____

You had come to the realisation that you must be barren. A fact that was difficult to come to terms with, however Tommy had said he wasnt interested in children any way. 

Looking at your self in the mirror you noticed a bit of weight on you and made a mental note to try and correct it by skiping meals for a while. Nothing big to worry about in comparison to another rival family causing chaos. You’d only just gotten sorted from being held captive a week ago. 

You already had so much on your shoulders at the book shop, orders were piling up and you were spending more and more late nights and early mornings. Tommy’s men escorting you and staying by the door while you worked. 

The multiple attempts on your life did nothing but add to the list of reasons you couldnt sleep at night. You were slowly falling apart. 

Cramps set in about mid day and you finally gave up. You called Tom letting him know you couldnt make it to lunch and went right to bed. Taking a much needed nap you woke up to even worse sets of pain. 

You grabbed your hot water bottle and tried to curl up on the couch with a book. Struggling through the sets of pain you began to wonder if something else was wrong. Wasn’t there an organ that could explode in your stomach? 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

____________________________________________________

Sitting across the table from the old woman, Polly thought back through time. Her eyes were dark and she had told her lots of things about her life that night. Gave her the curse of knowledge, knowing all too well that the girl was too weak to fight fate. And Polly had tried, every step of the way to fight it. 

It didnt surprise her that she was once again stuck at that wooden table. That the woman reflected on something said ages ago. 

A child. 

Polly’s heart sunk when she thought about the two children that were permanently out of her reach. A child? At this age. Not likely. 

The dream took a turn and woman shouted at her. 

“Go to her now before its too late.” And image of your face came into her mind and suddenly she was awake. The womans cold scream still echoing in her mind. 

Getting her clothes pulled on she quickly called Thomas. 

“Need to get to her place now” She said trying to pull on her boot at the same time. 

“Pol - why? What’s wrong?” The sound of panic in his voice made her reconsider your place within the family. 

“Just go, I’m on my way now.” She hung up the phone not wanting to waist anytime. On the drive over she thought about you and what this ment. 

There was no way of making sense of the situation. All the things she was told never made sense as a girl and wouldnt likely start to make sense now. She sighed defeated. She liked you well enough. Smart, kept Thomas in line, a bit soft hearted but she could see that changing the more you saw of the world. 

She parked and ran up the steps of your building. Opening the door she ould hear your soft cries as he tried to comfort you. 

“Pol what’s wrong with her.” 

“It’s a child.” Polly said moving into the kitchen seeing what supplies they were working with. 

“Fuck off.” You said a tone of disbelif. Coming back into the room she watched your face cycle through the many stages of panic. 

“Accept it so we can get on with it.” Polly said to the both of them. 

“How?” 

“Part of the prophecy. Flashbacks got me up in the middle of the night.” She watched as Tommy fell under the weight of her words. 

“Alright, love.” He kissed the top of your head. “It’s not going to make sense. So just let it happen.” You looked at up him your fear fading in the warmth of his gaze. 

“I dont think I can do it.” You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“It’s already happened. Pol saw it. That means you certainly can. Just have to make it from here to there.” 

After that you followed instructions, Polly was professional but couldnt help but feel a fondness growing for you. This was also a side of Tom she hadn’t seen since he was a small boy. He did everything without thought, never letting you out of his grip. 

“Tough girl.” He kissed your temple. “You can do it, gotta push again” 

Like many times before. Polly pulled a small little babe from their mother on the living room floor of a dingy flat in Birmingham. 

You collapsed against Tom and Polly went to work ensuring the child was alright. Smallest little girl she’d ever seen. Born too soon, quiet as a mouse as she looked up at her great aunt. Her heart was strong, and Polly knew just by holding her that this child, was significant in something bigger than all of them put together. 

She handed the girl off to her parents. Leaning back against the sofa sitting next to Thomas. He handed her a cigarette from his breast pocket. 

Taking a long drag, she realized she should give them space to enjoy the moment. Her bones had no interest in moving as the night, and previous months took a toll on her. 

“She predicted this? Why didn't you say something?”  Tom whispered stoking the cheek of his first child. 

Polly almost snapped at him, before registering his tone of voice. She’d never seen him this vulnerable. 

“She told me a lot of things, I was small at the time. None of you were born yet. It’s not specific stuff-” 

“Thank you.” You said with tears in your eyes. “I -I Don't know what to say.” 

“You shouldn't say, anything love. You're family now” 

_________________________________________________

You were the most exhausted you’d ever been, but a family meeting was unavoidable. That night was the last night you spent in your apartment. He’d carried you to the car the next morning to take you to his place. 

You watched him move around the massive kitchen. He got you a cushion before letting you sit at the head of the table. A cup of strange tea was placed in front of you as the family started to pile in. 

Ruby slept in your arm and you tried to relax as the family came close. You were friendly and warm with everyone but this was the first time they were seeing you as a permanent fixture in the family. 

“That must have been so scary love. Your body hid it so well” Emse came up to you putting her arm around you in a makeshift hug. “Look at her. So small. Pretty like her mum.” She sat close to you and you knew that it was because of her natural distaste for family meetings. Her posture told you if anyone got smart she’d chew them out. 

Arthur and John started to congratulate Tommy loudly and your stomach turned when they set on you. She was so small you didn't feel comfortable passing her around yet. What if that offended people? 

“Look at that! Next Shelby made a grand entrance like her da” Arthur kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling. “Good job, love.”

“Thanks,” You said softly. 

“God I hope she’s just like you Tom. Finally some payback.” John came over and lowered his voice once seeing her. “Fuck she’s so small. You can call us any time if you need anything. Got a truckload of baby clothes for ya.” 

“Really though, love. Call any time.” Esme said and you hoped more than anything you would get closer to her. 

The meeting started and Tommy made a grand speech. It didn't take long before Polly was rushing you back up to lie down in bed. When you woke up there was a ring on your wedding finger and a note on the bedside table. 

Gone to London for business. Be back tomorrow. 

You went back to the massive set of diamonds on your finger. It was talked about but you hadn't had the chance to think about it yet. 

There was a soft knock at the door and Esme poked her head in. 

“Staying while he’s away, do you need anything, love.” Without knowing what to do you just stuck your hand out at her. 

She looked at the ring. 

“When!” She whispered.

“Just woke up and it was there.” You whispered back in disbelief. 

“Such a Thomas thing to do.” She laughed and sat on the bed next to you. You both talked for hours and you were grateful she let you doze off and nap. 

You and Ruby fit right in.

[very-grownup]

So a couple years ago, I fell into watching Chinese dramas and because my posts about the most recent one garnered some curiosity, here are the dramas what I have watched.

Hikaru no Go

DID YOU KNOW. DID YOU KNOW. THAT IN 2020 THERE WAS A CHINESE DRAMA ADAPTATION OF HIKARU NO GO AND IT IS AMAZING AND MADE ME CRY ALL OVER AGAIN? It is faithful in spirit while making understandable alterations both for the setting and to avoid managing child actors for the entirety of the series (there are about six episodes with Hikaru/Shi Guang as an elementary school student before a time jump to high school).

If you are unfamiliar with Hikaru no Go I recommend becoming familiar with Hikaru no Go, my first and still one of the best sports manga. It's what Takeshi Obata was the artist on before Death Note and my hot take is that Obata post-Hikaru no Go is mid at best.

Hikaru no Go is a sports series about the most normal boy finding an antique go board that houses the soul of an ancient go master who died too young and with go regrets, so he bullies/guilts the boy into helping him play go so he can see or play a divine go move. In the process he acquires a rival/stalker in the form of the genius son of a go master. It's amazing and the drama absolutely does it justice.

