#take another step

[glazeliights]

unmasking.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good morning, Sleepyhead.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[soupysundae]

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

[qqtape]

raiden from that one invasions scene

[xochimillilili]

Wanna care for my pup, give him some hours where he has no need to use his brain. Have him let out all those thoughts inside his pretty little puppy head, just in my arms, safe and protected even when I'm drawing blood.

Starting off gently, treating him so softly as we make out, groping, biting and slowly getting his brain fuzzy. My fingers hitched on the edge of his shorts, my knee pressed up against his dripping cunt, showing a promise to care for him properly as always as I meet his gaze directly

I've got you love, you're safe, I've got you. Come here baby, come close—Want me to get all those thoughts out your pretty lil head? Just have all your big thoughts n worries fall back for a bit, just have to be a good puppy for me sweetie? All you gotta do is say please~

Kissing him softly once more before giving it my all, being the knight and protector of his body even just for a bit. Making my precious pup the most pleasure and love I can. Seeing him feel good, knowing I can keep him safe and smiling and enjoying himself gives me the most joy. I just want to give my precious baby puppy a show of complete care and love and adoration and praise

[tiredyke]

so many of y’all are too busy trying to define lesbianism as explicitly inclusive of men and making sure we’re nice and palatable to straight people and making people feel secure in the fact that anyone can still like men, even the dykes! that you straight up ignore or erase the very prominent part of lesbophobia that comes from us not liking men, and you talk over and ignore us whenever we talk about how isolating it is to not like men when everyone else around you does because it doesn’t fit your narrative that queer labels and identities are one-size-fits-all and the mere idea of lesbians existing shatters your ideal world where everyone has wiggle room in their sexuality. reinventing the “lesbians aren’t exclusive, there’s a man for everyone! they just need to find Mr Right” isn’t progressive just because you throw in a couple buzzwords that sound good and give people warm and fuzzies

[willowser]

HMMMMMM interesting to think about arranged marriage with prince shouto...............

i think he wouldn't know. what to expect with you. i think he'd have an idea, as in, what his father, the king, has taught him; the duties of a wife, where your importance ranks in relation to his duties. what he's not meant to discuss with you, like politics and matters at court and foreign relations. how you will speak to him. what to buy in the event that you become...unhappy. a nuisance.

("and she will," enji had muttered, briefly glancing up from the parchment on his desk to fix shouto with a look he didn't understand. "they always do.")

you don't meet until the royal wedding, when you're coming down the long aisle of the grand cathedral, dressed up in a swathe of silk and lace. a thin, gossamer veil hides you from him, but he can feel the ardor in your eyes, the intensity burning through the material. it doesn't seem real until your bare face is only a breath from his own, until he has to see the earnestness in your stare, too.

your kiss is simple and chaste, nothing spectacular, something that leaves his mind as soon as it's over. ever a todoroki, a hundred other things enter his mind, all regarding his now iron-laid obligations: it's vital he meet with advisor keigo to reiterate the plan to establish his authority among the council; general aizawa is in attendance to the wedding, and shouto has not yet received word on his opinion of the new king's ideas to modernize their armed forces; midoriya is somewhere, no doubt wanting to go over state affairs again.

truthfully, shouto doesn't spend long "celebrating". there's already too much that's required of him, hardly enough time to even scarf down a few bites of the banquet laid out before he's being chartered off into discussions on foreign relations and infrastructure development. maybe once or twice does he look back to check on you, chatting pleasantly with his mother and sister at the front of the great hall, and that's satisfying enough.

it's not until much later that he sees you again; freshly bathed and wearing something sheer and long and white, atop his bed.

or his marriage bed, he must remind himself.

enji didn't spend long going over consummation, with him or either of his brothers—natsuo, red-faced and annoyed at the very subject, always storming off, and touya had seemed well-aware of the process, at the time (back before he'd been ex-communicated). it had sounded simple: strip off your dress, get his cock out and into you, and only retreat once he was sure his seed had been spilled.

—so he's not exactly sure what to do or think or how to feel, when you're laid bare and reaching up to hold his face.

it's so startling that he sits back on his knees, to frown where he's looming over you.

you stare at him quietly, like you're expecting him to say something, and he only has a moment to wonder if this is you becoming an unhappy nuisance—what had been the answer, to solve this, anyway?—before you let out a soft laugh.

