#and i've probably still left something out

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

One bed

Azriel x reader

Word count: 3000+

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, you end up in the same room as Azriel

Warnings: none

I'd love to say I have solved the Frozen thingy, but I haven't yet. I've started writing part 3 and that's where I stopped because of the madness around. I was so close to making a solid plan for it. Unfortunately, the work happened, then Christmas at work baking f***ing chicken farm. Then husband got fever🙄and he couldn't live without getting someone else sick as well, so now son has high fever too and I'm the last one somehow surviving here. At least I have whole week of holidays next week. I hoped to relax and write more, but we'll see. Wish me luck🥴

Anyway here's something small and not so angsty that just popped up suddenly. Hope you enjoy it.

And for everyone who celebrate, have a peaceful holiday 💕

"I thought I've reserved enough rooms," Rhysand sighed. The last hour he was talking with the owner of the inn we were staying at, trying all possible tactics to persuade him to find us one more room. Impossible task from the very beginning as the inn was full.

We were on non-official official mission. At first, there were only six of us supposed to go as Amren declined, intending to stay with Mor in Velaris, protecting it. However, the two of them had yet another quarrel recently, which led to Amren suddenly appearing with a packed bag in hand a few seconds before intended departure. Nobody, not even Rhys, had balls to tell her no. And that's why we ended up in this situation. Rhys had everything perfectly planned, as usual, but he couldn't have known this would happen. And now we were one room short, but again - nobody dared to tell aloud whose fault it was. Amren was like hungry bulldog, ready to tear to shreds anyone and anything at the best of her days. Now, she was pissed off.

Feyre and Nesta took their keys, Feyre giving me an apologetic look. From the start, they were supposed to share rooms with their mates. This was also kind of vacation for us, so it was only logical they wanted to be with their partners.

That left Rhys with last two keys in hand. Amren snatched one and without looking at anyone or even a small mumbled sorry, she left. We exchanged look and whole group finally relaxed.

"Sorry," Feyre murmured as she headed to her room with sorrowful expression.

Before she left, Nesta gazed at me with silent question and I nodded. I would be fine, for sure. Cassian winked at me as he followed her. They both knew about the feelings I had for Azriel for quite some time, each supporting me in their own way. At this point, probably everyone around knew, except for the mentioned Shadowsinger and I didn't plan to be the one to break the news. I knew my limits and he was off them.

Rhys turned to me and Azriel with sorrowful expression, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, Az, but you know.. Ladies first," he offered me the last key. Spymaster didn't even as much as blink, no protests at all. He looked as his usual self, unbothered by the problem at the hand.

"Thankies," I smiled, took the key and looped hand to Azriel's arm. "Come."

They both opened mouth in surprise, none of them expecting this from me. Rhys recovered as first.

"Enjoy yourself," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha ha, how funny," I stuck out tongue at him. He chuckled and hurried after his mate, leaving the two of us alone. I raised brow at Shadowsinger who was still too shocked to speak. He didn't even notice Rhys' teasing.

"What? Did you think I would let you sleep on roof or what?"

"B-b-but," he stammered, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"No buts. Come!" I had to pull reluctant Azriel down the hallway.

"I can try another inn-"

"Nonsense! You would miss all the fun. Plus, I really don't mind. We are friends after all. I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

I came to a sudden stop, realizing something.

"Wait! You mind staying with me in the same room?"

Before, it didn't occur to me that he could be against. I thought we were getting along pretty well, given the fact that we tended to seek out each other's company, sitting together and talking. The two of us even often hung out in the city, venturing cafes and bakeries. I thought he liked to spend time with me, but it could be only my mistaken impression. I knew I couldn't hope for more than friendship and I was fine with that as long as I could be close to him. He could feel differently though.

"No!" he hurried with an answer, eyes wide. "No, nothing like that. It's just.."

"What is it?"

"It's just.. you are female and I'm male."

I was so relieved to hear that, that I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "That means that you will pounce on me like an animal as soon as door close?"

He flushed fiercely, averting his eyes. "You know I will do no such a thing. It just means that you might be uncomfortable because of that."

"I'm fine. Believe me," I said softly and took his hand. "So come on, silly."

He chuckled and this time, he willingly followed me.

The room, we got, was quite a nice one for an old inn, but it was rather smaller one. Most of the space was occupied by bed big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. It was one of the reasons Rhysand chose this place, thinking about the comfort of his brothers. We were supposed to spend here whole week, maybe longer, so it was necessary.

Except of bed, there was only small table with two old chairs, hearth and connected bathroom.

After we settled down, the air had somehow thickened, both of us suddenly embarrassed. And so I did what I could to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but every try for a conversation died out soon after it started. At last, I gave up.

"It was long day," I stretched out, all my joints making a satisfying cracking sound and Azriel grimaced. He didn't like when I did it. "I'm tired. Do you want to use the bathroom as first?"

"No, go ahead," he offered and started to line up on table all the daggers he had on him. I paused and watched him, amazed. How could he hide so many? I thought he had only two, max three. He noticed me and smiled shyly.

"I'll clean them while you take shower. Don't worry, I'll put them away afterwards."

"I don't mind them at all," I mumbled, ashamed I got caught. "I'm just stunned you managed to sneak in the whole arsenal. Seeing it now, I would bet that not only do you have one for each of us but also even one spare."

At that he finally laughed, the rich sound warming my heart. I already missed that sound. Corners of my mouth curled into satisfied smile and I quickly gathered all necessary things and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, the daggers were gone from the table. Azriel was seated on the same chair he occupied since we came, pyjama in hands. He was staring into space, looking somehow troubled. Shadows gathered around his ear and he looked up at me, faking smile. Without a word, he stood up and hurried to the bathroom.

While I was waiting, I shoved my used underwear to the bottom of my bag and climbed to the bed, snuggling up in a warm blanket. It was quite cold here, old window hardly blocking the cold wind from outside.

Azriel took quite long to finish. By the time bathroom door creaked open, I was almost asleep. He rustled around for a while and adding big log to the fire, he turned off lights. I waited. The room went completely silent.

I opened eyes. "Are you kidding me," I sat up, sighing. "Az, I thought, we already talked it out." I glared into a dark corner by the hearth.

"Don't worry about me and sleep," he replied from his place on the old chair.

"You can't sleep on that old crap. It will most likely give in soon." The only answer was silence.

"C'mon, Az. It won't do you any good if you're sleep-deprived. To none of us in fact. What if something happens and you won't be able to fight because you are too tired and sore?"

Again silence.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed? I warn you, I'm going to drag you here not by arm but by ear this time."

He chuckled. His wings rustled and mattress dipped under his weight. "Fine then. Have it your way."

I tucked him in like a small child, mindful of his wings and settled down, heart pounding in my throat.

"That wasn't necessary."

"Believe me it was. And don't try to fake it. I'm light sleeper. I will know if you get up in the middle of the night."

"Fine, fine." He sounded amused. He was lying on his back, wings folded and tugged close to his body.

"Relax. The bed is enough big for both of us. Even if you touch me. I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt into puddle," I assured him as I curled up on my side of bed with back to him, taking as little space as possible so he had enough comfort. He made a sound at the back of his throat.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all with him being so close. But as bed warmed up with his presence and his calming scent wrapped around me as another blanket, I fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Azriel didn't even blink an eye. He was just lying there, stretched on his back, gazing at ceiling. He wasn't used to falling asleep next to someone. After she reassured him, he relaxed a bit but only his body. He was too nervous and excited at the same time. He was scared to even breath, not wanting to wake her up. How could she sleep so soundly? Didn't she feel the same? Didn't his presence stir her nerves?

Shadows curled on pillow near his ear, whispering. They described him in detail how she drifted off with sweet smile on her lips. Smile that she was still wearing. He wished he could see it with his own eyes.

He dared to turn his head to the side to watch her back, her shoulder slightly rising with every breath. Even at place like this in the middle of nowhere, she kept smelling like field of spring flowers, delicate and sweet. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment.

He felt so lucky right now and thanked the Mother for sending Amren at last minute, giving him this opportunity. For years, he was trying to get closer to Y/N. No matter how many times, he was ready to tell her about his feelings, he always gave up in the end, not daring to even suggest it. She was everything he wasn't, beautiful, kind and perfect. She deserved better.

He watched her entire night, mesmerized. It was strange. She was always so energetic during the day, yet at night she didn't move at all. It made him wonder whether it was because of him or it was normal.

It was after the sunrise when he finally calmed down and dozed off for hour or two.

* * *

Three days later, a knock sounded on our door. We were just finishing off the lasts of our breakfast. We looked up in time to see Rhysand's head peeking in. He held hand over his eyes with sassy smirk on his lips.

"Can I come in? I wouldn't like to see something inappropriate."

I rolled my eyes while Azriel bid him in, unaffected by his teasing. Honestly, everyone was making fun of us for no reason. After the first night, Nesta pulled me aside to ask me how it went and how I felt. I had nothing to tell her. At least nothing interesting anyway. I slept like a baby and not only the first night, but every night after.

Every evening, Azriel dutifully took his side of bed and I curled up on mine. No touching, only a pleasant small chat between friends. It was noticeable that he didn't sleep much the first night, however after that, he didn't seem to have such troubles. I was glad for that.

"I came to inform you that finally one more room is available. If you want, one of you can take it," he grinned and waited for our reply with one brow raised.

Out of the corner of eye, I looked at Azriel who was already eyeing me with unreadable expression. It seemed he wouldn't speak and it was up to me to decide.

"Well.. I don't mind to share room with Az at all. But if you'd like to have your privacy.." I turned to him.

His eyes widened slightly and his lips moved without making a sound.

"I don't mind, too," he managed.

"So," Rhys dragged the word. "You want to stay together? Really?"

We nodded as one man, not willing to give him what he hoped for. He was visibly disappointed.

"Fine then," he sighed, "as you want. I'll inform the owner."

* * *

A week later we were so used to this situation and each other's presence that we returned to our usual selves, rambling about anything, laughing, even touching lightly.

Our mission was over and this was our last night of sharing room. Azriel was spread on bed next to me, his wing gently touching my back. I was slowly falling asleep while we did small talk. Somewhere between dream and reality I got idea. Crazy as it was, my sleepy brain didn't find anything strange or wrong with it and my body acted on its own.