The heart of the series is the relationship between Hikaru/Shi Huang and Fujiwara no Sai/Chu Ying.

It's just a fucking good series.

The Untamed

According to one description on imdb, this is about two friends solving a series of murders. This is technically true, although it neglects to mention a few details.

Sixteen years after doing a whole lot of demonic blood magic shit and dying because of it, hated by society, Wei Wuxian (Xiao Zhan) is brought back from the dead by more super demonic blood magic and is recognized by his noble and esteemed peer/friend Lan Wangji (Wang Yibo) and trying to deal with why Wei Wuxian has been brought back from the dead leads to their investigating a series of murders that result in their becoming entangled in wider political schemes stretching back twenty years.

It's got weird pacing, prolonged flashbacks to explain a lot of the relationship dynamics, and basically an entirely self-contained sub-story that brings the main plot to a grinding halt. There are creatures and CGI effects of interesting quality. There are amazing wigs. There are piles of corpses. There's physical torture and emotional torture and some doomed love stuff and sword fights and musical instrument fights and a donkey and chicken theft and brotherhood and what you're willing to sacrifice for your goals and what goals you're willing to sacrifice for and it is based on a novel that ends in the protagonists raw dogging on the side of the road.

That part's not in the show.

Douluo Continent

Ignorant country boy Tang San (Xiao Zhan) finds himself involved in the world of martial arts and magic after discovering a hidden talent and ends up in the group of fellow martial artists who are all weird or unorthodox or hiding crucial bits of their backstory like girl who is actually a rabbit and immediately decides Tang San is her best friend/husband (Wu Xianyi), guy who needs to become powerful enough to kill his older brother (Gao Taiyu), girl who rejected an engagement to the would-be brother killer and wants to fight him (Liu Mei Tong), guy who wants to ditch martial arts to become a great actor (Liu Run Nan), and girl who is too rich to be here (Ding Xiaoying). They learn together, they grow together, they fight monsters and embark on a tournament arc, and there's an overarching mystery about Tang San and his weak but simultaneously super powerful spirit summoning.

Even though the best technique is clearly the one where the boy in question can summon a sausage that you eat and heals you.

It's very much of a specific genre that can be pretty samey, but Douluo Continent has a charming cast that makes up for its predictable plot beats.

It does end on a cliffhanger that is possibly resolved in the sequel series where ... all the main characters were recast with, I'm guessing, slightly less pricey actors. Such is the way of things.

Word of Honour

Do you like knowing what's going on? Then get the fuck out of here, Word of Honour is not for you. Real ones want to be immediately submerged into chaos and confusion and secret identities. You want Mr Bones' Wild Ride in plot form. Why has former superassassin Zhou Zishu (Zhang Zhe Han) abandoned the sect of assassins he created to live in wandering drunk anonymity as he slowly dies? Why is Wen Kexing (Gong Jun) stalking him aside from poorly censored horny desires? Is Wen Kexing actually a ghost? Can any of the impressionable youths attaching themselves to Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing be stopped from their very poor choices in role models? What is up with this legendary hidden armoury and why do Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing seem unable to escape the conspiracy around it? HOW HARD IS IT TO GET WOLONG'S FAMOUS NUTS?

Not recommended for people who constantly want to know what's happening or why X is doing Y, but great if you want to watch with someone and then after an episode, walk your dogs and try to figure out what's going on and what's going to happen (you will be wrong).

Advance Bravely

What if the most ridiculously unrealistic and unhinged slashfic by a teenage girl who doesn't fully understand anything was adapted into a drama series where censorship means everything must be painted with a special "no homo" brush? You get Advance Bravely which is the most incoherently homoerotic thing I've ever watched. No one thinks you should watch Advance Bravely and you watch Advance Bravely and you agree but sometimes you just have to watch a beautiful trainwreck where the protagonist explains his lack of a girlfriend with erectile dysfunction and the series climax involves his being, essentially, trapped in a well.

Love Between Fairy and Devil

DO YOU WANT TO GO FULL SHOUJO MANGA FANTASY?

Innocent fairy Orchid (Yu Shuxin) just wants to strengthen her immortal spirit and pass the exam that would let her serve in the palace of the fairy capital so she can catch glimpses of the War God Chang Heng (Zhang Ling He) who she is hopelessly in love with. Instead, an attempt to help her crush causes her to bumble her way into the high security spiritual prison that has held Dongfang Qingcang, the Moon Supreme (Dylan Wang), for 30,000 years.

DO YOU LIKE BIG NUMBERS BECAUSE YOU WILL GET TO SEE SOME BIG NUMBERS IN TERMS OF TIME SPAN AND AGES.

Because of some plot magic, Orchid and the Moon Supreme swap bodies and loophole out of prison, much to her distress. Their fates are tied together and Orchid becomes more familiar with the wider world and the politics between the realms and how much the fairy realm's supreme ruler fucking suuuuuuuuuuuucks while Moon Supreme finds himself having feelings again after they were tortured out of him in a mystical coffin prison as a child.

Moon Supreme's closest friend is a dragon. Orchid's closest friend is an opportunistic snakeoil saleswoman. There's a pissy younger brother and a bitchy but honourable love rival. There are secret origins and reincarnation and hidden identities and the way it alternates broad comedy and melodrama and sweet romance may give you whiplash.

I just love a bodyswap, you guys.

Sailor Moon vibes but Mamoru is actually interesting and becomes likeable.

Guardian

Okay so the best thing about Guardian is not only that it's a censored adaptation of a novel with a same-sex romance, but that /the entire premise/ is altered for television purposes.

The novel is steeped in Chinese folk religion and the Underworld is real and mythical creatures secretly walk among us.

In the show?

ALIENS, BABY.

Ghosts? THOSE AREN'T REAL BECAUSE HUMANS DON'T HAVE SOULS, THEY'RE JUST ENERGY BEINGS.

It's so ridiculous it's endearing.

Anyway, it's about bros solving mysteries with a Monster of the Week vibe until it becomes about possibly the end of the world and alien domination and evil twins.

Mysterious Lotus Casebook

IT'S TIME TO SOLVE CRIMES. IN ANCIENT CHINA.

Quack doctor Li Lianhua (Cheng Yi) is just trying to live a quiet life with his dog and his horse-drawn house. Fang Duobing (Joseph Zeng) just wants to gain admittance into the martial art cop organization that's carrying on the legacy of his dead teacher, Li Xiangyi, who was maybe never actually his teacher and also wasn't killed ten years previously by Di Fei Sheng (Xiao Shunyao), the head of an evil martial arts sect who is also not dead. Not nearly as many people as people think are dead! Identities are cleverly hidden behind pseudonyms and various levels of mask!

Crimes are solved and Li Lianhua is very tired about the whole thing. It's an unwilling buddy cop sort of thing until it becomes about youthful hubris and the sins of the past and also one woman's determination to conquer the world and give it to the man she loves, even if he doesn't want the world and also doesn't love her. We love a woman who takes what she wants and if necessary cuts a man's tendons and imprisons him in a torture pool so his blood can't clot until he agrees to be her wife, don't we, folks?

Folks?

Story of Kunning Palace

The scheming empress Jiang Xue Ning (Bai Lu) dies and wakes up, eighteen-years-old, at the point in her life where she's on the verge of making the start of the decisions that lead her to the Very Bad End. She is going to make different decisions this time and prevent the things she regrets and avoid becoming the empress at all costs.