"c'mere," you tell him, sitting up, too, when he keeps his distance. "i want you to kiss me."

"i already have."

"yes," you laugh again, amusement glowing in your eyes, like the warmth off the fireplace, as you reach for the ties on his trousers. "but you're meant to do it again."

and up until then, he'd felt confident in his achievements, his executions; he'd managed a lot today, in one evening, and he had a lifetime to manage more. it was a good a start as any, he'd thought, but now—

shouto almost can't get the words out when he feels your hands ghosting up the inside of his shirt, nails tickling over his ribs. "a-am i?"

you wrap your arms around his waist in what could be a hug, scooting forward to look up at him with your chin against his chest. "yes," you smile and—it's familiar in a way, how touya would whenever he was teasing. "you're my husband, you're meant to kiss me whenever i want."

that—was not something his father had ever said, he was sure, and it was a too-rare exchange between his own parents. now that he thinks about it—and he does, then, because he's faced with the reality that he doesn't know as much as he should—he's not sure the former king and queen even sleep in the same room, much less the same bed.

much less hug and touch and even smile, the way you do now.

there's no argument he can make against it, aside from finding keigo to find his father to verify the truth to such a statement, and he's only meant to retreat from this bed on one condition.

and if this is what it takes to meet that—then shouto supposes he'll have to do it, for now. he's a brand new king, after all, and it would seem he still has much to learn.

[faceeeeee]

And what if I said..

[buwheal]

Mr. Spamton, have you ever tried sewing before? The patterns some people draft up are bamboozling to the mind, for sure...

-Silly woman who tried, but only managed to stitch together lopsided "pillows" from t-shirts and stuff them with cotton balls

[rustedleopard]

martlet, trying to navigate clover through the underground in such a way that it avoids having them be detected by the royal guard: it's a shame that ava got totaled while we were steering clear of waterfall where undyne patrols and now we're no longer on a straight shot to your freedom... buuut, on the bright side, we're so far off the beaten path that we won't have to worry about too many people finding you ^v^

starlo, on stage in front of a large audience in one of the most popular tourist attractions in the underground: LOOK EVERYONE! THIS HERE IS A HUMAN! THAT'S RIGHT, A HU

[jujuprincesinhasofia]

mike s1&2 never left but I need him even more obvious in s5

"he's quiet today" "you're barely talking" I see u mike

I need the will voice to be so apparent in s5, it already is (another 90 miles, why), but for s5:

"SHUT UP DUSTIN🤬 yeah will what were u saying☺️🥰"

and then someone who didn't grow up with them, maybe Robin and Steve looking at each other like

did u hear that too 😯

i did why is no one else discussing this 🤨

maybe they're already together, remember their double dates? 🤔

noo he was still dating the eleven girl during that 😬

what? 😟

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #34)

Chapter #34. What's this? ✨🎄Has Christmas come early?🎄✨ Nope, it's still tomorrow, but hey, while you wait for Santa to visit, you can read about tiny little grumpy guys! In this chapter, Nat makes a mess, Alexander's mad about it, and someone draws blood. This is sounding like every other day in their lives at this point.

Previous: Chapter #33

Next: Chapter #35

Word Count: 4,192 Read Time: Approx. 40 mins

CW: Blood? I guess? It's like a drop of blood, people. Don't worry!

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #34: Kinstugi

[Natalie’s POV] 

I’d kissed him. And the second I did it, all I’d wanted was to do it again. He’d been so warm lying there in my hand as he slept. His mess of hair, no bigger than my fingernail, was so soft on the surface of my skin. I recalled the electric feeling that had pulsed through the tip of my finger when I glided it over the length of his back, trying so hard not to wake him. 

Over the time I’d had with him, I’d gotten used to learning how to handle and interact with someone so much smaller. How to temper my voice when I was near to not startle or overwhelm him. I’d had to memorize the right amount of pressure to pinch beneath his arms so he didn’t slip through my fingers, without bruising his skin. I’d learned how to keep my fingertips steady when trying to brush a stray lock back in place on his head, or to tap his shoulder without too much force when I needed his attention, and he was wholly engrossed in whatever he was reading. 

Though he was never particularly fond of being handled, I swelled with pride thinking about how much more relaxed he was now, cradled in the palms of my hands, than when we’d first met. 

