#most cruel thing marvel has ever done to me

[arrumiekookie]

[kaleidoscopic-quiddity]

that being said, my actual biggest issue w/ the bnha ending is Deku being a quirkless hero with an armoured All Might-esque supersuit.

now heres the thing, I don't hate Deku ending the story as quirkless. I, like loads of other people, assumed from fairly early on assumed that bnha would end either with Deku going back to being quirkless or, if not that, back to not having any of the OFA vestiges' quirks and just having that 'base' OFA super strength/speed, with which he could still continue being a pro hero

the thing is, I had always assumed that if bnha did go down the 'Deku loses OFA entirely and goes back to being quirkless' route then as a result of that, the whole 'this is the story of how I became the greatest hero' thing from the beginning of the story would take on a new light. the reveal would be that we, the audience, already saw Deku become the greatest hero over the course of the 2 wars and defeating AFO/Shigaraki, and/or that he would become the 'greatest hero' but not the kind hero that the audience assumed, instead working as a quirkless teacher/villain outreach worker/quirk analyist/hero assiant/etc.

and that would be pretty poignant endind would it not? a re-emphasising of this idea that its not just the pros who are heroes, but that everybody in society who 'reaches out' and works to make the world a better place is a hero too, regardless of how 'strong' they may or may not be, that it was never truly about having a powerful quirk and being a pro superhero, but by stopping those who want to do harm, and saving people, that's what truly made Deku the greatest hero

and like bnha's finale did kinda do that a bit with Deku being a heroics teacher at UA for eight years but then it, in my opinion, ruined that by having Deku become a quirkless-with-a-supersuit pro hero.

the thing is, if Deku couldve been a quirkless pro hero this whole time, then there was no reason for All Might to even give him OFA, and for the story as a whole, to happen. and I'm sure some people will counter that point by saying like 'oh but the suit cost LOADS of money' or 'but they were only able to make the suit after analysing the data from All Might's fight with AFO', but to me that just further proves why Deku getting a supersuit so he can be a quirkless pro hero is dumb.

All Might is the no.1 hero in Japan and is globally renowned, if he wanted to secure the funding to make Deku some kind of supersuit he couldve done that right when he met Deku as a quirkless middle schooler, but he didn't. in fact, when explicitly asked by Deku if he could become a hero, even without a quirk, All Might told him that being a quirkless pro hero was impossible. he didn't say that to be cruel or because he's fantasy-ableist or whatever, he said that because he genuinely believed it to be the truth, and he was right.

the fact that support items are not replacements for quirks and actual hero-ing skill/talent is established fairly early on. All Might mentions, some time around the sports festival if I remember correctly, that he's seen heroes who are overly reliant on their support items become useless/a liability once those items break. its a nice and tidy in-universe justification for why every hero isnt walking around with robot armour and ray guns and what have you. and okay, sure, bnha's finale is set eight years in the future, it could be reasonable to assume that in that time, plus with all the funding provided by class 1-a and All Might, that the support industry has really developed and Deku's supersuit is some absolute top of the line technology.

even then, there's still a glaring issue. we saw the exact scenario All Might described play out, WITH All Might. his supersuit was technological marvel, it let him get some genuine damage in on the most powerful villain ever, but ultimately it broke, and without it All Might was unable to fight, and became a liability that had to be rescued. and I'm not saying that to trash on All Might or anything, that is literally just how that quirkless-hero-with-a-supersuit scenario worked out for him.

and okay, sure, you could argue that Deku's supersuit, developed in the eight years since the war, using the data from that fight, and likely with even more money put into it, is a lot better than All Might's supersuit was, and also that it took AFO to wreck All Might's supersuit and its unlikely that there'll ever be a villain that powerful ever again so Deku doesn't have to worry about his own suit in the same way. and sure, you could even argue that non-quirkless pro heroes still have times when they're unable to use their quirks for one reason or another, and just have to rely on their own strength/skills/etc the same way Deku would if his supersuit broke or malfunctioned

but even with all that, my problem is is that it was established, multiple times, why it wasnt a viable option for Deku to just be a quirkless pro hero who used support items, and if the narrative wants to roll that back and go, no, wait, it is actually a totally viable option, then it just begs the question of why don't all pro heroes have supersuits, why is Deku the first quirkless person to become a pro hero in this way, and why, if this was an option, did the story even have to bother with Deku inhereting OFA and learning to make it his own power?

i get what they're going for here, having Deku be a quirkless pro hero with a supersuit is trying to play into the whole 'it was never the power, but rather who midoriya izuku is as a person, that makes him a great hero' but if you ask me its just such a cheap and deus ex machina-y way of doing it???

i genuinely think Deku either being quirkless and instead working in some other way that helps people and/or helps pro heroes help people OR keeping OFA (minus the vestiges' quirks) and going on to a pro hero, and in either scenario, having a moment with All Might and/or Bakugou where they emphasise to him that he is, and always was, a hero, regardless of a quirk, would just be infinitely more narratively coherent and satisfying

the bnha ending isnt terrible, and im certainly not saying people can't like it or trying to drag them if they do, but i am say that me, personally, i dont like it all that much, AND i think its bad writing

[cookinguptales]

Y'know, I post a lot on tumblr about what a shit Guillermo is, and I stand by that. He is a marvelous little shit. But honestly I only talk about it so much because people on tumblr and AO3 send me so many messages about how he's never done anything wrong in his life. When I'm presented with the opposite, that Guillermo is uniquely awful and selfish and he victimizes the poor uwu vampires (thinkpieces that you saw a lot more often during s3) I am fully like "I STAND BY EVERY DECISION THAT FOOLISH MAN HAS EVER MADE."

Being real with you, I feel like talking about Guillermo like he's totally blameless and put-upon or like he's totally selfish and wholly evil flattens a really complex and interesting character. He's selfish and self-involved and cruel and sweet and insecure and giving. He's all those things, and I love that about him.

I love Guillermo as a character because he has these carefully constructed categories in his head, these rules and boundaries that he sticks to like glue. He contains multitudes, and it's because he carefully follows the rules he has in his own head, even when they don't make a lot of sense to others.

I think the best way to think about Guillermo's actions is to think about him having two very different sets of rules for in-groups and out-groups. He will bend over backward for people in his in-group, will be the kindest, most patient, sweetest man in the world -- but he can be downright vicious to people in the out-group.

This is a pretty common occurrence IRL, though not always to the degree that Guillermo does it... I mean, you're going to treat your best friend's birthday differently than you're gonna treat a stranger's, right? When you start seeing it happen the way Guillermo does it, though, it's often to create and preserve power. You see it in politics, high school cliques, religion, etc.

For example, let's take new religious movements (or NRMs, i.e. "cults".) They are famous for this behavior. When you create distinct in-groups and out-groups and can behave very differently towards both, you give your followers a strong incentive to stay in the in-group. It makes them feel like they're the "good" ones, the superior ones, the ones with power. The ones that belong. And when they see out-groups being mistreated, well. No one wants to be in the group with no power who's mistreated, y'know? It simultaneously gives people in the in-group a sense of community, belonging, and social superiority and makes them afraid to leave.

But really, you see it all the time. If you have a "good" group that you can never harm and a "bad" group that you can do anything to, that really helps prop up power structures in a lot of ways. Look, I'm not going to get into this too much more because you don't want a freaking academic lecture on your dash, but suffice it to say that I think Guillermo is largely using his in-groups and out-groups in this way, mentally speaking.

He has in-groups (his friends, his family, his boyfriend, the vampires he lives with) and out-groups (literally everyone else, including other vampires) and he badly mistreats the out-groups because he does not want to be one of them. I've noticed he's particularly awful to human prey that reminds him of himself (nerdy, socially awkward, powerless, virginal) and I think that's because he wants to distance himself from them. He wants to make sure no one mistakes him as being part of that group, so he very strongly pushes them into his out-group by not only killing them, but making fun of them and often making sure they suffer before they die.

And then he's even more slavishly devoted to his in-groups, partially because he does truly love them, but partially because he desperately wants to stay in those groups. Or because he's trying to protect his own hide.

I don't mean to say that every kind thing he does is calculated -- I do think he very genuinely wants to make the people he loves happy -- but there's a sort of desperation to it sometimes. When he does these kind things, sometimes it's this desperate bid to be valued and accepted by others in his in-group, which makes him feel like he's earned his place there.

I've noticed that Guillermo has a tendency to do things for people to stay in their good graces (buying his mom a fridge, doing chores for Nandor, giving Derek money) when what they actually want is his time and attention. There often is a vibe that he's trying to earn his way into a group he doesn't quite feel entitled to when actually he's already very much a part of the group and he just needs to maintain those relationships. It's insecurity, frankly, and a nervous sort of self-preservation.

In fact... I'd say that Guillermo's greatest emotional struggles often come when trying to reconcile (and protect) different members of his in-group because he's trying to reconcile (and protect!!!) the different parts of himself.

Like... when he protected Jeremy, he was protecting a friend, but also the idea that some weak, virginal nerds are not prey. He had to protect this member of his in-group, partially because he loved him, but partially because he had to protect himself by extension. If Jeremy could be an exception to the predator-prey dynamics, so could he. Some humans could be valuable.

When he protected his fellow familiars during the familiar fights, he was protecting fellow humans whom he thought had "earned" a better life (and death) than prey humans, but he was also protecting the idea that a familiar could be loved and valued. He was protecting himself and the hope that Nandor would love him.

When he protected his family, he was protecting his beloved family members, but also the idea that vampires and slayers could coexist. Of course he doesn't want his family to die, but he's also doesn't want his hopes that he can have it all to die with them.

Let's all be real with each other here. Guillermo kills humans, and he does so without compunction. He is able to utterly dehumanize prey humans because he has a vested interest in emotionally distancing himself from them. But he gets kind of freaked out when the humans that he has mentally removed from that prey group (his friends, his family, people "like him") are not placed into that same exempt group by others. And this is definitely because he wants to protect those he loves!

But it's also because it means that he isn't special, either.

Let's talk about Freddie, who I think is probably the most complicated example of all this in the entire show. (Save perhaps Derek, who could probably get an entire post to himself because he went from out-group to in-group without Guillermo's consent.) When Freddie first arrived at the house, Nandor mistook him for prey. This understandably freaked Guillermo out, partially because he wanted to protect his boyfriend and partially because it was violating Guillermo's group dynamics.

(Insert meta here about Freddie representing Guillermo's ability to have a happy life outside of the weird, insular one he'd created for himself prior to s4.)

Freddie ended up being kind of special, though, because Guillermo considered him to be part of his in-group and Nandor considered him an out-group until he realized that Guillermo valued him. And then Nandor wanted him to not just be part of his in-group, but a portion of it separate from (but simultaneously representing) Guillermo. It's complicated!!

So we had Freddie 1 who was Guillermo's and Freddie 2 who was Nandor's, but... in the end, Freddie really belonged to no one but himself, right? In the end, he very literally chose himself. He left the -group dynamic altogether.

So Freddie is moving in and out of these groups like a fuckin' oiled-up eel that Guillermo cannot keep a hold of, and that really challenges his control issues as well as his ability to feel like he belongs in the in-groups he's created. It challenges his ability to feel worthy and loved and like he belongs anywhere. It challenges his ability to have faith that he'll ever become a vampire. Suddenly he does not control these groups anymore. If anything, they're controlling him.

While a lot of Guillermo's angst at the end of s4 was about, y'know, normal heartbreak... I think a lot of that was happening, too. He was really seeing the abrupt overturning of the carefully established rules and groups and boundaries and power differentials in his head, and that made him just want to be free of the whole thing.

So he took a step out of all of his preconceptions about what he did and did not have to do to belong in these groups, and took hold of his own destiny.

...unfortunately.

Guillermo's decisions in s4, both regarding his family and his turning, really did permanently shake up a lot of the group dynamics in the show. For better? For worse? (FOR GOOD...? lmao) It's hard to say, honestly. But I'm eager to see how he irons it all out in his head!

Our able-to-self-justify-literally-anything bitch. 💜

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

Conversations with Jack Skellington

From Disney Dreamlight Valley

"How's the Halloween business going?"

JS: I've been ruminating on our traditional Halloween themes...scary skeletons, jack o' lanterns, tell me -- do you have a favorite?