What you need to know about Story of Kunning Palace is that Bai Lu could have chemistry with a rock and she inadvertently collects a bisexual harem. Her end game love interest is Xie Wei (Zhang Ling He), the man who killed her, an advisor to the emperor, music teacher, double or triple agent, and sufferer of vampire snow madness and a fear of cats, whether adorably fluffy or badly CGI'd. But she's in love with noble civil servant Zhang Zhe (Wang Xing Yue), a pure and hardworking man who she seduced into betraying his principles, leading to his imprisonment and probable death. However, her childhood friend Yan Lin (Zhou Jun Wei) is in love with her and previously she rejected him VERY HARSHLY after his family fell into disfavour due to political machinations and Jiang Xue Ning had cemented the likelihood of her marriage to the next emperor. Also there's Princess Le Yang (Liu Xie Ning), who Jiang Xue Ning made an enemy of after the Princess fell in love with her when Jiang Xue Ning was crossdressing and did not take the reveal of her true gender well. Xue Shu (Elisa Ye) is an unfavoured daughter of a scheming lord who was the only truly loyal person Jiang Xue Ning knew as empress. ALL OF THESE PEOPLE FALL IN LOVE WITH JIANG XUE NING and you look at Bai Lu and go 'yes, that makes sense'.

It's mostly about the politics and scheming and Jiang Xue Ning trying to find a way to have a stable, satisfying life without betraying everyone she knows and standing on a pile of corpses, but the love shape Jiang Xue Ning isn't fully aware she's in is comparable in complexity to the plots between ministers and lords and dowager empresses and cousins and rebels.

The choices the characters make are maybe not always the best choices, but DAMN are they a good time.

Story of Kunning Palace is also one of the only times I have begged a character in a show to take a particular action and then she DID IT and fuck it was satisfying.

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

IT'S TIME TO SOLVE CRIMES. IN ANCIENT CHINA. AGAIN. BUT WITHOUT MARTIAL ARTS.

Tang Fan (Darren Chen) is a low-ranking government official and detective genius who loves food and hates routine work, but loves a fucked up crime. Since he spends most of his money on delicious food, he writes trashy porn under a variety of pseudonyms to pay his rent. Sui Zhou (Fu Meng Bo) is an imperial guard and ex-soldier with PTSD who has no time for nonsense but loves the passionate pursuit of justice and food. He's also From Money and has a very empty house that Tang Fan whines his way into after they solve a case together. Everyone is manipulated by dangerously powerful eunuch Wang Zhi (Liu Yao Yuan) who is the enemy of basically everyone, except for Tang Fan, who has the political and social awareness of a rock.

An amiably pathetic man solves a variety of mysteries, from murder to complex imperial assassination plots and also this really complicated one involving diluting the purity of silver currency, and also the executive producer is Jackie Chan.

It's missing the romance subplot that I understand is in the source novel and also apparently there's an overarching plot involving a cult?! which we don't get here, but there's lots of bombs which are almost as good as a cult, maybe? (They're not.)

Divine Destiny

This is the one we're currently watching and the ride that this show is. How many plots can be crammed into one show? How many ridiculous but true things can I say about this show?

Ji Ruochen (Ma Tianyu) is an orphan who dreams of martial arts adventures. Raised by a couple who run a Crime Inn, one day a customer robbery goes very wrong when the customer turns out to be the latest incarnation of Yin Feng, the Banished God (Marius Wang). Ji Ruochen accidentally kills the Banished God and his foster parents promptly take the body into the desert and dump it down a cliff, but not before taking a necklace made from a piece of Gu Qing, the Blue Stone Goddess (Xuan Lu), which is supposed to let her recognize the Banished God in their final incarnation. Accidentally stealing the Banished God's identity, Ji Ruochen finds himself a hotly desired commodity by the cultivation sects who are all eager to have the Banished God as a disciple for prophecy reasons. He goes with Zhang Yinyin (Angelababy), a feisty, argumentative girl who has had to work extra hard because her spirit was contaminated by a demonic root planted by the evil nine-tailed fox who is poorly imprisoned in a cave anyone can access.

MEANWHILE some dudes with amazing moustaches and a penchant for laughing in delight at their own evil have found the body of the Banished God and done some questionable mystical shit to put him in a new body and nurture a grudge against Ji Ruochen for stealing his identity.

THEN Gu Qing meets Ji Ruochen and like everyone else assumes he's the Banished God and she falls in love with him (Gu Qing having been a literal rock spirit who cultivated to immortality under the guidance of the Banished God, who followed her into the mortal realm and a cycle of 100 incarnations after Gu Qing accidentally Did A Crime) but then falls in love with HIM.

ALSO Zhang Yinyin is always at risk of succumbing to the temptation of using the demonic fox power that is within her even though that will literally turn her into a demon but maybe it's worth it if a woman who is actually a goddess who is actually a rock is making eyes at the junior you brought into the sect and are in love with and you want to be more powerful than her?

ALSO what's the mysterious power that let Ji Ruochen kill the Banished God in the first place?

IS the woman seeking revenge for the death of the Banished God's mortal incarnation his sister or his cousin or his "cousin"?

WHY is the only love language of immortals stalking?

There's a homunculus and a baby snake demon who is the most precious angel in the world and so many evil dudes delighted in how evil they are and TWO GOOD AND ALIVE PARENTS and a pair of comical monks who have a special attack with a name they have to shout out every time they use it.

Oh and the imprisoned fox demon may have an ex who just hangs out on a rock in something called the Endless Ocean wearing a mask and playing go against the homunculus he made.

And there's an ancient master who lives in an ice mountain and eats memories of love.

Also some people might be secret demons.

There's some weddings.

There's a tiny woman with an ice sword who brutally murders so many dudes.

Do you like CGI birds?

Do you like giant mechanical CGI birds that are for riding purposes?

There's a desert hermit who has a son who is a giant tortoise.

So many things are going on and terrible decisions are constantly being made and it's over a week before I can watch another episode and it's driving me mad. WHAT WILL BE THE FALLOUT OF THE MOST RECENT BAD DECISIONS?

[livwritesstuff]

Follow up to the last one (it felt like it could be its own thing), is there something that the girls share that’s just for two of them? Like inside jokes or activities that Moe and Hazel or Robbie and Moe, etc will do? And is there something all three of them consider sacred amongst themselves that not even their dads can participate in (without an extreme amount of reluctance ofc)?

so sorry for the delay in answering these. I used to do all my writing at work bc they weren't giving me enough tasks to fill the day but then my boss got fired last week and everything blew up and now they're actually giving me work to do so there's gonna be an overall pls hold on the writing front

Anyhoo there isn’t really much overlap in Moe, Robbie, and Hazel's major hobbies/interests (which Steve & Eddie are extremely grateful for because they’re competitive enough as is). Like, Moe is way sportier than the other two, Robbie is the musically-inclined one, Hazel does ballet all the way through high school and also has the whole animal sciences thing.

I honestly think Robbie and Moe go through a pretty long phase of not spending a whole ton of “quality time” together. Hanging out for them looks like sitting on their phones on opposite ends of the couch occasionally tagging each other in memes and saying "you lol". They definitely break out their ancient Wii every now and then to play all the old games, and I also think they’d be fully involved in each other’s drama. If Robbie’s friend group is at war with each other (we’ve all been there), Moe is just as glued to Robbie’s phone as Robbie is herself, watching the group chat fall apart and telling her how to respond.