I could feel my pulse thundering in my ears just thinking about those icy blue eyes gazing up at me from inside my gentle grip. 

I was now in a similar position to admire him, as I sat up in bed, my feet touching the carpet below. I leaned over my bedside table, taking in the sight of a man, snuggled up on his own little mattress, not much bigger than the palm of my hand. 

He slept peacefully, curled into himself with his head resting on his tucked arm, his other, draped over his side and dangling just off the edge of the bed. His covers, once pulled taught over his shoulders, had been kicked past his knees, gathered in a lump at the foot of the bed. His hair fell in his closed eyes, his lips, tinier than any part of me, were left slightly open, his chest rising and falling a fraction of an inch with each breath.

What a brilliant mind and a brave little heart. How did he not just fall apart? I couldn’t imagine life in his position. How unfair it was. How constantly humiliating. I would’ve probably just laid down and died by now, if I were in his shoes. 

You’re so much stronger than me, you know that?

As I gazed down, he twitched in his sleep, his nose crinkling slightly as his fist clenched and relaxed. 

I sucked in a sharp breath. His fitful movements reminded me so much of that first time I’d set him down in the drawer on that stupid, fuzzy, pink sock. I could recall him begging to be left out on the desk and me not even bothering to listen. God, so much had changed between now and then. 

As I watched, he tucked his arms closer to his chest, his brow furrowing even more, while his lips turned down slightly into a grimace. He slid his feet further down the length of the bed. It took my eyes a moment, because the movements were so tiny, but the little twitches of his body, I realized, were actually him shivering from the cold. 

Without hesitation, I pinched the fabric on either side of his bed, and gently lifted the covers, lowering them back down over his shoulders. He immediately gripped the comforter, curling into a ball, still trembling. 

You know, I have a much warmer place where you can sleep… 

The thought came instantly, and surprised even me. I could picture him, clear as day, nestling inside my chest, bright blue eyes peering up at me before curling up and falling asleep there. The image alone made my face burst with color and I couldn’t help but draw my hand back in a flinch of embarrassment. 

As my left hand recoiled, my fingers knocked the corner of his bedside table, kicking it off balance, and sending its contents sliding to the wooden ‘floor’ below. 

CRASH!!!!

The tiny ceramic mug and saucer shattered on impact. 

Shit!

He jolted upright, brow furrowed, eyes wide and chest heaving. As guilt washed over me for waking him so suddenly, I sat there, frozen and dumbfounded.

He looked around himself, trying to discover the source of the noise. His eyes flashed quickly to the floor below, now littered in ceramic fragments, but they soon wandered, to his left, where, caught in the act, my right finger and thumb still clutched his comforter and lingered dangerously close to him. 

He looked back down at the mess, back to my fingers, and then for the briefest moment, locked eyes with me, before turning away swiftly. I couldn’t help the heat rising to my cheeks as we both pretended not to notice the awkward tension in the room. He’d clearly made up a narrative in his mind for what had just happened. I tried to say something in my own defense, but the words just stuck behind my clenched jaw. 

As if on cue, we both frantically tried to busy ourselves with cleaning up the little broken pieces of ceramic. 

Alexander swung his legs over the side of the bed, but before resting his feet on the floor, I sucked air between my teeth, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Careful! I don’t want you to step on any of the pieces!” 

He rolled his eyes, firmly planting himself on the floor with gusto, and rising to standing, “I’m not blind, Natalie, I can see where and where not to watch my step perfectly well, all by myself.” 

I sighed, trying not to take it personally. Turning my attention to the task at hand, I licked the tip of my finger and pressed the pad down on the first tiny piece, before a little voice cut in down below.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Was that some sort of trick question? “… Just picking these pieces up?” 

“Are you coating them in your saliva? Don’t do that. That’s disgusting! Are you not going to reassemble it later?” 

As someone who was supposedly not blind, how could he not see that this tiny mug was smashed to oblivion? 

“Dude, these pieces are absolutely tiny, how else am I supposed to pick them up?” 

He huffed, clearly dissatisfied with my answer,  “Get out of the way, just let me do it.” He took an unsteady few steps forward, careful to avoid the sharp pieces, before batting at my fingers and shooing me off. 

Seeing I wasn’t budging, he ignored me and bent down to pick up a piece. I could see it pained his knee. I winced. 