With closed eyes I rolled to his side, wrapped arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. Azriel made a surprised sound and stiffened, but he didn't try to push me away. His smell filled my nose, his warmth seeping into me. Frantic but steady melody of his heart lulled me deeper into sleep. Last thing I felt before I completely drifted off, was his body relaxing under me and his arm holding me close.

* * *

Azriel was so surprised, he couldn't think straight. What was happening? He touched Y/N lightly, yet she didn't mind. She was almost asleep, relaxed and seemingly comfortable with him as her pillow. He felt her smiling into his chest and that gave him courage to wrap his hands around her. She hummed with satisfaction and dozed off completely.

Azriel gazed at her, unsure what to think or feel. Naturally, it made him happy, a dream-come-true kind of situation, but was it really okay? Was it really happening? It seemed to him just like a figment of his imagination, fed by amazing week spent by her side, so close to her.

He pinched himself, really painfully, leaving a bruise on his forearm. It was real. He swallowed hard. Slowly small smile spread on his face. He could get used to this.

When the initial surprise and embarrassment had passed, he found himself enjoying this. His heart was pounding fast, as he touched her hair and pushed them aside to see her face. He couldn't help it and traced a single finger down her face and jaw, mapping her full lips, lovely nose and soft arches of her brows.

He chuckled lightly. Y/N didn't even stir. So much to a light-sleeper.

As he watched her, his fantasy took over, offering him all kinds of imaginary situations that could lead to them ending up in this position; from innocent snuggling together for the night to them being naked, covered in sweat and spent after good sex. His heart squeezed in pain. He loved it and wanted it all. He didn't even realize that he was tugging her closer and closer, holding her so firmly there was no space left between them.

Despite everything, the scenario of innocent snuggling immediately became his favourite one. It held a certain kind of peace and warmth, something he longed for the most. He kept replaying it again and again until he fell asleep, too. The fantasy followed him even to his dreams where it became so real that it was unbearable.

* * *

I woke up unusually early at dawn. Still drowsy I looked around, not comprehending where I was. I was warm and comfy, so ready to close my eyes again, until I notice rising and falling steady flesh under me. That completely woke me up.

I looked up, finding Azriel still fast asleep. He was smiling sweetly, yet the tears rolled down his cheeks, soft whimpers leaving his lips. My chest tightened at the sight. It hurt me to see him like this. I reached up and gently wiped the tears off.

He slowly opened eyes and looked at me, still smiling.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"'Morning, Y/N," he replied, his deep voice raspy in the most sexy way. His thumb started to move up and down my waist in soothing motion.

"Bad dreams?"

"Sometimes dreams can be so beautiful that they make one cry," he murmured. He sounded so sad that I felt like crying too. Instead, I placed both of my hands on his chest and rested my chin on top of them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I searched his eyes.

He shook his head and wiped off the rest of his tears. "I just wish I could go back and keep having the same dream for the rest of my life," he sighed, his eyes never leaving my face.

I propped up on my elbow and caressed his cheek. "You know that dreams don't have to stay dreams. They can became reality if you want them to."

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Determination filled his eyes and he lifted up his head, stopping an inch from my face, waiting.

It was so sudden that I held my breath, but I didn't pull away. Watching me closely, Azriel leaned even closer and his lips lightly grazed over mine. I moaned, my body acting on its own. My eyes closed and I firmly pressed my lips to his. All the years of my suppressed feelings poured into this one kiss, not believing that there would be any more. He groaned and opened up, slowly moving, testing the waters. His fingers dug into flesh of my waist, holding me impossibly close.

It ended as suddenly as it started. He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, heaving.

"I want it to become real."

[makeitmingi]

In Sickness And In Health

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comfort

Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Boyfriend!Seonghwa

Summary: Seonghwa has always been known to be the mother of the group, the one that takes care of everyone. But what happens when he falls ill? Luckily, his girlfriend is a doctor and will nurse him back to the health, just like he would for everyone else.

Word count: 4.7K

Story warning(s): Mentions of needle used for medical purposes, medications, being sick.

"Seonghwa?" You called out softly when you entered your shared house, closing the door behind you, but was replied with silence. You dropped your duffel bag onto the counter to take out the IV drip kit, fluid bag and medication.

Earlier at work...

"Hey, Hongjoong. Sorry I missed your call. What's up?" You called your boyfriend's best friend once the patient queue was freed up and you had a small break.

"Sorry to bother you, (y/n). I know you're working... Hwa's probably gonna kill me for telling you this but he's sick."

"Hwa's sick...? What do you mean?" Your eyes widened.

"Yeah, he knows you're on night shift and you know him, he never likes to have people take care of him... But he sounded quite bad over the phone and he didn't even let us to over to check on him..."

"Mhmm, I know exactly what you're talking about. Thanks for letting me know, Hongjoong. I'll go take care of him." You said.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, I'll update you." You hummed and hung up with the captain before returning back to work.

So that's why, before you left work, you grabbed an IV drip set and all the necessary medications from the pharmacy that you may need to nurse Seonghwa back to health. Being a doctor has it's perks in that sense. And you were so worried about Seonghwa's condition that you ended up leaving your shift early.

"Seonghwa?" You poked your head into your shared room and was surprised the find the bed empty. You frowned, where did your sick boyfriend disappear to?

"Did he go out...?" You walked to your office and it was empty too. Then you checked the guest room.

"Oh, there you are." You sighed in relief.

On the bed of the guest room, there was a shivering lump under the blankets. You approached quietly and pulled back the covers, not wanting to surprise him too much.

"Seonghwa..." Your heart broke seeing Seonghwa so sick. He was shivering so much, lips quivering and cold sweat on his forehead.

"(y/n)?!" Seonghwa opened his eyes and was shocked to see you standing there.

"W-What are you doing home early? Did something happen?" He blinked, as if he was worried you were a hallucination caused by his fever. You could tell he was worrying about you.

"Hwa, stop worrying about me right now. I came home because I heard you were sick!" You frowned. Seonghwa cursed Hongjoong's name under his breath, knowing that only his best friend would rat him out to you like that.

"Come, let's get you back to bed. Why are you sleeping in the guest room?" You asked, pulling the blanket away to help him.

"Because I didn't want to spread my germs on our shared bed and I've been cold sweating. I'm so gross. You can't afford to get sick, love." Seonghwa quivered.

"Ah, Seonghwa... You know I don't care about that. We're getting you back to our bed. Come on." You helped him up.

"You should wear a mask." He tried to cough away from you.

"Park Seonghwa. Let me take care of you, okay? Stop worrying, please." You begged. He looked so sick and he was still fretting over you, it caused an ache in your chest.

"Okay, okay." He noticed your desperate tone and slipped under the covers of your shared bed, letting you tuck him in.

"Here." You put the thermometer in his mouth then went out to get the IV supplies from the counter.

"Luckily Nurse Jung let me borrow one of the portable IV stands to take home." You chuckled as you wheeled the IV stand in and fixed the height beside Seonghwa. Then you removed the thermometer from his mouth and checked. Seonghwa's fever was so high if you didn't have the IV, you would have taken him to the hospital.

"Oh, Hwa." You softened, feeling guilt bubble in your chest. But for now, you pushed it down. Seonghwa needed your focus and attention right now.

"Let me wash my hands first." You went to wash your hands and prepared the IV port to put into Seonghwa's arm.

"It's alright, baby. Slowly." Seonghwa said when he noticed your hands shaking slightly as you wiped his skin with an alcohol swab.

"Take a deep breath." You instructed and inserted the needle with precision. Seonghwa's face scrunched at the pinch, which made you feel worse.

"Sorry. It's over." You pouted.

"It's okay, love. Not your fault." He gave you a small smile. You grabbed a syringe to add the ampoule medications into the IV bag.

"Alright, there we go. It'll help with symptoms and your fever should subside quickly." You told him as you adjusted the dial flow once the drip was hooked up to the bag.

"Can you hand me another pillow?" He requested. You nodded and placed a bolster under his IV arm so it'll be comfortable.

"I'll be right back." You went to get rid of all the trash in the area and wash your hands. While you were outside, you prepared a cloth and a bucket of cool water so you could wipe him down. And you put some juice into a tumbler for him.

"I missed you." Seonghwa smiled as he watched you put the tumbler of juice and bucket on his nightstand. You started with wiping his face, feeling how warm his face was.

"Your hands are cold." He chuckled, placing his free hand over yours on his cheek.

"They're not. You're just warm." You smiled softly as you gently wiped his neck too. Then you rinsed the cloth and wiped his arms.

"Hwa, careful." You hissed when he lifted his IV arm, trying to make it easier for you to wipe his entire arm. He pouted at you and placed his arm back down.

"I need to wipe your legs too." You told him.

"But it'll be cold." He whined, quickly gripping the blanket since he knew you were going to yank it away.

"Just for a bit, Hwa. Come on, be good~" You cooed at him, which made him frown. He liked to coo at you like you were a baby and of course, you will take the opportunity to do the same to him now.

"Fine." He sulked and let you pull the blanket away. His first instinct was to him to curl his legs up. You raised his pajama pant to wipe his leg, rinsing the cloth before moving onto the next. But when you were done, you didn't let Seonghwa cover himself entirely, only covering his legs from his hips.

"But I'm cold, baby." He said, shivering.

"I know, Hwa. I'm sorry but if you bundle up like this, you'll warm your body up too much. The air conditioning will help with the fever." You kissed his forehead.

"I'm going to shower. You try to get some sleep first." You told him. He nodded, eyes already half closed.

'Hey, Hongjoong. Thank god you text me, his condition was terrible... But I put him on a drip, he should be fine. - (y/n)'

'That's good to hear. Hwa's lucky to have a doctor girlfriend or else I would have to drag his butt to the hospital and that'll be a whole nother thing. - Hongjoong'

'He's a horrible patient. But I'll keep you updated. - (y/n)'

With that, you went to take a quick shower to wash off the smell of antiseptic and germs from the hospital.

"Soup... Soup... Soup..." Since Seonghwa fell asleep, you decided to start a soup going, digging through the fridge for ingredients.

