#they really do these tiny character building moments well

[stark-lord]

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES 1.04 - The Case of the Lighthouse Leapers

Exhibit A for the fact that he really would let her get away with just about anything.

[primofate]

3 am brainrot

Soulmate, but Genshin Impact Style

Warning: angst (lots of potential to be fluff and comfort ending tho)

Vision "resonates" with each other and a thin red line connects your vision to their vision

Thin red line disappears, frays, or splits off when something is wrong with the connection or the other person

You can use their element and they can use yours. If you are the same element it provides an elemental increase.

Element exchange also stops or weakens when there's something wrong with the connection or the other person

There's a kind of "sixth sense" activated wherein you can kind of feel each other's psyche

Imagining what it would be like for power hungry Scaramouche to find out he has access to another element. Meets a complete stranger and suddenly he's stronger. Starts to keep you close only for that reason, doesn't care much about your well being in general. Then finding out that he can STILL use your element even if the two of you are far apart. You part ways rather abruptly, and he's not sure how long it had been when the red line starts to fray and his access to your element starts to dwindle. He doesn't think much of it, but day by day it gets weaker and day by day the red line disappears a little more. A sudden sense of "If that line disappears I won't ever be able to follow it back to y/n" so he starts following it. He doesn't really notice there's a sense of urgency in him, he tells himself its only because he wants the power back, but when he rouses from a short rest to find that the red line is gone... why does it suddenly feel like he's all alone again?

Imagining characters like Xiao, Cyno and Alhaitham who completely rejects using your element. They don't need yours. They are just fine and all is well using only their own. In a sense they take pride in what they have, and doesn't really care for what power you can give. They aren't interested in maintaining a relationship with a stranger either, because, what for? However, you're slightly persistent in at least getting to know a little about them. Just a tiny bit. But that tiny bit is enough to push them to tell you he's not interested in any kind of chit chat, that he's busy and needs to focus on other things. So you turn away. Out of curiosity one day he tries to use your element. It strangely gives him the feeling of warmth. Like someone's protecting and watching over them (and for someone who always does the protecting, this is a big deal). One day, the line breaks off, there's a clear split and he wonders if all is well. He follows the line back to you, and finds out that you've been spending a good amount of time with someone else. Someone who you smile at very brightly, and someone who is interested in getting to know you. What's he to do? This was his doing. So why does he feel like coming over and snatching you away?

Imagining characters like Diluc, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, astounded but somewhat pleasantly surprised by the discovery. He neither rejects you nor accepts you, but feels a sense of responsibility over you just because of the connection made. But because they have their own things to be busy with, they don't exactly actively seek you out or have the time to check in frequently. Perhaps it's a monthly thing, following the line and looking for you. There's a relationship that looks like the beginnings of friendship. A little awkward, asking questions and fumbling for more questions to ask. Still, something builds, and just when the ice is about to break between the two of you, he follows the line...and somehow ends up out in the wild. Your vision is buried next to a tree, for a moment he's struck with panic that he would find your body buried, but judging from how the red line was still intact, you were most likely safe somewhere... however, he would never see you anymore, nor know the reason why you decided to hide. All of a sudden he wished that he had more time. He doesn't know whether this situation was comforting or concerning. He has you in the palm of his hand, but never close enough to fill the empty gap.

Imagining characters like Zhongli, Dainsleif and Tartaglia, who, despite their appearances is instantly intrigued by the connection. They don't need the additional power, but they keep the connection anyway because they partly feel that destiny is something you can't change. The closeness between you two easily grows and here is when you first approach him with a favor.

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course. Would tomorrow be a good time?"

There's a bit of a pause on your side. "Tomorrow..." and its as if you look up at him with more sparkle in your eyes than usual. "...Yeah. That'll work. Thank you," the way you say thank you is so sincere and loving it almost brings him to a joy he hadn't felt in a long time.

He woke the next day. The connecting red line was nowhere to be found.

[bkd-b3ans]

You try to repair a watch, Boothill is being annoying as usual, you end up discovering his neurolink perfectly mimics human emotions.

-> Ship: Boothill X Mechanic!Reader (or just tech savvy idk the term really)

-> Rating: Safe for All

-> TL;DR: Boothill visits you after closing hours, nearly ruins a 5 million watch repair commission, stares for a bit too long while you work and overheats for a bit, ends up learning you live above your own workshop and you learn he gets flustered easy.

-> Extra notes: No idea where I will go with these, I just love writing stuff. Next one is going to be more about touching / feeling, but until then, you too can experience casual chatter. I do not proof read, whatever is written is in accordance to Ellios script, go meow at him. Take this "2nd" part as pure world-building.

-> Word count: 2k~ ish

-> First part: here

Thank you for reading and bearing with my awful English. If you have any prompts I would be more than happy to hear them.

"Pardner? Yoohooo~" Boothill was waving his arm like a manic from the front of the counter, trying to catch your attention, but you were too engrossed in your work, tinkering away with some expensive watch you were paid to fix, the tiny gears and springs neatly organized in your table in tiny boxes with labels, while you were hunched over the table, looking through a magnifying glass and listening to music, tongue almost sticking out like some cartoon character while you were trying to place the gear in its place carefully using some precise tweezers.

For all you cared, your shop was closed for the day, so why would anyone in their right mind, or that knows how to read a sign, would even bother you? Of course you didn't take into account a Galaxy Ranger that had a passion for annoying you at random times.

"Psst, hey, over 'ere..." he sighed, "Fudge this". Impatient as ever, Boothill just helped himself with one of the expensive motor oil cans in the counter and stepped around it, taking off his hat and placing it on your head.

The whole motion made you jump out of your skin, dropping the tweezers together with the very important, one of a kind gear, that you could barely notice while it was on your table, let alone on your floor, rolling off into the void like all of the pens you've lost throughout the years.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING WORK OF MY AEONS-" you took off the hat annoyed, hand still shaking from the scare and heart running laps in your chest. Shoving the hat into Boothills chest, you couldn't help but be angry at the man, sighing.

"Damn sugar-cube, didn't know ye were this jumpy. Ye should be more aware of yer surroundings you know?"

"What the hell does that mean. MY SHOP IS CLOSED BOOTHILL, CAN'T YOU READ??"

"Well, not your language no, it's all a bunch of jumbles and lines"

You looked confused for a moment before realizing that neither of you were from the same planet. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, trying to get rid of your furrow.

"Just, shut up and help me look for that gear. AND PUT THE DAMN CAN DOWN"

He raised his arms in defeat, putting down the can of motor oil and looking around your workbench while you were painfully looking for the gear with your magnifying glasses.

"Lotta' shiny pieces you have on the table. Are these really more important than your good old buddy, Boothill?"

"Unless you're willing to give me 5 million, then yes"

Boothill choked

"5 million?? For some beautiful watch?"

"What can I say, some people have more than they know what to do with. Now stop yapping and get on your knees, I can't see shit."

"Is that an invitation, darling?"

"... BOOTHILL!"

"Aye aye, don't get your feathers ruffled like this darling, just sit there and be pretty"

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

You couldn't help but be annoyed still, slumped in your chair, fiddling with your pen, while Boothill was looking around. How long has it been already, maybe a few minutes? Hours? Days??? Your work couldn't wait that much, and each ticking second felt agonizing. You were so close too, getting interrupted was the last thing you needed right now. You always had plans, a schedule, deadlines, you couldn't afford the unpredictability that is Boothill sometimes.

You almost got too lost in your thoughts before you heard a sudden thud, metal against wood, and a proud exclamation.

"Here it is sugar-cube, your pretty little thing... Cogwheel whatever. Now can you stop looking like someone spat in your food or do I need to repair this watch myself to make you happy?"

You could swear sometimes he was like a dog, a big doberman. For as scary as he could look sometimes, you couldn't help but be unable to push him away. All you could do was just let out an amused scoff, taking the gear piece in the palm of your hand, and gently placing it in it's box.

"No, no, you've done enough damage already. Why are you here even?"

"Just wanted to pay my best buddy a visit? What, a man can't do that no more?"

"No fixing your body? No maintenance work? Really nothing? Just a visit? Odd, thought you were a busy man"

"Oh I sure am sugar-cube, but sometimes even I need to sit down and relax."

"... In my workshop"

"In yer workshop, yes."

You sighed

"Fine, fine, stay for as long as you need, but don't touch anything that is in this-" you motion around your workbench "general area"

He tipped his hat in acknowledgment

"Aye aye, I'll stay put, fudge me, you can be very serious sometimes."

"5 million"

"Right yes, that's understandable."

You went back to work, trying to finish placing the last pieces inside that damned watch, headphones back on your ears. Boothill was simply slumped on the couch you kept around the waiting area, that barely saw any use to begin with. He was just looking around, bored out of his mind, the silence really starting to get to him. On occasion he's throw you glances, looking like a kicked puppy only to be met by your back either way. Yet he couldn't help but notice the few tics you had, tapping your foot, humming to yourself from time to time, arranging your hair by shaking your head around, and just how damn beautiful you looked in that dim warm light.

By no means we're you prettied up and groomed, after all, working with machinery all day will just lead to one always being covered by oil or sutt, clothes messy, the tools around your belt loud and heavy, but to him, it was part of the charm. The passion you had for what you did, the care you treated everything with, even his own body when it needed repairs. Sure, you two may butt heads more often than goats, but you were the reason he kept making his trips back to your workshop for any needs. He trusted you, felt comfort in your presence.

He could feel his insides start to heat up, his mind trailing off. Sure, he couldn't blush for the love of him, after all blood stopped flowing through his body long, long ago, but his body still reacted from time to time to strong emotions, and now it was no different. It felt, uncomfortable almost, a strange emptiness in his metal gut. Maybe it was the bullets he snacked in like some chips, or maybe it was more than that. He just simply pulled his hat over his eyes to focus and calm down.

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

Finally, after so many hours, you were finally done, the watch ticking gleefully, almost as if happy with it's new look. You sighed in relief, finally placing down your headphones and slumping in your chair, pulling your glasses up.

"Finally... I swear they are trying to drive me insane with all these new 'trinkets' that have way too many small pieces for their own good. How you holding up, Boots?"

"Fine as ever sugar, bored out of my mind, but rested"

"Yeah, I can see that, you've already made a dent in my couch"

"Hey, I helped ya find that gear for free, can't I get some more respect"

"And who's fault was it that I dropped it?" You said, raising your eyebrow.

"Aye aye, sorry 'bout that."

There was a moment of pause

"Say, partner, you've messed around inside my body for a while now. Do you know if there's any functions that might mimic proper human emotions?"

"Human emotions? Hmmm"

You thought for a moment, trying to remember if you've seen any kind of code that might do that.

"I don't think I've seen anything like that, but I've also never like, actually paid attention. There may be some functions that mimic that, after all, you might need them to think and work properly. Why?"

"Ah, nothing important, was just wondering."

"I can always check if you want. Of course, for a price"

He couldn't help but scoff, amused "You were never free eh?"

"Someone has to eat"

"Sure, sure. I mean why not, might as well get this mystery solved, since I'm here and have nothing better to do."

"Then come with me"

You both went inside your garage, Boothill already used to all the steps, laying down on the weird table chair as he put it while you connected the cables to the back of his neck, opening the hologram screens.

"Let's see..." you rubbed your chin, pacing around while moving around screens, trying to find anything remotely similar to what Boothill mentioned, but it was rather hard. Every line kept changing dictating different functions every moment.

"Hmm...."

"Anything the matter?"

"No, I just realized why I might have never seen that kind of function. Your neurolink is adapting to everything you do, so it's changing constantly. I think the only way to spot anything us to trigger whatever made you so curious about your 'emotions'"

"Trigger em? And how the fork do you plan on doing that?"

You thought for a moment, moving next to Boothill, dragging the screens along with you. You didn't really give a warning as you poked his chest with a screwdriver, noticing some changes.

"What in the beautiful sky are you doing?"

"There it is" you just pointed at the screen at the suddenly changing lines.

"Your body reacts to your mental state. Right now you are confused"

"I sure as warm lake I am, you're poking me around with a screwdriver."

"What else would have you wanted me to do? Touch you with my own hands?"

He was about to say something, but you grabbed one of the screens, squinting at it.

"Getting flustered, Boots?" You could almost feel your own smug smile forming on your face.

"Flustered? Please, you'd think I'd get 'flustered' from just a check-up?"

"Bashful... Interesting"

"Hey! Stop saying things and answer me, sweetheart"

"And annoyed. Yeah, you do seem to have those functions, and they're damn advanced to mimic human emotions. Guess you aren't just metal after all. You still have the ability to feel. It's interesting how this changes..."

You got too focused on the lines of code, not paying attention to how you started leaning against the table, your hand extremely close to Boothills, fingers almost touching. Sure, you were just staring at the lines changing, but Boothill was staring at your hand, annoyed almost that he couldn't just grab it, only to be confused over why he was annoyed. You just chuckled to yourself and pushed the screen away, unplugging the cables.

"Well, mystery solved, your neurolink functions exactly like a brain and it sends the proper signals, so your body will be affected by your emotions."

"Great-" he rolled his eyes, standing up and scratching the back of his head "You need a new table, this one is forking uncomfortable."

"I don't take feedback"

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say darling." he just hopped off the table, adjusting his hat.

"H-"

"1k credits"

"Damn, let me finish at least. Fine, you know the drill"

"Nah, I'll let it slide this time. Getting to check your internals can be fun sometimes" you patted his back

"I'll go home, unless you want to guard my shop, you should leave too."

"You don't just live in your workshop??"

"...what...?"

"You know, like, I've always only seen you here, where is your home even."

"Oh... Oh! I guess you can say that? My home is upstairs, I bought the whole building when I opened so everything on the ground floor is the shop, upstairs is my place."

"Ok that makes sense... Can I-"

"No"

"Fine fine, I'll go my merry way then. I'll see you next time partner, and thank you for the free check-up"

"Don't get too used to them"

He nodded, tipping his hat and leaving.