“Hey, don’t strain yourself—“ 

“I’m fine, stop worrying about me all the time…” he reached for a particularly gnarly piece with a razor’s edge point. I couldn’t help myself, I swooped in and pinched it between my fingers before he could.

“Hey!!” He scowled, clearly incensed. 

“I’m just saying, this is super sharp… it looks awfully big compared to your hands. It’s easier if you just let me…” as I held it before him, comparing his size to it, his hands flew up to snatch it from me. 

I pinched the piece tighter between my thumb and my forefinger, just as he wrapped his little fist around it. His brow arched, as he scowled up at me. 

“Let go!” He pulled back, hard, but his little effort did nothing to sway me. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, I just don’t want you to accidentally—“ not listening to me, he pulled on it again, this time really leaning his weight against me. I could see him boil as he couldn’t so much as move me an inch. I pulled back in response, not hard. Or at least, I didn’t think so, but it broke his grip anyway, and he lost his balance, falling backwards as he let go of the piece. I gasped. 

Too far now to fall back on the mattress, his arms swung in the air as he tried to steady himself. I slipped my free hand behind him just in time for him to collapse into the cup of my palm. I muttered my sincere apologies as he recovered against the wall of my hand. 

He grimaced at me, “Don’t want me to what? Accidentally cut myself??” His face broke into a self-satisfied grin, as he crossed his arms over his chest. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze, down to my fingertip. 

Having successfully wrestled the piece from his tiny grip, and being distracted by his fall, I hadn’t noticed that the sharp little edge had managed to slice my finger open, and a bead of crimson liquid now bubbled to the surface. 

“Mmm, what was that, again? You were worried I might accidentally hurt myself??” He was over the moon. 

“Okay, alright.” I sighed. He kept beaming up at me, his crooked little smile lighting up his features. I kept going at his insistence, “You win. You were right. I should’ve shut up and just let you do it.” 

“Will you repeat that again and let me record it?” 

Little nightmare. I broke into a grin, shaking my head, “You were right. You’re almost always right. I should listen to you more often, but I’m just a big dumb, clumsy human. There, ya happy?” 

He pushed himself up and away from my hand, eyes gleaming. He was about to retort when I noticed the drop of blood was about to overflow and drip down the side of my finger. Letting the ceramic piece clatter back down to the table I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked to staunch the blood. 

Upon seeing this his face twisted in disgust, “Again, with the licking! Stop with the licking. That’s disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

I smiled, arching my brow. Taking my finger out, I addressed him again, “Oh? What did you say? You think this is gross?” I approached him with my spit covered finger. 

He shifted his weight back, on the defense, “Natalie… don’t you dare…” 

I kept coming closer, “What about this is gross??” He backed away as I kept closing in the space. 

He’d retreated as far as he could, when he collapsed on the bed, trying to squirm away. Getting desperate, he grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me, of course it had no more consequence than a cotton ball. Then he threw the other. He was mumbling protests, warning me not to get any closer, but I could see the smile that briefly played on his lips before he tried to hide it behind a deeper scowl. 

Before he could scramble over the opposite side of the bed, I’d managed to almost pin him against the headboard, my fingertip floating just an eighth of an inch or so over his chest. 

Suddenly, looking at him, sprawled on the bed, little ribcage heaving as his neck arched, his eyes wide and his breath panting, I felt like we weren’t just playing a stupid game anymore. The air between us was electrified, and I could feel the heat rise in my face. He flushed too, swallowing hard, gripping the sheets beneath him into balled fists. 

Then suddenly, “Y-you’re bleeding again…” his voice was strained, tight. 

Shit. He was right. I pulled back, cradling my finger to keep blood from spilling. I crossed away from him and grabbed a bandaid from the bathroom, making sure to wash my hands before I returned to the bedside. 

He was right where I’d left him, though his posture was slightly more relaxed. He watched quietly while I struggled to open the packaging with one hand, that smug little grin still on his face. 

I ignored him, all while he stared on, delighting in my failure. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

Sighing in defeat, I offered him the bandaid and my mess of a finger. He sat up, eyes aglow. I was never gonna hear the end of this was I? 

He gripped the paper package between two hands and with some effort, managed to rip it in two. Then, taking my bloodied finger in his lap, he rested his whole hand over the top of the bandaid, keeping it in place on my wound, while he reached beneath and pulled at the tab. He ripped it away in one graceful motion, even if it took him the entire length of his arm to do it. Then, he tackled the other, switching hands. Without looking up, he addressed me. 