While the soup was boiling on the stove, you quietly moved the air purifier from the living room, into the bedroom. You also refilled his waterbottle with cold water. Then you went to change the sheets in the guest bedroom.

"Myers' cocktail with Peramivir administered at 3:08pm. Temperature taken 39.2 degrees." You wrote down the information on your phone, just in case.

"That's done." You turned the stove off for the soup and went to check on Seonghwa.

To avoid waking him up, you used your forehead thermometer instead of the one that needs to be in the mouth.

"38.3..." You whispered. Covering your mouth to yawn, you went to retrieve the bucket and filled it up with fresh water, along with the cloth from before.

Were you tired? Of course, you worked the graveyard shift at the hospital last night. But your priority now was Seonghwa.

"Mmm..." Seonghwa let out a soft whine in his sleep.

"Sorry, Hwa. I'll be quick." You whispered, rinsing and wringing the towel before gently wiping his face and neck. Then doing the same to wipe his arms.

"Baby?" He croaked out, slowly opening his eyes to see you standing over him to wipe down his arm.

"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep, I just wanted to try and bring your fever down faster. I've made soup for you when you feel like it. You can go back to sleep after this." You whispered with a soft smile. He nodded his head, a small smile coming onto his face as he watched you take care of him.

Seonghwa always liked taking care of people, whether it's his family, his members and of course, he LOVED taking care of his precious girlfriend. He always put others' needs before his own.

Until now, he is still the best person that takes care of Hongjoong when he's busy being the captain of the team.

"Actually, I'm a little hungry." Seonghwa admitted.

"Oh, okay! It's good that you have an appetite. I'll finish here and get you some food." You threw the cloth into the bucket and brought it out. Then you got some soup for him.

"Here." You placed the tray on the foldable table on the bed. Then you helped him sit up.

"No rice?" He gave you a sad face.

"You know you can't eat rice when you have a fever, Hwa. When your fever subsides, I'll make you rice porridge." You told him, going to open the window to let some fresh air come in.

"Sit with me, baby." He said. You hummed, pulling a chair to sit at his bed side to watch him eat.

Seeing Seonghwa eat so slowly, you figured his throat must be hurting him. It hurt to see your boyfriend like this. You were out the whole night, taking care of others when you couldn't even care for your loved on who was suffering alone at home.

"This is delicious, baby. Tha- Why are you crying?!" Seonghwa panicked when he turned his head to see tears streaming down your face. You didn't even realise that you were crying.

"I'm sorry." You looked down, shaking your head as you wiped your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

"My precious baby. There's nothing for you to be sorry for." He reached out to hold your hand since he couldn't reach your face.

"B-Because... What kind of doctor am I? I treat people for a living and I didn't even know you were sick! Hongjoong had to tell me and I find you in that condition. You always take care of me and I can't even-"

"Okay, okay. Breathe, my love. Breathe." Seonghwa calmed you down, moving his tray away to make some space for you.

"Come here, love." He patted his lap and you moved to sit with him, being extra careful of his drip.

"Ouh, my precious baby. My love." You hugged each other for the first time that day, Seonghwa coddling you and cooing at you like you were his baby.

"No, stop! I'm supposed to be taking care of you! Not you comforting me." You wailed, wiping your tears. Seonghwa kissed your temple, rubbing your back. Honestly, this was what Seonghwa wanted to feel better too. He missed you and just wanted to have you as close to him as possible.

"I've been waiting to hold you since you came back but I didn't want to get you sick. And I'm so gross and sweaty." Seonghwa chuckled.

"You won't... Even if you did, I don't care." You mumbled.

"No, you need to rest." It took everything in you to separate yourself from Seonghwa's embrace and placed the tray in front of him so he could continue eating.

"You take very good care of me. You're a great doctor and a great girlfriend, your patients are lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You always take such good care of me and I couldn't even do the same." You slumped.

"Don't say that. We take good care of each other. You've just finished a night shift and yet, you've been running around to take care of me." He held your hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb.

"Eat while I get you your medication, okay?" You stood up and went out of the room.

"Your drip is done so you can take these." You handed him a small dish with the medication on it. Before he ate the medication, you disconnected the drip from the needle port in his arm. Then you carefully removed the needle, placing a band aid over.

"Thanks, baby." Seonghwa smiled and ate the medication, chasing it with gulps of water. You gave a small smile in return and cleared up the area before washing your hands.

"Luckily I didn't throw away your sharps bin." He called out to you as you were throwing the used needle away.

"It's not even half full, I just keep it around for cases like this." You replied.

"Baby, I'm being a good patient and resting. You should also be a good baby and rest. Come on, I know you haven't taken a break since you came back and you worked graveyard." Seonghwa said.

"I will... Later..." You replied, taking the empty juice tumbler and placing it in the kitchen.

"Baby..." Seonghwa frowned in disapproval.

"I'm fine, Hwa. I promise." You squeezed his hand, taking the thermometer and taking his temperature. Finally, his temperature was now a low grade fever.

"Thank goodness I don't have to take you to the hospital now. But I'll continue to monitor your temperature." You informed, taking your phone to note down the temperature and medication log. Seonghwa curiously leaned closer to you to try and take a peek at what you were writing down.

"Wow, I'm like your patient. Just that I have you to myself and I don't need to share you with other patients." He grinned.

"You are my patient. Even though it's usually the nurse that does the charts, not me. And you never have to share me, you know I'll alwyas prioritise you and your health." You scoffed.

"I know. I just like hearing you say it." He grinned.

"Hmm, on second thought, I think the fever has made you even more delusional." You chuckled, placing your hand on his forehead.

"That's impossible. I have the best doctor in the world taking care of me." He grasped your hand to kiss the back of it. You smiled and pressed your cheek against his.

"Now come to bed." He whispered.

"I will. Just let me clean up the kitchen. You should sleep more." You replied. He hummed obediently and let you tuck him in.

"Come back soon." He smiled. You closed the window and quietly left the room to let him sleep. Although, you didn't just clean the kitchen. You knew Seonghwa was particular about cleanliness so you did his daily cleaning routine for him, knowing he couldn't do it today.

"Lint roller, vacuum, wet tissue mop then lint roller." You tried to remember his cleaning sequence and took the necessary equipment you needed to clean.

However, you didn't want to wake him so you didn't use the vacuum, instead you used the broom to sweep the floor.

"Ah, finally done." You fell back onto the couch with the lint roller in your hand.

"Baby...?" Seonghwa came out, wrapped in his blanket. He woke up to find his bedside empty and when he felt how cold the sheets were, he knew you didn't come to bed like you said he would.

"(y/n)-" Seonghwa paused when he saw you asleep on the couch, still gripping the lint roller in your hand.

"Sweet girl." He cooed and put his blanket aside before gently easing the lint roller out of your hand and putting it aside.

Looking around, Seonghwa knew that you must have done his usual daily cleaning routine for him. He smiled softly, brushing your hair away from your face, you knew him so well.

"Rest well, my love." He kissed your head and placed the blanket over your body instead.

Seonghwa went to the room and took his temperature, writing down the reading and timing on a post it, knowing that you would want to log it in later. He was still running a low grade fever and felt aches in his body but he felt 10 times better than he did this morning, all thanks to you.

"Hongjoong ah." Seonghwa made the phone call in the room, not wanting to disturb you.

"Okay, listen Seonghwa. Before you come at me all mad, you were so sick and didn't want any of us to help you. That's why I told (y/n), okay? So it's your fault."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You so owe me." Seonghwa rolled his eyes, even though he knew Hongjoong couldn't see him.

"You have a doctor girlfriend to give you first class care. I don't owe you anything. But I'm guessing you're feeling better already?"

"I do, thanks to her. She's resting now, poor thing worked the whole night and came back to take care of me. She didn't even have time to sit down and catch a breather." Seonghwa sighed.

"You both take care of people before you take care of yourselves. See? That's why you're made for each other."

"Right..." Seonghwa scoffed.

"Anyway, do you two need anything from us? The others should be done with their schedule and I just left the studio. I can pick up whatever you need."

"You shouldn't be around the house for too long or you might get sick too. But if you could drop dinner off for us, it'll be a great help. I don't really want (y/n) to do anymore cooking or for her to be eating ramyeon." Seonghwa knew you too well.

"Sure. Send me what you want and I'll go pick it up, drop it off at yours."

"Thanks, Hongjoong ah." Seonghwa said and hung up. He texted over the food for Hongjoong to buy, knowing your likes and dislikes.

As much as Seonghwa wanted to snuggle with you, he had to hold himself back. Firstly, he didn't want to wake you. Secondly, he was still worried about getting you sick.

"Ah..." He winced and dramatically held his arm back as he stood before you.

"Once you recover, you can get all the cuddles from her." He took a deep breath and returned to the room.

And of course, he found his nintendo switch in the charger, you must have put it there, knowing he would be bored and want to play when he wakes up.

When you woke up, you sat up in shock. You didn't even know when you fell asleep. But the curtains to the living room were drawn and there was a blanket placed over you.

"Yeah, she's still sleeping... I want her to get as much rest as she can get since she worked graveyard... Thanks, Hongjoong ah. I'll see you." You heard hushed whispers from the bedroom and assumed it was Seonghwa speaking to Hongjoong over the phone, maybe updating him on Seonghwa's current condition.

"Oh, baby! You're awake." Seonghwa was heading back into the living room and spotted you standing there, half asleep and confused.

"Was that Hongjoong?" You asked.

"Mhmm, he picked up some dinner for us. I didn't want you cooking and I shouldn't be cooking for you when I'm sick." He said, placing the empty cups on the counter.

"Ah, I'm fine to cook, Seonghwa. And besides, there's still some leftover chicken soup for you." You yawned, shuffling to him.

"I know. But I also know you'll give all the leftover soup to me and make ramyeon for yourself." He stated.

"I..." Your cheeks heated up as he exposed you. Seonghwa chuckled, watching you stand there, still half asleep and a little lost, with the blanket wrapped around your body like a child.

"You should be resting... Let me do all the dishes..." You said to him.

"I feel better already, baby. I took my temperature down and even took the medications." He said, showing you the post it note with all the temperature readings, the medications he took and the timings of when he took them.