[inkykeiji]

are we having fun yet?

characters: todoroki touya, todoroki enji warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (adoptive siblings), rough sex, tw enji, fem!reader, toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy, touya’s just very mean) words: 1.7k

From the moment you stepped through the estate door, you’ve always been the princess of the family; babied to the point of patronization, pampered to the point of spoiled brat, rotten right to your sugary core.

The Todoroki family’s cherished little charity case, orphaned by a building Endeavor had failed to catch when you were only five years old, welcomed into his arms and his family and his big, big home. 

His.

Everyone loved you instantly, took to you like a swarm of maggots to a piece of fresh, ripe fruit—swathed you in adoration, gorged themselves on your sweet flesh, consumed your seeds and planted you in their hearts, let you take root, fester, grow.

Except for Touya, who, despite his big age at eleven years old—a whole six years older than you—developed a lifelong penchant for yanking on your pigtails or braids just to hear you yelp out that pretty Touya-nii!, filtered through a cutely scrunched pout. 

Everyone still loves you, even well into adulthood, desperate to aid you, to wait on you hand and foot, to take care of the poor little orphaned girl. 

Except for Touya.

Because Touya loves you even more than everyone else. Touya loves you the most. 

He wouldn’t be so goddamn mean if he didn’t. 

But regardless of how precious you are to all of the Todorokis, you are not perfect. 

And there is one teensy, tiny, slightly distasteful habit you just can’t seem to kick. 

It’s a habit you developed when you were just a child, only a few months into officially being a Todoroki.

It’s a habit you should’ve grown out of by now—any respectable young woman would have, at this point. 

It’s a habit you’ve been spoken to about several times—but, evidently, nothing quite seems to stick. 

It isn’t normal for a fully grown adult to jump into her father’s arms like that, Fuyumi had tried to explain gently, eyes brimming with sympathetic pity. It isn’t entirely appropriate. 

Maybe not. But you’re not entirely sure you care. 

Because you just can’t help it, legs taking off the moment you hear Daddy’s engine cut, bare feet padding down the hallway as Daddy’s boots collide with the cobblestone walkway, rounding the foyer corner just as he’s stepping through the front door, barrelling into his waiting arms with a syrupy sweet squeal of Daddy! sounding in your throat.

“Hey, princess,” he’s saying as he catches you, hoists you up by your armpits and cradles you to his body, large hands strong and secure beneath your bum. “How’s Daddy’s girl?” 

A routine procedure, question murmured out like clockwork, but you never tire of it.

“Better, now that you’re home,” you sigh into him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms twined around his neck, resting your head on his broad shoulder as you stare up at him. 

The familiar scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, infused with notes of dirt and rubble and a hint of sweat, and you breathe it in deeply, desperate to fill your lungs with it, that Dad Aftershave that never seems to fade, no matter how long or ruthless his shift was. 

Your ribs stretch, strain, press into Daddy’s strong chest, and he chuckles, the sound rumbling warmly against you. 

He knows what you’re doing. 

“Trying to inhale me?” he asks, but amusement streaks his tone, crystal eyes melty and lidded as they stare down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

With an embarrassed little squeak, you nod, burrowing your burning face into his shoulder, Enji laughing again; gentle, soft, full of love. 

“Y’jus smell really good, s’all,” you mumble into him. “You smell like home, Daddy.” 

“Even all sweaty and icky from work?”

“Even all sweaty and icky from work,” you confirm with a lethargic nod, thighs tightening around his thick waist, desperate to hug him closer. 

Droplets of exertion still adorn his neck, little beads glittering delicately in the setting sunlight spilling through the front windows in large beams of gold. With content humming in your throat, you nuzzle your cheek into his damp skin, smearing his sweat across your flesh, letting it seep into your tissues, forcefully marking yourself with his scent. 

“That’s gross, dad. I don’t know why you let her do that to you.” A smooth, dark voice sounds behind you, two pairs of eyes snapping to the source. 

Touya.

Leaning against the cased opening, he smirks—a cruel little curl up of his lips, sharp and void of mirth—his arms crossed loosely over his chest in practiced apathy.  

Sapphire eyes skim down your knotted bodies slow and languid, appraising, degrading, before climbing back up to meet your own stare, blue flames licking around his pupils.

“It’s not right,” he continues. He’s talking to Daddy, but his eyes haven’t left your own, the inferno blazing in his irises so bright you’re sure it’ll leave sunspots blooming in your vision.

It hurts, but you won’t bow, you won’t break—not here, not now, not for him. 

With decided defiance, you trail the tip of your nose along the sharp edge of your father’s jaw—slow, soft, sensual—planting a chaste kiss to the strong, defined hinge, steadily holding your eldest brother’s unblinking gaze. 

Oh, Touya knows what you’re doing. 

And, oh, Touya fucking hates it. 

Something sours his face, twists his features into a bitter wince—anger, or heartache, or both, morphing his handsomeness into something ugly, stained with envy.

“Oh, Touya,” Enji dismisses with a grumble and a roll of his eyes. “Can’t a father hug his little girl when he comes home? What’s the issue with that?” 

“Jesus Christ, you can’t be serious,” Touya snorts, and it’s caustic, gnawing through the heavy atmosphere. “Your ‘little girl’ is a grown fucking woman. It’s weird.” 

It’s wrong.  

“Touya’s got a point, Enji,” Rei says as she rounds the corner, lips pressed in a flat, thin line. “Sweetheart,” her eyes find yours, mouth stretching into a small, tight smile, straining beneath the pressure of contrived cordiality. “We talked about this.” 

Brow furrowing, your eyes swap between their faces. “But I’m—I was just—”

But it’s no use trying to explain; they’ve already made up their minds, already sentenced you to damnation, ice and slate scrutinizing, suffocating as their combined stares weigh down on you.

A garbled noise hitches in your throat, something that sounds suspiciously similar to unfair as you untangle yourself from your Daddy, Enji’s large hands aiding in the task, setting you down onto the hardwood floor gently.

A precious moment, smashed to bits by hard jealousy. 

An apologetic ruffle of your hair, his palm so massive it practically encases the entire top of your head—sorry, kiddo—and then he’s off, stalking down the hallway for a much-anticipated shower to wash the grime of the day from his skin, his wife following close to his side, hissing out reproaches, fragments of their conversation—discourage and indulge and shouldn’t—slicing your ears.

“You always ruin everything,” you spit at your brother, the moment both of your parents are out of view.  

“That so?” he gazes down at you with polished impassivity, sapphire lidded but scorching—but you know him better than that, you know him the best. 

“Yeah, that is so,” you seethe. “It’s so unfair that you get to fuck anything that moves but I’m not even allowed to give our father a simple hug.”

Disgust screws up his face, but it’s tinged with desolation, the implication sewn into your words loud and clear—if you could, if Daddy would let you, you’d fuck him, too.

Whether or not that’s true, whether or not it’s just a tactic to hurt him, doesn’t matter. The fact that you’re even making the implication itself is enough. 

And Touya knows better than most that these little quips, razored little insults spit between siblings, always have a glimmer of truth to them. 

“There’s nothing simple about that ‘hug’—if that’s what you want to call it.” The words are acrid, stinging his tongue, but his voice cracks, eroded by emotion. 

“What would you call it?” 

“You should be ashamed,” he continues, ignoring your question. 

“Why? It’s just an innocent—”

“Innocent?” he scoffs, eyebrows raising with sardonic surprise. “It’s indecent. Winding around our father like that, climbing him like he’s a fucking tree—” His face puckers, the thought venom in his mouth, head shaking in disapproval.

“Maybe you’re just jealous,” you say, lifting your nose with a haughty air of superiority, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the kill. “Huh? Jealous that I touch Daddy like that so freely, jealous that I like Daddy better than I like you.” 

Poor Daddy, used as a toy, a tool to wield against your big brother—the only foolproof weapon in your arsenal, the only surefire way to hurt Touya, to guarantee you get what you’re so desperately vying for.

Daddy’s Little Girl always gets what she wants—consciously or not, Daddy makes sure of that. 

Touya smirks in response; nothing more than a lopsided twitching of his lips, the hellfire in his eyes flaring, a spark of terror zipping through your veins. Huffing out the ghost of a laugh through his nostrils—humourless, bleak—his tongue runs along his front teeth, sucking hard, eyes narrowed.

You know what that means, too.

You’ll pay for that remark later tonight, face shoved into your eldest brother’s pillows, cotton wedged between your teeth as his hips smack your ass and his cock pounds your cervix and his fingers tighten around your wrists, yanking back with every plunging thrust forward, using them as leverage, your muscles pulled taut and aching. 

And that’ll just be the start. He won’t stop until his pillow is thoroughly soaked with you—your tears, your spit, your sweat, drying in hard crusts of salt—until you’re sobbing out his honorific, twined so beautifully with messy apologies, the only words your stupid little brain can comprehend, until your cute little cunt has been fucked raw, split open by his thick cock over and over and over again, stuffed so full of your big brother’s cum that it’s oozing past his shaft in dribbles of cream.

He won’t stop until your body is mangled and marred with him, dark splotches of broken blood vessels and scabby molds of his teeth reminding you of who you truly belong to.

And then, he’ll fuck you some more. 

Your Welcome Home ritual won’t be the only thing your big brother is ruining tonight. 

[nyoomerr]

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then - 

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak! 

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously. 

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing. 

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary. 

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face. 

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief. 

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much. 

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks. 

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood. 

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again. 

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and - 

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face. 

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu. 

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow. 

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him. 

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan. 

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan. 

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position. 

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea. 

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily. 

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats. 

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce. 

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground. 

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is. 

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.

[warpcoreweirdness]

just finished season 2 of Lower Decks and i'm SO glad i tried this show again

i actually started the show a while ago, but the constant easter eggs put me off.

(i still don't know how non-Trekkie viewers are meant to get the jokes where the punchline is "reference!! 😂", but lots of people enjoy it so ymmv).

i stopped a few minutes into episode 2 after Rutherford agrees to quit his job as an engineer so he can watch the Trivoli pulsar with Tendi.

i honestly thought it was going to be a storyline about a guy giving up a job he loves and making his boss angry so that he can spend time with a female friend he has a crush on, because that's the plotline i've been conditioned to expect from tv. i wasn't feeling excited about the show, so i put it on pause.

but if i'd watched for about two more seconds before noping out for a few months, i would've seen this:

when i started watching again, i realised that the episodes never bog themselves down in drawn-out, uncomfortable storyline or character staples - they're actually incredibly well-written, tightly paced, and tell their stories in just the right amount of time. Rutherford wants to be Tendi's friend (at least for now), his boss Billups is really supportive, and Tendi brings a PADD into the Jefferies tube so they can both do what they enjoy, separately but together.

another great part about that scene with Rutherford and his boss is something that Lower Decks does a lot, which is make jokes that actually rely on subverting audience expectations. a big example - and a way of referencing other parts of the Star Trek franchise that does work for me - is when the creators gently poke fun at or subvert common story beats, emotional arcs, or dramatic moments from other parts of Trek.

like when Rutherford loses his memory and Tendi is excited to get to know him again, rather than devastated that he doesn't remember her.

or when they save themselves from being smooshed by Dooplers by dramatically ejecting the warp core of their tiny model starship.

or when Tendi goes on an arc of significant personal development over the course of one (1) whole episode.

they're general enough that even people who haven't seen other Star Trek shows (or movies) can still recognise and appreciate them.

beyond this, the show also has great moments where they (lovingly) cast a light on some of the flaws and foibles in the franchise, often in subtle or comedic ways.

like showing people in beep chairs living their best lives (in contrast to TOS and SNW's view of the beep chair as a tragic, doomsday fate for Pike).

or using Tendi to comment on Trek's depiction of Orions specifically as all pirates and slavers, and alien cultures more generally as monocultures.

or even just acknowledging that Trek shows mostly focus on the bridge crew doing heroic first contact-esque adventures, when that can't be all there is to Starfleet.

heck, they even have Rutherford go on a journey of acceptance and self-discovery after a permanent memory wipe (in contrast to Uhura in TOS, where it's never mentioned again).

another reason i really appreciate the show is that the creators have taken the time to think through what a more inclusive future could look like, in ways that are noticeably lacking or absent in many other Trek shows:

beyond exploring diversity through explicit identity representation (which is still very important), it does this through its world building as well.

i love this communal sonic shower scene for what it says about gender and body politics in Trek. in the future, why would we still separate bathrooms and changing rooms by gender? and why would we have the same views and expectations around bodies that we (by "we" i mean Western countries) do now?

this short scene dismantles the idea that nudity is inherently sexual, that gender is binary and biological, that some genders can't be trusted around other genders while naked, and that heterosexuality is the default (and when you bring dozens of alien species into the mix, why wouldn't we have more and newer ways of thinking about gender?). it even has a little mention that Boimler prefers not to shower with others, leaving space for people to act however feels most comfortable for them.

it's such a little thing, but after years spent (lovingly) yelling at the screen during TNG, TOS, DS9, etc saying, "why are they assuming everyone is straight? WHY would people be this sexist?", i noticed it immediately and appreciated it immensely.

(this isn't related to the storytelling, but i also have to say - the animation in Lower Decks is so pretty???):

this isn't a perfect show, but it's funny, has fantastic storytelling, and it loves the source material without worshipping it. (which is not something i expected to say, given how it started).

plus i love these characters SO MUCH.

so far, so very good 🤞.

(image descriptions in alt text)

[yumeka-sxf]

An analysis on Anya (an Anya-lysis!)

As promised in my Twiyor season 1 wrap up post, it's time for me to give Anya time in the analysis spotlight – an "Anya-lysis" if you will! (yes, I've been waiting to make that pun!)