"Skeletons."

JS: How delightful! Or are you flattering me? You don't need to do that, you know. But I do love a good bone rattle. And no one can grin like a skeleton can.

"What are you up to?"

JS: I am practicing my Shakespeare. Would you like to hear a bit?

'Sure!"

JS: 'I recite chilling lines from various plays. Ahem -- let me begin... 'I could a tale unfold whose lightest word, Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine!"

"Keep going!"

JS: 'Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble, Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard leg and owlet's wing!"

"More!"

JS: 'Deep night, dark night, and the silent of the night, the time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl, and spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves!"

"I love it"

JS: And now I shall customize one for our dear Valley... 'Alas, poor Mickey! I knew him: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Alas! Alas!

'That was wonderful!"

JS: Thank you! You were a lovely audience.

JS: Would you like to join me in some screaming practice?

"Let's do it."

JS: Marvelous! Now we'll start easy. A basic yelp.

"Yip!"

JS: Close! But that's a yip, not a yelp. Try another scream, but longer this time.

"AhhhhHHHHHH"

JS: Oh, I like the ululation - a terrifying touch! Now higher! A proper curdling scream!

JS: That sent shivers down my spine - exquisitely done!

JS: Have you ever felt stuck wearily in the same routine? Where everything seems dull and repetitive? What do you do?

"I change things up!"

JS: Of course! Sometimes you need something new, don't you? To give you novel ideas and a fresh perspective! Though.. Ah... it is good to be prudent about what new things you take on.

"You seem preoccupied."

JS: Friend, I'm sure you've heard that I once tried my hand at running Christmas. Alas, it was quite the disaster. I made so many mistakes, but I'm wondering if there was one fundamental flaw...A central confusion. A core to all the calamity.

"Maybe you let your excitement run away from you."

JS: I certainly did. Enthusiasm is quite powerful. And usually it's good! It animates my frights! Keeps me inspired. But it can sometimes... have a life of its own.

"Does that mean you've learned your lesson?"

JS: Of course. Hmm... but say I hadn't learned my lesson. Would that SCARE you?

"Yes!"

JS: Well then, perhaps...I've learned nothing at all. Ha-ha-ha!

"What are you up to, Jack?"

JS: I've been considering recruiting new fright-makers for Halloween. Do any of our Valley friends strike you as particularly scary?

"Definitely Ursula."

JS: A witch? That's perfect! And she had such a majestic presence. Oh... she'll likely want something in exchange for working with us.

"True, I guess you'd want someone who's in it for the joy of scaring people."

JS: Exactly!

"What's going on?"

JS: My search for new Halloween fright-makers continues! Do you have any suggestions for me?"

"Scar would be great."

"Penny for thoughts, Jack?"

JS: Now that has real potential to be terrifying! If only he weren't so cruel about it... Halloween is about scaring people, not hurting their feelings!

JS: I need your help thinking up some new ideas for Halloween. You know, fresh insights. Topical terrors. Contemporary creepiness.

"Vampires."

JS: You're right! Vampires have been experiencing a sort of renaissance. Which is charming, as many of them were around for the renaissance! But I do have colleagues back in Halloween Town who are vampires. SO I feel that territory is well-covered.

[doctorpandorica]

So Fanfiction, Deadpool and Wolverine, and Logan, made have a fucking epiphany about my mental health. PART TWO,

HERE IS A LINK TO THE FIRST HALF!!!

JUST WANT TO FIRST ACKNOWLEDGE (I'll stop all caps soon) THESE MOTHER FUCKING ANGELS!!!!

As well as this talented Mother fucker, Artist Jack Kirby who helped create X-men

with this literally Angel,

After being inspired by the Civil Rights movement. Particularly Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcom X, which absolutely shows. Especially when you watch the 1992 Animated series, pleased do, which I am at the moment.

ssss

So...on to this grumpy bestest boy

He lived through so much pain, snarky little fuckable fuck. However, he never let it make him cruel, he did the right thing, even if it pissed him off. And didn't deserve to die in Logan, nor did Charles especially as he did.

Which really quick, Ian McKellen made a off handed quip about wanting to know why he wasn't in the film. And I demand to know why as well, Magneto was pure sass and spite, he would not go gently into that good night. And even if he did, we deserved to see it, even if it destroyed us. Even though it wouldn't have made sense because, he is able to beat that alleged cure but, not this virus? Which makes me question, if Charles was still capable of those long lucid moments, why not transfer himself into a new body like before? Also most importantly, picture Logan during that dinner scene, addressing them as his two dads. Erik squirming socializing with ...Homo Sapiens, having to content with the faults in his crusade.

Anyway then I saw, Deadpool and Wolverine, please go see it!!!!! The very end with the delightful complication of the original Franchise, wrecked me emotionally and at first I didn't understand. To Understand that beyond the crushing heart ache I associate with nostalgia, as opposed to contentment as it should. And started the long process about a week of asking myself why?

Which resulted in the essay, you hopefully didn't suffer too much through before and I just had to get it all out. Which is why there are so many grammatical errors, never been my strong suite.

Also Marvel Jesus' journey of self worth and Ryan Reynolds seeing that motherfucker as the wonderful man that he is

Seriously going to make a list of all the amazing things he has done

, showing that what never fails in good old fashion story telling ands opposed to money grubbing. That movie

That is how you give the people what they ACTUALLY WANT and more importantly what they ACTUALLY NEED. Imagine what would've happened if Disney let them do what ever he wanted,

Aside from Wolverine never putting his greasy tits away. Seriously hate myself when I get feral for him, because Hugh Jackman has the sweetest face and I hate myself.

Thank you and Goodnight....

I need to eat before I post Some funny ass, at least too me, Deadpool shit I just thought of

REMEBER.....

 IT IS NEVER TOO LATE !!! EVEN IF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE TOMORROW!!! HAPPINESS MAY NOT BE A CHOICE BUT THE PATH TO IT IS!!!

[againaweasel]

001 wolfbucks

Omg thank you for the ask!

when I started shipping it if I did:  I don’t know when I started shipping them, it must have been at least a decade by now. They come and go.

my thoughts:  I love them I love them. Although I prefer it in an AU if it’s reciprocated. 

I said this on Tiktok a while ago, but to me Wolfbucks/Moonchaser are what a lot of people want Wolfstar to be. It has a similar dynamic to the fanon wolfstar - popular, intelligent, good-looking James who doesn’t care about Remus’ lycanthropy and desperately wants to help and is overall rather lovely to smart, funny Remus. Except wolfbucks is like that right out of the gate, whereas with Wolfstar it takes ignoring their existing dynamic to get to that point. James and Remus are Anderperry (Dead Poets Society) to a fucking T.  

What makes me happy about them:  James often goes out of his way to step in to protect Remus. when Sirius betrays him, it’s James who stops it ruining Remus’ entire life, when Sirius believes Remus is a Death Eater it’s James who doesn’t.  And James is canonically Remus’ sugar daddy. 

These aren’t “poor little Remus can’t protect himself” moments but James seeing something he could do and doing it, whilst battling against a world that’s undeniably cruel to Remus.  In my mind, Remus deserves a soft place to land in his relationships. The world is toxic enough to him already, give him snippets of peace. Even if it’s messy or far from perfect like wolfbucks is. 

What makes me sad about them: In canon, I think it’s unreciprocated on Remus’ end. Remus is in love with James, and James is just like that with everyone. He doesn’t even notice and Remus doesn’t tell him. He tries to be happy for James and Lily, but he doesn’t talk about Lily much after their deaths because the feelings are too complicated and so, whilst Sirius will bring up Lily, Remus can’t. 

And I think James would pick Sirius in canon if he had the chance to pick [Sirius would pick James even without the choice].

things done in fanfic that annoys me: There are so few wolfbuck’s fanfics that I can’t pick something for this, I will take anything even it annoys me. 

things I look for in fanfic: Aus Aus Aus. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:  For James it’s Prongsfoot or Jily.  For Remus, it’s always Tonks. Although he had a fling with Benjy Fenwick. 

My happily ever after for them:  Living? James has to be the one to figure out that Remus likes him, I think he’s secure enough to do that, and Remus becomes a quidditch journalist so he can go to James’ matches (who is obviously a quidditch player) 

who is the big spoon/little spoon: James is the little spoon most of the time, he demands it. But Remus is the little spoon around the full moon. 

what is their favorite non-sexual activity Chess. James has a brilliant tactical mind and Remus likes to marvel at it. 

[ashilrak]

20 Questions Writer Meme

I was tagged by @skywalking-through-life! This is super fun omg, thank you!!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

210!

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

1,670,384 words, which feels insane

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, Percy Jackson! I tend to be pretty one fandom at a time, but in the past I've written for Hamilton, Harry Potter, and Marvel to name a few.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Electing Strange Perfections (1,951)

If You Ask Me For My Fire (1,842)

See The Beast You've Made Of Me (1,769)

On Each Other's Team (1,656)

Come Loaded With The Safety Switched Off (1,604)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I'm a huge believe in fandom as a community, and fanfiction as an avenue for that community vs just 'content'. I love answering questions and talking about the fics, and I've honestly made some amazing fandom friends in comments on fics. I think commenting is a really valuable part of community-building in fandom, and I think that replying to comments helps with that :)

6. What's the fic you wrote that has the angstiest ending?

I think this is all a matter of perspective, but I definitely have a few that are regarded as angsty even if I don't necessarily see them that way? Picking one, I might have to say See The Beast You've Made of Me.

7. What's the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

This is harder to answer lol, a lot of my happier fics are more moments, rather than a having an ending with build-up. But, Love Has A Way To Find Ya (Sneaks Up Right Behind Ya) is the first one that comes to mind!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have actually been very fortunate in this regard! I've had a few negative comments for sure, but most are more along the lines of "stopping reading here" or just poorly worded. I have several fics I've been more worried about, but locking the fics has seemed to discourage anyone who wants to be senselessly cruel! A lot of what I write isn't to everyone's taste, so some less than perfect comments come with that territory.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I absolutely have lmao. I haven't been in the mood for it recently, but I have my fair share. As for what kind, it depends on the ship and dynamic, and how seriously I'm treating it lol. I've written daddy kink to casual pegging to sweet losses of virginity.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not really? I have a few ideas that have broached crossover territory, but I don't make a habit or it!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, though not recently. I'm sure there's a lot more out there in all honesty, but I've only stumbled across it once or twice on random websites when I've had the thought to google my username.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've been fortunate to have a couple translated, and it's always the most amazing feeling ever.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I've co-written quite a few! I've done round-robins as well as more formal collabs where both authors are working together and writing together throughout the process. I really enjoy doing them and have written some of my favorite fics with others! They're definitely challenging, but I think I have the benefit of being pretty adaptable.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

So one thing you need to know about me is that I'm really bad at favorites. I think my favorite canon ship amongst my fandoms would be Percabeth, but my favorite ship for reading fanfiction for would, historically, be Tomarry/Harrymort/whatever you want to call it.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

I am actively determined to finish the ones first coming to mind, but honestly the one I doubt I'll ever do anything with is the AU lovingly referred to as Percy French Whore lmfao

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think my adaptability is my greatest strength. I definitely have themes and patterns I fall into, but overall I try to keep an open-mind to ships, aus, and more. I've gone back and forth between past and present tense, I've written over 25 ships for PJO alone. There's very little I look at and think I can't write, even if it takes some time to come around to it/make it work for me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think my biggest weaknesses have to do with managing a story as a whole. I have these grand ideas, but I struggle to bring them to Completeness. I'll have dreams of showing a realistic development of a character from the one we know and love to something twisted and taken advantage of and miss a few beats, and drop a few characters and plot points along the way. I'm also not the best at worldbuilding. I'm a pretty low-context type of person, and it's highlighted in a fanfction type of environment. I'll get questions about worldbuilding in fics--and they'll be GOOD questions--and I'll sit there with my head tilted at the screen wondering why anyone would think of that 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I like the idea of it, but would definitely need help from a native speaker. I got overly confident with my high school Spanish classes and made an attempt and I will never be doing that again.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Twilight. First fandom I read for, first fandom I posted for. Twilight was how I discovered fanfiction.net and started me down this path.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

This is almost impossible to answer just because there are so many factors at play, but the first two (very, very different fics) coming to mind are both collabs: HAUNT ME, THEN— with @mrthology and The Murder Monologues with @theinevitablesense

I tag @sappho-of-space 💛

[voidtouched-blue]

[ flower hc meme ] anemone, forget - me - not & zinnia

anemone :   how does your muse view the world ;   as a cruel   &   unforgiving place ,   a land full of wonders ,   or something in - between ?  where does that world view come from   (what experiences ,   life lessons ,   etc .   ) ?  

