#of course we are the ones who call when its a life and death situation

[apocalypticseagull]

As she should Billy is a lucky guy (and maybe he can find another guy to admire besides jay)

ransom (pt 2) ☆ jay halstead

summary: in which y/n is rescued and jay has something to say.

warnings: language, guns, mentions of injury

a/n: I’m actually incredibly proud of this lmaooo. I love writing more light hearted pieces and am so happy so many of you loved the first part. many people requested a part two and hope you enjoy this also! - love emie <3

PART ONE

Lees verder

[hussyknee]

Wonder how far I can prod libs into finishing their full thought bubble behind all this "harm reduction" "genocide is a single issue" "you don't care about marginalized people in the US" "dyou want fascism WITH genocide???" screeching.

Okay, class, say it with me: "I don't want to live in a third world country like the ones we keep destroying."

Because you know. The countries your war criminal leaders keep bombing and starving and destabilising and leeching dry? We don't have trans or gay rights or women's rights or disability benefits or environmental or labour protections. No one would want to live in our countries obviously. You'd kill yourselves before you had to live like we do. Sure, we're only like this because you keep us trapped in poverty and violence and we still have full, happy lives worth living despite it but that's because we're used to it! We don't know any better! Not like you! You know what you deserve and you shouldn't have to lose anything as a consequence of your own political choices! Your government is supposed to happen to other people! Not you! So like, yeah, it's bad that the poors are being massacred wholesale or whatever, but like. That doesn't mean you gotta die with them, y'know? And by "death" you don't mean actual genocide like what's happening over here but "death" as in "having to live like we do".

The trolley problem metaphor is so goddamn attractive to you because you see yourself outside the tracks, objectively assessing the situation and making the "tough" "moral" choice for the collective good. It's imperialist horseshit. You don't have a democracy and it's not a trolley. What you have is an imperial death machine running on an apartheid system that decides who gets fed to it and who gets fed by it. That's your "two tracks"— the colonized and the colonizer, the core and the periphery, the white and the coloured. "Harm reduction"? Have you counted how many fucking millions in and around the world your death machine eats to keep how many of you "safe"? But our losses are a foregone conclusion, a matter of course, a regrettable necessity. The only variable is yours.

Every political choice in 200 years of your settler colony has been "genocide AND". "Genocide AND women's rights". "Genocide AND workers rights". "Genocide AND fascism". "Genocide AND democracy". The difference is that for the first time in your history you're now watching it livestreamed to the entire world in real time 24/7, exactly as your colony is about to capsize under the weight of its own bloodlust. A sea change from when your parents threw parties watching bombs dropping on Baghdad and then spent twenty years watching movies about sad it made the soldiers.

How do you count the victims when we are numbers and you are people? You scream about trans rights in the US while Palestinian trans children don't have the right to reach puberty. OSHA for you but Congolese children have to die in mines. Reproductive rights for the US while Sudanese women are raped in millions. Yes, but it's always been "genocide AND" no matter what, right? Do we want to sabotage the party that has never fucking cared about us and don't now even with half their own country screaming at them on the off-chance they might possibly maybe one day do?? Why are we acting so mad like it's YOUR fault that you're fighting for your quality of life over our corpses?? Do we want YOU to lose your rights over it??

Yes, actually. We do. We want you to have a taste of the reality that generations on generations of your illegal illegitimate white supremacist occupation has inflicted on us just so your worthless hide can sit there and call our genocides a single fucking issue. And let's be real: that's what you're so fucking afraid of.

[suzannahnatters]

Let Your Knights Weep

One of the big things I've had to train myself out of when writing medieval historical fiction?

The stiff upper lip.

This used to really bewilder my editor, who for some time attempted to nudge me away from having my grown men weep and wail and blubber, but for me it's an essential part of the setting. Whether in grief or fear, medieval people did not hold things back.

Here are some of my favourite quotes to explain.

First, a couple from two great 20th century medievalists:

CS Lewis in his Letters put it this way:

“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”

Dorothy Sayers, in her fabulous Introduction to her translation of THE SONG OF ROLAND, speaking of Charlemagne discovering Roland's body on the battlefield:

Here too, I think we must not reckon it weakness in him that he is overcome by grief for Roland’s death, that he faints upon the body and has to be raised up by the barons and supported by them while he utters his lament. There are fashions in sensibility as in everything else. The idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin. By the standards of feudal epic, Charlemagne’s behaviour is perfectly correct. Fainting, weeping, and lamenting is what the situation calls for. The assembled knights and barons all decorously follow his example. They punctuate his lament with appropriate responses:

By hundred thousand the French for sorrow sigh; There’s none of them but utters grievous cries.

At the end of the next laisse:

He tears his beard that is so white of hue, Tears from his head his white hair by the roots; And of the French an hundred thousand swoon.

We may take this response as being ritual and poetic; grief, like everything else in the Epic, is displayed on the heroic scale. Though men of the eleventh century did, in fact, display their emotions much more openly than we do, there is no reason to suppose that they made a practice of fainting away in chorus. But the gesture had their approval; that was how they liked to think of people behaving. In every age, art holds up to us the standard pattern of exemplary conduct, and real life does its best to conform. From Charlemagne’s weeping and fainting we can draw no conclusions about his character except that the poet has represented him as a perfect model of the “man of feeling” in the taste of the period.

OK, now let's dig into some quotes that I found just in Christopher Tyerman's Chronicles of the First Crusade and Joinville's Life of St Louis:

Truly you would have grieved and sobbed in pity when the Turks killed any of our men....

As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get....

When Guy, who was a very honourable knight, had heard these lies, he and all the others began to weep and to make loud lamentation....

They stayed in the houses cowering, some some for hunger and some for fear of the Turks....

Now at vigils, the time of trust in God’s compassion, many gave up hope and hurriedly lowered themselves with ropes from the wall-tops; and in the city soldiers, returning from the encounter, circulated widely a rumour that mass decapitation of the defenders was in store. To add weight to the terror, they too fled…

In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.

I could go on looking for quotes in all the other medieval literature I've read, but that would be beyond the scope of this Tumblr post.

In the meantime, this leads me to make some comments on how trauma was perceived.

In Jonathan Riley-Smith's The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, the author discusses the mental breakdowns suffered by the first crusaders during the second siege of Antioch, which caused many of them to flee at the moment of direst need:

In these stressful circumstances it is not surprising that the crusaders were often very frightened. At times, indeed, they seem to have been almost paralysed by a terror that they themselves could hardly comprehend. … When the crusade was bottled up in Antioch by Kerbogha's relief force it was gripped by such blind panic that there was the prospect of a mass break-out and on the night of 10 or 11 Juney 1098 Bohemond and Adhemar had the gates of the city closed. It is worth noting that many of those whom later chroniclers, writing after the events in comparative comfort in Europe, vilified for cowardice and desertion seem to have been treated more charitably by their fellow-crusaders, who must have understood what pressures they had been under.

--

In conclusion: the way we feel about things today in the English-speaking isn't necessarily the way people felt about things in the past (and this goes for other cultures, real or imagined, too). I'm continually catching myself writing people with stiff upper lips and emotional reservations, and having to remind myself that the culture was different back them. If a grown man wanted to weep, he could. That's a good thing. (Oh, and my medieval historical fantasy? Check out the Watchers of Outremer series on Amazon or wherever books are sold!)

[roosterr]

bad idea

note: my contribution to gazfest 2023! check out @glitterypirateduck for the prompt list and more info!

paring: kyle 'gaz' garrick x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

no use of y/n

genre: oneshot promts: 14. 'you're in trouble now' & 19. 'stay still'

summary: you do something dumb to get you and kyle out of a bad situation. he patches you up.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood and injury, light whump, fluff, established relationship

ao3

of course, you’d expected resistance as you pushed into the building, but the crowd of enemy soldiers you ran into was a lot more firepower than you’d predicted

everything happened so fast; price, ghost, and soap dived one way, and you and gaz dived the other in the same moment the enemies opened fire, effectively separating the five of you and planting the seed of dread in your stomach.

before you knew it, you’d been cornered in a room, the only way out being the door you’d come in through, which was now crowded with people who very much wanted you dead. there wasn’t much in the way of cover in the room, but there was a large, sturdy table that you and kyle had flipped onto its side so you could hide behind it. a few hostiles had ventured closer to try and finish you off, but those foolish few quickly met their death.

you were well and truly pinned.

price had radioed that they’d make their way towards the two of you as soon as possible, once they’d taken out their own pursuers. the only thing you could do until then was try to survive and kill as many hostiles as you could in the process.

you aim down your sights, bones aching more and more with every second, but when you pull the trigger, all that meets your ears is an empty click. the noise sends an ice cold wave through your veins like an omen of death.

you're out of ammo.

shit.

"i’m out!" you call to gaz, and in response he shoots you a fleeting wide eyed glance.

"just hold tight," he calls back, furrowing his brow as he fires shot after shot, "reinforcements are on the way, we just have to stay alive ‘till then."

he tries to sound confident, but you can tell he's just as panicked as you are. your eyes dart around the space, desperately pulling at threads to find a way out of this impossible situation, to make it out alive – to make sure kyle makes it out alive.

it's then that you spot it.

a grenade, on the vest of an enemy solider you'd shot earlier.

his body wasn’t far, but it was beyond the cover of the table, meaning to grab it you'd have to run into open fire; but if you got it, it was a guaranteed way out of here.

you glance back at kyle, still returning fire with his own limited supply of ammo. he hadn't noticed the explosive, still focused on the group guarding the door, but he couldn’t defend your position forever. you'd be risking your life if you went for it, but you'd both be killed if you didn't.

it was a terrible idea, but you were doing it anyway.

with a sudden burst of renewed energy in your exhausted muscles, you launch yourself towards the body from your crouched position, wasting no time in pulling the grenade from his vest – except it wasn’t as easy to grab as you’d first assumed, there was a strap holding it in place that the tremor in your hands made unclasping difficult.

in the back of your mind you hear kyle scream your name, but he’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

your heart is in your throat as your fingers miss the strap once, twice, and finally get it free on the third try.

you snatch the grenade and prepare to bolt back to cover, but before you can move a blinding pain shoots through your leg, knocking you off balance causing you to tumble backwards.

you’re hit, you realise that much, but through the panic you can’t focus on anything else. you desperately try to shuffle backwards, towards your cover, but without the use of one leg you just can’t seem to move fast enough.

another bullet whizzes by your face, just catching the skin of your cheekbone and leaving you with a noticeable slice. you can’t dwell on how close a call that one was, however, because before you can react you’re being yanked backwards by the strap on the back of your vest.

you hear gaz’s voice calling to you again, his words passing through one ear and straight out the other.

mustering all your remaining strength, you rip the pin from the grenade, push yourself up on your uninjured leg, and pitch the grenade through the doorway with surprising accuracy considering how much your head was swimming.

no sooner than the grenade leaves your fingertips, gaz has an arm around your waist and uses it to haul you to the ground with him. he doesn’t get the chance to scold you before the explosion, both of you squeezing your eyes shut at the flash of light and the boom that makes your ears ring.

when you pry open your eyes, kyle is hovering above you with his hands supporting him on either side of your head, glaring at you with a fury you've never witnessed from him before.

if you weren't so distracted by the agony radiating from the bullet hole in your thigh, you might have had the mind to be flustered by the position. but thankfully – for your dignity, at least – you don’t have the mental capacity to be embarrassed.