"Let me feel. Come here." You reached up to feel his cheeks and forehead in your hands.

"Your fever is gone. Let's hope it stays that way. But still, you're not fully recovered." You frowned slightly. You were relieved that his fever was finally gone.

"After this." He kissed your knuckles.

"Let me put this back." You bundled up the blanket and folded it properly, returning it to the bedroom.

"Gosh, I didn't even know when I fell asleep." You rubbed your cheeks and let out another yawn.

"Poor baby. You were probably so tired and running on adrenaline to take care of me. Once the food is delivered, we should eat and go back to bed." Seonghwa frowned sadly.

"Yeah, we should." You smiled softly.

"I bought some immunity juice thingy in the fridge. You should drink that. It's good for you." You pointed.

"It looks horrible. Tumeric, black pepper, orange, ginger, carrot, apple, cucumber... I think just reading this is making me feel more sick than I already am." Seonghwa took the bottle out, cringing at the colour and ingredients listed on it. You took the bottle from him and poured him a glass.

"It's good for you." You re-emphasised and held it out to him. Seonghwa sighed in defeat and grabbed the glass to drink it. He gulped the whole thing down, shuddering when he finished.

"Now, you. You're always around sick people, you should be drinking it too to build immunity." Seonghwa refilled the glass.

"But..." Your face fell.

"Be good, baby." Seonghwa shot you a pointed look, repeating your own words back to you.

"I take you being able to boss me around as a sign that you're feeling better." You raised an eyebrow with him but still drank the immunity juice. Seonghwa was right, the taste was vile.

"See? Horrible, right?" Seonghwa chuckled and engulfed you in a bear hug, rubbing your back while you nodded glumly.

"There, there." He comforted. Seonghwa's hugs felt like home, you nuzzled your cheek against his chest and closed your eyes. It doesn't matter how long you are away from him, you always miss his hugs and his warm embrace.

"My love, are you falling asleep on me?" He chuckled.

"Shhhhh..." You hushed him. Seonghwa sighed in defeat and stroked the back of your head. He guided you to the couch so he could tuck you under his arm.

"Don't sleep, Hongjoong's coming to delivery dinner soon. After that, you can sleep." He said.

"If you don't want me to sleep, stop being so comfy and cozy." You grumbled. Seonghwa laughed at your nonsense.

"Wait! You should be the one resting! Not me!" You shot up suddenly, making Seonghwa jump in shock. He didn't have time to protest as you pulled him up from the couch and brought him back to the room.

"There. Stay here until I get the food from Hongjoong." You pulled the blanket over his legs.

"My love-"

"Shh, rest." You placed the Nintendo switch console in his hands and exited the room to prepare his next round of medications, as well as fill up his water bottle for him.

"Hongjoong ah! Thanks again for doing this... No, he's not sleeping, you can see him if you want... That's right, you need to remain healthy as the last Matz standing... Don't make yourself sick taking care of the kids and not of yourself." Seonghwa heard you talking to Hongjoong, it was nice to hear you so comfortable with him.

The love of his life and his best friend.

"Mmm, I will. Take care and let me know if you need anything!" You bid Hongjoong goodbye and brought the food bags in.

"Stay there, Hwa! I'll plate everything up." You said just as Seonghwa was about to stand up from bed. You knew him too well to know what he would do.

"Do you have a camera in here?!" Seonghwa yelled back.

"What are you talking about?" You chuckled as you entered the room with a tray of food for him. You placed the tray on the bed for him.

"Where's your dinner? And don't tell me you will eat after me. I won't eat unless you eat with me." Just like you knew Seonghwa, he knew you very well too.

"Fine, I'll go get my food." Your shoulders slumped and you went to get your bowl of noodle soup.

A nice silence fell over the both of you as you ate, the both of you were rather quiet eaters. Just that usually, you and Seonghwa would put food on each other's spoons but with Seonghwa being sick, you both didn't want to risk cross-contamination.

"I'll go take a shower. I really want to get out of these clothes." Seonghwa said with an uncomfortable frown once dinner was done. You nodded and let him shower while you cleaned up.

"Don't go under the hot water for too long, Hwa! It might trigger your fever again." You knocked on the door.

"Yes, Dr (y/l/n)." He replied. You laid on your side of the bed, checking your phone for messages.

"I'm back." Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you flushed against his body. He was still slightly warm but the medication seemed to really help.

"Still feel ill?" You ran your hands through his hair.

"No, I'm a lot better but the body ache is still there." He smiled softly, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingertips.

"I've set an alarm for you to take your meds, so don't swear at me for waking you up later, okay?" You joked, knowing that Seonghwa would NEVER ever swear at you.

"You don't have to wake up, baby. I can wake up on my own to take the medication, just put it on my table." Seonghwa said.

"It's fine. I want to, it will make me feel better knowing your temperature and reaction to the medication." You insisted. He knew there was no persuading you otherwise so Seonghwa just nodded and pulled you to him. You both didn't care about getting you sick anymore, you just wanted to be as humanly near him as possible.

"Thank you for taking care of me, baby." He kissed your forehead.

"What's there to thank for? You're always taking care of me and making sure I'm at my best." You looked up at him.

"Yeah, but I like to take care of you. It's not a chore at all, it makes me feel useful knowing I can help you. And with your job, you always take care of patients. It's nice to be taken care sometimes."

"Seonghwa, you're always useful, no matter what. I've never saw you as useless." You said.

"I know... It's just a personal feeling." He shrugged.

"I could say the same for you. You're always taking care of the other members and especially Hongjoong. So you can take a break and let me take care of you." You giggled.

"We'll always be here to take care of each other. You know like they say... In sickness and in health." He stroked your cheek.

"Exactly." You smiled softly and closed your eyes to join him in dreamland.

~

Masterlist

[the-fab-fox]

Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.

All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

[unfriendlies]

when angel got up out of bed, garam began to pout before he rolled over to lay on his back, though his gaze was still on his friend. he didn't want angel to get out of bed, he wanted the other to relax a bit more before actually getting up. but he took it upon himself to take care of garam instead. when he appeared in the room again and handed garam the piece of bread first, his expression shifted to confusion which was quickly cleared up as angel spoke. though there was a moment of protest, garam eventually took two small bites of the bread. "didn't you drink last night? you were pulling bottles out when i left." if angel had drank as well, why didn't he show any signs of having a hangover? maybe he decided against it once he was alone. that was the only thing that made sense, garam couldn't recall angel acting anything but sober once they were together again. when he popped the asprin into his mouth, he hesitated for a moment as if he were looking for water to take it with but he ultimately just swallowed the pill on it's own. it wasn't that big so he knew he wouldn't struggle trying to get it down. "that depends," he stated after being asked when he wanted to talk. "will i be upset with whatever you want to talk about?" honestly, it didn't matter if he'd be upset or not. garam knew he couldn't sit through breakfast patiently knowing there was something serious they needed to discuss. he probably would end up eating too fast which would make his stomach hurt in the end all so the two of them could talk. "it doesn't matter," he shook his head, "we can talk before, i'm not patient enough to wait." once more, angel had surprised garam with his next question. he shot up right with wide eyes, lips parting as his jaw opening. he let out a sharp breath. he thought he'd hidden it so well, he did his best to move as carefully as possible as to not make it obvious that he was really turned on simply by the two of them kissing. but clearly, he didn't do as good of a job as he thought. "oh my— h-how did you know? i didn't say anything, did i? o-or did i force myself on you? i don't—oh my god, i'm so sorry if i did something to you. i know you need time before we do anything intimate. you know how i get when i've been drinking, i never would have—" angel was smiling so he couldn't have been upset, right? angel wouldn't be smiling if garam forced himself on the man. but how else would angel have known he'd gotten that aroused? he refused to believe angel would have touched him while he was intoxicated, that's not who he was. but how else would he have known? maybe garam said something and he just doesn't remember. "i don't remember anything after we kissed, please don't be mad." he admitted, his voice much softer as if he were ashamed of the fact that he couldn't remember anything else.

Sleep had taken hold of Angel and didn’t seem to want to release him. Movement in the bed began slowly waking him, but his mind didn’t register anything until he felt a hand on his skin. His face scrunched up as his light brown eyes began to flutter open. He whined as his eyes adjusted to the light from hearing his name. Followed by Garam filling his stomach with butterflies. Baby. The man seemed to remember last night. Angel’s eyes soon adjusted and found his best friend. Once again Garam’s thumb was pressing into his bottom lip. Before the man could drop it he kissed it gently. It was difficult for Angel to fully awaken. Not sleeping for close to a month would do that to you. He was surprised he didn’t get sick from all the lack of sleep. For a moment the man lay there trying to think where aspirin actually was. “You cannot take aspirin on an empty stomach” Angel muttered in his morning raspiness. still half awake as he forced himself up. Hearing Garam’s needs he couldn’t just lay in bed. No matter how tired he was. He truly enjoyed taking care of the man. The raven-haired man climbs up stumbling slightly as he tries to stand. He groaned rubbing his eyes as he disappeared into the bathroom. It didn’t take him long to find the aspirin. He held the bottle in his hand as he came out shaking it as he walked past to leave the bedroom. As he wandered around the apartment getting everything Garam needed he wondered what all the other man remembered. Angel bit his cheek as he typically did trying to fight back the negative thoughts that plagued his mind. He wanted to believe that Garam remembered it all. So he focused on that. He grabbed a glass of water and some sweet bread before slipping back into the room. “Eat this first. Then I will get you pancakes” he said a little more clearly now that he was awake. Angel handed over the water and bread as he opened the aspirin, “Take a few bites of the bread first. Then I’ll hand over the aspirin” Angel knew his best friend well. The man was stubborn and would fight him every step of the way if he didn’t hold the aspirin hostage. He watched his best friend closely waiting for him to eat some before finally handing them over. Without trying Garam was adorable. His messy bedhead reminded him of how cute his best friend was coming home. But waking up beside him was even better. The simple touches and hearing his name said so softly was a nice way to be woken up. Angel sat back on the bed watching Garam for a moment before speaking, “Did you want to talk before or after your pancakes?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. As much as he wanted to live in the bliss from the night before they couldn’t move forward without a sober and proper conversation. Angel had already made a mental note that he would cut back on drinking. It was becoming a problem and almost got him hurt again. Drinking seems to be a common factor in many of his bad decisions. “Please tell me you remember getting a semi last night?” Angel teased unable to hold it in. Now that the man was sober he had to poke a little fun. He got Garam hard. Not fully but still. Enough to make him feel proud. He was grinning staring straight at Garam wanting to see his reaction.