I also think Moe and Robbie would be concert buddies when they're older, and as for activities they bar their dads from -- I 100% think that Robbie and Moe give each other stick-and-pokes in high school, and Moe definitely assists in the (multiple) ear-piercings that Robbie gives herself.

If Hazel needs a sister to rope into filming TikToks, she’s definitely going to Moe first, but Robbie’s the one she’ll ask to go shopping with.

Robbie probably ropes Hazel into all her artsy stuff like, “I’m gonna make Aunt Nancy teach me how to crochet. Wanna come?” (and then they’ll come out the other side with completely different end products).

I'm not sure if there's anything super super sacred between them (though I did read The Penderwicks growing up and this made me think of the MOPS - Meeting of Penderwick Sisters) so they might have little movie nights where they all pile into Moe's bed with snacks and a laptop balanced on their knees, and Steve and Eddie are like...hello???

[broadwaycutie16]

Oh big whoop de do. Marinette deliberately let Adruen’s life fall to complete and total permanent ruin just to spite him for some teenage drama, and let what she KNEW to be a dangerous havoc-reeking psycho roam free with millions of dollars that she could use to continue hurting the innocent in infinite ways, but she didn’t actually physically harm anyone, so we should go easy on her for not being as much of a b!t€h as she could have been!

Maybe Marinette couldn’t have completely protected Adrien, but she COULD have stopped the karma piling on him from becoming too much. She could have denied the accusations when he was first rumored to be a terrorist accomplice, or gotten his money back from Lila who stole it illegally, but she chose not to for no actual gain than to see Adrien suffer. Even without her help, Adrien would have been punished enough for his actions. But she deliberately let him choke on everything out of spite. And THAT’S why she’s being punished.

Here’s the thing — I know that Marinette’s punishment in Karmic Backlash was unfair. That was the whole point. The karma system in the original story made it perfectly clear that those who enable others to do bad are more deserving of its wrath than those who actually do do bad. If Adrien deserved everything he got in the original story, then by that logic Marinette deserves the same if not worse, since she did all the same things he did in the original story and for no real gain but some kind of warped triumph.

The only reason people are saying it’s unjust in KBl and not in KoL is because the narrative doesn’t favor Marinette. Sorry, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t say that what happened to Adrien was more or less okay and that what happened to Marinette wasn’t.

[scarefox]

This is a whole ramble but there is a theme in there (for fun and giggles)

I sometimes have to think about the whole "petplay" / master-servant game Gun has going on with some of the GMM guys (Tay and Joss, officially but he probably has some of the others joined too). It's just so damn wild and funny. And everyone is pretending like that's just the most normal thing besties do. I mean sure why not but also 😏 Just them taking turns in being the others obedient cute pet-servant for one day, while he calling him "his pet" and treats him like a pet (and that outside of cameras and fanservice stuff, they do that in their private time mainly. just dragging it out in the open occasionally). I love that for them 👌

OG Fun Night S1Ep3

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... hmmm 😏

yea that's more likely

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THE WHOLE ENTIRETY OF FUN NIGHT S2EP7 is just damn wild where they compete to be Guns number 1 pet, winning a freaking collar of all things! While talking about the drama "3 Will Be Free" (which is literally a canon polyamory drama with Tay, Joss and Mild)

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also that TayGun date special

But Off is always like "You guys have fun but leave me out of that nonsense" 🙅‍♂️ whenever Gun asks him to join the pet poly circle....

BUT isn't he basically Guns first "pet" before Tay even?! Guns nickname for him is literally Papii... which I first thought means "dad" (or daddy if you will 😏) but someone once educated me that it means "puppy". Because of their first drama together "Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey".

So what I am trying to say here is: Off you lost that fight already years ago!! You have been Guns doggo all along!! lol

(but that's fine, he just doesn't want to mingle with the others 😌)

It's tragic, there once was a compilation of all the Tay and Gun pet moments (+ trust falls) with parts of an interview where Tay explains his side. And the MC was shook like "And you just let him treat you like a pet??" and Tay all shy and giggly "Yea, it's just a thing between us. I don't even know why. I went with it" 🤷‍♂️ And that he thinks that Gun is the most powerful guy in whole GMM. (A+ video.. why did they take that from us)

Yall don't understand how neat the whole OffGunTay(New) and Gun swinger / poly dynamic is. Alone for the fact that they don't care for the strict exclusive ship rule where they can only be touchy with their on-screen partner. But Gun is touchy and playful with every GMM guy and that's fine and neat af (even tho they all mainly stay in their official ship constellation as well). Meanwhile there are still so many couple themed ship war fanvideos from fans out there about which couple would be most likely real and which one will sink: OffGun or TayGun 🙄 Like bruh, everyone is Guns pet or cuddle buddy, what are yall not getting? OffGunTay(New + others) love and cherish each other (in whatever way that is does not matter). And Tay AND Off and even New encouraging Gun getting cuddly and kissed by other guys. Off and Tay are literally that "You are doing great sweety" meme when Gun has fun with others. Off being jealous is literally just a playful running gag.

I swear most BL fans are way too innocent and stuck with the oldschool relationship style for this awesome GMM (friend)ship dynamic they are playing with here...

Like look at this pile of TayGunNew while Off takes a photo

I don't know why this post turned from the petgame thing to OffGunTay & GMM polycule but it's basically the same ven diagram. Just everyone gets kisses, flirts and cuddles. As they should.

But it does not have to be the one ship over the other. Each of them literally has two hands 😌

holding hand throuple style 😌

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

Anyways.... A poly drama with them when?? Didn't P'Jojo say he wants to do a drama with Gun but doesn't know what theme? (P'Jojo who did "3 Will Be Free" with Joss and Tay already). Here! This? ✨

EDIT: I had to ad this

[builder051]

Month of Sick 2024 Day 3: Bad News(ish)

———————

@monthofsick

Iron man and Spider-Man. Choose your own timeline.

Warnings: emeto, high school drama

———————

Something seems off with the kid. Tony can sense it before the door to the lab whirrs slowly shut and seals like a hydraulic bathtub.

He can’t stand slamming. Not that Peter would dare to make an entrance with a bang. When the kid was first starting to visit him in the lab, Tony thought the mouse creeping was some sort of respect thing. Then he’d realized it was probably an apartment thing. Topics like housing inequality and wage gaps set angry, brain-eating larvae loose in his prefrontal cortex.

Tony usually fills the holes with a few spontaneous donations to institutes of higher learning. His fingers twitch toward his keyboard, but he rests a millimeter above the touch screen. Tony doesn’t want Peter to catch him throwing cash around, even therapeutically. That would just throw the kid-money-apartment guilt trip back into motion. At least Peter will be prepared for the niceties of life in a college dorm. It’d taken Tony a couple times around the block to recognize and participate in the etiquette of close quarters. And, of course, to start holding himself to the same standard he expected of everyone else. Hence his objection to doors noisily bouncing off walls.

Peter exhales slowly. “Hey, uh, Mr. Stark.”

The kid’s sneakers come to a halt, and he stands a respectable distance from Tony’s elbow. Something hangs in the space between them. The air feels charged with electricity. Is this what the tingle, the spider-sense feels like? Tony has never coveted Peter’s powers. He’s glad to stick with good ol’ observation and inference. He’s just a little proud how naturally the scientific method flows toward the correct conclusion. Like the fact that Peter’s anxious as fuck. And he’s been skating on carpet in wool socks. Or combing his hair without adding product. Tony grounds his feet and puts his hands on his knees, just in case the static bursts into an electric shock.