"you're in trouble now," he growled down at you, sharply pushing himself off you and leaving you heaving air into your lungs on the floor. you watch him peer over the table, gun poised as he waits a second or two for any movement, but he doesn’t fire.

if the eerie silence is any indication, it sounds like your slapdash plan actually worked.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" kyle yells, ripping the small medical pack from his vest and dropping to his knees next to you as he rifles through it.

"i was– ugh–" you grunt as you agitate your leg sitting up, "thinking, i’m gonna save both of our lives!" you hiss, leaning your back against the table.

"and let yourself get killed in the process?" he pulls out a roll of bandages, piling the material onto your wound and leaning on it with all his weight. a pained groan escapes your throat before you can stop it, but kyle doesn't relent. "you really think that's a good plan?"

"i would if it meant you would live!" you cry, gripping his wrist and clenching your jaw so tight you were worried you might break a tooth.

"just–" you jerk with a yelp when he shifts his weight on your leg, "stay still!" he sounds almost pleading, stunning you into freezing where you sit.

kyle sighs deeply, sitting back on his heels and dragging a hand down his face. when he drops his hand again, your heart clenches at the sight of his glossy eyes and conflicted expression.

"kyle…" you reach a weak hand out to him, resting it on his upper arm, and he snaps back to reality. with a slight shake of his head, he grabs a fresh handful of bandages, putting his weight back on your wound as quickly as he could.

"you're lucky it went clean through." he mutters, sounding significantly more choked up than he had before. "never pull that kinda shit again, you hear me?"

you smile, the pain twisting your expression slightly, and move your hand up to cup his cheek. "not plannin’ on it, garrick."

the bleeding has slowed significantly by now, allowing kyle to lift one of his hands to cover the one holding his face. your thumb strokes the rise of his cheekbone, exhaling as the tension melts from your shoulders. even with the ringing in your ears, the lack of gunshots was almost peaceful.

"oi!" kyle jostles your shoulder, your eyes snapping back open where you hadn't realised they'd fallen shut. "you're not allowed to die on me, love, i'll kick your arse if you do."

"i'll keep that in mind." you breathe an airy chuckle, giving his cheek a gentle pat and dropping your hand into your lap.

there's a pause in the conversation, as kyle grabs more bandages and concentrates on your leg – which had more or less stopped bleeding thanks to his efforts, but despite this, you could still clearly see the panic in his eyes.

"hey," you call out to him, his gaze snapping up to you with a concerned frown. you grin, and gesture for him to come closer, pointing to the small cut on your face. "you missed a spot."

kyle rolls his eyes. "you're an idiot." he chuckles, wiping as much of your blood from his hands as possible before swinging one of his legs over both of yours. he's careful not to touch your injured leg when he leans closer, cleaning the dried blood on your cheek and covering the cut with a large bandaid.

once he's sure you're not bleeding from anywhere else, he takes your face gently in both hands and presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek, right over where the cut was.

"there," he utters, moving to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and finally pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. "all better."

you bring your own hand to rest on his back, smiling against his lips as you press your forehead to his. "yeah, all better."

[daisybianca]

pairing: lewis hamilton x yn

summary: lewis is kind of a mafia type of guy here, but he still remains the best f1 driver in history with 8 championships (!). mafia means that he kinda kills people. he's always hot put now he is double hot. idk if that's even possible, but anyway. you're his girl, and he sees that someone made a bruise on your hand. spoiler alert: i doesn't end well for the guilty man.

warnings: lots of cursing words, sexual actions, mentions of death, etc

(a/n): it is written in 1 pov, from his point of view. though it couldn't get any hotter? nah, it can.

WHEN I UNLOCK my mansion's door and come see my girlfriend crying, three completely different options pass through my mind.

One. Killing someone.

Two. Making someone regret.

Three. Doing both of those after kissing my woman's tears until the don't exist anymore.

I rush to her on the couch, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. "What happened, baby?" I get on my knees and try to hold her close to me. She doesn't meet my gaze. She's hidden her face behind her little hands, but I can still take a glimpse of her scorching hot, red cheeks. "Hey, y/n, talk to me." I try to persuade her, even though it seems impossible.

"P-please," she stutters, and something dark and colorful captures my attention on her left wrist.

Fuck.

It's a bruise. A fucking bruise. A huge one to be exact.

I try to compose myself. It's not even enough. I think my jawline starts to tremble, and I don't even notice at first. "Y/N," I force her to look at me, forcing her hands away off her beautiful face. Her features are soft but her precious eyes have turned swollen and her lips are tighter than ever. "Who did this to you?" The words come out sharp. I don't even think about them to be honest.

She is my fucking woman. These are the rules. Nobody is allowed to touch her in a way that she doesn't want to. Not even me.

I cup her small face with both my hands. "Who hurt you, baby?"

I hear a soft cry and then she tries to speak again but doesn't manage to do it properly without stuttering.

Fuck, I won't look good in jail clothing.

I bit my lip in order to not lose it just at this fucking moment. My fists become a ball. My girl notices and places her little ones over my hands to stop the shaking.

"Baby, please," I mouth. "Tell me who the bastard is, and I swear, he'll never see sunlight again to touch you." Forcing myself to stand up, in a matter of seconds, I sit on the couch, and she's moved on my lap. I think I'm losing my mind each time she looks at me, and I don't know who to kill. "Just tell me a name, Y/N."

She finally stops crying. Fuck.

My heart jumps each time she attempts to speak but is unable to due to the silent sobs.

A few seconds pass.

A few more, too.

Eventually, I feel a hand pressing on my chest and immediately blood rushes straight to my cock.

Damn it.

Of course, my dick doesn't get the whole situation. It has a whole brain of its one. In fact, we are under hard circumstances right now. And surely, there can't be anything harder than that at the moment.

She hides her face in my neck. I place my hand on the back of it and wait.

I think my blood pressure is on its fucking limits when she turns to face me. "It's my ex." She blurts out suddenly. I want to laugh but I don't.

Oh this fucking bastard again... Though we were done with him by the time I threatened him with his life if he ever got close to my girl again. But he definitely isn't the type of guy loyal to anything. Not to promises, not to threats, not even to his ex-girlfriend.

"He asked to meet me. I said no, but he wouldn't understand. He was waiting outside my place this morning, claiming he'd like to talk. I wanted to get away from him, but he grabbed my arm and..." her voice breaks.

I hold her for a few seconds as the sobs initiate again. Afterward, I get up and make a very important call. Returning, I am very pleased to meet a much-better-looking, without-any-tears woman sitting on the couch and scrolling through her phone.

Noticing me, she looks at me. I try to smile. "He'll be dead till midnight." Sitting next to her, I take her on my lap and kiss the dry tears off her cheeks.

And then I start undressing her, not because my dick is asking for it since one hour ago, but because she seems in the mood for it.

"I just want you to fuck me, Lewis." She says as I press my palm around her neck and spread wet kissing along her breasts. "Fuck me like you hate me."

I smile. "Baby, I could never hate you."

"Just do it for an hour," she moans against my ear. "Please."

I stop to look at her, laughing. "An hour?" I rise my eyebrows. "Love, you underestimate me."

She laughs too, and we're off to upstairs, where one of the mansion's bedrooms is located.

I want to make love to her, truth to be told. Passionate and delicate. But she asked for a rough fuck.

She knows I'm a man capable of doing both. So I proceeded to doing them.

[meanbossart]

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

[nomoreusername]

The Fandom Versions of TMR Characters

The TMR fandom is amazing. It has a significant number of great people. It has some very talented editors and writers.

However, like every fandom with a good following, it has its issues. One of its worst ones is honestly one of the most obnoxious things one can have in my opinion.

It has awful mischaracterization. It's less of completely changing a character's personality and more of going off one trait and making that all that they are.

It feels like Thomas gets portrayed as an idiot who only asks questions or doesn't ever listen to anyone. He also gets called overrated even though he's the main character of the series.

We first get introduced to him when he's a Greenie with no memory (except for his name in the books). Of course he’s going to want to know what is happening to him. The Glader's start out revealing very little to not intimidate the Greenie's which has to be frustrating. While it is clear he wants to figure almost everything out throughout the series, that's a very human trait. He’s also definitely not stupid. WCKD/WICKED picked him to work with them because they saw something in him. He is incredibly intelligent and quick on his feet. A lot of the time, he’s given no notice to make a decision. He just has to make it. Whether it's running into the Maze to save Minho and Alby, having to decide whether or not to go through with Newt’s note, or going back to the place that started all the pain and torture, he wasn't truly given time to prepare for such important and life-changing decisions. Despite this, he always did his best to make them.

Newt probably has the worst fanbase. I love him as a character. He’s been through so much and is still doing his best to keep everyone in line and afloat which is extremely admirable.

The problem is that people water his character down. They’ll treat him as though he isn't a Second-in-command, the second longest surviving Glader, a suicide survivor, and resilient to the most dangerous situations.

Newt is not someone who would need protection. If anything, he was a protector. He would have to do things such as banish Gladers (his friends), to protect the other ones. He was a Runner before he got a limp. He stood up to Thomas in the movies when he thought he was just being paranoid, showing that even though he does love his friends, he isn't afraid to confront them if he thinks they are wrong. The way he still remains loyal to the people he loves when he does though, is another trait that deserves more acknowledgement. He went out of his way in the movies to hide that he was slowly dying in front of everyone’s eyes and losing his mind just for Minho. He never expected to make it but didn't care. In the books, he lied to his friends about being taken to protect them from himself. He’s so strong, self aware and beautifully written.

Minho is sarcastic and does have witty comebacks. However, he’s so much more than that.

He was the Keeper of the Runners. For around three years he was not only doing the most deadly job, but training others to do it as well. He wasn't allowed to have fear or be weak in the Maze. Not when the cost would have been his life. Something more complex about him is the way he covers up his actual emotions. During Chuck's death in the movies everyone else is allowing their tears to fall. However, he closed his eyes so he wouldn't cry. Whether it's because he doesn't want to cry in front of people or just doesn't want to cry is uncertain, but both are painful to think about. Another thing about him is very subtle character development. When he first gets caught in the Maze, not only does he give up at first, he at one point leaves Thomas and Alby behind, showing his intense desperation to live despite him wanting to stay realistic. In the last two movies we don't see any other instances of him being willing to accept defeat or leaving others behind. While he may have been given the tag ‘the leader' it isn't something that could ever or should ever be denied about him.

His bond with Newt is also something that honestly deserves more recognition. From the way he dropped to his knees in the movies to how Thomas didn't tell him how he really died due to how much the two cared for each other, they are nothing less than platonic soulmates.

Gally gets a lot of hate. He’s seen as angry and ‘that character who killed Chuck’. In a lot of ways though, I think he's one of the most logical, relatable, and realistic characters.