[anotherblinder]

Not Your Fault

Summary || Thomas finds her alone in the rain Word count || 689 Pairing || Thomas Shelby x Reader Warnings || Angst, loss of friendship Notes || It's been a long time since I posted. Over a year,things have just been up and down. This fic is pure self indulgent, i apologize for that. Lately things have been rough with me considering my bff. I'm coming to terms to most likely loosing this friendship because I'm tired of feeling like a second thought and only contacted when they need something or to talk about their daughter. I'm sure I'm not alone in this situation but it doesn't hurt any less. Everything in here is true to what I've been experiencing for years with this friend. I was hesitant to post it but I don't see why not as they have no idea i have this blog. I'll talk to them again at some point but rn I'm just tired. I hope you enjoy this fic if you decide to read it. probably ooc so be fair warned. -Jay

Regret, that’s what she felt. It only grew with every step she took. Droplets of water dripped from her hair and face as she walked on. The rain coming down in buckets. Only picking up as she continued to walk home. How could she be so stupid? This always happened, how naïve could she have been. Her best friend, so maybe so she thought, once again pulling away for a boyfriend. It was unconsciously of course, but regardless, it still hurt. As it always happened when they got in a relationship. After a breakup they’d come crawling back, spending time, talking, like nothing ever happened. It would be good, felt like they were friends again, only for the cycle to happen again when they got a new boyfriend. Only hearing from her friend when she needed something or to talk about her young daughter.  

The woman had talked to her friend about this and how she felt. She swore she’d do better but, like she thought, they grew distant again. Feeling like a second thought and only a friend of convince once again. The friend she’d knew since they were five. Always doing everything for them but feeling as though they get nothing in return. It stung, it hurt and burned. Longing for that friendship they never seemed to have in the first place. All of it sinking in as she walked home from her friend's house that night. Feeling numb and hollow at how long it’s taken her to realize it. 

She gasped as she left a hand grab her bicep. Too lost in her own thoughts to hear the steps and voice of the person calling out to them. Instinct taking over, her other hand swinging around to hit the person who had grabbed her. But they were prepared for it, catching her wrist and pulling it to their chest to prevent her from hitting them. Calling her name as she struggled. 

“Stop! It’s me Tommy!” Thomas yelled over the rain 

“Tommy?” She questioned 

The panic leaving her system to see it was Thomas Shelby. Letting out a big sigh as the tension left her. Thomas let her go as she stopped struggling. Gently he placed his hands on her arms as he looked at her in concern.  

“What are you doing out here? You’re fucking freezing.” 

It was a valid question, one that made her jump back to reality. Feeling the cold that soaked into her skin, the sound of the heavy rain all around her. The way her soaked clothing clung to her skin. How she had forgotten her coat earlier that evening. Even with all that, there was only one thought on her mind. One she voiced as she watched Thomas struggle to get his coat off.  

“Am I a bad friend, Tommy?”  

He froze at her sudden question. It was laughable to him, if he didn’t realize she was serious. Finally taking a good look at her to see her puffy eyes and red nose, not caused by the rain. With a soft sigh he was finally able to get his coat off and wrap it around her shoulders. Taking time to fix it in the front so she stayed warm and cupped her cheeks. 

“No. You are the best friend anyone could ask for.” 

“Then why does my best friend prioritize her boyfriend more than me? I’m nothing but a second thought to them it feels. Even after I've voiced my feelings about this to them. Nothing changed.” 

“Because they don’t know what they’re fucking missing. If this isn’t the first time, then nothing will change. That’s when you say fuck’em and move on.” 

“And if it’s too hard?” She asked with tears in her eyes 

“It will be hard, but you shouldn’t try to fix something that remains broken. It’s not your fault, it’s theirs for not trying. The pain will heal over time with the right people by your side. It's better to let go than struggle on.” 

Thomas grabbed her hand and lead her away to a warmer place. Making sure to mend her broken heart along the way. 

[anamericangirl]

This is just something I've noticed when in spaces surrounding my interests:

A lot of leftists genuinely can't fathom how conservatives can and do enjoy content created by someone they disagree with. Often, posts will pop up that are along the lines of, "How can conservatives say they like this music or TV show or book series when the people behind these things (or the characters within the fictional content) would hate their guts and they're pro things conservatives aren't? There's no logic in that and it just shows how dumb the right is."

In reality, I think it just shows how close-minded the left can be. Many of the things I enjoy were created by left-leaning people, but that doesn't mean it's not good content. I keep my political views out of these spaces mostly because they're not relevant, y'know? (I'm also just introverted/shy lol - I barely interact as is). For example, my favorite genre of music is grunge. 99% of grunge musicians were openly left-leaning, but guess what? I don't care and I still like the music. The left puts so much weight on the opinions of celebrities and politicians (while trying to act like they're rebels/punk) that they think you have to agree with these completely disconnected strangers on everything.

"This celebrity/character would hate you," is such an odd argument to make, in my opinion. It's like - okay, and?

Which is why it's always the left that are trying to cancel people. They can't separate politics from anything, which is why they are always unhappy, there's always a problem, they never enjoy anything and are impossible to please.

They can't appreciate art from other perspectives because everyone on earth has to have their exact positions on all issues or they are Bad People. So much for their "diversity is our strength" nonsense lmao.

I actively try to avoid hearing political takes from any artist I appreciate because I'm not here for a political or moral guide, I'm here for entertainment. And when you look to celebrities for guidance you are looking in the wrong place because no one is more out of touch than they are lol.

I just assume the artists I enjoy are all woke leftists because most people in those industries are and if they're not then I can be pleasantly surprised.

But if if I get told "you know so-and-so is a leftist and would probably hate you, right?" I literally could not care less because I'm not trying to be their friend. I find most of them, personality wise, to be pretty annoying myself.

It just demonstrates a real flaw with leftists that they cannot comprehend how someone could engage with or appreciate anything about someone that has different perspectives and opinions. Sounds like an absolutely miserable existence always having to be outraged about something and making sure every artist you like has the Right Opinions.

[karlachismylife]

Five times Karlach and Soap didn’t celebrate Christmas together and one time they did

Through alternative universes and unfortunate fates. Brought to you by Modern Warfare OST I've been listening to instead of Christmas songs and this bloody perfect comission by @veeegaaas. I am deeply in love with their art style, the soft, often powdery or pastel colours and lines making it feel so touchable and comforting. My Christmas miracle this year is me being able to comission this piece, I gave them full artistic freedom and I am so happy I did. This is my heart here.

The way they're looking at each other makes me want to die a bit less.

CW: MCD (a lot), but happy ending, mentions and brief desciptions of self-sacrificing, coma, torture.

Frozen ground

Even the lower city of Baldur’s Gate feels like a shiny jewel when it’s covered in silver frost of approaching winter. Days closing in for the Solstice, early morning still feels like night, killed off and buried under the starless skies, thick smudge of fog and clouds painted over all celestial bodies. Karlach sniffles, cold air cutting into her nose like an icicle spell, and pats herself on her shoulders that are just starting to widen in a promise for her future massive build, once she’s all grown big and adult. Gortash noticed too, recently, told her he’s proud of her and is sure he made the right call picking her up from the dirt.

She sure as hell isn’t planning on proving him wrong, even if he sounds like a right prick when he gets all patronizing over her, as if they’re not friends.

SAS training is exhausting. There’s a part of Johnny that feels like turning into a mad rabid dog and falling on all fours to the ground to chew into the frozen soil, dirt mixed with ice crunching on bleeding teeth, last bits of sense escaping him due to sleep deprivation and bone-stinging cold. There are mere days before Christmas left, yet instead of warm lights and angels singing he’s only seen training ground’s cool floodlights and heard orders barked into the night, degrading words coming at the recruits in mist clouds from their CO’s mouth.

It's worth it, though. All worth it when he feels eyes blue as fine aged ice following his every move on the obstacle course – all worth being finally acknowledged as outstanding.

Her boots are cheap. Gortash promised her a new pair for the Winterday, probably already bought them and wrapped with a pretty bow on top – Karlach knows she’s already got a present for him, carefully chosen and clumsily packaged with a heartfelt postcard. The message inside is written by someone actually literate, but she dictated every word and put her signature underneath.

Who’s gonna tell him, thinks Karlach in the two seconds as she falls on the ice-covered cobbled floor, too slippery under her old worn boots with soles ground into nothingness by miles and miles of walking.

Who’s gonna tell Gortash there’s a present for him hidden under her pillow once she slips and doesn’t reach him in time to push them both out of the attacker’s way.

Who’s gonna tell him she tied a bow on it as red as the blood pouring from her cracked open skull.

Johnny doesn’t blame the poor lad who had probably frozen his fingers off long before they even reached this part of the drill. It’s cold, it’s so painfully cold that his own eyelashes crumble like hoarfrost on a wild pine tree that’s still waiting for someone to decorate it and put a blessed star on top, shining bright and pointing to the baby Jesus’s crib. It’s so cold that Johnny would’ve probably dropped the grenade himself if he wasn’t just so damn good with them.

Instead, Johnny drops himself, broad chest pushing against the threat and shielding others from a ticking death.

It’s so cold that his frozen, stale mind only has time to start regretting never finding a way to buy a Christmas gift for his Mam. As long as he remembers himself, he had always gotten her at least something.

His ID discs survive the explosion to hang at he very top of his Mam’s tree, right under the angel’s wings.

In the making

Soap has proved himself. Months of grueling training, years of hard focus on the task, unmatched persistence and constant pushing of his limits have lead up to this moment. Johnny passes the selection, having already earned his reputation, and even several seconds behind that Garrick prodigy can’t taint his triumph.

He’s the youngest candidate to pass it in British Army history, and this is his first mission under Captain Price’s command, a bright start of even brightest future. Johnny’s sun shines octilions of lumens, more than any light that came before him.