*I apologize in advance for the length of this post. I felt that splitting it into two would have hindered the flow of the analysis, so I kept it as one long post. But I promise it's not as long as it seems...the high number of images make it seem longer!*

Before I get into my analysis, I wanted to preface this post with a fantastic quote from @incomingalbatross, who perfectly describes the unique role Anya has in the series.

"Realizing that Spy X Family really is The Anya Show to me, and not just because "oh look, cute baby child" but because Anya is the center of the story. She has so many secrets resting on those tiny shoulders. She is juggling so many agendas. She's the one who knows everything and her choices drive the plot—she chose Twilight, she chose Yor, she chose Bond—and even when you look at the other characters and their relationships she IS the star they orbit around! Twilight and Yor's relationship is built on their shared care for Anya! And more than that, at the core of it all, Anya's goals are the ones we're invested in.

The center of this story isn't the superspy trying to do his job, or the assassin trying to do hers. It's the little girl who said "FAMILY" and pulled the building-blocks of one close around her with all her tiny strength, and everyone else in this story keeps being moved and changed and redirected by the force of Anya's attachments to her family.

And at the same time she is SO SMALL"

While Twilight may be the protagonist, and Yor the deuteragonist, Anya is definitely the main character in Spy x Family. Not only would there be no "family" without her bringing Twilight and Yor together, but her status as the main character is quite unique among shonen series, or even media in general.

Typically in stories where a little kid (like, below the age of 10) is the main character, either the majority of other major characters are also little kids, or the kid's main purpose is to be a cute comic-relief foil for the adults. But while there are kids Anya's age in SxF, the other important characters in the plot, namely Twilight and Yor, are not. So rather than the typical scenario of the main kid character constantly being surrounded by and working off their fellow kid characters, Anya is more often interacting with her adult parents. And it's not just for cutesy moments and comic relief – the true heart of SxF is about a fake family that could any minute be destroyed, with only little Anya being aware of this grim reality and doing everything she can to keep things together...all without the ability to be truthful with anyone, not with the adults or her fellow kids. While her parents are each secretly fighting for their own vision of world peace, Anya is too…the "world peace" of the family she doesn't want to lose. It really is a one-of-a-kind scenario for a little kid character.

But having such a special main character role doesn't necessitate a well-written character. But in Anya's case, she definitely is. In fact, I think she's the most well-written little kid character I've ever seen.

Too often in media little kids are portrayed as being overly cutesy, overly bratty/whiny, and/or act much older than they should. A key factor in making a little kid character believable is that you can't just make them cute and/or emotionally immature...they have to also be weird. Anyone who's spent time with little kids knows all the weird stuff they say and do because of their less restricted child brains and ignorance about the world. A good example of this is Lilo from Lilo and Stitch (another well-portrayed kid character). The movie does a good job showing all the weird habits Lilo has, like the bizarre origins of her favorite doll, the freaky voodoo stuff she does to the local bullies, and how she totally buys the fact that Stitch is a dog. Likewise, Anya has tons of little endearing weirdnesses, starting with her wanting a spy dad and assassin mom simply because she thinks it's "cool," to the funny lingo she develops like "ooting" (odekeke) and "ohayou-masu" ("happy morning," a.k.a, an adorably incorrect way of saying "good morning"), to thinking it's acceptable to give George a leaf as a parting gift (then wanting it back later), to her comical remarks whenever she thinks Loid and Yor are being "flirty."

Another realistic aspect of Anya's character is the fact that she's not super-smiley and overly cheerful/bubbly like many other main character kids. Not that she doesn't smile and can't be cheerful, but her default expression is a look of uncertainty or wide-eyed cluelessness, which makes sense considering her upbringing (I'm talking about her default expression in canon, not in merch or other marketing as characters tend to always smile in these even if that's not their usual expression – just look at Yuri's merch!) Most of the time when other characters are talking, she looks perplexed, like she isn't sure what's going on but she's really trying to learn/understand.

These expressions make more sense to me than a child who smiles all the time, because she's at an age where she still doesn't understand the right emotions to feel at the right time. A fantastic example of this is when she punches Damian – her face is totally blank! No anger, no fear, no embarrassment...because she still hasn't learned the proper emotions to feel in a situation like this.

All she knew was what Yor told her and that she was bothered by Damian's attitude. In fact, the iconic smug smile that she shows in that scene is the result of her not knowing how to properly react when faced with bullying (cry, get angry, etc).

Similarly, she has a very bored expression when all the kids are upset about George's plight, as if she doesn't really get what all the to-do is about. This also creates good contrast to how the other Eden kids from their rich families were probably forced to grow up fast, and thus act more like 8-10-year olds than the 6-year olds they're supposed to be. Meanwhile Anya, who's supposedly younger than them, stands out with her more childlike mannerisms.

This all makes sense not just because she's still a little kid, but because her view of emotions has been skewed by the fact that she can read people's minds. So she has to not only learn the socially proper way to react to people's actions and words, but also when she should, or should not, react to what's on their mind. I believe this is why she has such a wide variety of expressions compared to the other characters – her mind reading has forced her to experience way more emotions at such an impressionable age, though not always with enough context and guidance to identify when they're socially acceptable to express.

There are way too many examples of Anya's incredible range of expressions, so I'll just have to pick a few!

Put all this together – her childlike reactions to situations, but with a twist because she can read minds, plus her endless array of comical faces, and you have one of the funniest characters I've ever seen.

Because Anya has such a wide variety of expressions, and her default expression is that of uncertainty, there's a lot more meaning when she does smile. The shining smile she has when Loid praises her for getting a stella, when she plays with Bond for the first time, and when she meets up with Becky after their shopping trip, have a lot more significance because that's not an emotion she expresses all the time. Since happy/cheerful isn't her default mood, the emotional impact of scenes where she does smile is all the more stronger.

Likewise, considering her age, Anya isn't much of a crier either. Having a kid character burst into tears and throw temper tantrums is common, but the amount of notable times Anya has exhibited this behavior is relatively few. She did have a tantrum early on when Loid stopped her from going into his room and when she demanded that Bond be her dog…but those are the only notable cases in my opinion. She has shed tears here and there, but again, not a significant number of times. Similar to the scenes where she smiles, when she does cry (in a non-comical way), like when she's reminded about her mother at the Eden interview or when she's finally reunited with Yor after the bus hijacking, it has a lot more meaning.

Another common trait for little kid characters is that they're usually a representation of total purity and innocence. While Anya doesn't have the same dark ulterior motives and immoral occupations that the adults have, she's not shown to be a complete angel either. Even though good intentions are what drive her, she can be a manipulator, mischievous, and even cocky at times, like when she insists on being called' "Starlight Anya" after getting her first stella, when she was being overly competitive with Damian after the bus hijacking, when she was joking around on the bus after finding out the bombs were fake, and when she almost attacked Bond after he chewed up Penguinman. But all of these examples only serve to make her a more fleshed out character as opposed to just being the cutesy, happy series mascot all time.

Obviously because of her mind reading powers, she manipulates the adults around her all the time, but again, there's never any malice involved…it's clearly the result of a little kid doing everything in her power to keep the happy family she's created. And due to her mind reading ability, she's learned to be much more proactive than reactive – she knows what people are going to do before they do it, and what their intentions are without them saying it. This has allowed her to become resourceful way beyond her years, which has led to her saving the lives of both Twilight and Yor on more than one occasion.

One emotion Anya does have an abundance of is empathy. Typically children don't start to develop empathy – the ability to understand and relate to the intentions and feelings of others – until a bit past Anya's age. But because of Anya's ability to read minds, it makes sense that this part of her development would take priority over something like proper speech and school smarts. Her empathy extends to all the adults around her, her fellow kids, and even animals. While a lot of her empathetic actions stem from her need to help keep Twilight's and Yor's identities secret and thus maintain the peace of the Forger family, there are many examples where this isn't the case and she's simply acting out of nothing but concern for others: comforting the Eden cow because she understood it was scared, worrying about the well being of the Project Apple dogs, leaping into action when she heard someone drowning, and comforting Damian when she knew he was scared during the bus hijacking.

Even when identity reveals aren't at stake, she still comforts Twilight and Yor when they need it, like when she thought Twilight had a nightmare after his backstory reveal, and when she knew Yor was concerned about Loid's relationship with Fiona.

The bus hijacking was a prime example of Anya being empathetic, but not to an unrealistic degree. She empathized with Billy enough to diffuse the situation, but not on a deeper level because, again, she's a little kid. She understood he was upset, but she didn't have outpouring sympathy or deep, introspective thoughts about his situation – that's something an adult would do, not a little kid who's still learning what emotions to feel at what times. What she eventually does is something that makes perfect sense both for her personality and age. With some great resourcefulness on her part, she was able to figure out what she had to say to manipulate Billy the right way, but at the same time she was playing it by ear and basically clueless as to the depth of the matter, yet mustered up all the courage she could…typical Anya.

There are a lot more examples like this of Anya's sense of empathy, too many to list. But the bottom line is, although Anya does use her powers to manipulate people to benefit her own situation and those she cares about (who can blame her?) it's clear that even at such a young age, she's a genuinely good girl who wants to help others and do good in the world, even if she's too young to realize it yet. Not unlike her parents, really. I think we'll be searching a long time before we find another 1st-grade aged character as awesome as Anya.

[hannah-banana-lou]

Come back to me

So to start off with, i hate a lot of fanfics that include the (y/n) character as a barely legal, fragile, tiny thing that is oblivious to sex because that is just not me! i love alot of fanfics that have a lot of world building, real life issues and are really in depth, mixed in with some smut, steamy romance and fluff. i know this will not be for everyone but for those who do enjoy that, i hope this does it for you!

Husband William afton x Wife female reader - AU.

Planning on making this into a series if people like it!

content warning: marriage issues, smut, verbal abuse, age gap couple - william (early 50's) Reader (mid/late 20's)

UNDER 18'S DNI!!!

Come back to me (pt.1)

A glance. A kiss. Lips crashing down unto yours. he has you pinned against the bedroom door, panting heavily. Hands exploring places they've been so many times before. yours hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. desperation. his hooking their way into your sweatpants, teasingly close to where you need him, where you're yearning for him. his kisses moving from your lips, slowly trailing along your jaw before reaching your neck. he bites, suckles and licks the skin there, sending tingles throughout your body, reaching to your core. you're lost in the moment, feeling his beard scratch so deliciously against your skin, his lips soft but desperate. You need this. He needs this.

"mommy!" your ears prick up. the sound of one of your twins calling for you. you ignore it, trying to focus on the present scene unfolding in front of you.

"mommy, look at me!" again. calling for you. you can feel a haze slipping over you. mind going grey, unable to feel the kisses being planted.

a snap of your husbands fingers and you jump. you're in the garden, sitting on the patio next to william. the morning sun is beaming, your two children running around the garden, screaming and giggling. you glance over at william, he is staring at you. the silence between you both brooding ... deafening.

"your children are calling for you. just gonna ignore them?" he grunts out. a dig at you, most definitely.

you shake your head in response, taking the cup filled with coffee off the table, moving it up to your lips and taking a sip, you frown. it's gone cold.

the better part of the morning is spent playing with your children, trying to forget that you have a marriage counselling appointment in the early afternoon. not the first and most definitely not the last. no doubt william will find some excuse to not attend, he thinks marriage counselling is a scam, a waste of money. he refused to even acknowledge the idea until you nagged him for weeks. he eventually gave up.

you're now sat in the car, he's driving. the silence is painful. the drive to the appointment, uncomfortable.

your in the appointment. all his responses are grunts or a few word answers, while you're pouring your heart out, begging for him to just talk to you. a usual occurrence during these appointments.

You stop crying, lost in thought. maybe he was having an affair, it would explain a lot... no. yes. wait... would he do that to you? when would he have the time? god. don't be silly, he isn't cheating on you.... right? Before your mind can trail off anymore the therapist throws a question to you both.

"what are the biggest issues within your marriage? we have discussed this before briefly, however i'm curious as to the individual answers. William, why don't you start us off? yes?"

you glance over at william. he is staring directly at the therapist, poor woman, having to endure his death stare. his eye twitches slightly. he's trying to calm himself before answering. you avert your gaze back to the floor.

"Nothing is wrong with my marriage. i dont believe there are issues" your husband spits out.

the older woman nods, accepting his answer before she turns to you and nods again, signalling for you to answer.

"well... for starters i feel like he doesn't want me around anymore. he avoids me like the plague. there is no love, no affection, no.... no intimacy anymore" you begin.

william adjusts himself in his seat. clearly annoyed at the intimacy comment. you keep your gaze focused on the therapist.

"He wont talk more than a few words to me without snapping at me, he's stopped sleeping in our bedroom, he's taken the spare room instead. i never see him anymore. i'm... i... I've just had enough. it's hard living in a space that you have known as home for many years, yet feel so unwelcome at the same time" you finish. you can feel his stare burning into the side of your head.

the older woman nods again. that's all she seems to do, just nod. it can be quite annoying. she looks between you both.

"Y/N why do you feel like William has become this way with you?"

you sigh, not knowing the answer. you could only answer with what your mind has provided as far fetched ideas over the past few months. you shrug. "i'm not sure. i have a lot of ideas, none that could be close to the truth though" you respond, voice soft, deflated. like you've given up.

"One good way to get your marriage on track is open communication. Y/n why dont you share your ideas with William. it's a good place to start"

you sigh again and look over at william. he is staring at the floor. annoyed written all over his features. he looks over at you

"William..." you start with a sigh. "i... uhm... i have begun to think that maybe... you have fallen out of love with me" his gaze softens, almost looking heartbroken that you could ever think that. he shakes his head. he goes to reach out his hand, it lifts ever so slightly but stops immediately, his fists tightened, a small noise escaping his lips. almost like the whimper of a wounded animal as he quickly avoids your gaze, looking back down at the floor.

you take a moment to process what just happened. what was that noise? sound of affirmation? or denial? maybe his reaction is something to be hopeful for?