While some people think he just randomly hated Thomas and Teresa, that's not at all true. In the movies, he seems civilized with him when they first meet. While his action of shoving him before he could go into the Maze may have seemed performative, the fear was most likely needed for Thomas to grasp the gravity of the situation. He can also be seen shaking hands with Thomas in Greenie night after the fight. In the books, he went through the changing. He was stung so he got some of his memories back the way Alby did. He told Thomas that he recognized him from those which was why he was suspicious towards him. His concerns were valid. Everything did change after Thomas and Teresa, and a lot of Gladers ended up dead. At one point, they had both worked for WICKED/WCKD. Something was up with them, the exact way he said there was. If someone came to my home and changed everything I knew I wouldn't trust them either. He cared for the Gladers and wanted the people he lived with for years to stay safe and be alive. He didn't want to just kill Teresa and Thomas. He wanted things to go back to how they were in a sense. He was afraid of leaving his home. He was afraid of change, the way so many people are.

He didn't kill Chuck. He would never hurt Chuck. In the books, WICKED had both him and Chuck under their control. In the movies, he was stung, meaning his actions did not belong to him. Even then, he was not aiming for the sweet kid. He was aiming for Thomas, who in his mind at the time, was one of the ones who had started him and his friends years of pain and suffering.

Movie Aris is my favorite. He is very sweet but the way people will describe him as innocent is wrong.

I do consider him and book Aris two different characters. So for now, this is strictly about him in the movies.

He’s seen alone when we first meet him. His friends are gone, and people are talking about him like a circus animal so it makes sense why he wouldn't want to be around anyone. He’s generally quieter than a lot of the main characters so he can get mistaken for just a background character. However, he literally got everyone out of WCKD. He never got any recognition for saving them, but he still did. When he does open his side of the door for everyone to get out there is at least one unconscious, previously armed guard on the ground, with his weapon now being held in his hand. This shows that he is capable of taking care of himself despite his at first glance passive demeanor. He knows to break the control pad to buy everyone time and books it. What must be less than an hour later, he’s helping take down Cranks with a single bat, also showing quick thinking from the way he knows to trip them so they could focus on getting away. Not to mention, he’s doing all of this after finding out his friend (and possible lover) is going to die. On a lighter note, we see his face light up and how much he talks with Sonya and Harriet when they all meet again, showing that he's not afraid of speaking to others. He just has a few and specific group of people he feels comfortable actually talking with, which is literally just being an introvert.

All of those are why he is not innocent or in need of saving. He knows how to look after himself and others.

That's just the basics of The Maze Runner fandom's mischaracterization problem.

[desire-mona]

things abt dps i feel like we dont address enough (photos attached will be shit quality, i took screenshots from yt clips LMAO)

heavily ib @pencileraser1's post abt stuff he noticed n such

the fucking KIDS at welton. the CHILDREN. maybe its just me but i always find myself forgetting that welton isnt a highschool + there are in fact a lot more students than the ones we're focusing on. thats what makes welton so like. evil? to me? they start pushing these kids into a box EARLY.

related, i wouldve LOVED to see how(/if?) keating taught these kids, or rly any other class! he has other classes!!! i think!

ok. of course. neil is a smoker, we've touched on that. but charlie is too?? and he's the one who provides the cigs???? obviously the easy explanation is that he does it to be rebellious and stuff but also Is There Something Else. much to think abt. also wondering where he gets his cigs but thats not rly anything i dont think.

this ones just funny but when mr perry tells the boys they can take a seat and todd simply does not. i KNOW he wasnt sitting before and he needs to unpack and stuff but ITS STILL FUNNY.

"take your seats boys"

"🧍"

also my guilty pleasure is the dps but its todd being anxious video bc man usually crack videos arent my jam but unfortunately i find it so funny

also!!! neil calling his dad sir. obviously its something so glaringly obvious that we dont need to have a discussion abt how theres a disconnect between them. like wow rly thanks mona i didnt know. but come on!!! it makes me sad!!! also they shake hands later in this scene and its the most affectionate/ friendly we see these two get. and its a handshake. and i think what makes it worse is that neil is a SUPER physically affectionate person with his friends. if u watch the movie and pay attention to how often he's touching someone else then ur gonna be like man. he rly was jumping at every opportunity huh.

something about the way neil and the boys act around mr perry makes me view him as more of a drill sargent than anything. everyone immediately stands upon him entering the room. they dont sit until given permission. it rly puts the whole military school thing into perspective but NOT ENOUGH TO SATISFY ME. as much as i hate mr perry, i wanna know what his life was like growing up. this man lived thru the great depression AND wwii, theres stories.

cam's stupid fucking face when keatings behind him larping ghosts. i will never stop talking about how sassy this kid is. the dps redheads go criminally unacknowledged in terms of comedy because OH MY GOD. CAM AND MEEKS WERE SO FUCKING FUNNY??? they both pulled the most dastardly judgemental looks and they make me cackle. a bit earlier in this scene meeks goes full 🙄🤨 on sniffles (tissue kid. i call him sniffles) and it is, without exaggeration, my fav part of the movie.

the fact that i totally thought knox was gonna fall off his bike and eat shit in this scene. it would be so out of place since dps isn't exactly full of physical comedy but GOD i still fully anticipated it. either that or him getting attacked by a bird. theres totally symbolism surrounding birds in this movie btw and idk what to make of it. if any of u lovely ppl have a theory then lmk immediately.

keating so accurately calling cam out being like "is this right is this right. am i walking right." BC YESSS. i will eventually make a fully fledged cam post but to briefly touch on it, i find cam to be very confused on what is right, usually in terms of morals. a whole situation of confusing your personal values with the rules, thinking theyre one in the same, and completely abandoning what u actually believe. unfortunately i think neils death rly amplified that nd is what led him to tattle. cuz cam is still willing to break the rules in the beginning of the movie!! he's outwardly judgemental but he still does it!! much to discuss, i promise i will eventually.

keatings face after todd yawps!!! theres not much to say here he is just so proud!!! sweet little moment!!!! keatpostin!!!!!!!!

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

u guys know im an avid knox hater but this made me giggle. rip knox overstreet u wouldve loved twitch streaming.

THE SPECIFICS OF THIS SHOT. i was gonna make a post a while ago being like "idk i find it funny that the main focus of this shot isnt even one of the poets" and then i realised that WAITTTTTTT THATS THE POINT!!!! keating reached kids besides the poets!!! u didnt have to be in the dead poets society to be affected by the way he taught his classes!!! u just had to be his student!!!!! also i love the fact that the kids who stayed seated r ASHAMED. EMBARRASSED.

the ending shot. oihghgghgg. it was SUCH a choice to set it up this way and honestly i adore peter for making it. this shot is SOOOO UNCOMFORTABLE TO LOOK AT and i love it. when i first watched this i was like "uhm ok interesting choice putting todd between this kids legs but I GET IT. one of the biggest things i remember from the film classes i took is that the way u set up shots is sooo important narratively, and one way to rly push the narrative is the space around a character in a shot. for example! if u have a character on screen surrounded by a TON of negative space then it rly emphasises how alone/ isolated they are. on the other end of the spectrum (the todd spectrum), if you surround a character in a shot with other objects or obstructions, like todd and this kids legs, then it rly emphasises how trapped and confined they are. looking at this makes me feel like. claustrophobic almost, like it's genuinely a bit harder to breathe looking at it. TODD IS STILL TRAPPED IN THAT SCHOOL. YES HE STOOD ON THE DESK AND YES HE NOW HAS THE MOTIVATION TO BE MORE CONFIDENT BC OF NEIL BUT HE! IS STILL! TRAPPED THERE!

more on todd since im on a roll here.

i was also gonna add that we dont rly talk about todd personality wise outside of poetry and anxiety but then i realised, what else is there? we dont really see much about him as a person outside of that, and i think thats the point! todd is constantly overshadowed by his brother, we know that, but i dont think we realise HOW MUCH that ties in with his entire character. quite honestly, outside of poetry and anxiety, ALL we have surrounding todd is his brother and his achievements. and of course! that makes sense! his parents want him to be just like his brother, they dont care about who he is as a person. UGH.

the desk set scene rly is the most insight we'll get into todds actual personality and desires imo, and thats what kills me. he wants a car!!!! get this boy a car!!!!!!!!! we rly see him start to open up before neils death and i wouldve LOVED to get to know todd when he's actually in a place to be himself!! but of course we never got that! sobs.

anywho. thats all i have for now. PLEASE share ur thoughts if u have any pls pls pls. encouraging discussion!! i love love love hearing about the specifics nd stuff, theres soooo much to pick apart abt this movie so i wanna hear everyones thoughts.

[izzabela]

Hear me out:

Bi-han and a reader who can turn into a polar bear similar to Halsain in BG3, and they have twins who are now turning into bear cubs themselves already. Now is a good time to teach the kids how to bear.

Lesson Number One - shifter!Bi Han x shifter!GN!reader

in which you and Bi Han have kids, and their powers are just now shining through

a/n: hear me out- yes. although, i have never played BG3, so the shifting thing is gonna be more fiction and... nonBG3 canon?

ship[s]: shifter!bi han x shifter!gn!reader

warning(s): none, reader is called "mama", bi han is chill with family

When you and Bi Han agreed to have kids, you should have known his little sack-swimmers were powerful.

Your twin children, a beautiful girl and darling boy, were the spitting image of him- the only defining feature of you in your kid's genomes was your chin and lips. Everything else about your kids just screamed Bi Han.

You were expecting ease when raising them, but why would you considering the man you married and his generational job?

The Lin Kuei were ninja assassins, also capable of shifting into a multitude of different animals.

You were able to shift into an arctic wolf. Strong legs, a good sense of smell, and agile, you were a great asset on the field.

Bi Han's animal counterpart was a polar bear (do I need to explain why?). It fit him well, as the raw strength in the animal aided him in missions where death was a risk.

Another risk you should have thought about was the possibility your kids would inherit zero, zilch, and nada about you.

Including the animal they could shift to.

It was that time in a young shifter's life, around ten years old, where their body begins to tweak out on them and involuntarily shift between human and animal form.

It all started with a scream and cry into yours and Bi Han's shared bedroom. You two had woken up, but decided to stay in bed to just talk about things.

Clearly, you guys should have gotten out of bed.

"Papa!" you daughter sobbed. Her little feet pitter-patter against the cold floor as she covers her ears. In matching pajamas, her twin is right behind her.

Bi Han is frantic at the yelps of his kids. Despite being the grandmaster of a formidable clan, one that demanded a sort of cold to remain in power, he would never do what his father did to him and his own siblings.

"Papa help us!" your son wailed. He's cradling his hands in his chest, but in front of both of you he shows what was being hidden. He's got paws where his hands were supposed to be.

Although frazzled, Bi Han assessed the situation with careful eyes and caring hands. He remained level-headed, and you were by his side as he softly pet his son's paws.

By his side, you took your daughter in your chest and pat her head softly, her hands not leaving the sides of her head.

He took in account his kids' fear, the fact that they wake up without their human body parts can definitely shake someone up- no less a child.

Your daughter looked at you, fat globs of salty tears rolling down as she nuzzled into your tummy for warmth. You hugged her, of course, but you felt something wet prod your belly.

You slowly peeled your daughter off you, and see her cute nose was replaced with a wet black one. You try to hide it, but your face has subtitles, and there clearly wasn't mistranslation when your daughter saw your face.