Like a hot-blooded dog freed from its leash, Soap pounces and returns with the cargo manifest countless lives depend on. Steel birds of prey tail him, deadly song of guns rattling behind his back, but he won’t let his grip on the prize slip.

A good hound doesn’t part its jaws clutched on the prey’s throat even in death.

Karlach’s heart is bleeding. Hell’s whips cut deep into flesh, drawing blood that boils immediately in the heat of war-soaked air of Avernus, flakes of sulfur ash clinging to the wounds to prolong her agony, but the pain Zariel’s minions can inflict cannot measure up to the one that’s tearing her up from inside.

Nothing hurts as bad as the shards of broken trust stuck in her chest, despair and betrayal spreading through her system like inflammation. Deep inside the young tiefling something precious is dead and rotting, poison and puss oozing out with blood and tears, throat too sore to cry out more. She’s akin to a wild animal butchered alive, dislocated shoulders screaming each time Karlach struggles against the restraints, mind set solely on freeing from this nightmare.

Zariel studies her acquisition and deems it ready. A red hot iron rod reflects in Karlach’s painfully wide open eyes.

It’s always several seconds. Precious moments dragging before the time strikes and he hears a beautiful melody of holy bells calling for the midnight mass. Old clocks ticking a few times while he waits for his turn to open the rustling packaging paper on a present. Four seconds setting him behind Gaz on the record list.

He’s only one second late to secure a grip on his Captain’s hand and avoid the destiny of a falling Christmas star.

Bering Strait is perfectly clear blue. Johnny’s eyes amalgamate with its cold, indifferent waves. Northern lights are his Christmas bells and Christmas lights now.

If John Price could, he would bring his body back home, but he can’t.

Pain has a way to make you confuse hot with cold, Karlach knows it well by now, countless burns in her throbbing skin feeling like there’s ice permanently etched into it. There should be a point when everything turns numb, that’s what they always said, but she’s been through so much and still feels a lot. Feels more than she would want to at this point.

Horrifyingly huge shears cutting into her sternum with a crunch of a festive caramel apple come as a relief.

Karlach’s heart aches even when it’s removed. She sees it, drugged on Devil’s spells and black opium of anguish, going still in a clawed hand, and then everything turns white.

Somewhere up there, on another plane of existence, it might be already winter. Fluffy blizzards throwing soft snowflakes into laughing children’s eyes, blinding them on a small hill they roll down from, clothes covered in snow and soaked, skin growing progressively numb from the cold – but not their hearts. Somewhere up there burning wheels roll down that same hill, celebrating Winter Solstice, and the druids keep children warm around huge campfires, pine and clove mingling with breathy smoke in the air.

There’s a fire burning in her chest, so tall than no one would be able to jump over it and cleanse for the new turn of the Year Wheel, and it still feels cold. Karlach’s fingers grow numb with no snowballs to throw.

She is nothing but a pile of ash, same as the Winterday campfire after a long night, after her body rejects Zariel’s engine.

We did it, soldier

If it wasn’t for the obvious matte colour showing under the timid sunrise of their victory, Karlach would believe that the ash carried by the breeze is a gently first snowfall, harbringer of upcoming winter and the festive joy it brings despite dark, unfit for survival nights. It’s been a long time since she’s seen snow, thin coats of crystal white on the rooftops and pavements seeming like a distant dream more than reality.

She does remember snow is supposed to feel cold, though. Nothing like the fever that makes the air around her quiver and ripple, mocking the uncalm sea waves bothered by fallen enemies and crashing into the dock that’s slowly starting to sizzle under her feet.

Engine’s finally cooked.

Karlach feels guilty for wanting just a little more time to pretend ash is, in fact, snow.

London is a big city, packed with money and even more – with a constant desire to earn more. Still, there’s something calming about seeing Christmas shopwindows in November. A very human hope to live long enough to see the day itself.

Task force 141 is there to ensure it happens for these people. Soap is there to protect Christmas from going out in a blazing hot fire of a terrorist attack.

The wire he’s supposed to cut is accordingly red; collect all red wires Johnny’s cut on duty – and you can weave a little Christmas garland, naked glint of copper insides mingling with the gold of ornaments and sparkly star topper. There is no cinematographic timer with a countdown, otherwise Soap could pretend the bomb is just about to douse them in confetti as the numbers hit all zeroes.

There are gunshots approaching from behind his back.

Friends are there to see Karlach’s radiant smile as she falls to her knees, succumbing to the flames. Shining brighter than the sun over this newly saved world, feeling warmer than a home’s hearth when the family lights a new fire for the new year and lets the old one burn out into a black spot, smouldering long into the new dawn.

Friends are there to watch Johnny spread Christmas red too early into the calendar, eyes full of wonder, devoid of anger and threat, staring up like a kid in a church. Trickle of blood frames his face like an expensive silk ribbon, only the best for the greatest gift people of London could receive so far in advance of the holiday season.

The city’s going to be alright.

Mind flaying

Karlach feels like her engine is still somewhere there, in her chest, now uncharacteristically narrow and devoid of all the muscle gain she worked for. Gone are the scars, testaments to her will to live; old steel grommets flayed off with the hot red skin; both horns fell off like that of a young deer before the upcoming winter.

But the fire that kept her blood hot and spicy like mulled wine is still dying its slow, drawn out, dishonourable death. Instead of a passionate flame, Karlach is just a fiery orange rim of a slightly warm coal now, breathing last breaths under the ashy skin of her new body.

That is, if she’s even still Karlach somewhere deep inside.

Johnny still looks like himself. His cheeks are undeniably chiseled now, jawline starvingly sharp instead of the adorable roundness everyone who knows him is used to; his mohawk is long gone, too hard to keep up in these circumstances; baby blue eyes stay closed and have lost memory of the happy crow’s feet that used to be permanently etched into their corners. But it’s still Johnny.

It's still his Mam’s wee lad lying there in the hospital bed, brain scans scarce with good news after a miracle – God himself standing between Johnny and the bullet as an early Christmas gift – allowed him to keep breathing even after getting shot straight to the temple.

Everyone in the family can see him silently withering away on that bed, but there aren’t many things as stubborn as Scottish hope.

Many things have already stopped worrying Karlach. Past passion, anger, fear, joy – seem less than distant memories now. She knows what they are, but her knowledge is as dry and flat as a library page, odorless ink burning up with no smoke, ashes so thin they barely leave a residue on fingers that smear them around.

When the campfire is already that weak, you just fall asleep, waiting for the brimming red somewhere in the centre to die down, and wake up in the morning to a completely cold pile of coal covered with untouched, senseless snow.

Karlach never notices when she slips away.

Johnny’s body responds less and less to things happening outside. At first his fingers twitched, stoking the fire of hope, at the sound of familiar voices. His heartrate responded to a loving touch, electricity in his system seeking a way to communicate through the barrier of his coma. The longer he stayed, the rarer became these answers.

They know he’s locking himself inside, disappointed in his inability to push through, like a stubborn kid throwing the towel after a particularly hard task doesn’t bend no matter the effort – Johnny’s never been one to give up.

His Mam knows he’s still fighting when they finally pull the plug.

Skullface

Karlach thinks of him, pulling the skull bandana further up her face in the cold November streets of London. She’s doing this for Johnny too – even if Soap would never approve, she’s doing it for the lad that’s been like a brother to her all the way, up until the day they split, deep ravine of incompatible views lodged between them by corrupt hands of those they both believed in. Molotov lights up nice and easy in her hand, liquid flame hitting a policeman kitted out into anti-demonstration gear.

It's for Johnny and all the other lads they send out to die not for regular people, but for the rich, powerful and utterly uninterested in what their profitable game of politics and war does to everyone else.

Johnny thinks of her, listening to the skull-faced voice in his ear in the cold November streets of Las Almas. He’s doing this for Karlach too – even though she went her own way, betraying what they both dreamed of and deemed righteous for the sake of her new worldview, the one that put them on the opposite sides without ever actually becoming enemies. C4 trap falls under the Shadows’ feet nice and easy, expensive PMC gear shattering into black shards with a splatter of a soldier’s blood.

It's for Karlach and all the other people whose lives will be ruined if Soap doesn’t get to the church and stop the goddamn missiles from starting something dangerously close to another world war.

Karlach knows they’re going to torture her, like they did to her other comrades, now rotting in prison, some with lesser time than others, health irreversibly damaged by the hands of so-called protectors. When they punch her till she barfs, she feels sorry for the brothers that were broken like this, ratting out her and her allies, signing empty protocols that would be filled with whatever the police needs. When they bag her horned head, she expects to be waterboarded like they did to others.

It's too late to cry out once she hears a dry chatter of a teaser. Karlach’s body only jolts twice before the pacemaker she earned in the military malfunctions and stops.

Johnny knows Ghost isn’t joking about what Narcos will do to them if they catch up faster than Shadows – videos or not, he’s seen the bodies first day he arrived here, and he doesn’t fancy looking like one of them when he leaves this rain-soaked place. Wouldn’t be the worst place to die, though, he thinks – at least he’ll come back on the Day of the Dead, sugar skull to match LT’s and all, right?

His one little selfish regret is that he doesn’t get a chance to see what’s under that skull before a lucky Shadow snipes Ghost from the top of the fence around the church. There is another bullet to guarantee they’ll stay in limbo that is the city of souls.

Together

Snow is falling in picture perfect, windless, snow globe manner, landing on their hair and immediately turning into little water droplets from the shared heat. Wherever eyes fall, there’s brilliant white, blue undertones of the tinies snowflakes neither of them is able to catch and hold.

Only makes more sense to hold each other instead.

Karlach’s tiger eyes burn brighter, reflecting warm yellow glow of the generously strung up lights on the giant Christmas tree they’re standing next to. At home, they unanimously agreed on a multi-coloured one, but the outside world is, as usually, much tamer than the artistic chaos that follows their shared life.

Was a hard enough task for Johnny to find a teddy bear extraordinary enough to suit Karlach – Clive has been getting lonely on the nightstand he’s permanently banished to in order to avoid getting kicked off the bed.

Karlach got him oil paint expensive enough to exchange for a wedding ring – her priorities as straight as their hair, both their outgrown hawks curling and shrinking the more they stand under the wet, warm weather snowfall.