“Yeah?” Tony replies. He holds his gaze on the holographic screen in front of him for a moment, for the sake of normality. If he replies too quickly, he might tip the balance and bring on the thunderbolt. Tony cringes internally as he imagines Peter burned to a crisp. Or maybe a small pile of ash.

It would be the ash, for sure. Now that Tony’s turned to look at him, he considers his hypothesis confirmed. The kid’s pale. His hair sticks to his glistening forehead. His shoulders move up and down with every breath, which comes out loud and shallow. Bronchitis, Tony guesses. Depends on whether or not Peter’s running a fever. He could have FRIDAY run a scan in seconds. He could probably write a program for a chest x ray as well, but he doesn’t think breaking the eye contact is a good idea for now.

“Pete?” Tony asks cautiously. He tries to keep his concern out of his voice. “Did you run here or something? Why? It’s cold and brrr.” Tony mimes shivering and crossing his arms for warmth. “I thought track and field didn’t start until spring.” He eases up. If he talks too much, Peter will just start nodding in pseudo agreement.

“No, I, uh,” Peter stammers. “I took the bus.” He jerks his head suspiciously over his shoulder. “Do I smell like the bus?”

Tony keeps a straight face. He fights the urge to breathe in through his nose but eventually needs to rearrange what’s certainly a stony expression. He tries not to sniff too hard, then sets it off with a gentle smile.

“But do I, like…?” Peter trails off, lifting one arm. He presses his lips together, and the palest blush colors his nose and cheeks. If anything it makes him look sicker.

“You smell like… Rolaids, cinnamon, carnauba wax, and…pie crust?” There’s also a tinge of sour stress sweat, but Tony decides not to mention it. This whole topic of body odor is a surface issue. Meaningless chatter. Tony hopes his answer helps to loosen whatever’s got Peter so constricted, though he worries it might just pull it tighter.

“Hm.” Peter takes another audible breath, then nods. “Yeah, that’s—um, good.” He drops his arm back to his side, where he immediately begins picking at a rivet on the pocket of his jeans. “I was at Ned’s. His grandma was making emanadas. And she has those big glass candles with, like, the virgin Mary, you know?” The kid tries for a casual laugh, but he hiccups when he takes in a breath. He releases the rivet and puts his hand over his abdomen.

Tony wants to thump the kid on the back, but now’s probably not the right time to introduce physical contact. Tony doesn’t like to be handsy. Peter might have germs. The hand sanitizer is too far across the lab bench, and reaching for it now would be downright offensive.

“Ned’s house sounds great.” Tony says, filling what would be an awkward pause as Peter collected himself. The anxiety’s still coming off him in waves. Tony watches Peter’s shoulders quiver.

Tony ditches any remaining decorum and asks, “Hey, is your stomach bugging you?” He’d initially left is comment about Rolaids alone. They’d seemed like kind of a personal thing. He leaves a moment for the kid to respond, perhaps if time is of the essence to get to a bathroom or something, but Peter doesn’t say anything. He just swallows, then looks up without meeting Tony’s eye.

“Too many empanadas before the bus ride?” Tony offers.

“Hm… no.” Peter twists his lips, but settles on neither a smile nor a frown. It seems like he’s making his mouth as small as possible. “Yeah, I’m, like, I keep tasting lunch, but it’s, like, I’m fine.” The kid laughs again, sounding just as congested. “That’s probably TMI. Sorry.”

Tony shrugs. He doesn’t love discussions about acid reflux, but if that’s the problem… At least it’s a straightforward problem, but Tony has a feeling that’s more of a side effect. The real issue is something much deeper.

“They weren’t real Rolaids.” Peter blithers on. “Some kind of off brand…I got them at the bodega for, like, three bucks. I don’t think they actually work.” Peter catches himself and continues, “Not that I feel sick or anything. Just kinda—“ He removes his hand from his stomach and wavers it in midair. “I don’t know if the CVS ones are any better, or if it has to be, like, brand name…” Peter trails off nervously.

“If you do feel sick, we can fix that. Medicine cabinet in the ‘s pretty stocked ” Tony clasps his hands and rests his chin on his knuckles. “What’s going on, Pete?” Tony asks. “You don’t look so good. I mean, you smell fine, but…” Tony shrugs again. He doesn’t want Peter to feel interrogated, but if they can get to the heart of the matter… Maybe the kid will stop looking like he’s going to shit himself.

“I…” Peter hesitates. “I don’t feel really good.”

Tony can’t hold himself back anymore. “FRIDAY, run a temp scan.”

“Oh, no, I don’t have a fever.” Peter shakes his head, but the AI begins to glow, running a thin red line floor to ceiling and back again.

“Temperature scan complete,” FRIDAY reports. The outlines of two human bodies appear on the screen; temperature readings appear beside each in both Fahrenheit and Celsius.

Tony doesn’t even glance at his information. He squints in confusion when he reads Peter’s, though.

“98.7…” Tony muses. Maybe the kid isn’t incubating a bug. “How about heart rate?” Tony requests.

More numbers appear beside each figure. Tony blinks to be sure he’s reading the measurement correctly. The kid’s reads 130. Peter’s more than wound up. He’s about to blow his circulatory system.

Peter’s powers raise his metabolism, Tony reminds himself. But not that much. He’s pretty sure there are defibrillator paddles in the lab somewhere.

“Your heart rate is rising really fast.” Peter points to the pulsating heart icon beside Tony’s outline. “Is that, like, not good?”

“Oh—“ Tony backhands the air in front of his face as if batting the kid’s comment out of the way. “Forget me. Look at yours! That’s what’s not good. You’re stressing me out.”

“I told you. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Tony says firmly. “Are you scared or something? Is this- I don’t know- a panic attack?”

“Um, I don’t—” Peter gulps, then pulls his lips into a straight line. “I guess kinda stressing too.”

“What about?” Tony braces himself. What bothers highschoolers these days? Tony thinks to his own teenage experience, but he was so detached during that phase of life. He had nary a responsibility. His parents were still alive. Peter doesn’t even have that to lean back on. A rush of belated empathy hits Tony in the chest and leaches into his heart. The shot is not full of flesh-eating parasites this time. It hits hard and heavy, adding a terrible weight and increasing his worry.

Peter sighs. He puts his hands over his eyes. “Ok, ok. But please don’t get mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” Tony’s still focused on the possibility of a serious health incident. Even if the kid did it to himself, he’s far more concerned about the fallout than the details. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re probably going to be totally disappointed.” Peter keeps his eyes covered. “I—I don’t think I made it into MIT.”

“You don’t think?” Tony repeats. “What, did you get a letter or something? They didn’t waitlist you, did they?” He does feel his temper begin to rise despite himself. Not toward the kid, though. What kind of signature-stamping admissions officer would put Peter’s application in the ‘maybe’ pile? His grades, coupled with his experience, should blow anyone out of the water.

“No. I don’t think so. But maybe? I didn’t think of that.” Peter says in a rush.

“What do you think?” Tony presses. He glances at the flashing numbers of Peter’s heart rate again. “Tell me.”

The kid takes a shaky breath. “Ned and I made this, like, pact thing, that we would tell each other at the same time, If we got in. After we’d both gotten our letters.”

“Ok…” This is clearly background. Tony waits for the hammer to fall.

“I kind of accidentally found out about Ned. Just now, at his house. He got his MIT letter. And I saw it. I saw Ned’s letter. But like, not really, exactly.” Peter wrings his hands and cringes. It’s like he’s trying to minimize his involvement in a crime.