She gasps, touches her nose, and begins to cry even more. She's wailing, asking why her nose was black, why it was flat, and why she couldn't change it back.

You also realize why she held her head at its sides- her human ears were gone. Your eyes shift up and see her bear ears, flat on her head in fear.

It tore yours and Bi Han's hearts in half. Although, it was a hilarious predicament. No, you were not laughing at your children's torment, just laughing at the situation.

"Bi Han?" you nudge him. "Shall we take this to the courtyard?"

He nods, "Of course, àirén." He takes his kids up in each of his arms, your son on the left and your daughter in his right.

You accompany Bi Han's left side, comforting your quietly sobbing son. He was more feely, and was in touch with his emotions just like his Uncle Tomas.

When you four got to the courtyard, you find Kuai Liang and Tomas training initiates already. Their agile ears pick up on your footsteps, and they turn to greet the Grandmaster and his family.

"Brother!" Tomas beams, and Kuai Liang bows. When going to greet their niece and nephew, they're shocked to see their faces turned away.

"We woke up to a bit of a problem," you chuckle, taking your son out of Bi Han's arms and placing him down.

Both men take a look at their niece and nephew, eyes scanning over the parts of them that changed. They chuckle, and Kuai Liang kneels to pat your daughter's head.

"You have the same reaction your papa had when he first turned," Kuai Liang recalls the memory.

Bi Han is flustered, huffing as his head is turned away and arms crossed over his chest. You giggle and calm him down, arm slipping through his and rubbing up and down his muscles.

"Have you two nothing better to do?" Bi Han grunts.

"He jests, brother," Tomas says. "However, if you so wish, we will take our leave."

They bow and move their trainees to another part of the palace. Bi Han finally lets his guard down, kneeling to his kids as he begins instruction.

"This is nothing but normal," he starts, "But we must work together on this." You children nod and get in position, separating themselves with enough room to shift.

"It comes from here," you point to your own head. "Just like your brain decides what it wants for dinner, your brain also decides what it wants to change into."

Bi Han nods in agreement, "Your mama is correct. You must command your body with your mind."

Bi Han takes a couple deep breaths, clearing his mind of any thoughts that aren't related to the task at hand. He grunts, and in a blink of an eye, he's become a polar bear.

Your kids smile in wonder and excitement. I mean, if their papa can do that, who's to say they can't?

Bi Han walks to your side and sits next to you. In his bear form, he is still quite large. You pet his fur, coarse to other but soft to you. He grumbles and purrs, leaning into your affection. You both watch your children's attempts like this.

Your son is the first to go. Like Bi Han, he takes deep breaths to empty unnecessary thoughts. He keeps his breathing steady, also changing forms, but he can only manage so much.

It's incomplete, but it's a good start. Your son's human ears are replaced with the bear ones, and his arms and legs have become hairy with the white fur of the bear. It is his human torso and head that remain, and your son is incredibly disappointed.

He is downed by the uneven weight of the polar bear arms. His bum lands on the slated floor roughly, and more tears come through as he begins to wail in pain and embarrassment. Your face wrinkles into a frown with sad eyes, and you shift into your foxy form to calm your son down. His eyes are brightened slightly as he watches your form circle him, your head nuzzling into his side as you try to help him up.

Your daughter watched this all in front of her, and she becomes determined to do better than her twin. Focusing her breath and energy, she tries to shift her body into a bear like her papa. Unfortunately, it is no better for her.

Your daughter's ears and nose remained with the polar bear features. However, she could feel a noticeable itchiness at her legs under her pajama pants. With eyes open, she's panicking as her hands have also become paws. Just like her brother, she begins to cry at the unfamiliarity of her powers and body.

Despite her disappointment, you and Bi Han are proud at your children's attempts. As you are busy with your son, Bi Han comes up to his daughter still in his bear form. His mouth carefully grips onto his daughter's shirt, and he lifts her up effortlessly back to her feet to try again. Bi Han's bear tongue licks the new tears that fall from his daughter.

While they are occupied, you and your son keep working on his transformations. However, it is evident he is tired. The fur that is present, on his body has become matte and flat, and your son's tired eyes are even more proof. Shifting out of your fox form, you take your son into your arms and carry him.

It seemed Bi Han had the idea, your daughter cradled in his arms as she rests. You chuckle at the sight, taking this opportunity to plant a quick kiss on Bi Han's lips. It surprises him, but he gives you another in return. The lovely display of affection is a good look on Bi Han, and it swells your heart full with love and peace.

"We should have had breakfast before such practices," you sigh, walking together with Bi Han and your children in hand. Bi Han agrees, and it seems someone has beat him to his plans on feeding his family.

Overtaking the tasks of the kitchen, Kuai Liang and Tomas are cooking up a heavy breakfast for you guys. Congee, baozi, jianbing, youtiao, plus an assortment of fruits and veggies to fulfill the other parts of a healthy plate.

"We figured you all might be starved," Kuai Liang mentions, spatula in hand as he plates the last of the baozi.

Tomas nods, "I mean, you guys just woke up. I was honestly surprised you went ahead like that, brother."

Bi Han finally takes note of his clothes. He's still in his sleeping hanfu, and it's slightly disheveled due to his shifting.

"Ah," he simply notes. However he doesn't go to change, he just sits at the table with his daughter asleep.

At the smell of food though, she's up and wide awake. She yawns and takes a good look of her surroundings, and once her eyes land on the food, she's grabbing at it like a starving animal (literally).

The dining table, the personal one at least, is a huge circular table. It has six seats encircling it, one for each member of the immediate family. You took a seat next to your husband, while Tomas and Kuai Liang sit opposite to both of you. As casual chatter begins, your sleepyhead son is up too, rubbing his eyes to rid him the temporary blindness.

"Mama, are we eating?" he asks you quietly, and you nod with a baozi in your hand to feed him. He simply takes the bun, thanking you quietly, and situates himself on your lap facing everyone else at the table. He waves to his uncles, and his head is ruffled by his dad as he continues to eat.

Not even an hour later, almost all the food is gone. You can attest that to Kuai Liang and your daughter, both of them having large stomachs that could probably fit a whole boat if they tried. The only thing that remained on the table was a singular baozi, and your twins were eyeing it like a hawk does a mouse.

At the same time, your kids lunge at the plate, your daughter laying hands on it first. She wriggles out of Bi Han's lap, running away from her brother to feast on her victory food. Alas, the steamed bun was knocked out of her hands by a tackle, and you and Bi Han are out of your seats when you hear an "oof" from your child.

On top of your daughter was a polar bear, albeit a polar bear in between its cub and subadult form, but no less a polar bear. You and Bi Han are shocked at the fact your son managed to turn into a bear, but the worry isn't over yet.

"Come now, children," Bi Han gently coaxes. You copy him as well, trying to get your kids out of a fight. Tomas and Kuai Liang are at the ready, in case something happens.

And something does.

In a flash, your daughter had changed into a polar bear as well. At this point, your kids had forgotten about the steamed bun they were fighting over, and they began to fight in the dining room.

You try and split them up, but it's futile against the pitchy groans and animalistic growls that come from your kids. Bi Han takes matters into his own hands when your kids growl against your attempts.

Bi Han lets a ferocious roar out, shifting into his bear form to get in between the feuding siblings. Finally, they concede, but it isn't without consequences or excuses.

"It is one thing to talk back to your parents, it is another to growl at them!" He yells as he shifts back into human form. Your kids' heads dip and hide under their paws, and Bi Han just sighs as he kneels to his kids.

"However, you two have done well in your lessons with us," he says softly, "Haven't you looked at yourselves, children?"

You laugh as your kids are examining themselves. Perfectly, they had transformed into their bear forms. They run around excitedly, now playing with one another as they celebrate the passage of their shifting lessons.

You join them in their celebration as well, shifting into your fox form as running around both of them happily. They swat at your tail, even chase you around the dining room, their dad, and their uncles. You're smiling as you shift out of your form, head leaning on Bi Han's arm as you watch with pride at your kid's talents.

"They are naturals," Kuai Liang praises. "Similar to someone I know." He gives Bi Han a knowing look, to which he shrugs and smirks.

"They are my kin, of course they excel in everything."

You four follow them as they exit the dining room and make it to the courtyard. Bits of snow are on some patches, and the revel in the element as they roll around in it.

Your joy is cut short with an important question from Tomas.

"Did you show them how to shift out of their forms?"

You and Bi Han groan in unison, and Kuai Liang shakes his head with a bit of laughter.

Guess your lessons aren't over yet.

=====================

is BG3 fun? i don't have anything to play it with, but i only know it because you can have intercourse with a bear

also i hope you liked this fic, anon! i did add my own creative liberty to it if you don't mind

anyways, i've got my queue lined up with more finished fics, so i hop you guys enjoyed this and i'll see you in the next fic!

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Seventeen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

She never did call.

Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.

It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.

Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it 

He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.

Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.

When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.

Are you busy?

The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.

She’d heard it.

She’d heard the demo. 

He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.

His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.

Can you come over?

His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.

Give me ten minutes.

He could do ten minutes. 

Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.

So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.

She called and he would come running.

…

It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.

Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath. 

He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.

There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes. 

His heart was pounding like mad. 

He knocked. 

It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door. 

The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.

She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.

Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.

Matty paused. 

He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.

But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside. 

Matty stepped forward, reaching for her. 

“Tell me to stop.” He muttered. 

She didn’t. 

And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.

“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth. 

And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish. 

He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.

Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.

She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan. 

It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now. 

“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood. 

“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging. 

A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin. 

She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so. 

It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.

“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck. 

Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.

He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs. 

One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door. 

He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed. 

It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket. 

She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.

“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”

She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him. 

Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long. 

He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.

He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.

“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.

But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared. 

He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door. 

“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was. 

Her smile was soft then. Fond. 

His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.

“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”

She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.

He saw her throat bob. 

“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer. 

He nodded, blinking owlishly at her. 

They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.

She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.

He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him. 

“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.

“Tea.”

…

Her kitchen always felt so homely. 

She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy. 

His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her. 

He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.

And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.

He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.

She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.

It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.

They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.

She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.

A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.

He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.

His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.

“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.

Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.

“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”

Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.

Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.

“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”

Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it. 

It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability. 

“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”

Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.

“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.

“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”

He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.

She laughed too, smiling against his lips.

–

For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.

Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.

Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake. 

His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.

He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.

The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.

But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.

He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.

Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.

At the eerie silence that had followed.

He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.

Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.

Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.

He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.

Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.

He’d been good. Been going steady.

Then he was just dead.

Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.

A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.

He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.

He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.

‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.

–

It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.

I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.

“Wake now?”

“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”

Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all. 

I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.

It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.

“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”

I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.

Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close. 

“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”

I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”

His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.

“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.

Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.

“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”

Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”

I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.

“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.

“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.

There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.

I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.

It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.

“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me. 

Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.

His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.

“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.

“I do not.”

He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”

I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”

“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”

He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”

A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.

“Your breath stinks as well.”

I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”

I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”

“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him. 

He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”

My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”

He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

I did know.

“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”

He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”

My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.

His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.

Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me. 

But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.

Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.

Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.

Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it. 

I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.

It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.

But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.

I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.

“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist. 

“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”

And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.

Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”

I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.

Was that normal?

Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”

“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.