They’re drinking each other as if it’s the only day of magical winter holidays they will ever get to spend together.

An invisible hand pushes them both at the same time, warm, slightly damp from the wet breath, lips locking in a sweet kiss, cinnamon and wine-soaked pear finding way to their tastebuds and forcing them to deepen the touch. Johnny breaks a second faster, strong arms wrapping tighter around her broad shoulders and waist and pulling Karlach in for a taste of festive desperation. An angelic chorus rings in his ears with the holy bells as he feels her toothy grin blooming into the kiss, giddy and unapologetically in love.

“We did it, soldier,” she whispers, opening her feline eyes just a little to admire the never-freezing waves of his gaze, shining against the sturdy dock of her flaming heart.

“Didnae even need tae steel mistletoe for that, aye,” Soap agrees, brushing his nose against Karlach’s. She’s trying to keep her cool so hard – her pulse is thrumming like crazy under his rough fingers splayed against her feverishly exposed back. “Let’s go home, lass. Ah’m fucking freezing mah arse even with ye in mah arms.”

“Wasn’t my idea to walk around in kilt when it’s bloody snowing, mate!”

“Aye, maybe ye’re gonnae say ye dinnae enjoy the view, too?”

People try to walk around them, rightfully scared to get pushed over on the slippery pavement as their fake argument gets heated and turns into hip nudging war. Loud laughter hangs in the air long after they pass, woven with mist into the twilight of upcoming wonder.

No matter the universe, no matter their fate, there is at least one world they’re together on Christmas.

[roneloren]

My first fanfic on Tumblr)

Earlier in the morning. Vladimir lazily opened his eyes, into which the bright rays of the morning sun brazenly climbed. Birds were singing outside the window. Only now did he realize that he had forgotten to close the window and curtains in his room in the evening, he was so tired after staying up late playing cards with Andrey yesterday. He's probably still sleeping like a dead bear in the next room on the couch, wrapped up to his nose in a scratchy but very warm blanket. Vladimir lazily got up from the slightly creaking bed and casually threw a dark blue bathrobe, abandoned last night, or rather already in the dead of night, which both proudly dubbed "the lingering twilight," onto the nearest chair. Slowly tying his belt as if there was no one else in the apartment besides the owner himself, Makarov left his room and suddenly heard a pleasant, quiet piano playing. Once again noting in his head how good the soundproofing in Stalinki was, Vladimir pondered the source of the music for a while. My first thought was that Andrey's phone had rung. An interesting choice of melody. In general, the brunette thought that his right hand on the ringtone would have something like heavy metal or, conversely, country music like the songs of the band Dropkick Murphys, in whose T-shirts Andrei often appeared in everyday life. By the way, he was wearing it that night too...Looking up, Makarov opened his eyes wide in surprise. Nolan was playing an old piano that stood in the corner of the living room, where the redhead was staying the night. It was impossible to even really understand what exactly Vladimir was in such shock about. From the fact that this junk, which no one had touched for twenty years, could be played normally, and even very beautifully, or from the fact that Andrei knew how to handle a musical instrument... Especially like this... Delicate and quite fragile... Behind which you expect to see anyone, but not a huge military closet, which almost always walks with a frown and instills fear at first glance into those flaming blue eyes. He could be imagined with anything but a musical instrument... Yes, he knew firsthand about Andrey's dexterity of fingers. Vladimir has seen many times how his deputy can disassemble a machine gun almost to the cogs in a matter of seconds and also assemble it back in a split second. And he also knows how to do it very well...one false note broke out of his thoughts.

—Damn it... La is upset...

Andrey swore softly, continuing to play. It was noticeable that the composition was coming to its climax. The melody gets faster and the notes get higher. Vladimir froze, leaning against the wall and listening to the music. He studied the pianist carefully. There was something wrong with him, something seemed to be missing, but it seemed that it was even more beautiful... But looking at the same level for a minute now, he can't figure out what exactly is confusing him in this whole picture. This level was Andrey's neck. It was only a minute later that Vladimir realized what exactly had caught his attention in this painting... A bandana. Or a collar. Or the kind of scarf that was always around the neck of an Australian. That's what was missing. Brown-eyed only now realized that... I've never even seen Andrey's neck... She was always hidden by collars, high hoods, scarves, or in warm places with an ordinary bandana. But this time the skin was bare, and what covered the neck last night was lying on the coffee table by the sofa, carefully and carefully folded into a triangle, which contrasted vividly with the slippers carelessly thrown by the aforementioned piece of furniture. Vladimir was mesmerized by the seemingly ordinary part of the body, listening to music and could not believe his ears and eyes... He had never expected to see this side of his deputy... It seemed that in this setting and with the bright morning rays, even Andrey's hair seemed bright, red as a spark... Or was it because he hadn't combed his hair, and because of that, his hair wasn't in its usual neat mohawk, but rather slightly disheveled, which made it look lighter? The question is rhetorical...Neither of them noticed how smoothly the melody ended. Andrey's fingers smoothly outlined the contours of the keys, where they ended their long, tireless run and gently lay on the redhead's lap. For about a minute, Makarov and Nolan were in complete silence, without saying a word. Only the singing of birds outside the boldly open window and the soft rustle of curtains from the rare gusts of a gentle warm breeze that played not only with the curtains, but also with Andrei's red curls, slightly disturbed the silence. It seemed that the men could hear each other's pulse and breathing, it became so quiet. None of them had heard true silence for a long time. They were both used to hearing the sounds of explosions, gunfire, and ringing in their ears all the time... But not silence. She was like a curiosity from children's fairy tales, the importance of which everyone talks about, but no one really felt it. The silence seemed to hang in the air along with thousands of small specks of dust. You could almost touch her with your hands, bury yourself in a warm blanket... She was interrupted first by Andrey, whose ear tips were slightly reddened from such close attention to himself.

— What do you think, Volodya...?

Andrey spoke at the same time curiously and reverently. Vladimir gently exhaled the air he was holding in his chest, not daring to make even the faintest sound while Nolan was playing. Makarov has always loved music... And now he has, so to speak, a hand musician... Perhaps he will take advantage of this gift of fate. It's a sin to let such a thing pass by the soul, right?

— Excellent, Andreika... Excellent... Will you play something else?

He came closer to Andrey and lightly ruffled his red curls. He twitched reflexively, but stopped, hesitantly tilting his head towards the commander's hand. No one except Andrey was given the privilege of seeing Makarov like this... Relaxed, feeling his warmth, which was hidden from everyone by hundreds and thousands of locks. And Andrey got the key to all these doors...

— Yes, Volodya... I'll play...

fingers touched the keys again

[kitts-mechanix]

Thank you for taking the time to write that! I'm not familiar with any of the continuities outside of G1 and TFOne but I'll try to follow along.

So for TFP, I do know that Starscream went rogue because he hated the Autobots but also Megatron. And the fact that the first thing Megatron did after coming back from the dead was beat up Starscream....I say this about every continuity but it's obvious that Starscream is his favourite punching bag. I can see why Megs gets frustrated with him, but it does NOT excuse him abusing Starscream. Although, to be totally fair here, it's not just Starscream. Megatron abuses the hell out of everyone (at least from what I've seen in G1). I mean, he's yelled at Soundwave for being a fool because his plan got foiled, and Soundwave has NEVER talked back to Megatron and is his most loyal comrade who does things without question or comment.

I've always wondered if Starscream would have a hard time actually trying to be a leader/function by himself considering Megatron basically controls everything, hence why he gets upset over Megatron's demise later on. It's complicated and I'd need to actually sit and watch the series to get a better idea but abusive relationships 100% screw you up like that. And I think the reason Starscream resorts to violence is because it makes him feel powerful. Because he always feels powerless under Megatron and he hates that feeling.

"And if people can be happy for redemption arc Meg, there's no Primus damned reason why anyone should be against a Starscream redemption."

THIS! And honestly, I think Starscream actually has a much better chance at being redeemed than Megatron, because regardless of what anyone else might say, I still say Megatron was much more evil than Starscream. And I'm dying on that hill!

I know Megatron got a redemption arc in IDW when he became an Autobot, and while I'd need to find and read the comic for context, it just felt....weird? like they were trying to appease the Meg fans who wanted a redemption arc for him? Granted, I know that all boiled down to Megatron hating what he had become, but still....

I heard Armada Starscream was probably the most complex and fleshed out version of the character in any continuity. I haven't watched Armada, but I heard that he used to be Megatron's most loyal warrior, then got betrayed by him and left for dead, and only turned on Megatron because he caught him admitting it.

"There's a lot of star getting beat up for shit that isn't his fault but told it is, and people constantly manipulating and gaslighting him and he questions his whole ass life but then even after leaving after a particularly wack incident....he expresses how he came to realize that nothing he ever did was ever enough."

Oh my gosh....THIS is what I'm talking about. Armada Starscream was dished out narcissistic abuse because Megs saw him as a scapegoat. No wonder the poor baby has a fractured psyche. And while I totally acknowledge that Starscream had it much, MUCH worse than me, as someone who's been gaslit and blamed for everything under the sun, I just get this!

Earthspark I haven't seen and I've honestly heard really mixed things about it. Starscream saying to Megatron, "Nowhere is safe if it's with YOU" is one of the most brutally honest lines I've heard. I haven't watched it, but there is a video on YT that breaks down Earthspark Starscream and talks about the PTSD symptoms he displays in the series. I hate that they made Star a villain for no good reason and threw away his trauma lore ugh. Give my baby a redemption arc already or something! And not a "bam bam he's okay now" make him work for it!

See, I still think Megatron is the more evil one who's done worse things than Starscream. I may be biased as a Starscream fangirl, but from what I've seen, 99.9% of the time Megatron (or another Decepticon) started it, and at least 50% of that time it was done to push Starscream's buttons and make him angry. Oh my gosh, I was about to mention that...."oOh bUt StArScReAm TrIeD tO kILl MeGaTrOn!" And look, I don't condone murder obviously, but considering Megatron has tried to kill Starscream before.....I understand why he snapped, like in that G1 episode where he blasted Megatron and, thinking he was dead, declared himself the new leader. Which then lead to him being thrown out of the Decepticons and enter the Combaticons, whom he treated like dirt. I have always wondered why Starscream allowed himself to follow Megatron (I assumed it was for power) but him having some form of respect for Megs is interesting....oh boy I need to do some deep diving on this.