"any other ideas you have that you would like to share?" she adds quickly.

you nod, taking a deep breath. you knew he wasn't going to like this one but you had to get it out before the thought consumes you.

"William, i have thought for a while that you are having an affair." you blurt out.

his softened gaze quickly turns to a grimace, furrowed eyebrows. followed with a scoff before he stands up, grabbing your hand "session over. thanks for your time doc, see you next month" he mumbles as he pulls you out the door. the doctor looking more so confused than ever as she watches the two of you leave abruptly.

you get back into the car. oh he's pissed. maybe he is embarrassed that you brought that up? self conscious of how he looks in front of the therapist maybe?

he drives in silence before turning into an empty parking lot near a wooded trail path, probably for dog walkers.

he parks up before turning to you, face twisted with anger "An affair? an affair? .... AN AFFAIR?" He snaps. you nod "it just makes s-" he cuts you off "NO Y/N! NO! the falling out of love i can understand but an affair? i have done nothing to make you think that way"

you look at him confused.

"you're not affectionate. you're only happy when you're around the kids, you're only affectionate in public for 'appearances', you wont sleep in the same bed as me, let alone fuck me anymore, so you must be getting it from someone else!" you angrily snap out, you knew being with an older man would have it's problems but not to this extent.

he rolls his eyes. scoffs. "you're ridiculous. i am not having an affair!"

"it makes more sense than 'i'm stressed' " you quickly respond

he scoffs again but doesn't respond. just stares out the windshield of the car into the woods adorning the outskirts of the parking lot. the forest looked peaceful, serene almost. you continue to stare at him waiting for a response. receiving nothing.

you place your hand on his thigh gently "Will... Bear. please just talk to me... let me in again" you whisper. no response from him. he smiles in his mind at the use of the old nickname for him.

he was your bear. Tall, grumpy and hairy as one. Used to have you in fits of laughter when he would groan and snore, you telling him the attributes resembled a bear when you were first dating. hence the nickname.

Something snaps inside of him.

Your argument before, playing through his mind.

He looks over at you, eyes boring into yours. he reaches his hand out, cupping your cheek. it's been too long since he last touched you.

He moves from your cheek and trails his fingers through the mids of your hair before leaning down, hand clamped on the back of your head, moving you up to meet him halfway, lips on yours. slow. tender. A sense of yearning in the kiss. you let out a small surprised noise. not complaining in the slightest. just surprised, shocked even.

he pulls away ever so slightly, lips still touching. a small protesting whine leaving your lips as you desperately try to kiss him again. he stops you. nuzzling his nose against yours. hot breaths caressing each others skin. his lips soft. as you remember them. a free hand intertwined with your left hand, fingers caressing your wedding and engagement rings.

"I've not fallen out of love with you bunny" he breaks the silence, his words barely above a whisper. desperation. yearning. sadness being carried in his voice.

[simplesoup]

Izuku x fem reader in which they are making out after a late night date and it gets a little heated hence they start slowly dry humping, desperate izuku??😫 save a girl ! LOLLL

Sure thing girly hope you enjoy this one!))

Crazy but he is mine

Villain Deku x vil Fem reader! Nsfw MDNI! Contains dry humping, pet names. Blood, weapons

You and deku had met in a bar a bar he was a member of you had no clue he was with the lov until Tomura Shigaraki walked up and started chatting with him admittedly you were scared

you were just a small villain committing tiny crimes like stealing… you never killed it didn’t give you satisfaction like drugs and stealing. You kept you head down low after that he didn’t seem to notice anyway walking away with Shigaraki

when you left the first thing you did was search the villain up and you found him immediately with his information the murders and other crimes. You felt a bit sick to your stomach but also turned on….

You’d probably never see him again so it didn’t really matter what you thought.

A few nights had passed since then and you were returning from a small crime scene you had committed just a bit of petty robbery when you stumbled into a extremely bloody and disturbing scene one only he could have committed you immediately covered your eyes with your hands backing away blood wasn’t something you could handle very well. Suddenly, you felt a tapping on your shoulder and reluctantly moved your hand away from your eyes to see him. You backed away “S-sorry I don’t do well with blood”

“Nice to see you again doll~”

“I was just leaving really I am sorry! I never saw this” you attempted to turn away and walk off when you were abruptly pushed up against the wall and pinned shivering at how cold it felt on your back you looked up into his eyes, confused and a bit scared

“Tomorrow night meet me at the bar I’ll take you somewhere less… bloody~ how’s that sound doll~?”

you not your head you weren’t gonna say no to a villain, especially one that had you pinned up against the damn wall! Well, you might have knotted your head and said yes you definitely were NOT going to be showing up!

The next night you stood in front of your mirror, looking at yourself in your dress eyeing yourself and cursing yourself under your breath… what was wrong with you! Were you seriously doing this?!

Maybe you were just desperate…or maybe you just genuinely thought he was kind of attractive?… either way you were going.

You walked out the door after making sure you had a knife just in case things got messy… you made your way to the bar when you got there you looked around, but didn’t see him anywhere letting out a relief you made your way to the bar sitting down and ordering yourself a drink to help calm your nerves

After a few moments, you felt familiar tap on your shoulder and turn to see him “Looking good doll~ come on”

you took his hand and let him lead you out. You had no clue where you were going. That is until you got there it was a cute picnic area up on top of a building with a beautiful view of the city out of anything you could’ve expected. This was definitely not anything like you were expecting!

You sat down and chatted with him for a while. He didn’t seem as crazy as the media had portrayed him to be. and soon enough you had inched yourself closer to him feeling more and more comfortable

he kissed you with passion leaving you lost for words and wanting more

“Do that again I… I really liked it..” you whispered and he did gently pulling you into his lap and making out with you… it got hot and heavy real quick maybe you weren’t the only one desperate…?

he let out a grunt and started humming up into you leaving you grinning and blushing “You gonna come without even putting it in~?” You teased and to your surprise you were laidback on the blanket, with him now ontop of you humping you trying to reach his release.

((leave me requests I can write longer and more in detail if you want any characters! And be specific F/M/GN reader!! Have a great dayyy!!))

[breathlesswordsbloodyknees]

Narrative Doom

Introduction

I've been playing around in and exploring this space where Sauron as Halbrand was genuinely seeking redemption, trying not to manipulate events but merely nudge them.

In my view, at this point he's in survivalist bed-rotting mode post-goo-form when he meets Galadriel. (I think he's more of an opportunist than a schemer in this era. Not that he doesn't have those schemes, but I think he's pushing those bad bad urges down. I have a web of scenes that I consider in this view for some other day)

I’m building much of this piece on these previous work: (link) (link) (link)

It's led me down some interesting philosophical rabbitholes, and I'd like to share.

Now, important to note, Sauron is a Maia—not a 'human' by any means. He's an ancient spiritual being who doesn’t feel the way us teeny tiny mortals do.

But on a broader scale: Tolkien’s work, like fiction as a whole, reflects and explores the human experience, so we’re riding that train.

All this with the framework of not absolving him for anything that came before or comes after. I plan on expanding into his evil alongside Morgoth and his actions in Season 2 at a later date.

But right now, we’re just exploring this blip of a moment where I consider Sauron could be genuine in repentance.

This is more an analysis of Sauron, but I feel like it has a lot to explore for Haladriel fans. There's some critique of Galadriel's choices here, but I want to make it clear: I'm not assigning blame. More just digging into the complexities.

And, well, I don't think this ship would be as compelling if it didn't have complexities.

Spoilers:

All of TROP S1

Vague themes/lines in TROP S2, mostly from S2E1.

The Good Place spoilers for overall theme and a few season 4 lines, but nothing outright about the plot.

Trigger Warning:

Be warned, I’m going to delve into some dark themes in a very personal way. Including but not limited to abuse cycles, personal trauma, harmful behaviors, and empathy within all of that.

I won’t lie, this work was hard for me. Painful to untangle. I would encourage you to have empathy and compassion for yourself, as well as me, while you read. I tried to put warnings before I go into these themes. Please take care of yourself.

---

To start

Sauron’s narrative, at its simplest, is a cautionary tale: If you let your ambition and drive for power go too far, you turn to evil. Higher values over sinful pleasures. Pride goeth before the fall.

But on a deeper level, being solely a cautionary tale, an overarching villain, a lesson to learn, what does that mean for the complexities of Sauron in The Rings of Power?

Charlie Vickers puts so many layers and so much emotion into his character. Yet he keeps it to a lot of imperceptible movements that, I found out last night, get almost completely lost in low resolution. I can see that being a part of some of the stricter interpretations of Vickers' Sauron. But there’s a vulnerability there that touches on some deeply raw thoughts.

—

So the relentless question in fandom: Does he mean any of it with Galadriel or is he just the Great Deceiver?

I'd like to ask, how much of it is just some deeply relatable ‘human’ behavior? Deflection, defensiveness. Half-truths, twisted truths, fibs.

Because as he says on the raft, he did tell her the truth, that he had done great evil in service of Morgoth. He never lied to her.

(An aside: I personally don’t give the “my ancestor” thing much weight as a true lie, I mean it’s his backstory and he had more reason for it than the Darkling did imho)

But really, who doesn’t try to hide and smooth over the worst ugly evil nasty bits of themselves and their past? We want to shine in the eyes of others—it's a fundamental desire to most.

—

On the other side, touching on influence and ambition:

Aren’t we all trying to sway events and leave an impact in whatever way we’re capable? Don’t we all attempt to sculpt the world like clay? Isn’t that really all we can do in this world?

And don't we often tell ourselves that we’re doing it for a better outcome? Even actions deemed ‘good’ and ‘heroic’ create ripples that have negative impacts, if only just for the orc babies.

I’ve been thinking a lot about orc babies.

—

Galadriel, from their first conversation on the raft in S1E2, backs him into a corner. She’s relentless in her quest for revenge against him and he’s whoops—sitting right there, doing the side eye meme. He’s gotta be self-preservational. And that rings true to me more than outright deceit. (At this point)

But I think over the course of the season, playing as Halbrand, “Lost King of the Southlands”, he’s trying. Trying to be “the hero she seeks”. Trying in the only way he knows how, which is…well, not great, he really toes the line. But he’s trying to ‘choose good every day and choose it again tomorrow’, while he’s on the path she set him on. So it’s a step by step journey towards the light, but the path is ever slippery.

And inevitably, as we know, he fails.

—

TW

So what does that mean for those of us who feel like we’re trapped in the narrative, hurtling toward a doomed end through harmful behaviors we can’t escape? Tied onto the train tracks, staring down what feels like an inevitable fate.

When all you’ve known for ages is subjugation and torment and abuse, what do you become? (Which makes Mairon even more painful, with his origin of beauty and light. Like a whisper of I was once admirable too)

I keep coming back to the image of grooves, well worn. And well, under the influence of an abuser and beyond, I too have done evil.

Holding the good you’ve aspired to and the evil you’ve done in one space; it’s a sharp, heavy feeling like holding coals, like touching a hot pan, something to run and hide from. And looking at my deeply ingrained behaviors from childhood, along with trauma that’s happened throughout my life...I see those grooves echoing in jagged bloody ways that feel comforting, even natural.

For a long while, it’s been the only way I knew how to self-soothe, these behaviors that can cause harm to myself and others. So I’ve been twisting around the question: Can we ever truly be free of the evil we’ve done? If it’s all we’ve ever known, baked and beaten into our bone marrow?

In Sauron’s case, the answer is no. His story unfolds the way it was written. The bad guys perish, the good guys win.

(though there’s the “they meet in Valinor” after canon theory, hope ever shines through)

—

That all brings me into The Good Place and that show’s moral thesis.

Spoilers for The Good Place:

More or less, the show states “people improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don't?” and “What matters isn't if people are good or bad. What matters is if they're trying to be better today than they were yesterday.” (S4E8)

Scanlons’ What We Owe to Each Other and the rabbithole of contractualism that I haven’t fully delved into.

I resonate deeply with what The Good Place says. All with the understanding that you have to put on your own air mask before you help others, don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

But I do believe we should help each other in what ways we can, rather than writing people off entirely.

So, I struggle with Galadriel’s moments of “shutting the door” being considered wholly empowering. Light prevailing, resisting the allure of darkness and the draw of power. It is indeed all those things, especially for her journey. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame her.

But there’s an itching here for me and I have to scratch it.

—

In S1E8, if we’re assuming he’s genuine, he put it all out there in the raft illusion. It was his biggest, his all, his hope. A leap of faith. Real vulnerability with an internal truth that was like holding coals.

He did what was ‘right’. He reached for support, for understanding, for community, What We Owe to Each Other.

(though we can’t ignore the scene before that where he’s wearing Finrod’s face. But I haven’t followed that thread yet).

He made a play for a better future.

And she—light and goodness and holiness in her hair, denied him.

“You are Morgoth’s friend”, “There is no such future.” Boiling him down to his worst parts, reinforcing his worst fears.

Is that all we ever can be?

---

TW

When do we write off people like Sauron, with all his history of wrongdoing? People like my abusers or even myself? When does the potential for redemption become irrevocably lost?

How much empathy should we show, and what are we obligated to offer? What do we owe to each other? All of this while carefully balancing the line of not condoning or becoming an apologist, along with taking care of yourself first.

It’s mind-boggling.

---

The answers are out there: self-compassion, self-forgiveness. Change comes from within. Balance. But it's the same way people say go outside, exercise more, drink more water to fix depression. When you're in the throes of darkness, those words feel hollow, trite. And that glossy sunlit path is more than treacherous when you walk it, especially alone.

So again, I say, I scream: Should we not still help each other?

It's not just internal and external separately, we need both. I have to believe that. Internal change and external support.

—

Conclusion

In the end, I'm really only left with more questions. This barely scratches the surface of what I've been brewing on, I could go round and round for days. I mean, that’s what I’ve been doing this week.

Regardless, all the typical takeaways feel hollow. Choose light, choose hope, every single step, no matter how hard.