Tony’s heavy heart throbs with empathy. If he were a cop, he’d let the kid off. He nods, and Peter keeps talking.

“It was just the envelope, though. But it had the logo and the return address and everything. And it was a big fat envelope. So he got in. They sent him the whole admission packet thing. I know he got in.” Peter bites his lip. “Denials come in tiny envelopes, right?”

“Usually,” Tony replies. “Bureaucratic shit.” He rolls his eyes, but immediately realizes he’s being too flippant. He straightens up and looks into Peter’s eyes. His lower lids glisten with unshed tears. “Why does that make you think you got denied?” Tony asks slowly. “I get that your big reveal is sort of ruined, but did your letter—“

Peter cuts him off, his cheeks burning red against his pale face. “That’s just it. I haven’t gotten my letter. Ned’s, like, two streets away, and I’m pretty sure we have the same mail carrier person, so if Ned got his, like, yesterday or today, mine should’ve come too.”

“Well—“ Tony intends to inject a little logic and reassurance, but the kid keeps going.

“I don’t know what kind of envelope they sent, I mean, like, whether I got in or not, and it’s—it’s— just too much, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and my stomach’s, just, like,” Peter pauses and contorts his face, his fingers slowly closing into a fist, “It’s making me all messed up. It might actually be making me making me sick. I think—maybe — I could, like—puke—or something—“ The kid wraps both arms tightly around his middle, then reconsiders and presses a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, ok,” Tony says, making placating gestures while looking wildly around the lab for a trash can. There’s one under the desk on the other side of the room. Definitely not helping. And it’s too late anyway.

Peter leans forward and retches. Vomit dribbles from his palm and drips down his chin. He makes an apologetic sound, but it’s lost in the next upcoming heave.

“You’re good.” Tony stands, sending his stool rolling backward under the lab bench. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh,” the kid groans. His shoulders lurch, and more splashes down into the puddle growing around his feet. “‘M really sorry.”

“Don’t be, really.” Tony tentatively pats Peter’s shoulder. For now, he’s providing comfort. But Tony’s poised to catch the kid if he slips or starts to pass out.

Peter hiccups. Then he gasps, and his entire body shudders.

“Pete?” Tony moves sideways so he can get a look at the kid’s face. He’s still pallid, but now his eyes and nose are red as well. The impending tears are now running down his face.

“It’s ok,” Tony intones. “Really. We’ll get through it.” They’re just words, but he means them. Truly. Deeply.

Peter splutters, then spits on the floor. “Sorry,” he says again. “That was, like, really gross.”

“Eh.” Tony shrugs. “Feel better?”

“Uh, no.” Peter’s voice is hoarse, and it sounds like his mouth is still wet and stringy. “I mean, yes,” he amends quickly. “But, like, not completely?”

“Stomach is better, but the stress is still there?” Tony interprets.

“Yeah.” Peter sighs. “I’m, like…” he shakes his head.

“You’re going to be ok.” Tony gives the kid’s shoulder a squeeze, then points him toward the couch against the wall. Once he’s sure Peter is steady on his feet, Tony follows, dragging his stool along behind him.

Once they’re both sitting, Tony points at the bot positioned by the desk. He clicks his fingers. “Hey. You. DUMM-E.”

The robot whirrs and spins its tires.

“Mop,” Tony commands. “Now,” he pauses, then adds, “please.”

DUMM-E clips the wall with a loud scraping sound, but soon they can hear the squish of a wet mop against the floor.

Tony rests his elbows on his knees again. It’s his best calm, listening posture, he thinks. That’s what he wants, anyway. He doesn’t have a default reaction to stress-puke. Tony tries to be calming and an active listener. Maybe a sounding board. He wants to be whatever the kid needs, and, to be honest, he isn’t sure what that is.

“God, I’m…” Peter looks at the floor and shakes his head. He’s trembling and still suppressing sobs. “Sorry.���

Tony leans in and speaks quietly. “You’ve got to stop saying that. I don’t care. I have the bots to deal with the small stuff. Gross stuff.” He shrugs. “Whatever.”

DUMM-E makes a reproachful swivel and whir, but Tony ignores it.

Peter sniffles, but doesn’t say anything.

“Alright, I’ll start,” Tony says. “I’m going to skip the sappy stuff. But I am going to ask you the annoying questions.”

Peter nods without looking up.

Tony puts his hand up to count on his fingers. “Did you check your mail today? Or just Ned’s?”

“I checked,” Peter replies in a monotone. “Well, actually I texted May and asked her to check.” He meets Tony’s eyes for a brief moment. “So, well, basically.”

“Alright.” Tony nods curtly and puts one finger down. “Do you know the timing of your mail carrier’s route?”

“It’s, um, in the morning? Usually?” Peter wipes the back of his hand under his nose.

“Ok.” Tony puts down his second finger. “Have you…” Tony pauses. He can’t remember the next question. He’s sure there’s another. It’s on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m so doomed,” Peter whispers. “I’ve totally failed you, Mr. Stark. If you don’t want me to go on missions anymore, it’s ok.”

“Hey, stop that. I’ll still care about you if you don’t get into MIT.” Tony lets out a breath. “There, now you’re making me say sappy stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter’s face folds and tears start falling again.

“It’s ok. It’s ok, really.” He has another question. He does. He just needs to concentrate. Emotions rattle between the holes tunneling away his brain. “Umm…” Then it comes to him. It’s so stupid simple. He should’ve asked it first. “What address did you give them? On your application?”

“Huh?” Peter squints, then blinks wetness out of his eyes.

“Did you put your address? Like your apartment?” Tony specifies. “Or did you put this one?” He points at the floor. “The tower. I get a few other people’s mail here. People without permanent addresses. Like Thor.”

“Thor gets mail?” The kid asks.

Initially, Tony isn’t sure if he should answer. Would Peter feel like he’s distracting him on purpose? “So much mail.” Tony chooses to go with the flow. “And he reads all of it. He sits there for hours. Eating out my fridge.” Tony hazards a smile, but continues to make haste. “What about your mail. Do I get your mail? I can’t remember.”

“Oh.” Peter covers his mouth.

Tony prepares himself for another round of puking.

“I think…” Peter murmurs, “I think, maybe, yes?”

Tony can barely hear him; the kid’s voice is both quiet and muffled. But he sees the expression on Peter’s face. Surprised. Hopeful?

“I think I put this address. Because it was all official and everything?” The kid raises his head. “I think I probably did.”

“Ok,” Tony says. “Well—“

“You must think I’m so stupid.” Peter seems on the brink of tears again. “Oh my god—“

“Stop talking.” Tony doesn’t mean to make it an order. Well, perhaps he does. Just a little. He stops barely a second, then issues another. “Why don’t you run up the stairs and check the mailbox?”

“What? You think it came here?” Peter jumps to his feet.

“Go see. It’s right at the end of the driveway.” Tony points to the door.

Peter takes off at a sprint. His shoes squeak halfway across the floor. It’s still damp from its recent mopping.

Tony looks down at his watch. He gives the kid a 30 second head start. Then he swivels his stool around. “FRIDAY?” he asks.

“Yes, boss?” Tony swears he senses excitement in the AI’s tone.

“Pull up the security cam feed. I want a good look out front.”

[physalian]

Can I complain about modern fantasy book titles and covers for a second?

I don’t like these books anyway. Why doesn’t matter, they have their audience and I’m not part of it. But eight whole books, and I read seven of them (not Assassin’s Blade) a few years ago now, and I could not tell you in what order they should be read if someone handed me a blind pile, or even what cover belongs to each book because they’re so painfully generic (and missing numbers on their spines).