He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”

I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 伪装者/The Disguiser.

The Disguiser is a 2015 spy drama set in Shanghai, 1940. It follows the adventures of four wealthy siblings, all of whom are to some degree engaging in coordinated espionage, subterfuge, and other general acts of sabotage against the brutal occupying Japanese force.

I need to mention the Nirvana in Fire connection up front, because yeah, if you've seen that, you've probably noticed some familiar faces already. And the comparison isn't unwarranted! The stories are completely different, but they're both character-driven, complex, subtly cheeky adventures that manage to keep that tense intrigue going throughout the narrative. Like Nirvana in Fire, the Disguiser's on the heftier side -- 48 episodes -- but they go by at an incredible clip, so that it never feels long.

I have done a rec post for this before, and I stand by everything I said there. However, I figured it deserved its own for-real rec post, so here we go with five specific reasons I think you should give it a try.

1. We're all comrades in horny jail

This is an intensely horny show, starting from -- but absolutely not stopping with -- the main quartet.

These are the four Ming siblings. Only the elder pair of them, Ming Jing and Ming Lou (both on the passenger side of the car), are blood-related to one another. Ming Tai (also in the back seat) got adopted into the family when he was young enough that Ming Jing's relationship to him is very maternal.

Meanwhile, Ah Cheng (driving) was somewhat less thoroughly adopted when he was around ten, meaning that he's always weirdly marginal when it comes to who actually counts as part of the Ming family. He's a brother, but also he's a servant. Sometimes he's in the family photos, and sometimes he's left out of them. His name is legally "Ming Cheng," but basically no one ever calls him that.

What this means is that you've got four incredibly attractive people who are all legally but mostly not genetically related to one another, keeping secrets both with and from one another, yelling at one another, running headlong into danger for one another, sleeping in one another's beds, and occasionally demanding some members of the family spank the others. Is it hot in here, or is it just them?

And it's not just that these are pretty people up in each other's business. Nearly every interpersonal interaction among all the main characters is at least background levels of horny, because of how high the stakes are. The tension running throughout the show is intense -- and of course it is, because these are spies in life-or-death situations, trying to keep their cool so they don't get killed. So many of the relationships are built on lies meant to charm and seduce their targets, which is of course going to be sexy. But when they're built on honesty, they're all the more intimate for that disclosure, because being open with someone about your real identity and allegiances is putting your entire life into their hands.

To be clear: When I say the show is horny, I don't mean that it's erotic or salacious, or that you're going to get a peep of anyone's naughty little comrade, or anything like that. This is the horniness of lingering glances and shouting matches and power imbalances and guns pointed at chests. It's a combo platter of smouldering Victorian yearning mixed with action-movie adrenaline. It's the delicious, redirected horniness you get when sex isn't on the (canonical) table, so all that fraught energy has to go somewhere.

Get to the part in Episode 6 where Ming Jing gets out the short whip. You'll be glad you did.

2. Bad, bad bitches

Some of the baddest bad guys in the show are ladies. In fact, I can't even tell you about all of them here because of spoiler reasons. There are two, however, who deserve special mention.

The first and most prominent is Wang Manchun, member of the Japanese-controlled government's intelligence service, who is one of the best antagonists I've seen in anything. Perfectly coiffed and devastatingly intelligent, she's a member of a powerful Chinese family who has chosen to work for the Japanese-controlled intelligence bureau. She can be genuinely warm and sweet, almost girlish even, when she's around someone she likes. She can also torture a dude to death without smudging her eyeliner.

Her fatal flaw is that she's so in love with Ming Lou -- and so mistakenly convinced that Ming Lou is in love with her -- that it makes her make some extremely bad decisions. When was the last time you saw the handsome gentleman be a honeypot?

I feel okay spoiling you about the fact that these two do not end up together. Ming Lou does not see the error of his ways and start returning her feelings -- which is what I was damn near certain was going to happen for almost two-thirds of the show. I was braced for the show to come in singing the praises of the redeeming power of heteronormativity! NOPE. She's crazy and she needs to go down.

(I do have some issues with how she goes down, but ... well, you'll understand when you get there.)

The other baddie, Nantian/Minamida, is a stark contrast to Wang Manchun. There is nothing delicate or femme about her. She gets given the worst hairstyle and the most unflattering outfits. The actor's features are already strong, and the way the show makes her up doesn't allow a single inch of softness to slip out. There is one point where she gets to dance with Ah Cheng, and she's painfully wooden. It'd be funny if she weren't so dangerous.

As the section chief of the Japanese forces in Shanghai, Minamida is a formidable foe. She's smart. She's mean. She's incredibly suspicious of all these smiling Chinese people who surround her, because she doesn't know which ones are legitimately sucking up to her and which are just waiting to drive a knife into her back. Just plain killing her would be easy. Killing her and getting away with it? That's what's going to need a plan.

The actor is also Japanese! In fact, they've gotten a fair number of Japanese actors to play the Japanese characters, but she's the only one who also speaks Mandarin competently and doesn't need to be overdubbed by a native speaker. She's scary and intense and kinda makes your skin crawl. It's great. She's great.

And while we're talking about bad girls, I'm also going to shout out Yu Manli in here, because while she's not a villain, she's absolutely a morally grey character -- and I love her to itty bitty bits. She's about three inches high and weighs about five pounds soaking wet, and she will murder the heck out of you. Baby girl.

3. It's queer in here

The original novel is not danmei. No boy-kissing has been censored, because there wasn't any in the first place. The author/screenwriter is a lady, but not one who dabbles in BL. This does not merit the "Censored Adaptation of a Same-Sex Work" tag on MyDramaList. Censorship didn't do anything to this one. It was never gay.

That said, the show is massively queer, in that it lauds textually the normative experience of getting married relatively young and having lots of children -- and then gives you so many characters, both heroes and villains, who don't do that.

I mean, we've got:

Adult unmarried siblings living together

A grown woman who has intentionally remained unmarried in order to manage her business and family interests

Two adult brothers, both bachelors, who basically live in one another's back pockets

In fact, plenty of people who seem to have forsaken marriage and children in favor of their various active patriotisms

"Life and death partners" who have to fake-date their way through a couple spy missions

A teenage girl sold into sex work who offers to marry the man who saves her and is politely turned down for her own good

The same teenage girl pulling a black-widow routine and using multiple other marriages as a pretense to murder dudes

A couple whose marriage is forbidden by their families, except they do not end up together

A guy who has to break up with his real girlfriend so he can pretend to be with the spy colleague he lives with

A single woman who adopts a child

Two orphaned young adult siblings who adopt two children not that much younger than they are

A heterosexual relationship between people who are functionally equals in their various underground organizations (which don't want their members having romantic relationships with anyone)

A note on that last one: There is a cishet normie love story that runs the length of the show. A lot of people dislike it; I think it's cute and fine! But no matter what you think of it, you have to note the sharp contrast between this prescriptive tale of young love and everything else that's going on around them. There's a lot of lip service paid to how their marriage and the children they will presumably have someday are the ideal, but it's certainly not the only way people live, or even live well. In fact, everybody else treats their romance a little bit like oh, thank goodness he's doing this so we don't have to.

Other aspects of heterosexuality are similarly praised in concept, but not really shown in the best light. There is a lot of filial devotion involved here, but overwhelmingly toward parents who are dead. Living parents, by and large, either are absentee or just plain fucking suck. The show even has very few married characters anywhere in its principal cast, and most marriages that even get so much as mentioned either are portrayed as scummy (because the husband sucks ass) or ended because one of the partners died. Even the very idea of marriage, while praised in theory, doesn't thrill most of the characters. At one point, when Ming Jing brings up the idea of Ah Cheng's getting married, Ah Cheng cannot extract himself from that conversation fast enough.

What this really does mean is, when it comes to heteronormative ideals, the show frequently says one thing and does another.

Do I think the show is queering things on purpose? Absolutely not. This is instead one of those situations where there's such an underlying assumption that heterosexual desire and family unit construction are universal constants ... that the show barely actually gets around to portraying those things as good.

What you get instead, then, are a lot of powerful interpersonal ties that cannot be satisfied by marriage. The most intense loyalties in the show are between people for whom heterosexual pair bonding is not a social or narrative option. Therefore, those intimacies form along different pathways, many of which fall way outside the socially acceptable parameters of marital respectability and reproductive obligation. People love one another fiercely in sometimes unconventional ways. It doesn't get much queerer than that.

I'm also going to put the phrase "the inherent eroticism of letting someone who loves you shoot you with a sniper rifle" right here and walk away. Perhaps it will intrigue you. Perhaps it will intrigue you extra to know this happens more than once.

4. Jin Dong in menswear

That's it, that's the selling point.

Okay, wait, I do have something to add: In a sea of strong performances, his is arguably the best. He absolutely nails this tone of quiet, competent exhaustion the whole way through, making his Ming Lou this perfect gentleman on the verge of collapse.

You learn (somewhat confusingly) in the very first episode that Ming Lou is an important minister for the economy under the new (Japanese-controlled) government in Shanghai -- except, no! He's actually secretly the captain (codename Viper) of the local KMT division, working to undermine the occupying Japanese forces -- except, no again! He's actually -- and this is the real one this time -- head of intel (codename Cobra) for the Shanghai CCP underground.

(I bring up the codenames because my first time through, I didn't fully realize that they were attached to his different identities, and I just thought the occasionally spotty translation couldn't agree on which English word to use for the same snake.)

Living this three-identities-deep life is taking its toll on Ming Lou, but you know what? He's also a damn professional. He comports himself in exactly the manner he's supposed to behave at all times. And Jin Dong sells it beautifully, this carefully restrained exterior that houses a passionate heart.

This to me is the reason his relationship with Ah Cheng is so precious: Ah Cheng is the only one who understands, because Ah Cheng is living the same life of nesting-doll secrets. It's easier on Ah Cheng, though, because he doesn't have to be the face of it all; he just gets to smile and do whatever his da ge tells him to. They are each tasked with taking care of the other in ways great and small. I'm not going to spoil its context, but one of the most powerful moments in the show is when Ah Cheng says matter-of-factly that he knows his life is worth less to Ming Lou than other people's are, and Ming Lou, to put it mildly, pointedly disagrees.

So yeah, this is The Ship.

If you consider their relationship entirely fraternal, theirs is an incredible dynamic of trust, dependence, vulnerability, and sacrifice. If you consider it fraternal and spicy, well, it's still all that, but also enjoy picturing them tenderly removing each other's really nice suits piece by expensive piece.

5. You gotta spy hard!

Imagine the spy media spectrum where at one end you've got James Bond and Mission: Impossible movies (sexy, glamorous, high-tech), and at the other end you've got the Rebel and John LeCarre novels (grueling, well-reserched, realistic). The Disguiser is well toward the latter end of that continuum. It's got a bit of a Hollywood gloss on the whole mechanics of spywork, but man, not much of one.

Despite what the title suggests, most of the spies in this show are exactly who they say they are. Ming Tai is the only one of the siblings who assumes temporary false identities as part of his spycraft, and even he really can't do that anymore once he's back in his native Shanghai, where he's the recognizable youngest son of a prominent family. They all have to be spies in plain sight, which is equal parts a hindrance and an asset. You've got to see Ming Jing do-you-know-who-I-am her way out of some shit. It's great.