Excellent question!

Cyra sees the world as both a heartless hell and a place to be marveled at. If it weren't for the ingenuity of man, then the land would be far more peaceful than it was. From the moment she was born, she had been treated as though her very existence was a burden. Being brought into the world under a new moon (or an empty one as her tribe refers it as) has rather important social and practical implications in their society. Being born without the light of the moon meant that her role in life was useless. Her only benefit to their clan was to be sold so that the island could prosper. It's the cruelty of man that she resents, and it was only perpetuated when the Garleans spent the entirety of her life performing experiments to forge her into a weapon of their own. There were few things during her imprisonment that kept her from losing herself to the violence committed against her. One of which was the decision that she would not allow herself to be like them. She would use her hands to heal, and not to harm as the Imperials intended. Yet, even then, she still struggles with the vengeful rage built up within her as a way to protect herself. She very much struggles to try to view the world in a brighter light. After all, it's difficult to understand peace and a gentle breeze when she was born into the dark of the world.

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

There is a point in her life where she does forget the morals and values that she tries to live by. Lost in her grief after the death of a beloved friend, she ignored all else in favor of a study that would end up being a curse. She forgot the whole reason why she became a white mage in the first place. She lost her sense of belonging and purpose the moment she realized she couldn't protect her friends from death. Having few people in her life that knew about her past made her feel isolated, and without the understanding of having someone she can truly rely on, losing that one person absolutely broke her.

In another point, she is afraid of forgetting herself. She's afraid of losing herself to that wrathful anger at the world for what its done to her. That anger is only amplified by the experiments done on her by the Imperials as they wanted to tap into a rage they could control. But since she escaped before their research and testing was finished, she is an incomplete product with a delicate trigger. She's afraid of losing control and harming others, which she has absolutely done before.

zinnia :   how has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ?   has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

I somewhat answered this in the previous one, but I'll go into more depth.

As incorrect as the lesson is, Cyra has learned that forming bonds with others will only lead to pain. It's really quite dramatic if you look at it this way, but she genuinely believes that creating friendships is a death sentence to those she comes to care for. The only two people in her life (up to the point in the story that most people choose to interact with her at) have disappeared or died. Both of which, she had what she considered a really strong connection with. They were the only two people who knew about her history with Garlemald, and they didn't pity her for the suffering she had already lived through. They encouraged healing, and provided her with that sense of security and confidence in her own abilities. They gave her the strength to push back against the fear that constantly ran through her as her own blood.

Losing them meant losing everything. She didn't care about the peaceful life she now had, or the freedom that was hard fought and earned. She didn't care about how impressive it was for her to learn not one, but three methods of healing to further secure the health and safety of her companions and any who seek her aid. Of course this is only covering the story up to Shadowbringers, and she does eventually learn Sage as well as dabbling in Alchemy only for the purpose of having a method that doesn't entirely require the use of Aether to aid others.

If anything, losing loved ones and comrades has pushed her to self-isolate more. If she can't form connections and friendships with others, then it won't hurt as much when they die or leave as fate decides. Though, this has also lead her to become close with a handful of people on accident. She craves having someone she can tell her fears to. She doesn't want to suffer through her painful memories alone. And on occasion, she's accidentally stepped out of that cold fortress only to realize she's become too close to someone. The process of building that wall back up again in itself is painful, and it leaves her conflicted. This heavy contradiction of wants versus needs in her heart and soul are what drives her actions. She wants to be comforted. She wants to be cared for. Yet, in the same strand she cannot allow it for the sake of her own sanity. The constant tug-of-war with her desires has left her rather frayed. She's more likely to lash out at people or have heavy mood-swings the longer she takes to realize that she's let someone in on her life. And then the comfort of another becomes a sword in the chest, twisted slowly the longer she takes to push them away.

Losing others has taught her that she is too weak to process the loss of that comfort. She learns that it is better to bear the pain alone, to become strong through the weight she stacks on her own shoulders, than to allow another to be crushed by the same gravity that all living things share.

Thank you so much for this! I had a blast writing it all out!

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for October 14

Morning

“Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom.”

Luke 23:39-43

Luke 23:39-42

Dr. Hanna has beautifully said: “Here, amid the triumph of enemies, and the failure of the faith of friends, is one who discerns, even through the dark envelope which covers it, the hidden glory of the Redeemer, and openly hails him as his Lord and King. Marvellous, indeed, the faith in our Lord’s divinity which sprung up so suddenly in such an unlikely region. Are we wrong in saying that, at the particular moment when that testimony to Christ’s divinity was borne, there was not another fill believer in that divinity but the dying thief?… And what a tenderness of conscience is here; what deep reverence for God; what devout submission to the divine will; what entire relinquishment of all personal grounds of confidence before God; what a vivid realising of the world of spirits; what a humble trust in Jesus; what a zeal for the Saviour’s honour; what an indignation at the unworthy treatment he was receiving! May we not take that catalogue of the frui ts of genuine repentance which an apostle has drawn up for us, and applying it here, say of this man’s repentance: Behold what carefulness it wrought in him; yea, what clearing of himself; yea, what indignation; yea, what fear; yea, what vehement desire; yea, what zeal; yea, what revenge! In all things he approved himself to be a changed man, in all the desires and dispositions and purposes of his heart.”

Luke 23:43

The dying Saviour reigns on the cross, and allots a place in paradise to his companion in death. Here is no hint of purgatory, the pardoned thief is with Jesus that very day. So also shall all believers be with Jesus immediately they leave the body.

Matthew 27:45-49

Matthew 27:46

A cry in which every word is emphatic. Read it over as many times as there are words, and see a new force of meaning each time. Jesus cried in this manner, that none of his saints might ever need to do so.

Matthew 27:47

Thus jesting at his prayer. Oh, horrid cruelty!

John 19:28-30

John 19:28-30

What a grand utterance! Now are we safe, for salvation is complete.

Matthew 27:51-54

Matthew 27:53

These were early proofs of his resurrection power. These firstfruits prove that the harvest is sure.

Evening

“They shall look on Him whom they pierced.”

John 19:31-42

John 19:31

The men who could commit this murder without shame were, nevertheless, great sticklers for every point of ceremony, whatever cruelty it might involve. This proves that riles and ceremonies leave men as dad as they find them. Romanists, with a thousand pompous performances, yet rejoiced in the burning of pious men and women, and invented racks and tortures for them. Let this teach us to mind most the spiritual requirements of the gospel, and remember that the religion which does not change the heart and teach us to be merciful is good for nothing.

John 19:32

This was done to hasten death. Verily, the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.

John 19:35

And he that saw it bare record that is to say, John himself

John 19:35

He was sure of what he saw, he was under no delusion, he asserts it with the utmost confidence.

John 19:39

The two secret but true followers of our Lord now came out in their true colours. The cross is the great revealer of the thoughts of men’s hearts. Blessed are they who are not ashamed of Christ Crucified.

Matthew 27:62-66

Matthew 27:62-64

Their jealous hatred led them to mar their own Sabbath and Passover by appeals to a heathen ruler. Little did they know of that spiritual Sabbath-keeping, which makes us lay aside our cares and even our own thoughts upon the hallowed day of rest.

Matthew 27:65-66

Thus, unwittingly, helping to secure testimony for the resurrection such as none could gainsay. It was now impossible for his body to be stolen, and if he came forth it must be by supernatural power. Oh, blind Jews, thus to ensure their own confusion! Blinder yet are they who believe that Jesus rose, and yet do not put their trust in him.

Copyright Statement This resource was produced before 1923 and therefore is considered in the "Public Domain".

[just-french-me-up]

it was so hard to pick just one!! but:

10. "You don't know what you do to me."

Fandom : The Sandman

Pairing : Dream of the Endless x Fem!Nameless!Reader (3rd person, no (Y/N))

Rating : M/E (more suggestive than outright smut, but it has its moments)

Tags : Established relationship | PWP with feelings | 1.3K | Angst and comfort

The King of Dreams and Nightmares was a cold, distant creature. Or at least that was how he had been described to her on many occasions. Her own experience had proven those detractors wrong. There was nothing cold about Morpheus, except, perhaps, the spot he left in her bed once he returned to his duties, the memories of his hands and his mouth keeping her warm.

No, the Lord of the Dreaming was not the aloof being some liked to whisper about. Or so she thought.

Lately things had been... different. Upsetting was the word she would use, should she let herself think about it for too long. Ever since he let her in the heart of the Dreaming, she had barely even seen his shadow. At first, she told herself it was the order of things. King he was, and king he remained, with all the duties that came attached to the title. But then, there had been other instances. Avoiding her eyes. Barely looking at her when she stood in the same room as him. Exchanging but a few terse words whenever he failed to avoid her altogether.

It was no wonder to her, then, why the rumours about his nature were so grim. His indifference was not cold. It was glacial.

As a consequence, she spent most of her time alone, exploring a palace she had been let it without a guide. The library was by far the most comforting place she had found so far. She would spend her time there, browsing, marvelling at the sheer endlessness of it. She could have sworn that each night brought a new row of shelves which was not there the day before.

She had taken to reading every unwritten poetry book she could get her hands on. Words scribbled on a restaurant napkin. Half-written confessions. Cries for help. Songs of kinship. She was engulfed in her second volume of the night when footsteps echoed around her and, eventually, stopped.

"I trust you have found the Library to your liking."

Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. That was more words than he had given her whole week. Standing a few feet away, Morpheus was looking at her, his impassive demeanour in keeping with the rest of his recent aloofness. The first few days, she'd been saddened by it. Now, her melancholy had soured, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

"I have," she said, trying and failing not to let resentment colour her words.

He looked, no, observed her from far. Whatever his thoughts were, his face let nothing through.

"I shall leave you to it."

Morpheus had almost turned his back when she snapped her book closed.

"Have I done something?" she asked, standing up from her seat.

He turned around to face her, his brow twitching slightly. His beauty was almost cruel.

"My love?"

"Have you grown tired of me? Do you regret bringing me here? You have barely looked at me since I set foot in the palace."

Something in his expression changed. The stoic mask slipped somewhat as he held her gaze. He did not look angry. He looked hurt.

"You don't know what you do to me."

His words hung in the air between them, almost like a confession. She could have sworn the light filtering through the windows of the library had dimmed.

"Everything here came from me," he continued, looking around them. "Every wall, every stone, every detail was but a thought at first. I made it all. I can feel all of it, for it was once part of me. Nowhere is it more true than here, in the palace. Its entirety could shift, with a single thought of mine."

He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes still gazing deeply into hers. A warm breeze blew against her, although no window was open.

"I did not anticipate how much my thoughts would... wander, once I brought you here."

Although she never averted her eyes, her vision was overwhelmed with images. She saw herself, her back against a bookshelf, hair tangled and cheeks flushed, Morpheus standing between her legs, her thighs held against each side of his hips. She could feel it all, the bite of the wood against her shoulder blades, the fingers digging into her flesh, his hot breath blowing against her neck, the warmth of him against her, inside her.

The vision was gone before she could draw another breath. Behind her, a full shelf of books fell on the floor, making her jump. When she turned back to Morpheus, the heat on her cheeks was no illusion. The room itself felt warmer, almost unbearably so.

"My thoughts rule the Dreaming," he continued, a slight rasp in his voice. "Your presence tends to make them more difficult control."

Another vision struck her. The bookshelf was gone, replaced by the table on her right. Her dress was a mess, fabric hanging from her shoulders, her skirts gathered at her waist. Her hand was lost in a mess of wild hair as Morpheus, knelt on the hardwood floor, worshipped at her altar. Another flick of his tongue overwhelmed her, making her thighs shiver with pleasure. A real, audible moan echoed the vision's, filling the silence of the library.