Nor could I tell by the titles which are also painfully generic. Yeah they read like fantasy titles but there’s nothing distinct about them, they’re just fantasy buzzwords and they’re so vague that even Tower of Dawn leaves me vaguely recalling that kingdom with the giant birds, I think? Heir of Fire might be the romantic side quest that lasts an entire book, but that’s based more on my memory of the order of events than the title or cover would suggest.

Blank of X and Y she used for ACOTAR (which I did not read and know nothing about so I skipped them) is just so boring to me if the Mad Lib is nothing special. “Heir of Fire” could be a Game of Thrones fanfic for how unique and evocative the title is. A Court of Thorns and Roses literally stole the cadence of A Song of Ice and Fire but guess what?? Those aren't just nonsense words. Ice and Fire and how they're related are hugely thematic and relavent elements in those books. "Thorns and Roses" just ripped off a Poison song.

I assume these were the original covers since they’re not so manicured and actually have character. The titles are the same but the colors are so much bolder and the imagery isn’t a greyscale girl for 7 out of 8 titles. They’re distinct and memorable and while they’re still not evocative of the actual story, if I was a bigger fan of the books I’d probably have stronger associations. They do try. I have fuzzy memories coming back of EOS having the cool pirate with the map hands, KOA being the climactic battle book, QOS... might be the boring side quest with the dragons. This does not look like assembly line popcorn fantasy. This looks like it has heart, and an air of mystery. They draw you in and have you asking questions, they have you wanting to know more.

These books are, in my opinion, superior in many ways to anything SJM has written, but the covers? The exact same problem on steroids. And I only read four of them, there’s six total apparently. King’s Cage is the best title of the bunch. I know immediately from the title “that’s the one where the protagonist spent the whole book as a political prisoner in, you know, the king’s cage”.

But the covers, though they all share the same aesthetic and would look pretty on the book shelf, are absolutely devoid of any and all context within the book, save King's Cage. They’re all feminine crowns and tiaras, too. They could have at least given a man’s crown or at least something with harsher angles and thicker lines to evoke, idk, maybe the titular character the third book is about? It helps that the series (at one point) was only four books so it was less titles and ambiguous covers to juggle, but now there’s six so I guess that’s out the window.

Pretty, but purely window dressing. The best thing they have going for them is how distinctly minimalist they are that sets them apart from other fantasy.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about these books but the colors. Very much carrying on the PJO tradition of titles that actually fit the books and art to go along with it. There’s so much drama and movement to each one and they are, once again, scenes from each book, so many little details to look at. Festus was a huge part of TLH, then Percy's back in action, front and center in SON, then... uh, MOA... then Percy and Annabeth looking scared shitless in HOH and then... uh, BOO. Exists.

They all draw you in and I very much remember the cover drop for House of Hades and losing my mind over it. Much more face-focused than the reserved originals, much bolder, but still, mostly, Percy Jackson.

I looked this up on google images and couldn’t even read the titles there tiny at the bottom. The exact same color scheme for every single book. This is for the box set, I know that, so the spines all make one image when you line them up, but the spine doesn’t have to be the same image as the front cover.

That said, the cover images are still distinct and still hold true to the originals—showing actual elements from the books, like Blackjack and Polyphemus and the Labyrinth. Updated but a bit too sleek for my tastes (maybe that’s just nostalgia talking). The titles though, love the titles. At least they kept the series number on the covers (unlike TOG or RQ).

Now this. This here. These have everything. Bold, distinct colors on the spines, beautiful unique and very fantastical art, art that actually pertains to the book it’s about with an air of mystery every single time. You want to ask why there’s a kid floating in Long Island Sound, who that giant eye belongs to, who has that pegasus so frightened, what’s in the golden coffin, and… well the last one is just noire and I like it.

The titles, though. The. Titles. “Sea of Monsters” cannot in any way match up with the plot of the rest of the series. These covers are perfection.

Now I did not read these books, just saw the movies. These covers are dated, but there still wonderfully, charmingly whimsical, for an entire series about wizards and witches. The colors are distinct, the font choices reflect the vibes of each book, the art depicts the stories within the pages—Harry joining the Quidditch team, Fawkes coming to the rescue, Buckbeak, the mermaid egg thing and the other competitors in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the (I think?) prophecy room/Ministry of Magic, the Remembrall (I think??), and, you know, the last one is cool too. The style of the drawings are rather unique to Harry Potter. Harry also visibly ages across each one.

The titles themselves, like PJO (while predating PJO so setting the trend I’m aware) cannot be separated from their books. Order of the Phoenix? That’s the book about the Order of the Phoenix. Deathly Hallows is about, shocker, the Deathly Hallows.

Putting Twilight here at the bottom. I like these despite them being minimalist because, unlike every other cover on this list, they’re minimalist fantasy. Barely urban fantasy. The red and white motifs are evocative of the romance genre and vampire fiction and at least the covers of Twilight and Breaking Dawn do reference scenes in their books, with Edward catching the apple in the cafeteria and them playing chess on their honeymoon.

They also speak to a more adult, mature audience with the sleeker look. These are romance novels with vampires, *not* fantasy novels with romance. You see any of those covers among other adult romance in a bookstore and they’re going to catch your eye. The titles… eh. Not so much. Nothing to do with the story they just sounded pretty and evocative but this is romance, not fantasy, they’re supposed to be sensual and evocative and “Bella Swan and The Broody Vampire Boy” would not at all fit that vibe.

—

It’s not like these modern fantasy novels are devoid of creative terminology. I don’t like SJM at all but her books did have some really creative and wonderful moments in isolation. It’s like the publishers were afraid to be authentic and sincerely fantastical, so they went with something safe and clean and uninspired both in title and in art.

“Throne of Glass” means nothing to me and could be applicable to like, four of the books in that series. If I squint I can see it as a metaphor for the fragile state of the ruling house but there is quite literally glass everywhere so maybe it’s just one cool element—that should have then been on the cover—but like, the whole book is about the Assassin’s trial, right? So call it The Assassin’s Trial or Tournament of Assassins. You know. The plot of the book, not just one random ass element in the background.

Be authentically fantastical, or don't write fantasy.

[animatorweirdo]

Luthien and Thingol as horses

(This dwells into Thingol's and Luthien's disappearance mystery, so it's a bit different from others, but I finally thought this deserved some attention. I apologize if my writing has downgraded a little. I had a rough holiday. )

Warnings: Some mentions of depression, anger issues, family drama, Thingol going missing, Luthien being energetic, mentions of drugs, Melkor being creepy, spooky mythical things, and an unsolved horse mystery.

--------------------------------------------

- You wished you knew how it happened. First, Thingol, your beloved horse, goes missing for a whole year, and then you find him and end up caring for the unordinary foal he had sired. 

- You are an experienced cross-country jumper and a teacher at the Doriath’s wood stable, but things began to go south with your personal problems and when your dear horse went missing in the middle of the night. 

- You had Thingol as long as you could remember. He was a sweet giant, and him suddenly going missing did not do well for your already deteriorating mental health. 

- You remember going through the woods thousands of times looking for him, crying and calling out to him in desperate hope. 

- You do not even know how he went missing. He was in his pasture when you were finishing things up at the stable, and when you were about to fetch him inside, he was nowhere to be found. 