There are some legitimately tense scenes and escapes, and I like that most of the threats are overcome by quick thinking and very good acting. The schemes that our heroes pull off work because our heroes understand what makes certain people tick, and other people can't pull that shit on our heroes because our heroes have one another. It's smart spywork that stops short of being grandiose. Even the big plans that involve several steps rely less on supernatural feats of timing, and more on just trusting human nature.

The show is definitely spinning a propaganda yarn about how the noble Communists saved the day during the '40s, and in doing so it takes some pretty entertaining liberties with history. Even so, the particulars of the political philosophies are absolutely secondary to the conflict. You're never going to get a scene where two guys excitedly detail just how much Mao rules. At best there's some blah-blah about freedom and love of country that could be transposed onto any nationalist ideology without a lot of work. If you asked me, based only on information provided by this show, to explain the difference between the KMT and the CCP, my main answer would be, one group uses a code name that's one kind of snake, while the other uses a code name that's a different kind of snake.

And honestly, it's kind of nice. All you really need to know is that the Communists are cool, the KMT are okay but definitely less cool, and the Japanese and anyone who works with them fucking suck. I can do that! I grew up in a sports-watching family. I'm used to being sat down in front of the television and told, we want the guys in the blue uniforms to beat the guys in the white uniforms. No sweat.

The plot does fall down more than a little bit in the final act, due to a combination of intentional obfuscation on the drama's part, a couple things that probably should have happened onscreen instead of off, and a sudden rash of stupid-ass decisions made by one character in particular. But by that point, you're invested enough that you might as well see it through to the end, right? The dismount's a bit shaky but ultimately satisfying, as the genre goes.

I'm going to say the same thing here I said in the Nirvana in Fire rec post: This show is not for everybody, but if this is the kind of thing you like, it is a fantastic example of that thing.

bonus: And speaking of Nirvana in Fire...

Here's the full set.

Basically, if you watched Nirvana in Fire, you owe it to yourself to see the Disguiser. It’s another smart, character-driven drama, and you get to see a lot of your favorite actors in radically different roles, costumes, and relationships. (And speaking of costumes, both shows apparently have the same costume designer? That's range.)

Going to give this one a shot?

It's unfortunately a little hard to find. In my region (i.e., the US), KissAsian and YouTube are as good as it gets, both of which have their drawbacks. Some others among you may be lucky enough to be in a region where Viki will show it to you (which is where the KissAsian subs come from in the first place). There's a horrible set of machine translations running around out there, so beware of those; you'll know immediately you've tripped over those when they don't translate any of the onscreen text crawl at the start.

And speaking of the subtitles: Both extant sets, to put it politely, leave something to be desired. You can generally tell what's going on, but there are times you'll have to work for it. This is definitely more annoying when you're trying to follow a smart spy drama than it is when you're breezing through a low-intensity fuzzy xianxia mess. You actually have to pay attention to this one.

As a bonus, pretty much the whole thing was filmed in Shanghai Film Park, so if you're missing Dragon City, well, here it is! This was in fact the first Republican-era show I saw after watching Guardian, and I spent a lot of time going, hey, I know that street! ...like a nerd.

You can feel the brotherly love.

[mariacallous]

(JTA) — The Jewish French-Moroccan journalist Ruth Elkrief — who has delivered TV news in France for over 30 years — found herself at the center of the story when she was placed under police protection in December.

Elkrief received the security detail after an online attack from the far-left politician Jean-Luc Mélenchon. In a post on X, formerly Twitter, Mélenchon charged her with hatred against Muslims after she challenged one of his colleagues during an on-air interview about the Israel-Hamas war.

“Ruth Elkrief. Manipulator. If we don’t insult Muslims, this fanatic is outraged,” Mélenchon said of the journalist, adding that she “reduces all political life to her contempt for Muslims.”

Mélenchon, leader of the far-left party La France Insoumise, known as LFI or, in English, France Unbowed, posted his comments moments after Elkrief conducted a heated interview with LFI lawmaker Manuel Bompard on her TV channel, La Chaîne Info, on Dec. 3. Elkrief asked Bompard about his party’s refusal to condemn Hamas and its characterization of the militants as “resistance fighters” after their Oct. 7 attacks on Israel. She also asked about the party leaders’ decision to describe Israel’s war in Gaza as a “genocide,” and whether this language might provoke civil unrest in France.

In response, Bompard referenced warnings from the United Nations that the Palestinian people were at risk of genocide without a ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas war. Elkrief in turn quoted the French historian Vincent Duclert, who has said of Gaza’s high death toll, “Even a frightening humanitarian situation is not enough to qualify as genocide.”

Elkrief, who says she “came out” as Jewish to her viewers after Oct. 7, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that she merely did her job of debating an interviewee and dismissed Mélenchon’s accusation of Islamophobia. According to Elkrief, she was challenging the positions of France’s far-left political class — not French Muslims, whom she does not believe to be well represented by LFI even though nearly 70% of them voted for the party in the 2022 national elections.

“Most French Muslims don’t support Hamas and they don’t support all these catastrophes,” she said. “They can of course fight for a Palestinian state — and I agree with that — but they are not agreeing with Hamas and terrorism.”

Nonetheless, Mélenchon’s charge prompted a wave of threats against the Jewish journalist and raised an alarm for French Interior Minister Gérald Darmanin. Darminin said he decided to provide police protection because Mélenchon “put a target on the back of Ruth Elkrief, who already faced many threats as a journalist [and] was just doing her job.”

The government was on high alert for domestic attacks responding to the Israel-Hamas war. Mélenchon’s statement came the day after a knife-wielding man killed a German tourist and injured two others near the Eiffel Tower, telling police he was angry about the fate of Gaza and “so many Muslims dying in Afghanistan and in Palestine.”

While it’s typical for domestic attacks to increase in France during conflicts in Israel and the Palestinian territories, a recent surge in antisemitism has been especially pronounced. Darmanin reported over 1,500 antisemitic incidents in the six weeks after Oct. 7 — a three-fold increase from the total documented in all of 2022 — including desecrated Jewish graves and the stabbing of a Jewish woman in Lyon whose door was marked with a swastika.

Whether or not Mélenchon planned for an antisemitic backlash against Elkrief, his choice of language on X was loaded, according to Dorian Bell, a professor researching France’s history of race and antisemitism at the University of California, Santa Cruz.

“To accuse a Jewish member of the media of ‘manipulation’ arguably draws on long-standing antisemitic tropes about Jewish control of the media,” Bell told JTA.

Mélenchon’s words landed in the middle of a polarizing fallout from the Israel-Hamas War in France, home to one of the largest Muslim populations in Europe (about 5 million) and the world’s third-largest Jewish community after Israel and the United States (about 500,000).

French authorities met the wave of antisemitic incidents with a crackdown on pro-Palestinian rallies. Darminin attempted to impose a blanket ban on demonstrations denouncing Israel’s military campaign, which he declared “likely to generate disturbances to public order.” Although the ban was overturned, local authorities can still block protests on a case-by-case basis, prompting an outcry from some French citizens who accuse the government of suppressing free expression in support of Palestinians.

France’s Jews and Muslims have both experienced a painful recent history, including institutionalized discrimination against Muslim immigrants and Islamic terrorist attacks that targeted a Jewish school in 2012 and a Jewish supermarket in 2015. The reverberations of the Israel-Hamas war in France have further shaped a perception, solidifying for decades, that the country’s antisemitism and Islamophobia can be collapsed into a Jewish-Muslim conflict.

Michel Wieviorka, a Jewish French sociologist who studies violence and terrorism, told JTA there is no evidence that antisemitic incidents are predominantly driven by French Muslims. In fact, most of the perpetrators behind the recent spike in incidents — particularly non-violent ones, such as property damage and graffiti — are unknown. Between Oct. 7 and Nov. 15, 1,518 reports of antisemitic acts resulted in 571 arrests, Darmanin announced in November.

“Nobody knows exactly who is acting,” said Wieviorka. “Many people believe that most of these acts come from people with immigrant origins, but they can also come from the extreme right. For instance, I know some cases of destroyed graves in Jewish cemeteries — these attacks usually come from the extreme right, not from Muslims or Arabs.”

For Elkrief, Oct. 7 marked a turning point both personally and professionally. The 63-year-old journalist was born in Meknes, Morocco, and moved to France with her family when she was a teenager. (A remaining synagogue in Meknes bears her family name.) She started her long career at the French desk of the Associated Press in 1984. She spent 14 years at TF1, the oldest TV channel in France, helped found two news channels — LCI in 1993 and BFM TV in 2005 — and has hosted an LCI show about French politics since 2021.

She is also the great-niece of Chalom Messas, who was Morocco’s chief rabbi in the 1960s and 1970s until immigrating to Israel in 1978, when he became the chief Sephardic rabbi of Jerusalem. Elkrief is part of France’s small Liberal Jewish community and maintains Jewish traditions, keeping kosher at home and gathering the family for Shabbat evenings — including her two daughters and a newborn granddaughter. (Liberal Judaism in France is most similar to Reform Judaism in the United States.)

In all her years on air, Elkrief never spoke about her Jewish identity on TV before Oct. 7. She felt obliged to keep a “poker face” about her private life until the Hamas attacks, when she was moved to share more — fueled by her fear of rising antisemitism and enabled by her recent position as a commentator.

“I could explain where I was coming from and how much I was anxious about antisemitism in France after the 7th of October,” said Elkrief. “I called it my ‘coming out.’ I’ve since had some opportunities to speak about the conflict as a French editorialist, but also as a French Jew, for the first time in my life.”

On Oct. 9, Elkrief told her viewers that she was born in Morocco and lived there until early 1974, when she was 13. Her parents, both descended from generations of Moroccan Jews, feared regional tensions in the aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, when Israel fended off attacks from Arab countries. They went to France because they believed their children would have a safer life there.

“When I came at that time, I couldn’t imagine that there would be antisemitism in France,” Elkrief told JTA.

Worried about antisemitism gaining currency in French politics, Elkrief has criticized far-left factions heavily on her show. In addition to her dispute with Bompard, she blasted LFI for boycotting a march against antisemitism in November.

France’s traditional left, which encompasses socialist and communist parties, has nearly collapsed and left the more radical, controversy-dogged LFI in power, said Wieviorka. Meanwhile, the far-right National Rally — including anti-immigration leader Marine Le Pen, whose father and predecessor is a convicted Holocaust revisionist — has escaped the same censure for antisemitism during Israel’s war on Gaza, largely by proclaiming support for Israel.

“My idea is that they hate Arabs, Islam and migrants so much that they consider they have to be fighting on the other side,” said Wieviorka.

Bell cautioned against focusing exclusively on what is often described as the “new antisemitism” on the far left. The “old antisemitism” on the far-right never went away, he argued, but has only been masked by pro-Israel sentiment. Indeed, Bell said that historically antisemitic tropes — particularly those depicting an invasion of Jews too different or unassimilable to become truly French — have merely been recycled by the far-right to stigmatize Muslim immigrants.