She slammed her hand against her mouth. Morpheus was closer now, within reach.

"Is it like this all the time?" she asked.

"Whenever you are in my presence," he confirmed.

An onslaught of images flickered before her eyes, mere glances into what she understood to be broader, more consuming fantasies. The feeling of wood against her knees and the salty taste of him. The sensation of soft sheets and his warm skin against her back. His fingers bringing her to completion. His tongue teasing hers.

The echoes of pleasure left her wanting, her breathing short and her knees weak. Morpheus seemed the farthest thing from indifferent now, his gaze studying her intently, as though coming up with other fantasies tailored to this very moment.

"Forgive me, my love," he murmured. "I have neglected you, trying to keep these thoughts from ruling me."

"Will it always be like this? Will you always keep away?"

A faint smile danced on his lips.

"No. I will master them soon. It is only a matter of time. I merely wish to keep my subject from experiencing them until I do. It would make carrying out my duties rather... embarrassing."

"I see. I did not know the Lord of the Dreaming could feel embarrassment."

"Some things are better left between the two us. I do not need the entire realm to know what we sound like in the throes of pleasure."

"Is that a possibility?"

"Very much so."

Morpheus ran a hand through her hair. The touch was accompanied by a phantom kiss in her neck, the hint of unseen teeth teasing her skin. How unfair it was that she could not retaliate. Then again, if she felt him this way, how much did he feel himself, the catalyst of every unconscious thought? The frustration of it had to be unbearable.

"I shall have it under my control soon," he assured her. "Do not deprive yourself of all the Dreaming has to offer in the meantime."

"I did not intend to. Morpheus?"

"Yes?"

She took his hand and kissed his palm, her lips purposefully insistent. He was warm against her, never cold. There was a shift in his eyes, and the light of the room dimmed further, almost plunging them in the darkness.

"Do not just show me, next time, yes?"

"I'm afraid we would need eons for me to put it all in practice, love of mine," he chuckled softly.

"We've got nothing but time."

send me a smutty prompt?

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 2,651

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TEN: NEW YEAR, NEW LIFE, SAME GOALS

Winter in Romania sucks...at least when you have a super cheat apartment that lacks any decent heating sources. Each day, you wake up and shriek at the feeling of cold floorboards beneath your toes, a problem eventually solved by wearing thick socks and fluffy slippers just about everywhere inside, but is still isn't rare for you to wear layers upon layers of clothing just to keep yourself from turning into a human ice cube.

Having already been there and done that, Bucky has never complained throughout the entirety of this terrible season. Unlike you who stubbornly refuses to leave the blanket cocoon you've created in front of the space heater, he's up strolling around with bare feet and a simple long sleeved shirt as if he's on vacation in Hawaii.

"It's not that bad," he'll state, sipping on pitch black coffee.

"Not that bad my ass," you'll reply, shivering like a leaf in a hurricane.

Needless to say, you can't wait for winter to be over (even if January’s only just started). Cuddled among worn cotton and fleece, you dream of a day where snowfall decreases and the temperature has increased which will surely brighten your bitter mood. That's when Bucky can expect your lazy annoyance to melt away with the ice, once again allowing you to have some pep in your step even if you'll still wear cozy socks with slippers for at least three months afterwards.

"We should visit Old Town."

"How could you possibly suggest such a cruel thing? Do you hate me that much? And after all I’ve done to help you, too!"

Bucky smirks against his mug, peeking through the torn newspaper plastered against the windows for a sneak peek at the white wonderland outside.

"Is it pretty out there?"

"I'm looking at a building's roof."

"So?" You grip the blankets to ensure they remain tightly around your body when you turn his way. He's leaned against the counter, mocking you by wearing only jeans and a red shirt rolled up to his elbows. You’d be angrier if it weren’t for how gosh darn good he looks.

"We should've moved somewhere that at least has pretty winters where the snow's actually white and not a slushy, black mess everywhere we go. I mean, what's the point if you can't make a proper snowman without some kids killing it seconds later?"

"Like out in the country?"

You pout, turning back to face the heater while tugging the blanket further over your head," yeah, like in the country…Haven't you ever wanted to live there far away from the burdens of society?"

Bucky hums, but doesn't respond otherwise. You refuse to peek at his reaction despite your strong temptation to.

"...It isn't too late, you know?" You mumble quietly nevertheless," we could probably find an affordable fixer-upper somewhere. Make it all nice and livable. ‘best part is we could be left alone. No more needing to go to the grocery store 'cause we'd grow our own food, no more neighbors asking what we do for a living-"

"-Except for Rosetta. I like Rosetta."

"Except for Rosetta. Yeah, she's sweet," sucking in a breath, you finally find the courage to stand up, although you still bring all the blankets along for the ride as you wobble into the kitchen," I'm not going to Old Town today."

He takes another sip of his coffee, thinking," what about a movie?"

"Now you're talking, Barnes!" Shooing him away, you try to gain access to the coffee maker yet he purposefully moves at the speed of a slug to your annoyance. At least he makes up for it by reaching over your head to retrieve your mug from the cupboard above,” and I know the perfect one, too!"

"Oh no."

"Oh, stop acting as if I've ever steered you wrong," rolling your eyes, you avoid taking the mug from him, instead swooping out from under his arm to pad across the room," be a dear and fill it for me? I gotta find the DVD!"

It's Bucky who rolls his eyes now, not that he takes any real offense. While he fills both mugs with fresh coffee, you hurry to search through your boxes of belongings, knowing for a fact you bought the specific DVD before the cold set in.

Usually you refrain from extra purchases since there's always a risk of having to leave everything behind if discovered, but you and Bucky have had good luck in Romania so far. While it isn't wise to let your guard down too much, breathing easy once in a while won't hurt anyone and when you saw this DVD at the local charity shop, you just couldn't pass it up; not when it reminds you of such a happy time.

Once locating the DVD and getting it prepared in the player, you crawl across the bed eagerly, making yourself extra snug with a stack of pillows behind your back and the blankets nuzzled high against your face. Bucky smiles at your antics, handing you your mug before turning towards the couch a full four and a half feet across the room.

"You won't be able to see the screen very well," you point out, blowing on the coffee.

"I can see it fine."

"You'll be looking at it sideways."

"It's fine."

Pouting at both his stubbornness and the fact that the coffee burns your tongue after taking even the tiniest of sips, you set the drink aside to cool properly while patting the space beside you," sure, but it'll be much better if you sit here. I promise I don't bite...usually."

He almost smirks at the 'joke', however your humor falls flat with his inner demons. You're no stranger to the concerns that plague his mind, having encountered them enough to have developed a talent for noticing even the smallest hints of insecurity he lets past his stone gaze. It's always disheartening, but you pride yourself on knowing how to help.

"James..." you let his name roll off your tongue softly, fully aware he heard you regardless of him not giving any acknowledgment," how about you move the couch over at least, hmm?"

He doesn't respond instantly, keeping his eyes aware except towards you while dwelling on the suggestion. At last, he stands which is soon followed by the sound of the couch being dragged across the wood floor. The move is effortless with his strength, completed with only one hand as he continues to nurse his drink in the other. Dropping it a mere foot from the edge of the bed, he takes a seat stiffly in the middle.

"There; a compromise," you grin, finally taking your attention off of Bucky to watch the opening credits play. All the while you maintain a glitter in your eyes, the memories flooding back to you nearly clear as day despite it having been over four decades.

"...What are we watching?" His voice is quiet, timid even.

"The Aristocats."

He scrunches his nose at the title that you joyfully announce. You're clearly a fan," the aristocrats?"

"C. A. T. S. Cats. It's a play on words."

"Is it for kids?" It's not so much of a question as it is a whine. The movie already confirms his fears by the screen being overtaken by cute little cartoon cats," you chose horror last time, now we're going to watch drawn cats?"

"This movie's special."

"Why?"

You give a reminiscence sigh," because when I first watched it, it was when my nephew had brought it over for a sleepover. He was so excited I could barely get him to sit still or keep quiet. We made popcorn and milkshakes and cuddled inside a massive pillow fort; it was the last animated movie I saw."

Bucky raises an eyebrow at this," we watched one two weeks ago.”

You merely hum at his confusion," I meant the last one I watched with him. It's been awhile."

There's a bit of silence before Bucky breaks it again,"...I didn't know you had a nephew."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Barnes," you wink, which is the last thing either of you say, allowing the rest of the movie to be viewed in peace.

Surrounded by warm blankets and armed with a mug of fresh coffee, you begin to feel much warmer than you had earlier. The pleasant memories are likely helping, too.

Throughout, you steal peeks at Bucky who relaxes more and more over time, eventually being comfortable enough to lay his head against the armrest closest to you while kicking his legs over the opposite end. You would've loved to have him next to you, head resting directly on your lap as your fingers brush through strands of hair, but this is fine, too. So long as he’s nearby, you’re more than thankful.

The movie isn't unbearably long, running for a far shorter runtime than most you’ve forced Bucky to sit through. By the time the end credits roll, you're dragging your blankets around humming 'Everybody wants to be a cat' while preparing some microwavable dinner as Bucky collects both mugs to wash.

Given the small kitchen (which is really just a section of the entire one room, one bathroom apartment), you stand with only about an inch between the two of you; a distance you're mindful of by keeping your arms close to your side.

Intensely staring at the numbers flashing on the microwave as if that will make the countdown go faster, you only glance at your partner when he clears his throat suddenly.

Despite having purposefully gained your attention, he leaves you waiting for a moment which is used to rethink his own words,"...you don't talk about yourself too often..."

"Well, we're not really here for me, we're here for you," you then chew on your lip, deciding the wording sounded wrong, thus you reiterate," I'm not too great at sharing personal details about my life. You know, being an agent and all, I'm accustomed to keeping my lips sealed on that front. That and I never thought you cared either way.”

Bucky nods, taking your answer as a polite way of telling him you'd rather not talk about it. He's prepared to let the topic die off, but you let it live.

"Why?" Leaning your arms against the corner, you cock your head to the side and smirk," curious about my tragic backstory, Barnes?"

"No, it's just..." He looks at the ceiling with a twisted face. It seems like he might deny your assumption altogether, only for him to quietly do the opposite,"...You've done so much to help me remember myself, yet I haven't done anything to get to know you. I feel like...like I should know at least something. I don't even know what you gave up to be here…”

Pushing yourself straight, you give a dramatic sigh," ‘hate to burst your bubble and all, but it wasn’t as if my life was perfectly put together before you came crashing in, so you stop acting guilty about it, will you? I still talk to my parents once a week and call friends from time-to-time to let them know I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Where do they think you are then? I can't imagine they know you're helping the Winter Soldier."

"I actually have one friend who knows who I'm with," you confess, putting your back against the counter and crossing your arms. Noticing the look of uncertainty in Bucky's eyes after this revelation, you wave a hand," don't look so worried. She's known since the beginning and while I can't say she's necessary ‘cool with it’, she's a trustworthy friend sworn to secrecy. Everybody else just thinks I'm on my honeymoon in Costa Rica."

A tint of red dusts his cheeks," and they believe that?"

"Of course. I'm a gifted liar," you laugh before adding softly," 'been doing it my whole life.”

"Duly noted," Bucky leans his own back against the corner now, his arm brushing against yours. He doesn't jerk away from the slight touch per usual, although he might've if it had been his metal arm instead.

"...So, what do you want to know about me then, Barnes?"

He gives the question some serious consideration as if his life depends on his choice,"...what was your childhood like?"

If Bucky had a hard time asking a question, then you have a harder time answering. It's a simple inquiry most people would smile at while easily explaining the earliest years of their life, however it's far more complicated with your case.

Your childhood...Which one? You've had good moments in both. (Y/n)'s childhood is most recent and the safest option in the case that someone tries to confirm the details, but Hollie's had been equally important if not more so. You were Hollie first, after all. Everything she was paved the way for who you are now.

"It was...a little rough," you confess, giving a hollow chuckle. Turning away to the window, you pretend you can see tiny snowflakes dancing in the sky, refreshing the layers upon layers covering the streets below," family life was fine, area was nice, and I excelled in school, so I managed to skip several grade levels until I was the only baby faced kid in a classroom filled with acne-ridden teens. It's just...Ugh, how do I put this...?