“… It’s best that I do this for you. If I’d left it up to you, it would be a crooked, uneven mess with irregularities and folds in the bandaging. And guess who has to deal with that, up close and personal, on a daily basis? Don’t flatter yourself, this is in my own best interest. I’m only doing this so I don’t have to have my skin forcibly exfoliated by uneven edges.” As he spoke, he very gingerly and precisely folded one adhesive edge along the side of my finger, and then the other, wrapping them neatly with no overlap. I could feel my heartbeat in my finger tip, as it quickened. 

It wasn’t often that he touched me. Not willingly and not for this long. He checked his work with nimble fingers, and seeming satisfied, he held my finger between his two hands, before looking up at me. 

Suddenly, he let go, casting his gaze down and clearing his throat, “Done.” He mumbled simply. It was as though he only noticed the intimacy of his actions after the fact.

“Alexander?” I gently guided his chin with the tip of my thumb, “Thank you. That was very sweet of you.” 

He went bright red, he shifted in his seat, “That wasn’t— I’m not sweet. I told you I did it to benefit myself.” It’s like he had an instant angry button.

Uh huh. I smiled at him. His brow furrowed. 

“What??” He snapped, “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

“Always gotta be on the defensive, huh?” 

“Well in my experience with you, it’s highly necessary. Shall I harken back to just a minute ago when you tried to slather me in your spit??” 

“Alright, touché. Look. I’m sorry about accidentally waking you so suddenly…” 

He furrowed his brow as if to say, “…and?” 

“And for fighting you on cleaning up… And torturing you with germs. I owe you. It wasn’t exactly the best morning. I know we’ve got a lot of work to get back to…” 

“Yes, finally! I thought you’d never ask!” He sat up and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. 

“Wait—“ 

“Ugh!!! He groaned and immediately collapsed back against the bed. Always with a flair for the dramatic, with this one!

“Hear me out. I’d like to make it up to you with something I think you’ll be really excited about. Would you be willing to come with me out of the apartment for a little while?” 

************** 

Leave? As in… Outside? The last time we’d done that had been an utter disaster. 

Looking up at her face, though, that gleam of excitement in her eye, I couldn’t help feeling giddy too. This was new territory for me: Surprises. Well, I should say, surprises with positive connotations were a new phenomenon. 

I realized that even as recently as a few weeks ago, my stomach would’ve turned in knots at the very idea of allowing her to whisk me away to wherever she wished, and, being utterly powerless to stop her, filled with dread that it would culminate in some kind of sick joke, with me as the punchline. 

But… now?

I knew at my very core that I trusted her. Despite her stupid, tasteless jokes and misplaced worry, I knew her delight was genuine and that she really wanted to brighten my day. What a strange feeling to admit that to myself, even if only inside my own head. 

I trusted her. If she wanted to take me somewhere, I’d let her. If she told me it was worth looking forward to, I believed her. 

Did the concept of leaving these familiar walls behind for a world filled with unpredictable, disagreeable and altogether unintelligent humans frighten me? Though I’d never admit it out loud, the answer was yes. 

It was a big world out there. I knew that now more than ever before. 

But I’d be okay. 

I chose to trust.

I swallowed, “Okay.” I shook my head in the affirmative.

“Wow. Really??” 

“What? Do you want me to go or not?” 

“No, of course I want you to… I just. That was way easier than I thought. No interrogations? No million follow up questions? You’re like… cool with me just surprising you? You feeling alright?” 

“You act as though I’m some sort of rigid automaton incapable of deviation from the norm! I can be spontaneous when I choose to be. All I will say is that this had better be worth my time to pull me away from my work like this.” 

“The boring old case documents aren’t going anywhere, and I promise, you’ll love it. Get ready and I’ll meet you back here in a few, okay? Oh! And hold on…” She suddenly rose from the bedside and disappeared into the bathroom again. The sound of water running briefly hit my ears before she returned, a damp washcloth in hand. “Stay still…” she plucked up my two pillows, that had been tossed in self defense, between her fingers and set them aside, before clutching either side of my bed in a loose grip, and lifting it up off the table’s surface. I clung to the bed sheets as she suspended me and my entire bed in the air with little effort. She smiled at me, I tried to focus on keeping my heart rate down. 