It’s never quite that simple, on a very visceral level. And for some of us, like Sauron, it never materializes.

It all just eats and scratches and twists inside me. Ultimately though, I think Caitlin Seida said it best about hope and redemption and the struggle in her poem, Hope is Not A Bird, Emily, It’s a Sewer Rat. Which I greatly hope you’ll read and find what I have in it. (link)

So I guess we keep being scrabbly little sewer rats, hoping to claw our way out of the dank dark cave. And y’know, it may not mean much, but I’ll be here, down in the muck. Right there with you.

Maybe that’s all we owe to each other.

Follow-up

[jade-green-butterfly]

Just watched Trolls Band Together...ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!!😍😍😍(SPOILERS AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!)

Oooh, my Harmonia...just got back from watching Trolls Band Together and my GOODNESS!!🤩✨🤩✨🤩Words cannot describe how amazed and engrossed I was into the whole movie!!💖💖💖Was it worth the seven month wait?😗TOTALLY!!😍😍😍It was absolutely fantastic, and I LOVED and enjoyed every single moment of it!!🥰

I was really getting into scenes, got quite a few laughs out of some scenes and was touched the wholesome ones~💕Branch's brothers were just as enjoyable on screen - John Dory still being my fave as he grew throughout the movie (LOVE Rhonda too!😁) Spruce/Bruce is such a lovable family man, Clay was (serious)ly awesome in his scenes and the tender moments between Floyd and Branch really got me...especially with the flashbacks...🥲 It was so great to see Grandma Rosiepuff again, though I do wish there was more feeling shown when her death was mentioned, hopefully the brothers will come to terms with it more in time...and Branch's bunker plan for them all, d'awww...~🥺So he DID build the bunker for all his family...😭 Viva was such an amazing character as well as she adorably bonded with Poppy (ooh, dear King Peppy, I know you were heartbroken at the time but c'mon...😅) and finally braved out of her comfort zone, and Tiny Diamond going through his big boy phase was real cute and funny😂Bridget and King Gristle were great too, it was lovely seeing them again along with the Bergens!😊 I had a feeling Velvet and Veneer were luring BroZone to them, they were such good villains with their goals and personalities but I am glad Floyd got through to Veneer in the end, and he saw the wrong he and his sister were doing, and came clean to everyone. And Crimp was a cutie and deserves better🫂(glad she got a hug from Poppy and stood up to Velvet and Veneer in the end😌) And it was also great to see some of the Snack Pack again too, including Prince D and especially my darling Cooper too, eeeee~!😍💗💗💗He looked so dapper!💝🥰 Speaking of Poppy, she was just as darling as ever~!😚I seriously LOVED her relationship and her undying love for Branch blossom so much here whilst supporting and fangirling for him all the way as they interacted, bless her~😊And that sweet BROPPY KISS!!🤭...🤩I was going 'YES!! FINALLY!!' under my breath, grinning from ear to ear in that moment~💙💖And that moment when I thought he was gonna pop the question during the performance during the end...hehe, maybe another time~😉But I certainly didn't expect *NSYNC to show up in their trollsonas near the end...what a twist!😮

The chase scene and perfect family harmony scene were truly epic and it really shows, it doesn't have to be perfect as long as we're altogether~💞💓All the locations of the brothers were stunning to look at, with Vacay Island and Spruce/Bruce's family, the creepy abandoned Bergen golf course with the Putt-Putt Trolls, and finally Mount Rageous - a whole lot of wonder to take in!💖Walt Dohrn, Gina Shay and the DreamWorks Animation Crew did such an fantastic job on everything!✨🌟✨And that huge BroZone hug...again, d'aaaaww~!😭

As for the songs...I'll be downloading the rest of the album now because they were all wonderful to listen to!🎧🎶Real boyband and 90's nostalgia~✨I know they're gonna be stick in my head for a long time, hehe!😆I have so many faves, especially all versions of 'Better Place'~😚

A greatly HUGE thank-you in a million to everyone Trolls for such a fantastic movie, which I wonderfully enjoyed all the way through, from start to finish!🌟👏👏👏🌟AAAHH!!��💗💓I JUST LOVED IT ALL!! 😍🤩😍I give it a solid 9.5 out of 10!!😊👍✨Totally made my weekend~!🫶🥰

[nyababymao]

Anyone else feel like neteyam should've had a hinted romance between him and aonung like lo'ak and tsireya did?

Cause i feel like because he was destined to be death fodder, neteyam doesn't really get a character arc and instead just has like character points in regards to other characters to help *their* character developments. Like he's a good soldier son to contrast against lo'ak and further define the conflict between lo'ak and jake and a good older brother so as to be the mediator when his siblings get into conflicts and fights and that's all still good character points but unlike lo'ak, who has an implied love interest, bond with a special animal, and explored internal conflict; kiri who has her oddly intricate and well-controlled connection to the sealife, her deeper friendship with spider, and her own internal conflicts regarding her mother; and spider, who has his frustrating love-hate bond with his recom father, his strained relationship with neytiri, and the gap that comes from him being human biologically but na'vi in everything else; neteyam really doesn't have any personal character points or conflicts that gets explored.

Him being the good soldier son is only ever discussed in comparison to lo'ak as the rebellious son and not really a conflict that he also has with his father that later gets resolved like lo'ak's, him used to being the future leader of his clan is just never explored even though I feel like that would have been a huge part of his character, his relationship to jake and neytiri ends up being more build up for their reaction to and effects of him dying rather then any development for neteyam himself, and even the idea of him feeling pressured by being the oldest son is in a way given to lo'ak when he says he and aonung are the same because both they feel pressure. I mean I'm sure they do but I get the feeling if neteyam wasn't originally planned to be death fodder, he would've been involved during that moment.

The entire movie, neteyam just feels overly sidelined in comparison to rhe other characters and is only ever brought up to be further compared to lo'ak or to play 'the good son'. He doesn't really get any personal goals or drive or anything that is his arc and his alone. And it's a shame because I feel like they could've added in an aonung/neteyam background romance and gave him that tiny bit of personal character development.

I mean, aonung and neteyam were already interacting quite a bit(for how minor their contribution to the plot is, I’m not saying they had many interactions overall) between that glance they gave each other when they first met to when they fought each other and they could've built upon that to quietly imply a romance happening in the background. Maybe one big scene where they make up and aonung apologizes for endangering lo'ak and that leads into a small moment of "i get it, being the eldest and future leader is tough" kinda thing. Then some little moments of them exchanging words like 'goodnight's or netting fish together in the background, etc....and then having aonung uncharacteristically wail in agony and anger when neteyam's body is brought back. He was already crying at neteyam's funeral gathering so it really would not have been too hard to give neteyam this little piece of character development. Not to mention it would've then been a great way to lead into aonung getting a bigger role in a third movie.

I just think it would've been cool if neteyam was explored more then what we got and this is one way they could've done it. And it’s like, if lo’ak and tsireya gets to be love interests, why can’t neteyam and aonung be too? You can’t say it’s because lo’ak and tsireya has more chemistry or is more well written/developed because they literally start liking each other and their relationship is hinted at literally the second they first laid eyes on each other 😐

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! Its me again I had another found family troupe in mind if your up for it! I wanted to ask before the Christmas prompts started.

So this time I was thinking Deadpool x Teen!Male!Reader where reader is on top of a building, how he got there is up to you, but he's abt to make a bad decision (if ykw I mean) when dead pool finds him and starts to talk, and basically they end up making a deal, if wade can make the reader see how good life is then he won't do it, but if he fails the reader can go back, and basically its is a bunch of fun stupid shit for the rest and the reader becomes apart of the little odd family created in dead pool 3 (including logan) and decides to stick around. So heavy angst that's solved in a nice fluff, and if your not comfortable with the first part you can change the angst to a different scenario you totally can, and the how and why is up to you.

Readers personality is a sarcastic, cold teen, but he's caring and weird around ppl he's close to, he hides his emotions to keep himself safe

If you can do this I would be so so grateful, if not its totally understandable, I love your work sm its hard not to request things, keep up the amazing writing! Have a good day/night!

OPERATION MAKE YOU NOT HATE THE UNIVERSE

⤷ WADE WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Wade Wilson x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, angst, tiny bit of fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): This story deals with sensitive themes, including mental health struggles and suicide

ᯓ★ I'm happy that you like my works and don't worry, you can make as may requests as you want, I'm so happy when people make requests! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city sprawls below, twinkling and vast, but strangely quiet from this height. You sit on the edge of a skyscraper, your legs dangling into the nothingness, with only the hum of distant cars and neon lights bleeding through the foggy air.

You take a deep breath, the cold biting into your lungs. It makes sense, somehow, for this place to be the last thing you’d see. Who knows how long you’ve been sitting here, trying to drum up the courage or the anger or whatever it’s going to take to finally just let go. But the emptiness is louder than any fear. The world feels like it’s swallowed you whole, and this—you dangling on the edge—feels like the only time you’ve ever been able to look it in the face.

“You know, most people pick roller coasters or a fifth of tequila if they wanna feel a thrill.”

You flinch. Not from surprise—well, okay, a little from surprise—but more from sheer irritation. This is the moment someone decides to intrude? You glance over your shoulder and see him. He’s wearing red and black, looking like a deranged SWAT team dropout, leaning casually against the roof access door, arms crossed like he’s watching a really boring episode of a soap opera.

“And here I thought I had the whole roof to myself,” you say dryly, hiding your unease. “Guess we’re all just having a rooftop party.”

“Lucky for you, kiddo, I’m the life of the party. Deadpool, at your service,” he says with a bow. “But hey, what’s a young guy like you doing up here all alone? Besides reenacting all the worst Lifetime movies?”

You snort, because it’s exactly that bad. “Oh, just figured I’d enjoy the view,” you reply, deadpan. “And maybe gravity. Seems like a good combo.”

“Right, right, makes sense,” he nods, as if he’s in on some cosmic joke only you get. He crouches down, edging a little closer. “Let me guess. Someone pissed you off, the world sucks, you hate your life, blah blah blah, and now you’re about to end it all. Am I close?”

You don’t answer, just roll your eyes and stare back out at the city. But something in the fact that he said it—that he got it so easily—makes you feel strange. Seen.

“Oh, man, nailed it!” Deadpool cheers, like this is some sort of accomplishment. “See, I’m like a therapist, but with 90% more leather and 100% more explosions. And, I make house calls. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah? Where’s the PhD?” You give him a sidelong look, unimpressed. “Bet it’s in the mail.”

He gasps theatrically. “Excuse me, my online course was very thorough, thank you. You’re looking at a fully certified therapist-slash-savior-slash-pizza connoisseur.” He steps even closer, as if he’s trying to get a read on you. “So, what’s it gonna take for you to, I dunno…step back from the edge, champ?”

The question catches you off guard, but you school your expression back into that empty, unreadable mask. “Nothing,” you say. “Don’t need saving.”

“Aw, sure you do. Everybody does,” Deadpool replies, with a smile that’s a little too wide. He’s still in that crouch, head tilted like he’s studying a lab rat. “C’mon, take me up on my deal.”

“I didn’t agree to any deal,” you mutter.

“Well, that’s about to change, Mr. Antisocial.” Deadpool leans in, his voice a dramatic whisper. “I’ll make you a bet. If I can’t show you something worth sticking around for, something that doesn’t totally suck, you win. But if I can—and oh, I will—then you gotta promise not to do anything stupid up here. No ‘jumping’ and no ‘leaping gracefully off into the night’—not on my watch. Deal?”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. But then, you’re not sure this guy even knows what serious means. A smirk slips onto your face, mostly from disbelief. “And if you fail, I get to come back here and do what I want.”

Deadpool slaps his hands together, eyes lighting up like he’s just scored a jackpot. “Deal! Signed, sealed, and delivered. What’s your name, by the way? So I know what to call you when I start ‘Operation Make You Not Hate the Universe.’”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, that’s not gonna work,” he replies breezily. “I’ll call you...” He pauses dramatically, finger tapping his chin. “Shadow Kid. Because of your gloomy vibes. Or Edgy McBroodface. Either one works for me.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Fine. It’s Y/n. Happy?”

He claps his hands like a kid on Christmas. “Delighted! Well, Y/n, pack your bags because you’re about to take the Deadpool Tour de Joy. First stop: that little bakery down the street that makes these empanadas that are just to die for—pun very intended.”

As ridiculous as he sounds, something inside you—against all odds—doesn’t completely hate this idea. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong, but at least he’s distracting you. And it’s better than the silence. So you sigh, push yourself back from the edge, and follow him, if only because he’s made it impossible not to.

“Don’t get too excited,” you warn, hiding a hint of curiosity beneath a mask of sarcasm. “I don’t like pastries.”

“Don’t worry, kid, you will,” he grins, guiding you off the ledge. “Deadpool guarantees it. Or I’ll give you a full refund. You know, after we make sure you don’t end up sidewalk art.”

It’s midnight, and you’re trailing behind a lunatic in red and black spandex as he skips down the street like he’s leading a parade of one. You almost regret stepping away from the edge of that building. Almost. Because, despite everything, Deadpool’s got your attention, even if it’s just so you can see where this trainwreck of a night is headed.

“Now, Y/n,” he says, spinning around to face you while walking backward, “it’s time I introduce you to my squad. My inner circle. The people who either love me or have given up trying to kill me. I figured, what better way to kick off Operation: Don’t Be A Self-Destructive Edgelord than some quality time with family?”

“Your ‘family’?” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Oh, yes. They’re the most dysfunctional group of weirdos you’ll ever meet, which, in our line of work, is high praise.” He turns back around, leading you down a couple of twisting alleyways until you’re standing in front of a building that looks like it was abandoned about a hundred years ago.

“Home, sweet home!” Wade announces proudly, shoving the door open. “Well, it’s not really mine, but Al’s not much of a decorator anyway.”