"I guess I've always been pretty mature for my age and that made it difficult fitting it. Kids didn't hang around since I behaved too much like an adult, adults didn't hang around since I was still technically a kid and it's probably off-putting to have an eight-year old criticize your life choices."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow as he considers how to respond," that does sound rough."

"Yeah, well, I got over it," you announce, suddenly pushing yourself away from the counter only to sit on the wobbly table across from it," things got better when I joined SHIELD. 'kinda hard to call yourself an outcast when surrounded by trained assassins, the jolly green giant, a guy who can bench press a semi, and Tony who deserves his own warning label after all the weird shit I've walked in on him doing."

Bucky gives a distant nod while starting at his feet," now that SHIELD's gone, what-?"

"-Whatever I decide, I guess," you cut him off," Natasha's been pestering me to join the Avengers, so I might as well give that a try eventually. Of course, there's still the personal goals of mine I want to check off the list, too, now that I'll have the time for it.”

"What goals are those?"

"Glad you finally asked, Barnes, because I have three," you hold up the same number of fingers, lowering one for each item," first up is making sure we get you all sorted out. I want to make sure you get to live the very life you deserve-"

"-You don't-," he begins with a frown, however you don't give him the chance to finish.

"-No, I don't have to. I said I want to. Whether you like it or not, you're my mission and friend. I never give up on either; don’t ever forget that.”

Once again, the same red tint returns to his cheeks yet he attempts to ward it off by stubbornly crossing his arms and changing the subject," second?"

"Second...Hmm...I think I'm going to buy a house in the country second. One with a big orchard, livestock, and perfect winters! Also heating that actually works."

That goal makes Bucky smile," third?"

Pausing with a glance his way, you smirk while lowering your last finger," finally marry my fiancé."

“You're actually engaged?" He blinks, his frown much deeper than it had been before with a flash of concern in his eyes.

"Yep...'have been for a looong time," resting your face in your hands, you let your cheshire grin melt into an adoring smile you sometimes wish would just give this poor clueless man a heavy hint," our relationship is a bit difficult like everything else in our lives, and I’m not entirely sure how I should approach it, but I refuse to give up on him now. I’ve waited far too long and after everything fate has put us through, it would be a tragedy not to marry him."

NEXT CHAPTER➡️

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[zodiakuroo]

pierced

idk what to tell you this is just 2k of pussy eating (don’t blame me blame eren brain rot)

18+, minors dni

part 2

“What did you do?!” You say, incredulously. It’s a rhetorical question, you can see exactly what he’s done. Eren stands in front of you, shamelessly, with his pants and boxers dropped to his ankles as his flaccid penis hangs between his thighs. Your attention is mainly focused on the brand new, shiny titanium barbell that goes through the head of his dick.

“Do you like it?” You can tell by his posture and the shit-eating grin on his face that he’s incredibly proud of his newest body modification.

“Why on earth would you get a piercing there?” The bulbous head is just few shades of pink darker than the rest of his pale shaft. You wince in your seat, imagining what it would feel like to stick a needle right through your most sensitive parts.

“Well, it was a dare and Jean bet that I wouldn’t so I had to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, fully aware of how silly it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Of course.” You mutter. What other chain of events would lead to your boyfriend coming home with a fucking Prince Albert. “Does it hurt?” You lean in just a little closer and notice the little bit of dried blood where the jewelry pierces his flesh.

“Nah. Didn’t feel a thing.” He says with a wink and begins dressing himself again before dropping down on couch next you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

“You’re such an idiot.” You giggle, nuzzling your head into his neck, inhaling the heady scent you’ve come to associate with him.

“There is one thing though.” His voice is softer, lacking it’s usual self-assured tone. He can’t say that he’s happy about what he’s about to tell you. In fact, had he known about this small detail beforehand he might not have gone through with that stupid dare.

“Hmm?” You respond noncommittally, too preoccupied by your current task of leaving gentle kisses on his jaw and giving him the soft affection you know he loves but will never ask for.

“No sex for a month. Piercer’s orders.” His eyes drift down cautiously to gauge your reaction.

You stop in your tracks and frown up at him. At first you think he’s kidding but no such luck. “Oh my god.” You groan. “You’re such an idiot.”

Three days.

A grand total of three days.

It’s sad really, but you should have seen it coming. Like Eren Jaeger’s libido would ever let him go a whole 30 days with no sex.

He blames you and the way you prance around the apartment in those tight, short shorts. How is he not supposed to want you when he has to spend the day watching your tits bounce around in that white tank top, nipples just barely visible through the fabric?

It’s not like you put up much of a fight anyways. The way that man has you wrapped around your finger, all it took was a few well-placed touches and whispers of how much he misses the way you feel and the way you taste. Just like that, Eren has you naked, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with his face buried in your cunt.

“Love this pussy.” He murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Can’t live without it.”

He knows that he can’t be inside you. He knows. And yet he continues to torture himself because this is as close as he can get to what he really needs.

The rough pads of his fingertips massage your wall making you buck into his hand, silently begging for something deeper. He laps at you with his tongue, running it from your clit all the way down to your hole, licking up the slick that leaks out around his knuckles.

You feel the sparks of pleasure heating up your abdomen and you squeeze your thighs around his head, weaving your hands through his long, mahogany locks. ‘Eren’falls from your lips over and over in breathy mewls that only encourage him to keep going. His fingers put in double time hitting the special spot deep inside you while he seals his lips around clit and pulls it into his mouth. You dig your heels into his back to give you leverage to rut into his face as he pushes you closer and closer towards an inevitable orgasm.

You’re so hot and wet inside, squeezing so tight around his fingers. His mind conjures up memories of how good it felt to have your gooey walls clamping down on his dick and the soft cries you let out as he split you open.

He’s rock solid in his sweats right now and his cock hurts, sensitive tissue swelling and pulsating around his still fresh piercing. But he can’t think about that right now. All that’s on his mind is how badly he wants to be inside you right now. Any of your holes, it doesn’t matter which. But they’re all off limits.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off.

There is no choice but for him to take his frustrations out on your body. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, marveling at the way your needy cunt tries to pull him back in.

Before you can even protest Eren presses his fingers, still warm from your pussy and covered in your cream, against your lips.

“Open up.” He practically growls, voice thick with arousal.

You part your lips in response, letting him clean his fingers off using your tongue. Reflexively, you close your lips around them and begin to suck, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“God, princess.” He pants with his jaw slack. “Want your mouth around me so bad.”

It only motivates you to take his fingers deeper. Deep enough to make you gag as your drool runs down his knuckles while you swirl your tongue around his digits.

The way you look at him doesn’t help either. Usually you’d shy away from eye contact when he makes you do something embarrassing like this, sucking on his fingers like you’re sucking on his cock. But tonight is different. You stare straight at him with that heavy-lidded gaze, eyes glossy and full of want. The frustration is killing him, he can’t stand to look at you anymore so instead he gives his undivided attention to your cunt.

“Babe you wanna know something?” His breath fans over your soaked core, making you twitch in his hold. Something gives you the feeling that he’s not really talking to you, he’s talking to what’s between your legs. Although he’s not even looking at you, you still nod your head yes, so wound up you’ll take anything from him at this point.

“I read online,” He goes quiet for a moment, distracted at the way your weeping hole clenches around nothing, almost like it’s begging for him to fill it. “That dick piercings feel real good in pussy. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Eren bends down to lick at your dripping hole, he slides his tongue all the way down, making sure not waste a single drop, stopping just above the tight ring of muscle making your squeal in surprise.

”Can you imagine it?” He drags is fingers from your lips, leaving a path of saliva down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive numb in slow, steady circles with his thumb while you fist the sheets trying to swallow the sounds he’s coaxing out of you. “How it’s gonna feel inside you? How it’s gonna hit that spot that makes you go dumb?”

Sure, he sounds composed but when you look down at him and see the way his pupils are blown wide, pretty pink tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth, you know he’s imagining it too.

“Gonna drive you crazy.” His calloused fingertips dig further into your pudgy thighs, clipped nails leaving little crescents indented in your skin. “Make you even more crazy for my cock than you already are.”

“Yeah ‘ren.” You gasp as he runs his tongue through your folds. “Wan’ your cock.” You babble mindless agreements at whatever filth he’s spewing, too fucked out and desperate for his cock to care.

Like the bastard he is, he chuckles at your response, satisfied with knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He leans forward and presses the flat of his tongue against your entrance, telling you (wordlessly) what he wants.

Beg

He wants you to beg for it.

And of course you oblige. You chant out ‘please Eren, please Eren, please Eren’ over and over again as if you’ve forgotten every other word.

He rewards for your obedience by pushing the slippery muscle into your hole, nice and slow savouring the way your tart essence covers his taste buds.

“Fuck- more please.” Your back arches off the bed in response but his left hand splays across your abdomen keeping you in place.

His right thumb is still rubbing you, pressing harder, going faster while he drives his tongue even deeper licking up all of your juices like a man starved. He devours you shamelessly, the sloppy sounds only drowned out by your pornographic whining. He thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, fucking you with his tongue, making sure to taste every inch of you.

Your flavor is addictive, he can’t get enough. He grunts against with his face shoved against you, sending vibrations from your core, right up your spine. His fingers and tongue assault your pussy mercilessly, setting every single nerve on fire.

“Baby- ah- I- I’m close” you whimper, feeling tension brewing in your core, threatening to burst at any second.

“No.” The hand that was playing with your pussy comes down hard on your puffy clit, the sound of the smack echoing in the quiet room.

You let out a cry, so high pitched you can hardly believe it’s your voice.

“Can’t come until I do.” Just like that, he’s off of you completely, leaving you trembling without his touch.

The pain and frustration have tears brimming at your lash line. How cruel of him. To dangle an orgasm right in front of your face before yanking it away. You begin to stammer out pleas, begging him to touch you again, but they fall on deaf ears.

“C’mon princess. ‘S only fair right?” He looks up at you with the sweetest, emerald puppy dog eyes, juxtaposing the lewd way he licks the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips.

It’s not fair at all. You weren’t the one who decided to get their dick pierced on a whim. Why should you have to suffer? But there’s too much blood in your throbbing cunt and not enough in your brain so you can hardly put together a coherent sentence, let alone argue with him.

“Gonna edge you like this every day yeah?” He shifts his body to hover over you, using his arms to hold himself up so that his nose barely brushes yours and stray stands of his messy hair tickle the sides of your face. “Till I get to fuck you again.” He dips down to kiss you on the lips. It’s barely more than a peck, far too chaste and gone far too soon.