Using the wash cloth, she carefully gathered all the shattered ceramic into a dusty pile. Once satisfied that the place where my bed usually lay was free of any debris, she set me back down. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

She pinched the pile of broken tea cup inside the towel and lifted it off the table, and after wiping with the damp edge for anything left, she looked satisfied, “That’s what we should’ve done in the first place, huh?” 

Then I wouldn’t have gotten to bandage your finger. 

The thought rose to the surface, unchecked. I used a hand to brush my hair out of my eyes and shake it off. It unfortunately didn’t dissipate until she finally rose from the bed to get ready. 

I wasn’t sure how much more my cardiovascular system could take these constant adrenaline spikes. I sucked in a clean lungful of air, before pushing to standing, and grabbing my crutch for balance this time, I made my way to my vanity to ready myself. 

As I washed my face, the cool water breathing fresh life into my pores, I couldn’t stop wondering just what she had planned. Was it another outdoor excursion, perhaps to a nearby park, to admire the snow on the trees? Or maybe something simple and domestic, yet still novel for me, like taking me to the grocery store and having me help her pick out her next recipe? I didn’t find the prospect of being around that many humans particularly thrilling. My mind was still abuzz when I heard her re-enter the room, her muted footsteps giving her position away, as she asked if I was ready. 

Now in a fresh pair of black joggers and a sky blue sweatshirt, (how I loathed the endless parade of elastic pants and thick, unflattering lounge wear) I turned to face her. She stood before and above me, her hands in the pockets of a lavender winter coat, a thick scarf spooled about her neck in circular layers. She laid her hand flat for me, and once I settled in the middle of her palm, my crutch over my lap, she lifted me up. She held me before her breast pocket, and my heart quickened again, remembering the recent, embarrassing bout with that region of her body. 

Still, traveling in there, where I could see and stay upright was much better than being shoved into a side pocket or purse. I shuddered at the thought. 

She pinched the breast pocket open, showing something else, shiny and plastic, stuffed inside. Seeing my confusion she clarified, “It’s a hand warmer, you know, to keep you nice and cozy…” 

I scoffed, “You don’t have to coddle me…” She pressed a thumb into my back and curled her fingers around me until my legs dangled free, as she held me about the middle. 

Slowly she lowered me into the pocket, as I continued, “I’m not that susceptible to— Oh- Oh my….” It felt amazing. 

Warmth radiated from the plastic packaging, creating a cocoon of comfort on all sides. My muscles relaxed immediately upon being fully placed inside. 

“Thought you’d like that…” She smiled to herself. Points to Natalie, she was right for once. “Come on, let’s go…” She smiled down at me. I nodded, hugging the fabric edge of the pocket to my chest as I folded my arms over the lip. She started to walk through the apartment and out the door. 

It filled me with far greater joy than I dared to admit to see the world from this incredibly high vantage point. It was much lower than her point of view, I knew, but it was still a significant upgrade for me. I used this marvel to distract me from the soft undulation of her body against my back and the thumping of her heart which I could still feel through the thick fabric of her clothes. 

She opened the door and we were greeted with an icy blast of wet, whipping wind. The second we were outside, the fingers of her left hand rested over the pocket, her index lightly caressing my elbow, “You alright? Warm enough?” The bare skin that was exposed to the elements was far from comfortable, but the rest of me was so delightfully warm that I answered in the automatic affirmative to her question. 

Soon we were sheltered from the elements inside her car. She was careful to adjust her seatbelt to keep it from crossing over me. Then, we were off, the machinery of the vehicle rumbling in the freezing air as she navigated the snow and ice on less traveled roads. 

I admit, the vibration of the car, the steady rhythm of the drum that was her heart, coupled with the delicious, manufactured warmth of the pocket made me extremely sleepy within just a few minutes of driving. I blinked hard. Fighting to stay awake. 

I woke up to her fingertip caressing my head, “Hey, good morning, Sleeping Beauty… we’re here.”  Who knows how long I’d been out. I squirmed in place, embarrassed I’d been so easily lulled to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and did my level best to wake up as she removed the key from the ignition and the great beast of machinery grew quiet. Using the textured fabric for purchase, I clamored my way back to an upright position. 

“Where’s here?” I choked out, the muscles of my face still coming to. I felt that sick twist in my stomach again. What was I about to walk into? 