You’re about to ask who “Al” is when you spot her: a short, older woman with oversized sunglasses, leaning against a sofa, flipping through a Braille magazine. She doesn’t even look up when she addresses Deadpool.

“You brought home another stray, Wade? You’d think you were trying to start an orphanage for misfits,” she mutters.

“This one’s special, Al. Meet Y/n,” Wade says, guiding you inside. “Y/n, this is the one and only Blind Al. She’s my friend, roommate, therapist, probation officer, and part-time parole board.”

Al snorts. “You think I’d live with Wade if I had any other options?”

You almost smirk. “So you’re telling me he’s like this all the time?”

Al nods, and you catch the tiniest hint of a smile on her face. “Constantly. And unfortunately, you’ll get used to it.”

“Come on, Al, don’t ruin the surprise! I’m a blast to be around,” Wade says, slapping you on the back with a little too much enthusiasm. “Anyway, I promised Y/n the Deadpool Experience™, which includes only the finest influences and biggest badasses on the market.”

“Speaking of badasses…” Wade nudges you, gesturing to the kitchen doorway, where a tall, grizzled man in flannel and jeans leans against the frame, arms crossed. His eyes are hard, the kind that say he’s seen more than his fair share of horror, but he’s giving you a look that’s somewhere between curiosity and caution.

“Logan, meet Y/n,” Wade says, pushing you forward. “Y/n, meet Wolverine, aka Logan Howlett, aka the surliest Canadian this side of the Rockies. Logan, Y/n here’s having a tough time deciding if life’s worth sticking around for, so I figured you could help me convince him otherwise. Since you’re all about that whole ‘living through endless suffering’ thing.”

Logan looks you over, clearly unimpressed with Wade’s choice of words. “You tell this kid what he was getting into by sticking with you?” he grumbles, giving Wade a side-eye.

“Why spoil the fun?” Wade chirps. “Besides, I figured I’d ease him into the nightmare that is my lifestyle by introducing him to you first. It’s all part of my master plan.”

You scoff. “Not exactly a plan so far.”

Logan grunts, shooting Wade a look. “Kid, if you’re here, you better be ready to put up with more crap than you signed up for. And if you don’t, well, don’t expect us to sugarcoat it.”

“Gee, thanks, Logan. Great pep talk,” Wade says, clapping his hands together. “You’re practically the Canadian Dr. Phil.”

“Whatever,” Logan mutters, giving you a short nod of acknowledgment. “Stay out of trouble, kid.”

“Thanks,” you reply dryly. “I’ll make a note of it.”

Wade flashes a grin. “All right, now that we’ve got the somber stuff out of the way, it’s time to meet my real pride and joy. Follow me, Y/n.” He leads you down a narrow hallway, barely glancing back as he goes. “And here, in the third and definitely not cleanest room on the left, is the Mini Wolverine herself, Laura Kinney!”

You peer around the doorframe, and sure enough, there’s a young girl, no older than you, sharpening a knife with an intensity that could probably slice through steel. She looks up, one eyebrow raised as she sizes you up.

“So…another of Wade’s recruits?” she asks, her tone half-sarcastic but half-genuine, like she’s as surprised as anyone to find herself among this crowd.

“Not exactly,” you reply. “Apparently, I’m part of some…life-affirming experiment?”

Laura smirks. “Good luck. Most people just end up scarred. Or worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mini-me,” Wade says, swooping in to ruffle her hair, which she swats at with the speed of a ninja. “Y/n, Laura here is what we call a ‘clone’—same rage issues, same claws, same immunity to hugs as Mr. Broodmaster in the kitchen. Laura, Y/n here is testing out the Wade Wilson School of Life Choices.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Well, better you than me. Good luck.”

“Look at that, Y/n! She’s already rooting for you,” Wade says, pulling you back out of the room before you can reply.

“Sure,” you mutter. “I feel like I’m one big science project.”

“Nah, science projects are boring,” Wade says cheerfully. “And last, but certainly not least, the crown jewel of this ridiculous ensemble is… Peter!”

You frown, confused, as Wade leads you to the living room, where a man with glasses and a receding hairline is lounging on the couch, a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other. He looks up and waves at you with a sheepish smile.

“Hey there. I’m Peter,” he says. “No code name, no special abilities, just…Peter.”

You raise an eyebrow at Wade. “How does he fit in?”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Wade says matter-of-factly. “He’s just a genuinely good guy. The one, non-superpowered person who got tangled up in my dumpster fire of a life and didn’t immediately bail. I figured he’d be a nice balance to all the violent murderers in the room. Plus, he makes a mean ham and cheese sandwich.”

Peter shrugs, giving you a friendly smile. “Sometimes, it’s good to have at least one guy who knows what life’s like for the average person. And I figure, if Wade can make it, maybe there’s hope for all of us, right?”

You nod slowly, unsure what to make of all this but also, maybe for the first time in a long time, feeling something close to warmth. These people are rough around the edges, sure, but there’s an understanding in the way they look at you—like they know what it’s like to have the world chew you up and spit you out.

“Well, Y/n,” Wade says, clapping his hands together, “you’ve met the gang. Now, how about that empanada?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine,” you mutter. “One empanada. But if it sucks, this deal’s off.”

Wade grins. “Deal! And hey, if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even get a side of wisdom and life lessons from our merry band of misfits. Consider this step one on the path to…not hating everything.”

He leads the way, Peter and Al in tow, while Logan and Laura hang back a bit. And as you walk down the dimly lit street, surrounded by this unlikely crew, you realize maybe—just maybe—Wade might actually have a point.

The morning sun drips through the dirty windows of Blind Al’s apartment, casting a pale yellow glow over the chaotic mess of takeout boxes, weapon cases, and torn-up furniture. You’re sprawled on an old, threadbare armchair, an empanada wrapper stuck to your shirt from last night’s “Deadpool Tour de Joy.” You’d made it through an entire night with Wade and his crew of insane, sarcastic maniacs—and, against all odds, it wasn’t completely awful. In fact, you’d felt something almost like…belonging.

But now it’s the next day, and you’ve already told yourself a hundred times that you should probably just slip out, go back to what you were doing, forget all of this ever happened. You’re starting to push yourself up when Wade barges into the room, wearing his costume but missing the mask, eyes bleary, and looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Ah! Sleeping beauty rises!” Wade yells, startling you. “Figured you’d skipped out by now, but no! Y/n, my little suicidal protégé, how’s life on the wild side?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s early. Can you not yell?”

“Oh, no-no-no, kid, this is normal volume,” Wade replies with a grin. “Wait ‘til Logan shows up and starts shouting at me. Speaking of which…”

Right on cue, Logan comes around the corner, his expression twisted in irritation. “Wade, it’s nine in the damn morning, why are you already so loud?”

“Why are you such a ray of sunshine?” Wade replies cheerfully, barely dodging Logan’s hand as he tries to grab him.

“Because you’re annoying,” Logan growls, rolling his eyes and making for the coffee pot. But Wade is already blocking him, a mug in one hand, smirking.

“What if I told you there was no coffee left? Would you kill me?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to repeat it. Without a word, he pops out his claws, a metallic snikt slicing through the silence.

“Oh, I’m shaking!” Wade sneers, clearly egging him on.

“Deadpool, just get out of my way.” Logan tries to push past, but Wade laughs, making some obnoxious buzzing noise that apparently does the trick, because Logan grits his teeth and stabs him, right through the side.

You jump, stunned, watching as Logan’s claws slip back out, leaving Wade clutching his side. Blood pours out of the wound, and you’re about to call out when you realize that Wade’s grinning.

“Oh, there it is,” Wade says, inspecting the hole in his side, barely even phased. “You got me good, Wolvie. Was hoping you’d go for the chest, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“What the hell?” You can’t help but gape at him. “You’re bleeding, and you’re laughing?”

Wade winks, dropping his hand and letting you see that the wound is…healing. Muscles and tissue knit themselves back together, as if he hadn’t been stabbed at all. “Oh, yeah! Y/n, I forgot to mention one of my best features: I’m unkillable! Like an annoying houseplant that refuses to die. Cool, right?”

You blink, still trying to process. “So…no matter what happens to you, you just…keep coming back?”

“Yup! Think of it like this,” Wade says, throwing an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the sticky blood on his suit. “I am the miracle of human resilience, cranked up to eleven. Plus, I give Logan a stress outlet every morning. Win-win, really.”

“Wouldn’t call it a win,” Logan mutters, pouring his coffee. “If anything, you’re my worst nightmare.”

Wade smirks, turning to you. “Logan here’s my best friend. Don’t let him fool you.”

Logan takes a long, deliberate sip of his coffee, glaring over the rim. “One more word, Wade, and I’ll make it two stabs.”

“Oh, two stabs?” Wade clutches his chest dramatically. “Why, Mr. Howlett, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

“Honestly,” you mutter, looking at them, “this is the weirdest friendship I’ve ever seen.”

Logan glances over at you, grumbling, “It’s not a friendship. It’s a…complicated arrangement.”

Wade beams, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulder, which Logan promptly shrugs off. “Call it whatever you want, sweetie.”

As they bicker, Laura enters the room, unfazed by the chaos. She gives you a nod of acknowledgment before grabbing a seat at the table, watching the two men as if this is just another morning.

“Y/n, how’s Wade treating you?” she asks, a smirk forming on her face.

You can’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Oh, it’s just been fantastic. Nothing like witnessing multiple acts of violence before breakfast.”

She grins. “Get used to it. That’s pretty much every day around here.”

“Hey, I call it ‘combat therapy,’” Wade retorts, tossing her a wink. “You know, bonding time for the soul. Plus, Logan secretly loves it.”

You’re still processing all of this when Peter comes in, looking almost suspiciously normal, like a PTA dad in a nightmare of superheroes and chaos. He gives you a friendly wave, balancing a bag of bagels and a coffee tray.

“Morning, everyone!” Peter says, the only cheerful voice in the room. “Brought bagels for you all. Thought maybe today we could take it easy and just…you know, be normal for a while?”

Wade gasps. “Normal? Peter, buddy, you’re really asking a lot of me.”

“Don’t mind him, Peter,” you mutter, taking a bagel. “I think I’m the only sane one here.”

Peter gives you a sympathetic look. “I figured as much. Good luck with this crew, Y/n. If you ever need a sane friend, I’m your guy.”

Laura scoffs. “He doesn’t want ‘sane’ friends. If he did, he’d have run by now.”

You can’t argue with that. In fact, the thought does cross your mind—why didn’t you leave? But before you can dwell on it too long, Wade claps his hands.

“Today’s adventure awaits!” he announces, eyes alight with his usual chaotic energy. “We’ll start with breakfast and then…well, I’m not sure yet, but it’ll be something awesome.”

The group groans as Wade grabs his mask and heads for the door, beckoning for you to follow. Logan sighs, Laura grabs her knives, and Peter just looks resigned. But they all follow, like it’s a ritual they’re somehow tied to, and after a moment, you find yourself tagging along too.

The day is filled with antics. You lose track of the times Wade gets hurt, only to heal right in front of your eyes. Logan mutters that he’d be better off without Wade, only to punch him in the shoulder five minutes later with a hidden grin. Laura challenges Wade to a knife fight, and Peter just sighs, trying to keep everyone in line. And for the first time in…who knows how long, you’re laughing. Really laughing.

It’s almost night by the time you head back, the sky darkening as the city lights flicker on. You’re about to part ways and make your way home, but somehow, your feet keep taking you back to Al’s apartment. You know you don’t belong here, not really, but when you reach the door, there’s that same warmth—a strange pull you can’t ignore.

Wade notices you hesitate by the door and grins. “Aw, he’s back! See, I told you I’d be your favorite person in no time.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you mutter, but you don’t turn to leave. Logan, Laura, Peter, and Al all glance at you, each with a look of welcome that they probably wouldn’t admit to feeling. It’s an odd sight, this bunch of misfits, but in some way, you realize that maybe they’re not as much of a mess as they seem. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve found something here that doesn’t completely suck.

“All right, all right, enough with the mushy stuff!” Wade says, breaking the silence. “Y/n, welcome back to Dysfunctional Central. We’re going to make you regret every second.”

You roll your eyes but smirk, stepping back inside and letting the door click shut behind you. Because this time, you don’t mind sticking around.

As night settles in over Blind Al’s apartment, the usual chaos of the group fades. Laura’s busy sharpening a blade on the couch, Logan’s nursing a beer in the corner, Peter is cleaning up the disaster of takeout containers from earlier, and Al is sitting near the window, her face turned toward the cool night breeze drifting in. Wade, in his typical way, is chattering aimlessly about everything and nothing at all, flipping between mocking TV commercials and talking up his latest “brilliant” idea for a reality show. And, as usual, you’re mostly tuning him out, feeling a mix of exhaustion and…something else. Something that’s starting to feel suspiciously like relief.

Wade breaks off suddenly, his head cocked as he glances over at you with a curious look. “So, Y/n,” he begins, his voice dropping a few notches in volume—a rarity. “How’s our little…adventure going? You feelin’ the spark of life yet? The whole, ‘maybe being alive doesn’t completely suck’ kinda thing?”

You shrug, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket. “I mean, it’s…been okay. You guys are insane, obviously, but it’s not the worst.”

Wade grins. “Insane and proud, baby. It’s kind of our brand. But don’t think I haven’t noticed your little act.” He leans in, dropping his voice even lower. “You’re good at the sarcasm, the deadpan thing. But I can see the cracks, kid. What’s under there?”

You freeze, not sure how to answer. Part of you wants to laugh it off, throw a sarcastic line his way, but something about the way Wade’s looking at you, uncharacteristically sincere, throws you off guard.

“Why’re you asking?” you mutter, looking away.

He shrugs, casual but not unkind. “Because, believe it or not, I give a damn. And because if I’m gonna help you out of whatever pit you’ve fallen into, I need to know where to start. So…give me the lowdown. What’s so bad it made you wanna bail on this whole rodeo?”