And even if this narrative now primarily targets Muslims, Jews are not free from the conspiratorial discourse, said Bell. He pointed out that while members of the National Rally may not explicitly attack Jews, they sometimes use euphemisms for Jewish “elites” whom they blame for engineering mass migration, in a French version of the “great replacement” theory that has fueled violence around the world.

“When Marine Le Pen talks about ‘cosmopolitan nomads’ who are encouraging migration and destroying European nations, she has a tendency to mention Jewish French political figures — Jacques Attali, Daniel Cohn-Bendit,” said Bell. “I don’t think that’s an accident.”

Elkrief and Mélenchon have one thing in common: They are both among the estimated 836,000 Moroccan immigrants in France. (Mélenchon, 72, was born in Tangier and lived there until he was 12.) Elkrief said she is a strong believer in the “Republic,” which in France denotes an idea that there are only equal individuals in the public sphere, no minorities or ethnic groups. The country’s principle of “laïcité,” loosely and imprecisely translated as “secularism,” enshrines in French law the state’s neutrality between religions and confines religious symbols and practices to the private sphere — a pillar that Elkrief believes can protect France from discrimination against both Jews and Muslims.

“I don’t want to be defined by my religion, and I don’t want other French people to be defined by their religion,” said Elkrief. “I believe in the French Republic staying a space of debate, where religion is a private question.”

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 11: map / word count: 755 cw:implied sexual content

The situation is this, in two days it's the wedding of his two best friends IN THE WORLD, which is wonderful and James is so excited for them after all they had to go through to get to this moment. He honestly loves them from the bottom of his heart, but maybe he would love them more if they hadn't decided to have the wedding IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOTHING. When they decided to have it in France since Sirius and his brother lived there with their uncle from the moment they ran away from their parents' house, the idea sounded sensational, but upon discovering the great little detail that it would be in a small rural village with zero signs in English, James slowly began to panic a little.

And here he is now, without a map since his phone lost all signal and internet access and subsequently ran out of battery, stuck in an old unheated rental car on a dirt road waiting for an endless flock of sheep to cross and not knowing a lick of French apart from "Bonjour" which won't help in this situation. Oh, and it's now pouring. Fantastic.

And you see, of course James has already considered going out and shooing the sheep out of the way, but contemplating he doesn't know where he's going, that wouldn't be good for the sheep who are probably just trying to get back to their pen, or anyone else. That's the only reason, of course it's not because he's afraid of the sheep. Definitely it isn't. 

When the daylight was almost completely gone and James was resigned to die waiting there (why do they need so many sheep in such a small town), a tapping on his window made him jump out of surprise at the thought that the sheep had finally agreed to hasten his death. A horse and its rider were standing by his window, but in order to see his face James had to roll down the pane and poke his head slightly out of the window.

"Vous avez besoin d'aide?" 

James had never regretted not speaking French as much as he did at this moment. The man on the horse looked like something straight out of a "Horse and Rider" magazine, but hotter. With his shiny black boots, wet shirt clinging to his body highlighting his strong arms and abs, and black curls accompanied by the most stunning pair of silver eyes James had ever seen in his life. So what if he wants this god to fold him in half? Sue him.

"Sorry, I don't speak French," James said sadly, putting an end to his fantasy.

"No problem, I just asked if you needed any help." replied the man on horseback in such a fluent way catching him off guard, but with a divinely thick accent. Fantasy resumed.

Oh, a deity had definitely decided to come down from Olympus to personally help James.

Later, inside the castle that Reg called home, and insisted on taking him because, and quoting him, "it's dangerous to drive around here so late at night, lots of wild animals", James emerged from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his hips, not expecting the silver-eyed man to be waiting for him with clean, dry clothes in the room. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the heat he felt as he was scanned up and down by that hungry gaze. So in a moment of enlightenment he remembered the only French phrase he knew.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?"

"God, if you weren't so hot I'd be feeling so much cringe right now."

James's prayers of being folded in half were answered that night.

The next morning, he awoke to feel the warmth on his right side move and Sirius's horrified screams.

Hold on. Rewind. 

Sirius? So he was able to find the address in the end?

"Really James? My baby brother? And this is why you weren't answering your phone? We thought you were dead!"

Oh, so it is “Reg” as in Regulus. Wow.

“I died and went to heaven.” 

And in the blink of an eye Sirius was on top of him trying to throttle him.

In the end, all the necessary explanations were given. Sirius wasn't happy at first to learn that Regulus and James could become more than a one-night stand, but he eventually accepted it and the wedding went off without a hitch.

James had never been so grateful for a flock of sheep before.

[conduitandconjurer]

I think I've figured out one thing (beyond that .... "ending" ....) that bothers me about TUA s4 and Klaus.

It seems like the popular dichotomy, in terms of his characterization, is "fearful of life because he's mortal" versus "careless and effectively invicible" and that somehow being divested of his abilities would pave the way to healing and guarantee sobriety. Klaus's rage at his family for saving his life by returning his powers is proof enough that HE believes this. Alongside this is the presumption that all of his character development last season, mastering the gift of immortality, is itself--RATHER THAN THE WAY THAT HE MASTERED IT (by being led on and used by Reginald, and made to equate his worth with his usefulness/skill)--should be nixed. It's bad for him to be porous to the veil between life and death. It's bad for him to be immortal. He can't "deal with it" and he'll go on a bender the moment it's restored. His unwillingness to drink the "marigolds" (until he's dying and forced to do so) is supposed to be proof of this.

I have some qualms with this line of thinking, despite its solid attempt at showing character development.

I think Klaus is braver than people give him credit for WHILE he is mortal. Friends have posited (and I agree with this part) that he becomes very high strung and phobic about any form of injury or illness because even though mortality is scary to someone who just found out he was immortal...and then lost that immortality...he also feels he has CONTROL over his own body and mind and life that he was NOT afforded when he could be possessed by ghosts and used for his conjuring powers (both by family and predators). And I've been harping on Klaus's need to actually have agency and grant consent since that squicky Ben-possession joke in season 2. But, agh.

To begin with, I don't think Klaus is 'afraid' of life (or at least that the fear is unwarranted or laughable) so much as he's forcing himself to endure what he KNOWS is deeply perilous and unfortunate t unlucky people like himself, without resorting to the powers that also open the door to substance abuse. Of all of the Brellies, he tries the hardest, the most often, to break patterns, when he sees that there is motivation to do so (more on this later). He is hardcore and brave as fuck, rubber gloves or not.

But is it really a good thing, or even necessary for Klaus as a character, to equate no powers with guaranteed sobriety and powers with falling off the wagon? I don't think it is.

Unfortunately, this is hard to glean from the audience pov, because all we're given in this season is the most extreme, toxic, abusive, stomach-turning example of how his powers can be abused the moment they return--and how, of course, this exacerbates relapse. We get the whole 'have sex with his body while the deceased possess it, for drug money" subplot. We get him getting so desperate for the cycle to end that he begins inviting harm and self-harming out of some grim hope that his powers will fail (getting shot in the head scene). And he needs the drugs that this awful situation provides BECAUSE OF said situation. Compound upon that the PAST trauma that it's opening back up like a raw wound (literally, from at least the age of 8). Of course Klaus is using because of his powers, but because THEY'RE BEING ABUSED.

Klaus's abilities don't guarantee a fall off the wagon. His low self-esteem does, and the inability of anyone in his life to communicate with him or intervene does. When (deleted but still important scene) Lila's relatives are calling him, in front of him, a loser junkie (etc), and he says, "Yeah, that's....that'd be me," Klaus is mortal. We see the cogs in his head turning: yeah, I'm worthless, what's the point. And it's already too late right there, unless someone intervenes.

"What's the point," AND NOTHING ELSE, is Klaus's kryptonite. And he isn't a fatalist by nature, I'll (controversially, I guess) add, but there are things nobody can endure forever. Klaus, like any addict, is there because of underlying core beliefs about himself and about his ability to change his circumstances. What I love about the deleted scene that shows Klaus INSISTING on having his AA meeting is that he becomes his own advocate, because well, the Hargreeves are "all assholes" (well spotted, Klaus, lol) in their own ways, and each has to be their OWN intervention. This has more to do with self-determination than it does with seeing ghosts. The cause and the remission of Klaus's addiction is deeper-seated than powers that are given and taken away at surface level.

Why is this so important to me? I guess because to me the powers Klaus never asked for still remind me of something perhaps not initially intrinsic to someone's being--but still something they have to integrate into their lives in order to go on living. I think it MEANS more to fans who identify with Klaus (at least it does to me, someone with debilitating chronic illness) that he be able to transform his abilities into a strength that is, to Klaus and his loved ones, benign, while also not letting it become the central facet of his identity. He IS a medium, but he is also OTHER things. He is a human being, and all human beings have many interests, roles, and hopes.

The precipiating events of Klaus's trauma are NOT his ability to see ghosts or resuscitate. They're the abuse inflicted by those who would use Klaus for their own gain. Why should he give up his powers in order to heal, just because Reginald is an unconscionable monster who was willing to kill his own child over and over and over? I wish Klaus himself had had this epiphany before the show ended.

Losing his powers for good would certainly be the quickest route to healing and growth, and fine, if fans like it, go for it. To me, though, it feels like "don't ever wear crop tops because if you do, you won't get SA'd." Like, no. Maybe the world needs to operate by a kinder standard. Maybe Klaus needs a real support group, a better family of his own, to help him contradict his feelings of self-loathing. Maybe he needs the AA counselor to stay when he shows up for his chip. Maybe he needs reliable transportation to and from. Maybe he needs to move to a different city. Maybe he needs to chat with some of the ghosts he sees, and start a fucking Tuesday evening afterlife meditation circle. Maybe he can get a cheap apartment and fill his living space with succulents that he has to be held accountable to feed and water and keep ALIVE. Maybe he should become an AA counselor and help other people go the right direction. Maybe he should resort to poetry or knitting every time he has an urge to use, and that can become a healthier compulsion. Maybe someday he can get a kitten or start dating again (someone alive, in this century). What Klaus needs is to have MORE in his life to define him than his powers and how they can be used for the benefit of others.

Maybe the TUA writing staff is weirdly sadistic and won't let any of that happen. But by God, we can. And it's important. It's important that healing and remission not be dependant on things others can bestow or take away (like powers). It needs to depend on something internal, an "internal locus of control," as the CBT shrinks call it. THAT is having control over your own life.

[ender-reader]

DP X DC/Marvel Prompt 1#

sooo I've had this mind obsession about giant fluffy monsters so why not jam Danny and DC/Marvel into this mess to make a cool prompt?

Summary: Danny's been sealed away in an ancient temple. someone (could be a hero or a scientist that deals with ancient stuff, i forgot what they're called) finds the entrance but cant go past that. they call Batman/Tony and/or Constanaine/Dr.strange for help(probably along with one of the batkids or Spiderman). Chaos ensues.

What exactly happened to Danny: Danny's been sealed away in an ancient temple during a a time mission from CW that caused him to go in his eldritch horror form and getting sealed away in a temple using chains and of course: Blood blossoms but not to the extent that they continually hurt him, just enough to keep him sealed away, after all: if you hurt a baby ghost, it probably wont end well.