- He liked to stay near the stable, so he wasn't the runaway type, but there was also no damage done to any of the fences, so you do not know how he even got out of the pasture. It was like he simply vanished into the thin air. 

- You suspected horse poachers or Melkor since his riding school was near and he was known to trick riders into giving up their horses, but it wasn't him since he allowed you to look around his stable and Thingol wasn't there. So, all you could do was to set missing posters, but even they proved useless. 

- For a whole year, Thingol was missing. You gradually accepted that he was dead. 

- You were a wreck to say the least. You were struggling with your depression and had grown a shorter temper as you would easily snap toward anyone if they annoyed you or made a mistake. It grew so bad that Yavanna forced you to attend therapy and take a break from the stable, which helped you very little.

- Till... the day when Thingol went missing arrived. You were loitering at the fence of the pasture, staring and imagining Thingol standing there, eating grass and trotting over to greet you. The moon was full in the sky, and you could hear the nightingales singing in the forest. 

- You saw something shining in the forest. It was subtle and quick, so you didn't get a good look at it but saw it. It looked like some kind of light. 

- You jerked up when you heard a distant neigh of a horse and saw something moving in the forest.

- Despite the better judgment of never going alone in the woods in the middle of the night, you grabbed a flashlight and went to investigate. 

- You ventured through the woods, watching as the nightingales and other birds were acting weirdly, and flowers were blooming despite it being night. Something spooky was going on, but despite the goosebumps and the creepy feeling of being watched, you continued when you heard a whine. 

- After minutes of walking and searching, you came across your gray stallion. 

- "Thingol!" you exclaimed as you approached him. 

- Your gentle giant stood patiently as you came to him, recognizing you and allowing you to stroke his mane as you took in his state. His mane was mantled, and his hooves were slightly overgrown. His ribs were showing, so it was obvious he had not eaten well in a long time. 

- "Where have you been, boy? I thought you were dead," you questioned as he brushed his head against you. 

- You felt happy to see him, but then shock settled in when you saw something move in a pile of leaves. 

- It was a newborn foal with a coat darker than night. On its forehead, you saw a strange mark that resembled a flower and a star. It was unlike any other forehead markings you had seen. 

-The foal loudly whined, and the birds went crazy above you. 

- You didn't know what to think. You first looked around for a mare, but when you saw nothing. You took out your phone and called for help since the foal was shivering. 

- With the help of a friend, you brought Thingol back to the stable and carried the foal in a large basket. 

- You had Thingol fed and placed the foal in the warmest box possible. You dried the foal with a towel and made some warm bottled milk. 

- The nightingales and some of the birds had strangely followed you inside the stable, watching and chirping as you fed the milk to the foal, which she devoured in a minute while struggling to stand with her shaking legs. 

- The foal was a lovely little filly. Thingol was cautiously observing you and the foal, so you didn't need to guess if it was his. The real question was. Who was the mare? 

- After the night, you had a vet check on Thingol and the filly. Doriath didn't currently have a mare to act as a substitute, so you had to care for the filly and make sure she got the food she needed. 

- You had some people look around the forest in hopes you might find the mare, but it proved pointless as there weren't even hoof prints to follow. It was like the mare just came and disappeared when you found Thingol. 

- You decided to leave it be and focus on getting Thingol back in shape. You got his hooves trimmed and shoes redone as they had fallen off during his time of wandering. His mane was ruined beyond saving, so you had it cut short and let it grow healthy again. You also focused on helping him regain some weight while wondering what to do with his new foal. 

- Oddly, you felt bonded with the little filly. Despite being born two days ago, she was already running around and whining playfully to get either you or Thingol to play with her. And when she was near, you felt peaceful and even filled with joy. It was like the anger that had crippled you from within for the past year had vanished entirely. 

- As your heart was filled with love for her, you decided to name her Luthien for her beauty and that it was a full moon when she was born in the forest. 

- Caring for Luthien proved to be a challenge. She was a dear and ate her food when it was time to feed and never wandered too far from you or her father. However, she had a great love for playing games. It would take hours before she would get tired and odd things started happening around her. 

- The nightingales had stayed around and even played with the energetic filly. It was like they were there to watch her and you. It was a bit unsettling when they would look at you from the trees, but you somehow managed to ignore it. However, the strangest thing was the trail of flowers Luthien would leave behind in the pastures. 

- She would run happily in a straight line, and flowers would grow behind her, attracting butterflies and birds. You first believed that you had accidentally taken horse medicine and started hallucinating, but when you saw the flowers continuously growing behind Luthien and other people took notice. You finally believed you did not accidentally take horse drugs. 

- It was now clear that Luthien had some kind of magical powers. You have never been a believer in magical things till now. 

- "Thingol... I need to ask," you said as you two watched Luthien run around, growing flowers and plants wherever she went. "Was the woman you banged some kind of fairy?" you glanced at him, and your stallion only looked away. 

- You felt worried if letting Thingol be in the same pasture as Luthien would be a good idea, but your concerns vanished when you saw how gentle he was with her. He proved to be a good help, keeping Luthien in sight and calling her back whenever she wandered too far.

- Luthien grew beautifully and was as playful as ever. However, her looks and strange abilities began to attract attention. 

- You had been successful in convincing Yavanna and others to keep her abilities a secret, but her looks gained the attention of those who were willing to buy her. You turned them away as you had no intention to sell her, but when Melkor came to you. Things began to grow even more creepy. 

- Luckily, Luthien seemed to know how to control her abilities, so she seemed like an ordinary horse. However, Melkor appeared like he knew something about her. He tried to be a smooth talker. He congratulated you on finding Thingol before trying to pique your interest in selling Luthien. 

- You were angry as you didn't trust him in the slightest, and despite you wanting to punch him in the face, you continued refusing his offers till he finally left. He did tell you something unnerving, which made you fear for Luthien's safety. 

- Yavanna assured you that Melkor wouldn't dare to do anything despite her assurance. You considered training Luthien some basics, or some enoughts that would help her stay away from Melkor. 

- Luthien was incredibly smart for a horse, and she seemed to know whenever your mood was down, so she did things to cheer you up, like bringing you a flower she either grew or found or nibbling your hair to make you giggle. 

- You couldn't lie that being with her helped you cheer up, and the anger and anxiety vanished in her presence. As time passed, you felt more assured that she would be fine. 

- The mystery of her mare mother was never solved. Some people at the stable tried to come up with theories about the mare, but none really came near to a convincing truth. One particular theory about Luthien's mother being some kind of mythical horse became the number one theory. 

- You called it bullshit, but since Luthien had strange powers, you couldn't help but lean into the theory. 

- Well... your doubts about the theory vanished one night when you were finishing things up at the stable. You had Thingol and Luthien fed and prepared to leave home. 

- You closed the doors and then saw the nightingales you had seen around the stable act weirdly again and fly toward the forest, where you saw the light and something standing at the edge of the forest. 

- It was a horse, and it was glowing with strange light. The nightingales and the birds flocked around it, singing and chirping. You could see vines and flowers growing out of its mane. Its eyes were glowing green, staring at you. 

- You were frozen in your place as you were both enthralled by its beauty and frightened as the creature looked like a ghost. It was standing at the edge of the forest, but you could see the same mark on its forehead. It felt like hours as you couldn’t look away from the beautiful being, but then the horse disappeared, leaving nothing behind as all turned to normal. 

- You found yourself able to move again and you pondered explanations on what you just saw and the possibility if the horse was…Luthien’s mare mother. They both bear the same forehead marking.

- The night being late and being tired yourself, you decided to leave it be and go home to rest.