“Christ, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

[erineverly]

“not that i’m complaining, but i wouldn’t mind if things settled down and got a bit more boring,” the curly-haired brunette muses with a laugh, doubting they’ll ever be boring, but hoping they’ll one day be less crazy. “mr presley, is that really you? back from the dead? and sounding better than ever!” gushing as she puts on her best starstruck fan act, she clasps a hand over her mouth and still lets out a squeal of sheer excitement. “alright, boxers it is.” she nods and kisses the top of his head, picking her fights wisely and deciding there’s really no point in trying to convince him to wear something else to bed. she wants him to be comfortable and able to fall asleep easily, not tossing and turning all night because his pajamas are driving him insane. “i’m so sorry, axl. i feel like a lot of what i said that day was unnecessary and i could have kept it to myself, but… guess that’s why i need to see a professional. this idea’s finally grown on me. i don’t want to lash out and hurt you when my emotions get the best of me. and it’s silly, but i need someone to show me how to do it, how deal with what i’m feeling without hurting others.” the least she can do now is assure him that none of those cruel words are true. “i didn’t really give up on you either. well, at first, i wanted to but then i realized that i couldn’t — i can’t live without you,” she shyly admits, glancing over her shoulder toward the bathroom in hopes of meeting her husband’s gaze. “oh, so you have a type, huh? has to be a brunette?” teasing, a faint laugh escapes her lips but then quickly dies down when she takes in her surroundings. gosh. this room has never looked so bad, she thinks, but can’t really blame axl. he’s been trying his best to survive, one day at a time.  “well, i might be wrong but i think pam is naturally a brunette. they just dye or bleach her hair because apparently most men in hollywood disagree with you and believe blondes are hotter.” trailing across the room, she begins to pick up dirty dishes, bottles, plastic wrappers, tissues and whatever else she can find. she takes it all downstairs and squeezes it into the trash can. 

when she returns, she does so with a vacuum under her arm, figuring a little noise at four in the morning won’t bother any of their neighbors because they’re too far away to hear a thing. the biggest advantage of living in malibu, she thinks to herself, no more gabriella’s. it takes her about fifteen minutes to clean every speck of dust and another ten to change the sheets — it’s a bit of a struggle at first but then she gets the hang of it. it’s her first time changing the sheets on a bed as big as this all alone. she simply lacks experience and technique. “remember when i said that i wanted a huge, huge bed? well… if i knew how tough it was to change the sheets, i’d suggest we buy a twin.” laughing, she folds the dirty sheets up and carries this gigantic pile of fabrics straight to the laundry room. she comes and goes several more times, bringing in one item and leaving with something else, but when she’s done, she just stands in the doorway for a moment, hands on her hips, marveling at her work with pride. she feels so horrible, thinking about her husband spending the past few weeks in a filthy room, rotting away, and so this is the least she can do for him. “what a charmer you are, husband o’ mine,” she giggles, thinking about his comment on being a baywatch fan. she shakes her head in amusement at how smooth it was. she trials to the closet, steps in and swiftly changes out of her clothes once she knows the other can’t see her from where he’s sitting in the tub. she easily finds the muscle tee that they’ve been talking about and nuzzles into the soft material, breathing it in before she’ll put it on. after a moment of consideration, she also takes off her shorts. the combination of tears and snot has already dried up, but it’s still there. she grabs a pair of black calvin klein boxers for axl to wear and trots to the bathroom. “well, so would i. david hasselhoff ain’t got nothing on my man.” she’s a little out of breath but there’s a dazzling smile on her lips as she places his folded boxers on the counter and sits down on the closed toilet lid. “that’s the only thing that matters, what you think of me,” she coos, carefully dipping her hand into the tub to see if the water hasn’t gone cold yet. but now that he’s brought this subject up, she wonders who really made her doubt herself and comes to the conclusion that it must have happened during her teenage years, in new york, while she was trying to be a model and her body and face were the main subject of every conversation. she wants to blame her mother for letting her go to auditions when she was still so young and impressionable, but it would be unfair — she begged her mother to take her to a modeling agency, there were crying spells and endless arguments about this. she eventually got her way. “that’s your own spit. you don’t mind exchanging spit and other bodily fluids with me, but you draw the line at spitting toothpaste into the tub?” she giggles because for some reason his line of thought is beyond amusing to her. “well? did you wash your peach and richard while i was gone like a good boy?” she playfully inquires, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing again.

“it definitely has to be.” according to how many ups and downs they have. “you’re the devil in disguise, oh yes you are,” he sings in a deep voice, playfully smiling then it turns into a sweeter one when she hugs his head. “boxers will work.” it’s more comfortable for him that way, some people prefer more clothes and some don’t to sleep in. he’s always been the latter. “yeah, i remember. cause it hurt more than anything. but i’m glad to know it wasn’t true after all.” since it made him feel like he had done a lot to make her hate him. “i didn’t give up on you, i thought it was the other way around and i couldn’t really blame you though.” “well, i don’t. i like those brunettes. you’re gorgeous too. it’s crazy how you don’t see why i think you’re the prettiest woman in the world. just crazy.” shaking his head, especially when he can’t believe he even got a wife as beautiful as her. “i would be if you were in it.” he replies, smiling cheekily. “i love you too. i don’t know who didn’t tell you that you weren’t beautiful growing up, but it’s really sad. you’re so beautiful and naturally beautiful. i know i’m not crazy on that.” crazy about a lot of things, but not this one. “no it wouldn’t, the paste would still be all in my water and that’s fuckin’ gross.” shaking his head, chuckling and squeezing the paste onto his toothbrush. “i’m good, babe. go ahead.” nodding, he starts brushing his teeth until a few minutes later when he’s finished that and spits it out into the trash can. places his toothbrush on the ledge then lies back, crossing his arms over his chest and rests his eyes for a second.

[archonanqi]

consequence / pt i

⛔️ Warning: This is an exploration of Zhongli’s manipulative tendencies that we see glimpses of in his archon and story quest. Absolutely no part of the relationship depicted here is healthy or consensual. Please proceed with caution. 

🔖 [info] [next]

—

pt. i of iii

Looking back, you should have noticed that something was wrong the moment Zhongli had insisted on treating you and Aether to dinner. 

You and Paimon tried to stop him, of course — far too many of his shopping sprees in the past had ended with the Millelith involved or your pockets emptied of Mora (usually both, really). Yet today, he’d produced a wallet lined with gleaming coins, and any protests died quickly on Paimon’s lips. 

“Wow, that’s enough to buy—” she marvelled, staring as intently as though her gaze itself could start pocketing the Mora, “at least… TEN Golden Crabs from Wanmin Restaurant!” 

Zhongli chuckled, the sound still sending pleasant shivers down your spine even after all the months you’d spent traveling with him. “A little more than that, Paimon, but a good guess nonetheless.” He turned his amber gaze to you and your brother, who had not strayed a foot away from you since the Abyss released its hold on him. 

Aether had kept an easy smile on his face for the past few days, but you’d known him long enough to pick out the signs of guilt, despite your reiterated reassurances that what the Abyss did to him was not his fault. It would take a long time for him to feel alright again; and you’d be there for him for as long as it took. 

“And as for you two?” Zhongli continued, “will Wanmin Restaurant be agreeable? Though of course, if you believe that such a momentous reunion demands something a little more extravagant, I’m sure that Xinyue Pavillion is still taking reservations—”

“No, that’s not—” you weren’t sure why you were hesitating. So what if he mysteriously found himself without enough Mora by the end of the meal, and you ended up having to foot the bill as usual? It stung a little to think about, but it wasn’t as though you’d have any need for Mora after tonight. “That’s not it. After everything you’ve done for us during our travels, I couldn’t possibly accept more from you, Zhongli.”

Couldn’t possibly bear sitting at a table with Zhongli, knowing that it’d be the last time you’d ever see him. This was why you’d always tried to leave each world with a clean cut. This was why, at the break of dawn, you and Aether would leave without telling anyone — not Jean, not Cyno, not Dainsleif, not Ajax. Not even Zhongli, with whom you’d spent the bulk of your past year.  

“Oh, no,” Zhongli replied, brows arching upwards, “I’ve told you, have I not? The pleasure of our travels were mine to enjoy.” 

“Er... well. I’m sure Aether is also tired and wants to rest,” you prompted, squeezing Aether’s hand. Aether nodded quickly — no matter the world, you’d always been able to count on him to pick up on your nuanced signals. Though he might not know why, he knew that you were uneasy with going to this dinner, and that was enough.

“Hmm,” Zhongli pondered this shortly, then turned to your brother. You’d seen that look of calculated determination on his face before, in front of basha stalls and souvenir stores across the continent. A look that meant Zhongli would get what he wanted. “I had rather been looking forward to getting to know the sibling of my favored travel companion. Are you certain? Wanmin Restaurant is quite the gem of Liyue Harbor, and I’m certain that the food here will be a fair few notches above what the Abyss Order has been able to offer you.” 

There was a slight, amiable smile on his face, but bringing up the Abyss was a painfully low blow and you had no doubt that Zhongli, the lord of contracts and negotiations and everything in between, knew it. You watched in mute horror as the guilt and regret danced on Aether’s face, before he finally gathered it all back into an apologetic smile. “Of course, Mr. Zhongli. Far be it from me to refuse a dinner with the former Geo Archon himself, especially with all the trouble I’ve caused you...”

—  

Even after traveling the seven nations, you’d never once stopped pining for the savory, hearty flavors of Liyue cuisine. The spice of the black-perch stew that Xiangling taught you to cook had kept you warm through many a Snezhnayan blizzard, after all. Basking in the familiar scent of Wanmin Restaurant with a stomach full of hot food, and watching Paimon devour skewers of meat five at a time, you began to feel much better. 

The anger you’d felt at Zhongli’s manipulation of your brother had also since faded into contentment. After all, negotiation, you found, came as naturally to Zhongli as breathing; he had likely meant nothing by it.

Maybe it was okay that you spent just one more night with Zhongli. Maybe it would turn out to be the closure you need. 

You glanced at the man in question; he was teaching Aether how to use chopsticks, of course, and you were grateful to see that the haunted look in Aether’s eyes had given way to exasperation for now. By the time your brother had snapped his third pair of wooden ones, he was smiling and Paimon was just about rolling around on the ground in glee. As you stifled your own laughter, Zhongli set two small bottles of wine on the table.

You tried not to let yourself think about how the string lights of Chi’hu Rock glinted like stars in his eyes. 

“What’s this?” You joked, referencing Zhongli’s anger from the one time he’d seen Venti get you drunk. “Are we all to become disgraces to the arts tonight?”

Zhongli’s lip curled into a small smile. You couldn’t remember when his smiles had started coming more and more frequently, but you’d learned to savor each one. “Ordinarily, I would not condone such strong drink, but today is the most special of occasions, no?” 

As you watched, a goblet began to form between his fingers, golden, black and resplendent. You’d seen similar ones before, buried deep within the Domain of Guyun Stone Forest — an Archaic Petra Artifact, a Goblet of Chiseled Crag. According to Zhongli’s stories, the very same ones that he had created for the Seven to drink from in celebration, before all but two of them had vanished from this world. 

The cruel irony was not lost on you. 

“Besides, this is nothing like the watered down Mondstadt alcohol that that young bard partakes in,” Zhongli said, gloved fingers masterfully plucking the cork from the first bottle and pouring it into the goblets. “These two bottles contain the finest wu’liang’ye spirit that Liyue has to offer. They’ve been aged for well over decades with a technique passed down from the goddess Guizhong, whose mastery over grain and crop transcends even my own today.” 

“We’re—  flattered,” you bowed your head. The matter of Guizhong, the late Goddess of Dust and Zhongli’s good friend from when the Archon War still ravaged the land, was but one of the many things that you’d wanted to talk to him about. If only you had more time. “Thank you, Zhongli.”

He passed you the first goblet, then the second to Paimon. “Please, let’s forgo the formalities tonight. You are a dear friend to me, and so, by extension, is your family.” The second bottle was opened, its contents split between Zhongli and Aether. “Let us drink, to the happy reunion of loved ones, to the fruitful friendships you have forged in this world, and to all the triumphant adventures to be had still.”

The wince you hid was only partially from the burning drag of liquor sliding down your throat.

It had not escaped your notice that Zhongli had been staring at you all night — more intently than usual, and that was saying something. 

“y/n, I think—“ he began, as you met his gaze. By the Archons, the way he said your name—

“ Paimon thinks there should be less talking, more drinking! Ganbei!” Paimon screeches, downing half her goblet and immediately falling down to the cobblestone road, spluttering and choking at the heat. 

“This is… very strong, Mr. Zhongli,” Aether was the first to speak after. “Wonderful liquor. What gives it its mild bitterness?” 

“Bitter?” You asked, letting the drink roll on your tongue, “where’s the bitterness? It tastes mostly sweet to me.”

Aether took another long drink, thoughtfully. “Definitely bitter. Here, try a sip?”

You took his goblet, but as you pressed it to your lips, you felt it begin to violently vibrate. Quickly, you pulled it away from your face just in time for it to shatter in your hand, gold and black shards falling to the floor as what little drink left in the goblet splattered across the table. 

“Goodness,” Zhongli said, after your surprised yelp brought Paimon stumbling back to your side, her cheeks still stained scarlet from the liquor, “I must apologize. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to construct something so small and intricate — I am out of practice, it seems.” 

“Oh! That’s quite alright, I drank most of it already—“ Aether glanced over your shoulder, “by the Archons, Paimon has a knife!”

As you watched Chef Mao try to wrestle his knife back from a cackling, red-faced Paimon, you recalled the crystal hairpin Zhongli had forged two months ago — when you’d complained of the Natlan desert wind blowing your hair into your eyes. It had been just as intricate as the goblets, and much, much smaller. One of the few belongings you were planning on bringing with you.