Note: this can be ghost king danny if you want.

and i know i got the characters wrong but im trying, its been a while since i watched marvel

onto the somewhat detailed prompt:

DP/Marvel(or DC, just change who the characters are):

Wang (i think that was his name? the guy that always doubts dr.strange but helps him anyways) has picked up a strange magic signature somewhere around Egypt, after he decided to go and investigate himself, he found an entrance to a sealed ancient temple with a few dead bodies nearly hidden by sand. When he tried to enter, he felt death magic pulse through him and he quickly moved his hand away, whatever was in there, whoever put the seal on this temple wanted to either keep whatever's outside out... or whatever's inside in. he didnt like this not one bit, he does the one thing that would make sense (kinda in his deep opinion): he goes to Steven Strange.

"So your telling me, that you found an ancient temple that's radiating 'infinite realm' kind of death magic and tried to enter it ON.YOUR.OWN?" Strange said rubbing his nose bridge with a sigh. "I dont get whats wrong with that? Death magic's still magic and you two are wizards." Tony said raising a judgemental eyebrow at Strange.

"yes thats true, BUT, infinite realm magic's not like normal magic, not even normal death magic." Wang explained raising a finger at the 'but'. "so? its still magic? or does it have diffrent properties?" Peter, tired of only listening decided to start asking some questions to understand the situation better.

"to understand infinite realm magic, first you need to know what are the infinite realms" Strange countered with a heavy tone, looking at Tony and Peter.

"Strange, we are not to speak of the dead so openly" Wang hissed turning to look at Steven. "oh come on, they're gonna find out eventually and you know it, better they know or one of them gets killed trying to find out." Strange said furrowing his brows glancing around him as if expecting something to attack him. Wang only grumbled sitting on a chair that was not there before.

"the infinite realms is a realm between worlds, like a pocket dimension. it is also known as the realm of the dead, the realm of ghosts, souls, and spirits. it is neither heaven or hell, it is were the dead go when they have too strong obsessions that keep them going, it is where the dead go when they don't want to let go of their life. it has its culture, rulers, ghost types, Gods and Goddesses called Ancients, islands of different shapes and sizes. it also has: A Ghost King, one who rules all the kingdoms, tribes and all ghosts in the infinite realms. they have the title of High King. They run on a substance called ectoplasm, which can be considered the main source of infinite realm magic.

Do not mess with the dead and they will not mess with you. Don't engage with infinite realm inhabitants because the risks are far too high. The last high king was Piriah Dark, he went mad and devoured worlds, not much is known about the new High King, all we know is that he was only around 2 death years old which in on its own baffling." Strange said crossing his arm, his voice was heavy with danger and seriousness.

"so we DON'T mess with the temple?" Peter asked curiously. "..." Wang and Strange didn't know how to answer that.

i cant help but imagine this scene happening:

Danny: *giant chained eldritch horror* *narrows eyes and hisses*

Bruce/Tony, Constantane/dr.Strange and Zatanna/Wang: "..." *intimidated and are ready to fight if needed*

one of the batkids/Peter: "...omg its like a giant kitten!" *proceeds to pet said giant eldritch horror*

the adults: "..." *horrified

Danny: "..." *purrs*

if someone uses this please tag me and maybe send the link please?

[mixtape-racha]

it's a scream, baby! | hyunlix

chapter fifteen: what's your favourite scary movie?

words: 1.66k // warnings: kidnapping, graphic character death, guns

OFFICIAL GHOSTFACE KILLCOUNT: 012

(a/n: the final chapter is finally here!! tysm for coming on this crazy journey with my ily all so much)

she was in a state of utter shock, convinced her eyes were betraying her. there was no way felix - the boy who’s virginity she took only days before, who wouldn’t even look at someone with anger in his eyes - could be capable of something like this.

on the other hand, she felt so completely betrayed by hyunjin. the same hyunjin who had promised to protect her after kissing her and spending the night cuddled up in her bed, was the same man who had a knife pressed against her side.

it was overwhelming and exhausting and so, so heart-wrenching. she couldn’t even begin to comprehend it, feeling like her world was shattering around her. two of the boys she had trusted with her life, with everything, had taken that trust and destroyed her.

it wasn’t until after hyunjin had clasped handcuffs around her wrists that she realized they weren’t through with their vindictive scheme. before she had a chance to gasp, or fight back, a thump sounded where hyunjin had hit her over the head, and the world slowly started going black.

—----------------------------------------------------------

she reawoke a while later, disoriented and confused. the room was dark, and as she strained to move, she realized she was tied to a chair in an empty room of a desolate house. the door swung open, and she flinched as hyunjin and felix walked in, throwing their now unneeded ghostface costumes to the side.

“oh, hyunie! look who finally woke up!” felix giggled, coming over and crouching to pet her cheek - which caused her to forcefully pull her head away in anger. “got us worried, angel, thought jinnie had underestimated himself and hit you too hard.”

“fuck you.” she spat, glaring at hyunjin from where he stood at the edge of the room, her body radiating with anger and disgust. she gasped when felix slapped her in response, his pretty face curling up into a scowl.

“that’s no way to talk to me after all we’ve done for you. such an ungrateful brat, aren’t you?”

“back down, felix.” hyunjin called, rolling his shirt sleeves up as he approached the two of them. “its not her fault, remember? we’re just protecting her from the nasty men out there. why don’t we take you down to the bedroom, hmm? let you have a nice shower before we sit down for dinner.”

his attention turned to (y/n) at the last few words, and she almost got whiplash at the difference in their tones. were they trying to pull a ‘good-cop/bad-cop’ situation? because it wasn’t working. but nonetheless, she agreed. any opportunity to get out of the binding ropes cutting into her skin was good enough for her.

deciding her best course of action was to stay quiet and behave, not wanting to make them mad and risk them hurting her - (y/n) let her head hang as she trailed behind hyunjin with felix close behind her. trying to take in her surroundings, she assumed they were in an apartment but she didn’t know who’s. they were contained on one floor, and she was lead through the bedroom to reach the bathroom.

the apartment was mostly empty, other than some basic furniture and appliances. the curtains were all drawn, so all the light was coming artificially from lamps spread throughout the rooms. as she was pushed into the shower, felix smirked, holding the door open.

“want any company? don’t want you to get all lonely in here.”

she quickly chose to ignore his words, half-relieved when hyunjin pulled him away. the taller boy threw a towel and some basic pajamas onto the bathroom floor before giving her a stern look.

“you have 15 minutes. you even think about trying to escape and i’ll drag you out of here by your hair - all showering alone rights revoked.”

and with that, the door swung closed, leaving her alone. she hiccuped down a sob, not wanting them to hear how distraught she really was. showering as fast as she could, it wasn’t long before she was dressed in a loose shirt and cycling shorts, being dragged to the living room for “dinner time”, as hyunjin had called it. her appetite had evaded her, but she forced down a few mouthfuls to avoid felix’s wrath - he seemed to be ready to fight at the slightest hiccup, and she was far too exhausted for it.

by the time the next morning had rolled around - not that she got much sleep, the kidnappers taking shifts watching her to make sure she ddin’t escape - felix seemed to be in a much better mood. she entered the kitchen to see him humming while making breakfast, his smile widening when he saw her.

“morning, precious. sleep well? hyunjin wants to see you in the spare room before breakfast - wouldn’t tell me what though. don’t keep him waiting, yeah?”

“no need, felix.” hyunjin’s voice sounding from behind (y/n) made the girl jump, as she turned to face the taller boy. “situation’s changed. lets eat.”

breakfast went by fairly uneventful, felix barely able to get two words out of hyunjin, while (y/n) kept silent as she slowly ate her food. honestly, nothing interesting happened for a few days after that. it was (y/n)’s third day trapped in the apartment from hell, and a fight had broken out between hyunjin and felix. they were both yelling, spit flying everywhere as they got in each others’ faces, pointing and yelling.

(y/n) tried her hardest to stay out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the middle - or worse, have their anger directed at her. she pottered around the apartment, cleaning up and doing chores in hopes it was dissipate the anger when they noticed. but, god knows, it didn’t. hyunjin stormed off to the bedroom in a huff, and felix stormed out of the apartment, making sure to slma the door extra hard behind him.

it was a few hours later when felix returned to a silent and seemingly empty apartment. he knew he was in the wrong, that he shouldn’t have snapped at hyunjin, but would the older boy really have left with you? and risk everything they’d been working for?

he sighed as he flipped the living room light on, confused when it wouldn’t work. muttering, he tried a few other light switches around the apartment with no luck. what a piss take, why was this happening today of all days?

he reentered the living room, trying to light one last time, before he heard a noise behind him. he stood still for a second, before slowly turning the be greeted by the sight of (y/n) pointing a gun at him. actually, the gun she had used to shoot him in the shoulder, the one she’d stolen from changbin’s house. he chuckled, going to make a move towards her, but stopped when he saw hyunjin appear behind her with a devilish smirk on his face. felix’s face dropped, confusing flooding his features.

“what’s going on?”

“oh, lixie,” (y/n) pouted in faux sympathy. “you didn’t really think you were in control here, did you? hyunie, sit him down for me, won’t you, pretty boy?”

hyunjin moved faster than felix could have anticipated, and before he knew it, the shorter boy was tied to the same chair that (y/n) was when she first woke up in the apartment. his throat went dry as sandpaper when he felt hyunjin press a knife against his neck, his eyes almost bulging out of his head as (y/n) approached them.

“you look confused, love,” she giggled. “let me spell if out for you. i won. this is my game of chess, and i just reached checkmate. hyunjin over here was happy enough to play out my perfect plan, and you were just stupid enough to follow along his words like law.”

“what the fuck is going on, (y/n)? let me go, I’m serious.”

“oh, but i can’t! not when you’re so deeply involved and could spill it all. i mean, after all, i have a storyline to execute and i can’t have you ruin it, so one more persons’ blood on my hands won’t hurt too much.”

as realization dawned on felix’s face, he spluttered, words failing him. all he could do was stare in shock, praying hyunjin’s hand didn’t slip.

“i mean, come on, felix. you’re so keen to prove yourself, and you had no qualms turning to violence and taking a few lives. i let you have your fun to get what i wanted, and now i have no use for you. hyunjin’s different, thought - its always been him, and he was willing to do anything to prove that. i’ll keep him around, but i can’t justify the risk of you going to the authorities, can i?”

it was her all along. felix couldn’t believe it. all of this, all the pain and hurt and anger - it was all by (y/n)’s manipulation. how could he be so foolish? how could he have fallen for her innocent act, all her empty words? and now he was paying the ultimate price.

“put the dust sheets down, hyunjin. i don’t want the ruin the couch.” she smiled as hyunjin taped over felix’s mouth with a large slab of duct tape - effectively silencing his screams. hyunjin quickly followed her words, standing behind her once he was done.

“i’m so sorry, felix. you really did have a lot of potential.”

his eyes widened as the gun was raised again and aimed between his eyes, a single bullet leaving the chamber and going through his skull.

(y/n) sighed, dropping the gun and wiping her hands, grinning as she turned to face hyunjin.

“well, now that’s over, let’s get out of here, baby. i’m thinking somewhere hot - maybe south america.”

hyunjin smiled back, pulling the girl into an intense kiss, his hands caressing her waist.

“we can go anywhere you want, pretty girl.”

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

FINAL GHOSTFACE KILLCOUNT: 013

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