But yes! Megatron's abuse likely created the part in Star that makes him lash out. And like I said I imagine he was always hot tempered (like Starscream, I get angry/irritated easily and I lash out. I'm not proud of it) but what Megatron did to him drove him over the edge. This behaviour was modelled to him, not just by Megs but by the other Decepticons. Also, they are in a war. Kill or be killed. Sympathy is dangerous and makes you weak. This is what's drilled into their brainboxes. And I imagine Starscream probably doesn't know/doesn't get the chance to let out his anger in a non-violent way.

"Star has done questionable things, and can be a jerk, but that doesn't mean it's his fault he endured what he did. It's only his fault for his /own/ actions of hurting someone else as a result. And that doesn't exempt someone from being able to become better and deserve better."

This! 👏He deserves another chance, he deserves happiness and a redemption. And if I have to write that for him myself, I'll damn well do it!

But really as someone who's dealt with some abuse like that, I just want to hug him and let him know he's loved 💔

I just had a huge realisation yesterday and I wanted to share this after going through some pretty horrible stuff over the weekend: Something I've always asked myself ever since getting into G1 Transformers was "why do you like Starscream so much even though he's a narcissistic bully? Why are you, someone who is a victim of narcissistic abuse, taking comfort in a narcissistic character?" Well, I think I finally figured it out. Because Starscream is also a victim of that very same abuse. I mean, he's beaten, called names, bullied, unappreciated, abused, and put through the wringer…and he internalised all that abuse because he knew no other way. He had no one to turn to, and the few bots who did support him, he treated like dirt. Once he had that freedom and power, he abused it and became the very thing that abused him. I have no doubt he was always self-centred, selfish, had a huge ego, etc. before all that but honestly? I think Megatron's abuse caused him to turn out the way he did. I could have turned out that way and it's a little scary, some of the parallels I'm drawing with him.

@ichbinmeltdown wrote a great analysis on Starscream that I want to share here:

"Megatron was abusive as hell to Starscream. He treated him horribly, and I legitimately almost cried a few times watching it. There's an episode called Starscream's Brigade that introduces the Combaticons, and I think that perfectly demonstrates the cycle of abuse. The entire world is against Starscream at pretty much every turn throughout the series, but none more so than Megatron. Every word out of his speech synthesizer to Starscream is to berate him, and he's constantly throwing him around, beating him, even ripping out his speech synthesizer in a scene from a previous episode (Hoist Goes Hollywood, IIRC). His own teammates don't like him, and even his brothers- Skywarp and Thundercracker, going off of the idea they're brothers- just... allow Megatron to abuse him. (Not to get into headcanons here, but I personally believe that Megatron's abuse fractured the Elite Trine's family dynamic. They are still brothers and love each other, but they're all too afraid of Megatron to really... stand up for each other as they did in the past.) And Starscream seemed to just snap in this episode. He treated the Combaticons poorly, and even when teaming up with Shockwave, he subjected him to a lot of the same ridicule and torment that Megatron put him through. He failed to realize Shockwave was the one of the only bots who would give him a chance- and unfortunately lashed out at him, which ruined his chances of Shockwave ever being a true friend and ally to him. Once Starscream had finally gotten a taste of power and not being under another bot's boot, he too became the very thing that he lived in fear of. And that really is how the cycle goes- when you're finally free from abuse, it can be tempting to overcompensate and take back all the power you were robbed of, at any cost whatsoever. Starscream, like D16 in Transformers One, snapped up this opportunity."

And the sad thing is, I've seen this in real life and I've internalised some of the abuse I've dealt with too. I'm not proud of it. Like the Seeker Trine, my own family dynamic has been fractured by similar abuse. I know there's traces of narcissism in my behaviour too, and I'm NOT proud of it. Maybe this is why I can forgive Starscream for being a narc, because I can see a little bit of my own personality/attitude/behaviour in him. Maybe it's because I know where it came from, I get why he acts that way and it's not just random and out of the blue. Maybe it's because--and I know this is a bold statement--I don't think he would do some of the stuff my own family did to me (blah blah blah he's a fictional character).

I didn't mean for this to turn into a long rant, so

TLDR: I finally figured out that part of the reason I love and relate to Starscream so much despite him internalising some of the abuse I went through, is because he was the victim of that same abuse.

[mylonelydreaming]

I think that the reason why I love Zelda's character so much is, while I do like the other female characters, they just seem so much more flat and stagnant in comparison. Zelda feels more like an actual person to me. Her character isn't entirely just "scientist" or "princess" or "in love with Link", unlike the others, she actually has things outside of that. She has more than one character trait. She develops.

Zelda didn't even like Link at the very start (for reasons that are very relatable and make her feel more human and flawed) or want to be a princess (at least not in the way others wanted her to be). She went through a period of depression, she has anxieties, she can be assertive, strong-willed, she gets frustrated, she doesn't just have one interest, but several. Massive nerd (and continues being a nerd off-screen with Mineru in the past). Founded a research team. She loves frogs and is the likely cause behind Hateno becoming overrun with them. She founded a school and teaches children, she tries to help people whenever and wherever she can, she tries new things (like painting), she is a selfless leader who is willing to make heavy personal sacrifices for her people, she actually has an arc and grows as a person over time, overcoming her insecurities. She plans ahead, and she can think on her feet. The great sky island was her idea. I know that she's now able to cook at least one normal meal without involving frogs and monster parts. She loves fruitcake and the Silent Princess flower. She went from being bad with horses to catching one on her own. Age of Calamity shows her leading troops, shows that she actually does have some form of archery knowledge (if albeit divine), and that she would make much better use of the master cycle if given the chance. She saves and protects Link even when she has lost herself. She is (according to a dev interview) trying to figure out what future she wants for herself, who she wants to become, what her place in the world is.

And, when it does come to her love for Link, it isn't some shallow infatuation based purely on him being attractive, but because they have an actual connection, a past together. She learned who the real Link was, he opened up to her alone about his deepest insecurities, and her affection towards him grew from that connection. Zelda loves the real Link. She knows Link better than anyone else, and she trusts him implicitly. It isn't the shallow celebrity crush the npcs have.

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[lucyvaleheart]

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[dancing-dawn]

*cracks knuckles over keyboard*

All The Memories Of You_collectingblues, 111k words

100% canon material and you can't convince me otherwise. I think about this daily even a month after reading, I'm not exaggerating. It broke my standards for fanfiction to a point that any time I read something of lower quality I just can't help but compare to this and mourn lol. Plot mainly revolves around the events of the 6-month deal, with Aku and Atsushi slowly developing their relationship through many hardships and realizations. So many powerful moments here live rent-free in my mind, from the fights, terrors and living nightmares to the domestic wholesomeness, gentle care and careless laughter and everything in between.

waiting room_srxlee, 96k words

Not to be dramatic but if I could meet the author I would fall to my knees and kiss their feet. it. is. that. good. Left me absolutely heartbroken (and it has a happy ending ffs), this is the most poetic writing I've ever read in my life, could be a whole ass best-seller novel. Centers around Akutagawa's sickness in modern AU and the growth of his relationship with Atsushi, both before and after he finds out (and angst ensues). I would sell my soul just to the style of writing alone, trust me, not to mention the plot and the pure unrivaled emotion behind every line.

at the curtains close_GhouliGhost, kitkatfics (miniekooki), 165 k words

*takes a deep breath* I speedran this in 3 days and still cannot recover from the emotional damage. In the beginning I was like "haha that's hilarious wtf am I getting into" and then watch me just a few chapters later sobbing my eyes out, clutching my heart and reflecting on my life. Probably the most realistic portrayal of a relationship I've ever read. Come see how two teachers, one being a rich asexual science nerd and the other a theatre-loving cam-boy, struggling in the depths of hell (aka financing debt) become dear friends, companions in life and lovers.

A Story Unfinished_SpiderLilyRed, 14k words

I have a soft spot for writers AU (cuz of obvious reasons) and this managed to make me smile, laugh, broke my heart and then glued the pieces. Very cute concept of Aku being a writer that is forced to write romance and your local cutie bookshop employee Atsushi turns out to be just the expert you need (to wonder why hmmm)!

enshroud me_lostdimension, 6k words

Not sure if E-rated is up your alley, but recommending just in case because it's my all-time favourite. Incredibly gorgeous and poetic writing, this is love, okay, just pure and unconditional love. Incredibly soft and vulnerable, with hurt and comfort on the side because angst is the perfect catalyst of emotion, isn't it.

a hope to return_auroraheart, 11k words

Akutagawa dies and it's fucking beautiful, I need say no more. Just be in a very masochistic mood to read :3 It has a lot of wholesomeness and fun too!! (totally not to trick you into a false sense of security nu nu)

foolish_ringingmaybelles, 13k words

Restaurant AU sickfic! I remember I enjoyed it a lot at the time, it has well-written characters (as with everything I rec here), lot of caretaking and cute little crushes. Also Gin has a pretty important cameo and as an Aku-stan, Gin by default has my heart <3 This author in general has the best sickfics so I advice to check them out if you're in the mood!

dying by design_halfbloom (diphylleias), 5k words

And a shortie for dessert! Imagine this as a missing scene somewhere in the canon material, it does not disappoint in the slightest. It's just them talking on a rooftop, but the characterization is so on point that my jaw was to the floor the whole time, idk how they wrote it so perfectly canonical.

(aaand that's the best of of the best I've found and devoured since the start of my bsd obsession 2 or so months ago. I'm very passionate about sskk and those fics in particular and I selfishly hope this doesn't get lost in the void, happy reading my peeps!) (i definitely have more but trying to have some self-restriction here lol)

I NEED SSKK FICS RECOMMANDATION SOBS

GIMMZ THE SILLIIES

[Any fic works pls I just need something to read 😭]

[darthyolk]

I've finally finished my first boss for my demon hunting game Judgement Nights! A guard dog for a much stronger demon, Grub keeps their secret safe and hidden from all mortal or demonic eyes

[varjopeura]

.

[priceofreedom]

rebirth is gonna destroy us i just know it