You wondered what reason Zhongli had to lie. 

— 

“Maybe it was a good thing your goblet shattered,” you told Zhongli, prodding Aether with one of your chopsticks. He had stopped even groaning in response. And though Paimon was still conscious, she looked as though she would much rather not be, sitting forlornly on the table with her head in her hands. “Look at them. Drunk as skunks.” 

“Maybe,” Zhongli replied, “though I did not expect these two to have such low tolerance to alcohol. It was a miscalculation on my part.” 

“Paimon’s always like this —you know, remember that bar in Snezhnaya?— but Aether’s usually better at holding his drink,” you sighed. “I should probably get him back to Wangshu Inn.”

“Let him sober up a little here. It’s a long trek to the inn, and you don’t want him making a mess of his dinner on the way back.” Loathe as you were to admit it, Zhongli was right. It seemed that the fates were demanding that you spend a little more time with him, after all. He stood up, his tremendous height still a little startling to you. 

“Will you walk with me for a little, y/n?”

It wasn’t fair, really, the way he said your name. “Where are we going?” 

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “The harbor for a breath of fresh air perhaps, or Bubu Pharmacy to fetch a remedy for Aether. Does it matter to you, where we go?”

Going anywhere with him was a pleasure, one that against your better judgement, you yearned to partake in one more time. “No,” you admitted. “Let’s go.” 

--  

“It’s been so long since we’ve walked through Liyue — a year, almost. Do you remember? It was my birthday, and we walked for hours through the harbor.” Zhongli chuckled, the sound a deep rumble through your bones. “You wouldn’t let me buy dinner that time, either.” 

The nights of Liyue, its rolling hills and monumental mountains, were a peace you’d never known before coming to Teyvat. The city was uncharacteristically quiet tonight, and by the time you got to Yujing Terrace, you realized that it was the emptiest you’d ever seen it. The usual evening crowd of kids out of school and elderly taking strolls were nowhere to be seen — not even the Millelith guards usually standing by the gate were there. 

“ That time ,” you corrected, swallowing your unease at the silence of the city, “you didn’t have a single Mora to your name.” The strides you had to take to keep up with Zhongli’s long, long legs were huge, and you struggled to stay by his side. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that I wouldn’t have had to pay the entire bill if we’d actually gone to Wangshu Inn for dinner that night.” 

You immediately regretted it when he turned his golden gaze upon you, and it took everything within you to not avert yours. “Perhaps that may have been the case,” Zhongli allowed, “though I would have returned your investment tenfold over the next week. Have I not proven as much throughout our travels?” 

His vast knowledge of valuable gemstones and herbs — and more importantly, his uncanny ability to get any deal he set his mind to — had kept you and Paimon fed for many a week during your trek through the caves and jungles of Sumeru. You had to give him that. And that wasn’t not even counting the number of boulders, traps, swords and ravenous winter wolves that his shield had protected you from—

“Fine, I’ll admit, it was nice to have you around, you bourgeois parasite,” you said, playing on his joke back from when you’d first met. Then, after a brief silence, “Zhongli, in all seriousness, thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that you’ve accompanied many adventurers on their journeys,” you explained, “but you — you dropped everything and journeyed with me, and you’ve done more for me than anyone else. I could never have found Aether without you.” Zhongli was being uncharacteristically quiet, and so you hurried along to fill the silence, “We— we made a great team together. And I will never forget everything that you’ve done for me. So, thank you.” 

“A great team together...” he repeated, voice lower than a whisper. “y/n, this sounds like a farewell.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. Even in silence, you were breaking the most important rule you’d learned throughout all your travels. Never let them know you’re leaving.

Zhongli turned to face you, and his full attention is a force that you had not yet learned to endure. So instead, you turned your attention to the koi darting about among the lotus reeds as he continued, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been more careless with your Mora lately. And as for your hard-earned weapons, artifacts, and resources, you have given them all to the Knights of Favonius, correct?” 

“I gave some to the Millelith too,” you objected quietly.

“You know that is not what I meant,” Zhongli said. You did know. “Are you planning on leaving this world, y/n?”

“I have to,” you heard yourself say, “we don’t belong here.” 

As though he heard the waver in your voice, the Lord of Contracts honed in on it like a Sumeran jaguar. “Do you remember the first Lantern Rite you partook in? Though you had just arrived in Liyue, and though the Millelith, Qixing and Adepti each gave you reason to distrust them, you still chose to spend the festival helping people.” 

“I didn’t help that many—” 

“Twenty-six people,” he corrected, and you cursed yourself for not thinking that he would remember. “A dozen more, if we are to count the young and elderly of Qingce, whose lives were brightened by the festivities you brought to the village. And hundreds above that, if we acknowledge every person in Liyue Harbor, whose Lantern Rite would have been ruined had you not stopped the thief who tried to steal the Mingxiao Lantern. Am I correct?” 

“I did it for the compensation,” you retorted, determined not to let yourself think about the people you’d helped. Who would help them after you left? 

“Hmm.” Zhongli rested his gloved fingers against his chin, and you could tell that he didn’t buy your bluff, not for a moment. “Anyone else, I may have believed. But you, y/n, who have begged me to stay my hand against fleeing Hilichurls? You, who could not bear to attack the Mitachurl that sits alone on Mount Tianheng and watches the harbor? You, who gave it a name ?” 

“Okay,” you finally relented. “Okay, I like helping people, and I don’t want to go. But that doesn’t mean I can stay. It’s— it’s not good for Aether to stay here, after what this world has done to him.” 

“With time, I believe your brother can adjust—”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Zhongli,” you begged, and the tone of your voice finally made him take notice. He regarded you for a moment, and you thought you saw his eyes glow bright. 

“The last thing I wanted,” he sighed, reaching into his coat, “was for it to come to this.” 

Your first reaction was to reach for your weapon — it wasn’t there; you’d given Festering Desire to dear little Bennett just before you’d left Mondstadt. Still, you felt the bright burn of shame when the only thing Zhongli pulled out was a piece of parchment, folded into a perfect square. How could you think that after everything, Zhongli would ever hurt you? 

“Do you remember this contract of ours?” Zhongli asked as he carefully unfolded the paper, handing it to you. You stared down at the neat lines of calligraphy, punctuated by your name in your own handwriting. 

Of course you remembered: the moment you had approached Zhongli at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, after your expedition into Havria’s domain. The day you’d asked him to join you on your travels.

“ Oh? A new contract? I'm still on leave, but I can accompany you for a while. ” Zhongli had mused, as though he hadn’t just sent butterflies soaring through your insides. “ What name should I use on the contract? I have a great many names, though when on leave... I tend to go by Zhongli. And you, Traveler? What name will you be signing on this contract— ?” 

The following contract had been quickly printed in his swift brushstrokes — simple terms: he would lend his strength and knowledge to your endeavor of finding Aether, and you, in turn, would simply keep him in good company. 

Even at the time, you’d wondered what was in it for Zhongli — the terms of the contract had seemed rather imbalanced, but in your euphoria at having gained Zhongli as your new travelling partner, you had not thought more on it. 

—

The same terms stared back at you now, and you were quickly realizing what was going on. 

For thousands of years, I have made countless contracts. If the deal was of no benefit, then I certainly would not be inclined to agree to it. 

The day you discovered his identity, Zhongli had said this to you. He’d never signed a contract before that did not benefit him wholly; and you were a fool to think he would’ve made an exception for you. 

“By keeping you in good company,” you said, numbly, “you don’t mean— forever ?”

“In the circumstances that the duration of a contract’s term is unspecified—” Zhongli held out his hand for the parchment. Briefly, you debated tearing it up and scattering it to the koi, but you knew well enough that it would not void the contract — one of the hundreds of thousands that Zhongli had undoubtedly seared into his memory. You handed it back to him silently. “Well, it would be fair to say that you are obliged to uphold it, until I personally release you from it, no?”

The first thing you felt was: fear, deep and chilling. You hadn’t truly believed that Zhongli would hurt you — until now. Until a contract had come into play. Until you realized you were poised to break one.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, but you’d known him long enough to know that he was. “I found my brother. I’m not from this world, and so I have to leave. I have to go home.” 

“Has Teyvat not provided you enough of a home? You have made friends here, allies who would die for you in a heartbeat. And as for Liyue — Liyue will always be as much of your home as mine. You have your own room in Chi’hu Rock, you are on a first-name basis with the Qixing and the Adepti would spar with you as though you were one of their own—”

You could feel your resolve trembling, but it was not enough. You would not ask your brother to compromise his wellbeing in a world that had not been kind to him. “I’m sorry,” you said, and you understood fully what was coming. “I can’t stay.” 

“After everything we have gone through, my friend, you would leave... me?” And there it was. In that moment, the former Archon — the oldest being in the world — looked so lonely that you almost broke down, almost apologized, almost reassured him that you would never once again put him through what he’d gone through far too many times: the loss of a friend. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “My family comes first. I can’t stay.” 

Zhongli’s expression became unreadable. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, there was a peaceful silence that you savored. You had a feeling that it would be the last one you’d ever have in Liyue. The seconds crawled by, and briefly, you let yourself hope that Zhongli might relent, might make an exception for his close travel companion. 

“Well then, my friend,” Zhongli finally said, holding out his right arm. Sparks of energy gathered in his palms, forming a wicked, golden spear. The Vortex Vanquisher. You’d seen it countless times, marveling each time at its beauty and strength. You never thought you would one day be staring down the end of it. “You must know what comes next.” 

—

On your journey, you’d witnessed many a broken contract between Zhongli and other people — an Inazuman merchant whose greed for an extra trinket got the better of him; a Sumeran scholar who just needed to grab that last book from the hidden ruins; a Snezhnayan soldier whose loyalty to the Tsaritsa transcended his gratitude to you saving his life— 

None of them had escaped unscathed.  And each time, after delivering the punishment required of the situation, Zhongli would ask you the same thing, uncharacteristic frustration in his voice: 

“ To get people to abide by a contract, and act in accordance with the guidelines set out within, is simply to ask them to respect the concept of fairness. It is not a large request. How are there those who still do not understand such simplicity? ”

Each time, after you’d cheered him on in his reckoning of justice, you would nod and agree sympathetically. None of their contracts, you thought, had been particularly difficult to uphold. And each time, you would thank the heavens that you had more sense than to break a promise between yourself and the God of Contracts. 

It seemed that today, you were going to learn of what happened when you did. 

You took a step backwards as Zhongli took a slow, calculated one towards you. Having closely watched him rain destruction down upon your foes for the past few months, you knew with certainty that you, lightheaded from the wind and the still exhausted from your fight with Aether, would not be able to keep up with his speed and technique. 

And even if you weren’t, how could you even hope to compete with six thousand years of experience in war and strife and carnage? No; fighting him was not an option.

“Come on now, Zhongli,” you pleaded, taking another step and discovering, to your horror, that one more step backwards would have you falling into the koi ponds. You had nowhere else to go. “Aren’t we friends?” 

Even as the words left your mouth, you knew that they would fall on uncaring ears. Friendship had never stayed the hand of the victor of the Archon war.

Zhongli took another lazy stride forward. 

“Are we really going to fight in the city? We’ll destroy half the harbor.”

“While I appreciate your concern, I am quite confident that it will not come to that,” Zhongli said, the ‘because I would long have you pinned under my spear before then’ unspoken but tacit. “And besides, most of Liyue architecture is of stone. It would be nothing that I could not easily fix.” 

Fair enough. You switched gears, praying that two millennia of walking amongst the mortals had given him some vestige of human empathy. “Please, I need to go back and check on Aether. What if he woke up and found himself alone? Who knows what Paimon’s done to him by now.”

“Aether,” Zhongli said, “will not wake up for another day or two.” 

You pause, letting that register. “What?” 

The first bottle: you and Paimon. The second bottle: Zhongli and Aether. You remembered how carefully Zhongli handed you the first goblet, though Liyuenese etiquette would have mandated that he pass the first drink to the guest at the table. The way the goblet had shattered suddenly rang clear in your mind’s eye. His lie. How adamantly Zhongli must have been trying to keep you from drinking from Aether’s cup— 

“The herb I placed in his drink was but a very mild… sedative. He will almost certainly not die from it, but it can take mortals up to two days to regain consciousness.”