Well, to put it more accurately, what was she about to walk me into? Did my palms feel sweaty? Was I nervous? Or excited? It was hard to tell. I craned my neck to look out the windshield, but it was no use. It was snowing again, in white, fluffy sheets, obscuring our view of anything beyond a few feet in front of the vehicle. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” What was it?? Why was she being so cryptic? I shouldn’t have been worried, should I? My heart thundered in my chest. 

In a blur, she exited the car, and we were thrust out into the storm, I braced for the snowflakes to sting my eyes, but when I opened them, I realized I was being shielded by a cupped hand. Thank you, Natalie. All I could see was down below: the length of her woolen coat, down, down further, far, far away to the snow crunching under her boots. What a long and terrible fall that would be. 

I watched as snow and concrete transitioned to the aluminum threshold of a door. The clear tinkering of a bell greeted us as those snowy boots landed on a maroon welcome mat and creaking hardwood floors. 

I could hardly take it anymore. Where were we?!? 

In the same breath, she lifted her hand away, revealing our location to my cautious and curious eyes. 

No... Way…

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Tag List

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[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

with Luo Qingyang and Lou Binghe having the same last name I got start thinking of an au: like what if lbh was her little brother

tho what's funnier lbh in the mdzs universe or that means tlj is lou qingyangs dad in that au

I wanted to give this a genuine answer but I kept getting distracted by Lou Binghe...so...yeah.

[garvalhaminho]

okay rick riordan doesn't owe you a hot percy jackson.

[novelconcepts]

In watching more interviews with Liv about Van and the escalation of Van's pragmatism to such dark degrees, I find myself genuinely baffled that anyone could ever think Van the bad guy. I mean, I'm perplexed at finding ANY of these girls The Bad Guy. The bad guy is the situation. It's being lost. It's freezing. It's starving. It's being scraped down to the barest bone of being alive. They make choices that might be snippy, or cruel, or hard-headed, sure--Shauna refusing to just hash it out with Jackie; Jackie being too stubborn to come inside; Taissa refusing to discuss her situation plainly; etc--but by the time we reach the end of season 2, it doesn't even matter. Petty bullshit doesn't matter. Jealousy doesn't matter. Those things are still going to be present and complicated, because--for all their choices, for all the distancing they're trying to do--these kids ARE still human beings. But it isn't the point.

The point is survival. Plain, simple, straightforward. Van's pragmatism is survival. It is the difference between living another day with blood on your teeth or dying pretty. It is the difference between fighting forward through the fire and the snow and the hell of it all, and laying down to die. Van knowing, in watching the ritual violence of Shauna beating Lottie nearly the death, that they will be killing and eating one another soon. Van coming up with the cards for the hunt. Van not blinking when the moment comes, Van choosing a weapon that doubles as a tool to bring the body back, Van refusing to apologize for staying alive--it's not evil. It's not Bad Guy behavior. It's purely about survival, because there is nothing else left to her--or to any of them. They can play the pretty little Sweet Angel Girl game and die, or they can get dirty, bloody, horrific and fight. Van chooses the fight. Van chooses to fight for herself, for her lover, for her team, even knowing not everyone is going to make it out...because the alternate path there is that no one makes it out. Van knew the baby wouldn't live. Van knows the rest of them won't, either. Not unless they start making the hard choices.

And, honestly, the fact that Van sees this narrative coming. Comes up with this plan. Brings out the cards. To me, that is the opposite of Bad Behavior. That is as close to justice as anyone can find in the wilderness. If someone else came up with an idea, maybe it would have come down to voting--but that would have had such a human element to it, with bitterness or hostility or whatever ultimately petty shit always comes of humans selecting who to Other. The cards don't leave room for that. It isn't fair, because the situation isn't fair, because Man vs. Nature isn't fair, but it's as close to a just system as they could possibly find. It's the kindest solution to an unwinnable game. Not to bring it back to American Gods again, but all I can think is "it's easy, there's a trick to it: you do it, or you die." Van gave them that.

[virune]

i don't really get how other peoples' interpretations of fictional characters is such a huge point of contention on the internet. i've literally never given a shit about how other people play with their dolls in my entire life. it simply does not have that kind of power over me. fiction is kinda supposed to be exploratory and self-indulgent and the made-up people can't approve or disapprove of how you use them either way so. why fester over it. can't be good for your mental health