You swallow, throat tight. The last thing you want is to spill everything, to lay out every messy thought and feeling. But the words are there, just behind your teeth, begging to be let out after you’ve kept them buried for so long.

“It’s…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “It’s not one thing, okay? It’s like…everything.”

Wade’s eyes don’t leave yours, an unspoken encouragement in his gaze.

You take a breath, still unsure, but the dam is cracking, and suddenly the words are pouring out before you can stop them. “I don’t know, Wade. I just—I feel like I don’t fit. Anywhere. I’ve tried, I really have, but no matter what I do, it’s like I’m some kind of outsider. The kid who’s always…wrong. Like I don’t belong in my own life. And the more I tried to fit in, the harder it got.”

Wade nods, not interrupting, just letting you talk.

“School was a nightmare,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “People either ignored me or treated me like I was invisible. Even my own family doesn’t seem to get me. I just…there’s no place for me. No one who actually cares, and it’s been that way for so long that I can’t remember a time it wasn’t. And I know you’re supposed to push through or whatever, but I just got so tired, Wade. Tired of always feeling like I’m on the outside looking in. Tired of being…me.”

You shake your head, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Everywhere I look, it’s like people have these lives, friends, family, things that give them a reason to wake up. But me? I don’t have anything, not really. So I started wondering…if I just disappeared, would anyone even notice? Would anyone care?”

Wade is quiet, watching you with an expression you can’t quite place. It’s not pity—thankfully, you don’t think you could stand that—but something softer, gentler.

“That’s why I went up there last night,” you admit, surprised by the honesty in your own voice. “Because I couldn’t stand the emptiness anymore. I thought maybe if I just…ended it, at least it would stop hurting, you know?”

There’s silence in the room now, even the usual background noise faded to nothing. You can feel the weight of your own words, a relief but also a vulnerability that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.

After a moment, Wade shifts, sitting down next to you. “Hey, kid,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I know that feeling. I know it all too well.”

You glance at him, surprised. “You? You seem like you’ve got everything figured out.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, kid. I may be the king of talking big, but I’ve been where you are. Hell, I’ve been to worse places. You think I’m here just ‘cause life handed me everything I wanted? Nope. I got scars, inside and out, that’d make your head spin. And you know what? That ‘don’t belong’ feeling? I had that too.”

Wade pauses, running a hand over his mask, which he’s bunched up in his hands. “I used to think…if I could just disappear, maybe that would be the best thing for everyone. And that was before I became…this.” He gestures to his scarred skin, his voice low but steady. “When you look like this, people either turn away or look at you like you’re some kind of monster. It was…lonely. Really, really lonely.”

You swallow, something in his words hitting close to home. “So what changed?”

Wade smiles, a bit of his usual spark returning. “Well, I guess I just got stubborn. Figured if the world didn’t want me, then I’d make my own place. Found people—well, like the circus act you met last night. Turns out, sometimes family’s not about blood. It’s about…finding people who see the worst parts of you and stick around anyway.”

“Not everyone has that,” you murmur, glancing at the floor.

“True,” Wade admits, his gaze softening. “But kid, here’s the thing: you’re still here. And now, you’ve got us—like it or not.” He gives you a wry smile. “You don’t have to carry that weight alone anymore. I get it, I really do, but there’s no shame in letting someone else help pick up the pieces. Maybe you just haven’t found your people yet…but you’ve got me, and the squad. We’re not perfect, but we don’t go down without a fight.”

You look at him, a strange warmth spreading through your chest despite the heaviness of the moment. For the first time, you feel like maybe someone actually understands. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not completely alone.

“Thanks,” you say, the word barely loud enough to hear. “For…listening.”

Wade grins, reaching out and patting your shoulder, a bit rough but oddly comforting. “Anytime, kid. I’m annoying, sure, but you won’t find anyone more loyal.” He gives you a wink. “Besides, I told you—I’m not letting you off the hook that easy.”

You chuckle, feeling a little lighter despite everything. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope. It’s a gift and a curse.” Wade stands, offering a hand to help you up. “Now, you and me? We’re gonna keep going until you see just how much life’s got to offer. I mean, look at me—scarred, hated, stabbed on a daily basis—and somehow, I’m still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re a walking disaster.”

“Guilty as charged,” Wade says with a laugh. “But hey, you stick around with us long enough, maybe we’ll rub off on you. Logan can teach you how to growl menacingly, and Laura can teach you how to stab with precision. Peter’s got the dad jokes covered. It’s a real all-inclusive experience.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a spark of hope. It’s small, fragile, but it’s there. Maybe life’s not all bright and shiny, and maybe you’ve got a long way to go, but with Wade and this dysfunctional crew, maybe there’s a chance you can start over. At the very least, you’re not alone.

“Alright,” you say, meeting Wade’s gaze with newfound determination. “I’ll give this a shot.”

Wade’s grin stretches wide, genuine. “That’s the spirit, Y/n! I knew you had it in you.” He throws an arm around your shoulder, squeezing a little too tight. “And hey, if it ever gets too tough, just remember—you’ve got us.”

You nod, letting yourself lean into the odd but reassuring presence of Wade by your side. For the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s a path forward, one you don’t have to walk alone.

And with this crazy group, maybe that path won’t be as empty as the one you were on before.

if you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and leave a comment if you want!

[the-only-mickeypoo]

A Little Motivation

summary: Max learns that his tenant is going on a business trip for her job. This saddens him, as seeing her every day gives him the motivation to work on renovations. Now, he has to find another way to cope with his desperation to see her.

characters: Max Sonnen, F!Reader, August

cw: nsfw!! smutty and freaky as fuck el em eff ay oh! some obsessive behavior, but hey, it's max.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57790891

Max knew he was a sick, sick man. Even with his self-awareness, he couldn’t stop himself - especially with this new tenant around. She wasn’t a woman he’d previously seeked out, she had found her way to his building out of pure coincidence. The moment she walked into the apartment asking if it was the one in the ad he put out, he was hooked. He’d felt this way with people before, but never this intensely. He’d find himself thinking of her at every moment - she even showed up in his dreams. He couldn’t escape her, no matter what he did. His grandfather, August, could sense this. He knew Max, he knew how his mind worked, or at least he thought he did. When Max got like this, he’d let him know he hated it.

“You’re a weak man, just like your father.” He’d say. Next, Max would be met with a slap to the face. All Max could do was take it. Even though August thought he was helping Max this way by making him into a man, Max would just hide away inside of the walls of the building to escape.

Max had built himself a sanctuary of sorts, one where he could act out on his urges. Every day, when he got the chance, he’d walk from room to room, watching his tenant like a hawk. His dark hazel eyes would peer through the openings he’d made as his tenant got ready, cooked, slept, bathed… Those last two were his favorite. Seeing her so vulnerable was a huge turn-on. Whenever he’d watch, he’d always end up masturbating to the sight of her. Her body looked like it was sculpted to perfection. He’d picture himself in the room with her, taking her in her most vulnerable of moments. He’d have to stay quiet so she didn’t find out about his sick obsession. He couldn’t be found out, though the idea of being caught turned him on a bit… just a tiny bit.

Max would continue to do this for God knows how many days, but it all came to a halt when he found out his tenant was going on an overnight business trip across the city. It was morning when she bumped into him outside of her apartment. “Oh, hi, Max!”

Her sweet voice was music to his ears. He put on his best charming smile. “Hey!” He looked towards her suitcase. “What’s that for?”

“Oh,” The tenant started with a little laugh. “I’m going across the city on a trip for work. I was gonna let you know since I know you like to say hi to me when you come in to work on my apartment.”

Max’s heart dropped. His smile faltered a little. “Oh, well, I… hope you have fun.” He nodded as he spoke. Outside, he looked charming and happy. On the inside was a completely different story. How would he be able to go about his day without her? 

“Thanks.” The tenant smiled at him before noticing her taxi was outside. “Oh, there’s my ride. I have to go!” She started to walk away. She waved to Max as she walked away. “Bye!”

“Bye.” 

This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good. As Max put on his glasses, his mind was racing. What would he do without her? Seriously, what would he do? The door of her apartment was already open so he could go in to work on it, but he knew he couldn’t start just yet. Her being there was his motivation to work. He had to get just a little bit of her. 

Max closed the door behind him and he found his way through her apartment, looking at pictures she had of herself and admiring all of her features. He took one with him as he went to her bedroom. He stared at her bed and walked over to it. He took a glance at the picture before placing it on the nightstand. He felt his breaths get shakier as he crawled onto the bed. His hands clutched the sheets and he brought them up to his nose. He moaned quietly as her scent filled his nose and lingered there. “Absolutely divine.” He spoke out loud, his voice husky and soft. His eyes fluttered shut as he took another sniff, letting out a drawn out groan as he did. 

Pulling away with a gasp, Max’s eyes opened and looked downward. Her scent had gotten him riled up. Too riled up. He moved to undo his belt but hesitated. What if she came back because she forgot something, or someone else came in and saw him there? Those thoughts quickly went away, as his hands went against his brain and started to unbuckle his belt. As he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, he realized there was no going back. He had to do this. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to function today. That would raise questions with the tenant.

Max frantically unbuckled his belt and pulled it off. He threw it to the side and pulled his jeans down to his ankles. His breathing grew heavy as he swallowed and pulled his boxers down as well, freeing himself. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped his hand around his dick. He brought the sheets up to his nose again and started to stroke himself while taking in her scent, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before fluttering shut. His groans were feral and desperate. His hips bucked forward, his body clearly wanted more than just his hand. His jaw tightened and he opened his eyes, looking through lust-clouded eyes for something he could grind on. His eyes fell on a pillow and he stopped moving his hand. His other hand reached out to touch the pillow and he exhaled as he felt how soft it was. It reminded him of his tenant’s soft skin that he’d “accidentally” brush against when they interacted sometimes. He needed something… this pillow would be perfect.

Max’s hand went from lightly caressing the pillow to gripping it and bringing it towards himself. He leaned over it and brought his lips, closing his eyes as he pictured the tenant’s lips against his. He was basically full on making out with a damn pillow. He shifted his position, getting on top and pressing his dick against the pillow. The feeling of the pillow alone got beads of pre-cum dripping from him. He opened his eyes halfway and pulled away, breathing heavily. He looked up from the pillow towards the picture he left on the nightstand. He grabbed it and put it on top of the pillow. He made sure it was in a good spot before he took some time to stare down at it. 

The picture was taken by a coworker of hers in her office. She was laughing, smiling the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “My darling…” Max muttered as he stroked the frame of the picture, “My damn angel.” He pressed his lips against the picture itself, keeping his eyes semi-open so he could admire the business attire she wore in the picture. He pulled away and kept his head down so he could stare at the picture.

In Max’s mind, he was on top of his tenant, making love to her. Her soft skin was up against his. He held the sides of the pillow and started rocking his hips back and forth. Her name fell from his lips, his eyes staring at the picture, unblinking. He pictured her underneath him, smiling at him and telling him how much of a good boy he was. This made him move faster, his groans getting louder. His glasses were starting to fall off a little, but he couldn’t care less. All he was focused on was getting himself to cum.

At a certain point, Max couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and he screwed them shut. His brow started to furrow and he tilted his head back, letting out a higher-pitched moan. More and more of those moans came out of him until they became soft and breathy whimpers. Though he tried to compose himself, he couldn’t. He was turning into a mess. He was whimpering, precum spilling from the tip of his dick and sweat forming on his forehead. His hands gripped the sides of the pillow and he let out a strained noise of pleasure. He was about to fucking lose it, and he was in too deep to even realize.

It wasn’t until his hips started to move out of the rhythm he had set and his dick started to throb that Max noticed. He couldn't fucking stop. He looked down at the picture one more time, whimpering his tenant’s name over and over like a damn prayer. The whimpers got progressively louder until Max thrusted one last time, pushing him completely into a state of ecstasy. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as ropes of his cum came out, most of it landing right on the picture he was looking at.

Max’s chest rose and fell quickly as he attempted to catch his breath. He was sweating, his hair and glasses were out of place. As he attempted to straighten himself out, he looked downwards and noticed that his cum had gotten on her precious photo.

His heart dropped. He cursed under his breath,  “Goddammit…!” How was he gonna clean this mess up? He was not in the right state of mind to make any rational decision. He was panicking. Nothing was coming to mind on what to do! His brain was completely blank due to the previous orgasm as well as his anxiety. He couldn’t think, so in a panic, he grabbed the picture and stared at it for a solid few seconds.

“... I’m so sorry.” Max whispered before he started to lick his own release off of the picture. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry…” He whimpered in shame, “I’ve gotten your pretty face so dirty…”

Max continued to voice his regret and lick all of his release off of the picture. In his panic, he seriously couldn't do anything else. He let out soft noises as he licked the picture clean. He smiled as he could finally see her face again, all clean and pretty. He was thinking of washing the picture off and putting it back, but the more he looked at it, the urge to just take it and use it when he needed to just got stronger. As usual, his instincts took over and he decided to take the picture with him. He quickly redressed and straightened himself out, letting out a sigh of relief. Now that was finally over, he could get back to what he originally came into this apartment to do.

Max took the picture and stared down at it - he had a plan in his mind. He’d keep the picture around him all day so he’d be motivated to work, and he would take it back with him to his own room and keep it there. One question popped up in his mind. Surely she’d notice the picture was gone. If she asked where it was, how would he answer? 

He could just lie. He’d lied to her before. He always got away with it. He just had to keep his act up. 

Max straightened the bed out so it didn’t look like anyone was there. He made sure to make it look extra nice so his tenant could return to a neat apartment. Then, he’d receive praise from her for taking such good care of her place while she was gone. That’s all he wanted from her, some positive attention. He was sure he’d get it with the way he tidied up her bedroom. As he stepped back and took a look, he concluded that it was perfect. It was time for him to get to work.