“ What ?” You could barely breathe. “You’re joking. You drank from the same bottle he did.”

“You need not concern yourself about me. My body has always been much more resistant to poisons than that of mortals.” 

The rage made your throat tight; it had been a long, long time since you had been so angry. “Congratulations, you know that there’s absolutely no way I’m staying now, right?” 

“Even before our confrontation today, I could tell that your mind was already made up,” he explained, as nonchalant as ever, as though he hadn’t just poisoned your fucking brother . “Naturally, the next course of action was to prevent you from breaking your contract by any means necessary, so that we could further negotiate. I did not want—” 

You would never learn what Zhongli didn’t want, because the fury in your lungs erupted outwards in a burst of elemental energy. You reached out, grabbing one of the last swords in your arsenal — a dull blade that you had been keeping around for enhancement fodder — but it didn’t matter, didn’t matter didn’t matter didn’t matter. All that mattered in that moment was making Zhongli pay . 

The familiar warmth of the element you were attuned to channeled through the sword, and you swung it as hard as you could in the direction of the former Archon. A wake of hardened earth ripped through the stone brick of the terrace, circling Zhongli in a jagged cage of rock and crystal. A little too late, you realized your folly.

Zhongli absently reached out, resting his gloved fingers against the earthly fangs you’d entrapped him within. Even through the haze of your anger, you could see a smile — a kind you had never seen on him — forming between his cheeks. “How ironic,” he said, “that you would use the powers that I granted you against me.” 

You could see the glow of Geo flowing from your constructs towards his outstretched palm. Vaguely, you knew that you had to run . 

“And how endearing—” he continued, and you could hear the rumbling beneath your feet, even as you turned to flee, “—that you truly thought it would work.” 

From behind, a shockwave of Geo more powerful than anything you’d ever felt smashed into you, throwing you off your feet and slamming you against the wall behind the pond. You crumpled like a paper lantern, cheek hitting the cool stone floor. As you struggled to keep your eyes open, the last things you saw were Zhongli’s intricate boots, gleaming in the moonlight before you.

[jellyluchi]

Sid, congratulations on the milestone!! ❤️🎉🎊

If it's not too late, can I request a scenario/hc with a reader-insert? Either sfw/nsfw. It goes somewhere along the lines of Pros surviving after the train incident and leaves the mafia life behind to finally settle down with someone. He gets a peaceful life, albeit a little disgruntled making a compromise for it (but he does get used to it!) since he's a house husband now and his wife is the provider - who's not good at handling household responsibilities (e.g. cooking, cleaning, etc.).

Basically I'm all in for this guy getting a happy ending and am overly fond of male wife!Pros because he'd probably be a great one lol.

A/N: Pen!! Thank you for requesting!! AHHH you're already activating my trap card with House Husband!Pros ✨_✨ my domestic senses are tingling...This is sfw but I will do the nsfw version some day bc this man deserves to be taken over the counter after he's done cooking a meal. Thank you for your patience!!!

House Husband!Prosciutto x spouce!Reader; “Softly”

— warnings: none

— genre: fluff

— Word count: 1.1k

Leaving the mafia is no easy business. For someone who used to instruct others on the lifestyle of the perfect mafiosi, Prosciutto made quick work to move on. It obviously wasn’t his dream job. His aspirations had long been torn to shreds when his loyalty to Passione was established. He enjoyed the profits for what it was worth but his heart lay somewhere else, with you. Ever since your presence made itself known in his life, he wanted nothing more than to hide away and take you with him, his safe haven.

The thought proved to be difficult to make into reality. You were, and still are, a simple civilian who happened upon him by happenstance. Sometimes Prosciutto thought you two were never supposed to meet given how far removed you are from mafia life. However, he considered you his beacon of hope, a ray of sunshine leading him to the end of the tunnel. He promised himself he would survive for your sake.

And survive he did. His bloodied remains on the train track were rescued in the nick of time. It’s an understatement to say you were surprised. While you knew the nature of his work, it never occurred to you how close he was to death’s door. It made both of you cherish each other’s presence all the more.

Had some bastard told this man 5-6 years ago that he would be a 'house husband' he'd have slapped them across the face for looking down on him. It's ironic that now the most adrenaline he experiences is from bargaining with the local vendors or trying to get free coupons. He understands his mistake now, looking down on house spouses all those years ago was born from ignorance. Grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, baking, they are no easy tasks.

He ponders his current lifestyle silently. Some classic Italian pop song from the 80s plays on the radio on the countertop where his floured dough rests. Prosciutto never considered himself a baker. He thought his hands were too bloody for something so refined. The softness of the dough akin to the flesh he once held before turning it cold and pruned. Now he marvels at browned bread, having given it life through his hard kneading.

The clang of his metal arm meeting the counter-top makes him click his tongue. He thinks about touching the dough with his prosthetic, feeling it but also not. The sense of touch has always been quite personal to him and he remembers the way he used to hold his comrades to give them a pep talk, how he used to age enemies faster. The thought is quickly abandoned as he realizes he would have to clean the thing of sticky dough if he did.

The silent click-clack of a pair of keys and ‘darling, I’m home!’ alerts Prosciutto from his stupor. He leaves the dough inside the bowl before covering it. He sometimes wishes he could age it to it’s proven state.

You find your dear husband in the kitchen, in his usual sweats and t-shirt. “Welcome home dear,” his voice is as soothing as you remember. Nothing keeps you going like the thought of coming home to his embrace.

Ever the traditional man, he must give you a kiss upon arrival every single day. It’s not like you’re complaining.

You notice the resting dough when you embrace him. “Pizza?” and he nods at your inquiry. “Margherita. Your favorite.” and he delights in your small burst of excitement. Being a house husband has washed the harsh edges off of Prosciutto’s body. If he was drowning before, he’s now surfaced and made a life on the beach with you.

He takes your jacket, gently, and places it on the rack where it can always be found. Your shoes which never stray from it’s spot near the front door, your keys that never leave its decorative bowl. Prosciutto spent too much of his life running after disappearing things, cruel magic tricks that bring more gloom than entertainment. Your belongings remind him you’re going nowhere, he has no one to chase, he can rest.

“Would you like me to run a bath for you?” he asks you quietly while washing his hand at the sink.

“That’s alright, I’ll freshen up quickly. Besides, it’s too cold tonight.” As you leave for your room, your husband readies the other ingredients for dinner. He used to memorize lists of names but now they’ve been replaced by grocery lists. When he thinks about it, there wasn’t much of a difference, Passione had a peculiar code naming system.

Even if he’d never admit it, Prosciutto was once nervous about life with his prosthetics. He thought he’d never be able to make your favorites, or even go on date nights with you. But he quickly realized his fears were born of a privilege that comes from a life where he’s not expecting to die the next day. And if there is one thing he can do, it’s persevere to make life comfortable for you. You who pays for his living, you who takes care of him and you who loves him despite the ghosts that haunt him, you who kneaded his harsh planes into soft edges.

He’s almost done chopping the veggies when you come back downstairs. “Can I help?” he always makes you feel a bit bashful. You don’t miss the smirk on his sharp lips even if he tries to mask it.

He hands you the mozzarella along with a knife, knowing you would fumble over your fingers with anything else. When you two first met, he wondered how you were able to waddle your way through life. Where he was methodical you were clumsy where he was routinely you were spontaneous. Sometimes he thinks it’s only fitting that he should be the house husband of the messiest person on the planet. It gives him a home to worry about and mundane experiences to look forward to.

You’ve never seen someone do house chores so eagerly and professionally and you think about his journey from taking lives to making homes. The unspoken ways in which he thought his hands could do no good during moments of uncharacteristic self-doubt always made you remind him of all the times his hands have done more good than harm. Like when he grew flowers in the garden, or when he decorated for your birthday, when he fixed your tattered clothes and put back together your broken heart.

“What would I do without you?” you ask when he pushes the pizza into the oven. You snack on some biscotti in the meantime. He would scold you for spoiling your own dinner but he knows you’re quite famished.

“Burn this kitchen down, no doubt,” he jokes. You laugh heartily and he silently thanks his fate for not taking away his hearing on that fateful trip to Firenze.

[moononmyfloor]

Final Thoughts on Marvelous Women

Part 1 here

I give it 10/10! If I could I would give it 20/10! It wasn't the most perfect drama to ever exist by any means, it had multiple issues but! It made me VERY VERY happy! Constantly and consistently from beginning to the end, on multiple fronts.

Amazing casting and acting. All the characters are very human and down to earth. None of them were perfect and all of their flaws and plus sides were shown equally in every ep. Sometimes they are progressive, sometimes not, but the show never judges them too harsh and instead sheds a sympathetic and understanding light on them which added SO much gravitas and strength to their characters.

It showed that period dramas can have women that are more than the "weak, pitiful, purpose is to marry well and make babies" stereotype and the "21st Century feminist who doesn't give a damn" stereotype.

Marvelous Women ladies were none of those, and both of those and also more at the same time. Even the most minor character got their own storyline and it was integrated well to main plot, so it wasn't forced or distracting.

From the premise I mainly just expected a typical pretentious Yu Zheng drama about Suzhou weaving and a dash of GL, but it ended up being quite the thoughtful discussion about period typical sexism, patriarchy, misogyny, polygamy, sex work, what does it mean to be "virtuous" and where does the woman's choice lie among all that, and much more to various but quite satisfying degrees.

Let me talk a bit about that last point in detail.

Warning- Briefly touches on violence against women, sex work, the role of choice and my personal thoughts.

Baoqin was a daughter from a noble family whose father was convicted, and the entire family was put in jail. Her mom tries to strangle her, before she gets sold to a brothel and suffer further and possibly worse pain and humiliation. She talks mom out of it and convinces her that she will live no matter what, and wants to live. Mom cries for her daughter but in the end, she chooses suicide and our Baoqin walks to the brothel on her own two feet, head held high.

This is an incredibly sensitive topic that I don't really rem having seen in any other drama before, not in such a dignified and pointed manner, no matter it was a minor scene. In my recent memory I've only seen it in a book, Peony In Love (funnily enough was set in near same time period). The FL's mom suffers through all sorts of horrible things (yes, you know what I mean) during Manchu invasion along with many other women. Some women suicide. FL's mom grits her teeth and lives through it. I respect both kind of women, for their decisions in this world that was so cruel to them. They also used to be women of their time, with period-typical ideals but through their experiences they grow to question the norms around them. I find that incredibly powerful.

If given brothel-death choice I think I would choose death too, even though I'm usually all about suicide-prevention. Everyone has a limit of pain that they can take. They are not to be blamed if they give up upon seeing only darkness ahead with no ray of light. It's hard, but it must feel like a dead end with no other out. Both decisions must take incredible strength. This also reminds me of the ending of Bollywood movie Padmavat based on an Indian legend. Invaders attack the palace and all the palace ladies decide to collectively jump to fire. And the movie decided to follow through with the exact same ending, and many viewers were upset about this, saying that it's anti feminist etc etc. I wasn't that upset tho. Sure, it's a very sad and upsetting ending, but I understand the ladies' choice? Like would you want to sit in your rooms waiting for invaders....that thought is more horrifying to me. It's not like they would've done it if they were reassured help was coming. Of course I would've liked better if they included a scene about choice at the ending tho. Like, those who wanted to not-die were allowed to do that instead of following the leader to fire.

And Marvelous Women did it! It addressed the importance of CHOICE in this context, not just once but on three occasions through four women with four perspectives towards life! ALL the four different perspectives were valid. I was reduced to tears. So yeah, I haven't seen this done so well in a regular Chinese/Korean historical drama before, and standing ovation for Marvelous Women!

I think it just shows how rare this kind of storytelling and how much I've been craving for it, when I think back about my initial impression of this drama, how unsure I was about what to make of it. I couldn't even pinpoint that this was exactly what I wanted at the beginning! Because I haven't seen such a work in so long, I was unused to it.

And now, I think this drama spoiled me for period dramas. I have the sneaking feeling I'll be subconsciously judging and dropping 2x more dramas than I used to in future. 🤭

Thank you Dang jia zhu mu, for the amazing ride! What an underrated, unexpected gem!

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