Max grunted as he stretched. He let out a sigh and turned towards the exit of the room. He stepped out and looked back at the room, taking one last look before he determined it looked as if no one had done something sick in there. Max was very careful with covering his tracks, as he’d been doing this for a while. He stood there for a few seconds before finally being able to say it looked normal.

Max looked ahead and closed the door behind him. As he walked away, he just told himself…

“All that was was a little motivation. You’ll get away with this. You’ll lie, and she’ll believe you.”

And that was all he needed. Max grabbed his toolbox he had set down earlier and took a deep breath. He had a long day ahead of him - and he was going to get through it. He just had to tell himself: 

“You’ll get away with this.”

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 6

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

Vartan nearly knocked you over as he stumbled inside, holding onto the wall as he made his way through your kitchen and to the living room, where he fell onto the couch.

You closed and locked the door behind him, then hurried over to the couch.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked up at you, and for first time you could see a hint of annoyance on his face. It was both frightening and comical. "They asked me to leave the base. So I came here."

"They threw you out?"

He laid back on the couch, making himself a bit more comfortable, though every move still seemed painful. "Yes, that is basically true."

You were holding your forehead. This was ridiculous. If the neighbors happened to see Vartan on his way in, the whole building would be in a state of panic.

He glanced to the side. "You do not have a television?"

You frowned. "No, I'm not that rich. And besides, I don't even like watching movies. Wait, why did you come to my apartment? For that matter how did you know where I live?"

"I followed you home. And you are the only human I know."

You couldn't help but feel a little bit special upon hearing that. How many girls in the city could say a half-breed knew them well enough to crash at their place? But you tossed the thought out of your mind. "You know Terrian too. He has a really big house."

"But you are the one I followed," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

You sighed. "Alright, you can stay as long as you need to, but please don't go walking around in the hallway or anything. The other people in the building might have heart attacks if they spot you."

Vartan nodded.

"And," you said carefully, "there's one more condition to staying here."

He looked you in the eyes again. "What is it?"

You felt a little scared. You just couldn't get beyond the fact that you were talking to a half-breed. You took a deep breath. "You can't punish anyone while you're staying with me. No matter what."

He raised his eyebrows, and you flinched, as if expecting him to jump up and decapitate you. "And what will you do if I punish anyone?"

You hesitated for a moment, then built up your courage and said "I'll throw you out!"

Vartan stared at you in response, and you could've sworn an extremely faint smile had tugged at his lips for an instant. "Very well," he said, "I will abide by your rules."

You blinked. A half-breed was agreeing to your rules? It was beyond bizarre. You shook your head and walked into the bedroom, where you pulled out an extra blanket and took one of the pillows from your own bed. You brought them to him, and he politely thanked you.

Once he was comfortable again, you waved to him and told him goodnight, going into your room to change into pajamas. You opened your door a crack and peeked into the living room, but it was too dark to make out anything more than a vague shape on the couch.

It was a very restless night, as you had trouble sleeping while knowing that a half-breed was lying in the next room. Your mind was going crazy, telling you that he was different, that he was kind to you and had gotten himself into trouble for your sake, but at the same time reminding you of how callously he had murdered Miranda's parents only a few days before. You couldn't decide whether he was a gentle boy or a barbaric monster.

In the end, you fell asleep just a few hours before sunrise, and so overslept terribly the next morning. What little sleep you got was plagued by nightmares, of your parents screaming, of following a tall, black-clad stranger in the snow. You don’t even remember what snow feels like, but in your dreams it was bitterly cold. 

You climbed out of bed and staggered into the kitchen. Vartan was at the table peeling an orange. His jacket was gone and, to your embarrassment, so were his pants. He wore boxer shorts, plain black cotton. He looked up when you entered the room. "Is it alright that I took an orange?"

You nodded, still a little disoriented. You were wearing a tank top and a pair of knit shorts. It was nothing scandalous, but you felt a little self-conscious so you held your arms over yourself and stepped toward the door.

"There is no need to be embarrassed," he said, biting into the peeled orange, "I have seen you in less."

You remembered your first time meeting him, in the clinic while you were in your underwear, and cringed. You had almost forgotten it. You turned around to face him. "Right, about that, I have another rule. You can't... um... do anything... to me."

He looked highly confused. "Do anything?"

"You know, what you half-breeds do to humans all the time. Um, how did that girl put it yesterday... 'enjoy'?"

Vartan obviously understood now, and you were more than a little embarrassed.

He took another bite of the orange. "I will do nothing to harm you."

You sighed in relief. "Great, I'm glad we cleared that up." You sat down at the table and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit, biting into it without peeling it. "By the way, I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. You really saved us, Anna and I."

Vartan nodded without a word.

You watched him for a moment while chewing the apple. "I'm curious though, why did you do it?"

"I already explained. You saved me, I wanted to save you in return."

"But when you spared Miranda, I mean, the little girl a few nights ago, you said your debt had been repaid."

He was looking at the half-eaten orange in his hand. "I am... not on the best of terms with those three."

"Oh. I see. So going up against them wasn't exactly new?"

"Correct," he answered. "I have fought with them many times."

"Why?" you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you thought.

"I believe Celeste, the girl you met, harbors feelings for me that one half-breed should not have for another."

Your jaw dropped. "You mean she has a crush on you?!"

"Yes, I believe so. And the others, Aden and Marcel, harbor those feelings for her. As such, they despise me."

You laid the apple on the table, too intrigued to eat. "Wow, so they're jealous of you! But why would she attack you the way she did? Why would she allow them to?"

Vartan looked at you, surprised. "Why would she not?"

"Because she's in love with you, isn't she? You don't hurt people you love!"

"We do not understand the feelings of humans," he said. "If we somehow come to experience them, we do not know how to react to them."

You looked back down. "Oh," you said, then looked at him sharply. "But why don't the half-breeds get together? Why don't they ever date each other or get married or anything?”

Vartan looked positively shocked by your question, his expression even going beyond mere raised eyebrows to include wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "That is forbidden! We can never touch each other in that way!"

You were quite surprised yourself. "Why not?"

Vartan settled back into his usual expression. "I'm not sure. We've been told from the time we were children that we must never, ever mate with fellow half-breeds. Doing so would be punishable by death."

"Wow, that's a really harsh rule. But I guess that explains why you guys fool around with humans so much."

"Yes," he replied, eating his orange again and seeming strangely uncomfortable, "We were told to satisfy our physical desires with humans."

You placed your elbow on the table and leaned over, supporting your head with your arm. "But don't you guys ever want something more? More than just a physical thing? How do you get any pleasure from it when the human obviously doesn't want it?"

Vartan was focused intently on the orange, as if purposely avoiding your eyes. "We were told that humans are hormonal creatures who always desire physical pleasure. We were told that the humans wouldn't mind, that they would be happy to satisfy us, because we are pleasing to their eyes."

You wee positively amazed to be hearing all of this. Finally things were starting to make a little more sense. "But couldn't you figure out that humans didn't want to be used?"

Vartan suddenly stood up from the table. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

You blinked, caught off-guard. "Oh, sure. There are some towels in the closet in the hall."

He stood up and pushed his chair in, then cleared the table of the small mess he had made with the orange. It really struck you that he was unbelievably polite. You wondered if half-breeds were raised to be that way, or if this was simply a personality trait for him.

You heard him open and then close the closet door, then listened as he walked a little further down the hall and into the bathroom. Then the water came on. You resumed eating while you waited, and he eventually emerged from the hall again, but this time he was without the boxers. You nearly choked on the apple, but stood up and quickly backed away, covering your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Please put your clothes on!" you cried.

"Why? You have seen me nude before. Why are humans so bothered by such things?"

You slowly removed your hands from your eyes, but looked straight at his face. He looked genuinely curious. "Because things like this should be reserved for couples."

"Why?"

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with the best way to word it. "Well, it should be special, when two people who are in love see each other naked for the first time. Exposing yourself like that is like revealing your deepest secret."

Vartan's puzzled expression made you realize that you had indeed worded it wrong. "Wait, that didn't come out right. I mean, even with people who are not in love, you want to save that 'secret' for when you decide to become intimate."

"So, humans do not allow anyone to see them nude unless they are intimate?"

You rubbed your forehead again. "No, that's not exactly it. I mean, doctors see you naked, but that's for medical reasons. It's different. And when you're a kid and your parents see you naked, like when you're taking a bath. Or if you're spending the night with your best friend and you change clothes in the same bedroom, it's not a big deal. But, when it comes to someone you're attracted to, it makes you shy about it, so you only want to show yourself to them when you trust them to not be judgmental and..."

You trailed off, noticing that Vartan's look of confusion was gone and he was instead staring at you intently. "I see," he said, stepping into the living room. He returned a few seconds later, buttoning his pants. "I suppose I no longer have a secret to reveal."

"What?"

Again that faint smile seemed to flash across his face for the briefest of moments, but it disappeared just as quickly. "You're not going to the clinic today. Are you going anywhere else?"

"Terrian's house. He gave me a new job."

"What kind?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you really interested or are you making conversation?"

"I am interested."

"He wants Anna and I to be his new maids. I know he just wants to give us a reason to take money from him and come to his house, so we won't feel like we're robbing him, you know? But I hope he doesn't make us wear uniforms again."

"The white outfit you were wearing at the clinic, that was a uniform?" he asked. 

"Yeah. Terrian picks them out. I think he has a costume fetish or something."

"Does he not make you feel uncomfortable?"

You laughed. "We know he's just joking around. Yeah, he likes to see us in cute clothes, but he would never do anything inappropriate. In fact he's ridiculously protective of us."

"Yes, I saw that," Vartan replied. "He was quick to attack me when he thought I was doing you harm."

You laughed again, and in the back of your mind you wondered when you had reached the point that you could laugh with a half-breed. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the kitchen wall. "Oh crap, I'm really running late now. I better get ready."

You hurried to the hall, grabbed some towels, and took a quick shower. You dressed in the bathroom, having no desire to go prancing into your bedroom with nothing but a towel on while Vartan was there. He promised he wouldn't do anything, but you decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tempt a half-breed, despite the circumstances.

You fixed your hair and even dabbled on a little makeup and perfume, things you normally never bothered with. When finished, you looked in the mirror and asked yourself why you were trying so hard to look good. Was it because you wanted Vartan to find you attractive? But you had gone to such lengths to avoid attracting that sort of attention from him.

But what was wrong with it if you liked him?

You took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom. You grabbed your bag from the counter in the kitchen and stepped into a pair of shoes by the door. You glanced into the living room, where Vartan was sitting quietly on the couch.

"Um, I'm leaving now. If you decide to go out, lock the door behind you. There's an extra key on the table by my bed so you can get back in. Remember not to let anyone see you in the building, okay?"

He looked up at you and nodded, then waved as you left.

You arrived several minutes later at Terrian's house. You usually visited in the evenings, after they closed the clinic, so seeing it in the daylight, under the red-tinged sun, made the huge house look a little scary. Now you understood why he often asked you and Anna to come live with him.

You walked up on the porch and rang the door bell. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps and the door suddenly flung open. There stood Anna, positively fuming, in a frilly french maid costume that was obviously bought for Halloween many years ago. You wanted to laugh, but then it occurred to you that you would probably be wearing that horrendous getup too. You grimaced.

"He's gone too far this time!" Anna said loudly, stomping her foot as she talked as if to emphasize every word. "Look at this! I look ridiculous!"

"It's not that bad. I mean, it's kinda cute."

"It's awful!" Anna cried.

You opened your mouth to respond, but heard Terrian's voice ring out from within the house. "Is she here? Send her on up to get her uniform!"

You paled. "Well, at least you won't look awful by yourself." You stepped inside and began climbing up the stairs, dreading what you would see when you reached the top.

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Ironstrange:

" What, because he is an asshole he couldn't be hurt? Dare i say he is an asshole because he was hurt all his life."

I went with this as general inspiration instead of a direct quote.

Also, I like Hope, but I needed someone who didn’t know Tony particularly well and had *some* reason to think poorly of him, but nothing super personal. Scott would also have worked, but he’s one of my favorite characters and I couldn’t stand to use him this way, so Hope it is. LOL.

-

“I’m not saying you can’t handle it,” Tony tells Hope impatiently. “I’m saying, back up is never a bad thing in these situations, and I’m the only person who has half a chance of understanding what’s going on if something goes wrong with your gadget.”

“I don’t particularly want you to understand what’s going on,” Hope shoots back.

Tony’s flinch is so tiny, so well suppressed, Stephen’s not sure if anyone other than him saw it. Tony presses his lips together for a moment, then relaxes all at once. “You know what? You’re right, this mission doesn’t need more than one hero in a highly engineered suit.” He pushes his chair back from the table and stands. “So I’m going to go do something productive.”

Stephen looks around the table, but no one else—Steve, Hope, Rhodes, and Sam—seems confused. “I’d appreciate it if someone could explain what just happened.”

Steve and Sam look away. Rhodes sighs, but explains. “Hope’s father, Hank Pym, used to work with Howard Stark. They had a severe falling out. I don’t know what actually happened, but Hank Pym has been loudly proclaiming for years that Stark Senior stole his research.”

“And this has what to do with you and Tony?” Stephen asks, catching Hope’s gaze and holding it.

She sets her jaw. “Dad was pretty clear that you can’t trust a Stark.”

Stephen raises both his eyebrows. “The only person I’ve seen perpetuating their father’s mistakes in this situation is you.”

“Tony hasn’t exactly gone out of his way to build bridges—” Steve starts.

“And why is that Tony’s responsibility?” Stephen cuts him off. “Has it really never occurred to you,” he cuts a glance over to Hope to make sure she knows she’s included, “that Tony is abrasive specifically because of reactions like yours? Do you think you’re the first people to judge him on his father’s mistakes?” The silence that follows is strained. Stephen shakes his head and stands. “You know, it occurs to me that this mission doesn’t need a magic user, either.”

Hopefully, he’s given them something to think about, but he wouldn’t bet on it.