#this one is just a big triggering nope still

[soaps-mohawk]

Sorry but i dont understand the Pecattiphilia one?

Its getting aroused by the thought or action of committing a sin? I don’t get it and is the first time I’ve ever heard of it.

Okay I know I said I was going on my break but I came on to peep and saw this one and I have to answer before I forget how to answer.

Anyway, yes pecattiphilia is sexual arousal at the thought of committing a sin, usually sexual in nature. (Usually this relates to purity culture in religion)

So, for example, a character views sex as a sin, and would become aroused by the act of sinning (having sex) or by the guilt related to believing they have sinned by having sex.

This article goes more in depth with the explanation better than I can.

But yeah. My religious trauma gives this one a big nope. That's why it's on the list.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Forgotten Lunch ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 990ish

Summary: While running errands, you realize that Logan has forgotten his lunch.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Logan asked again. 

His hand was resting on your thigh as he drove the two of you to work. He knew how your anxiety acted up in familiar moments of the past, and he was worried that today would be a trigger.

“I’m fine, Logan,” you responded. “It’s just a few errands.”

“I know, but the—“

“The last time I dropped you off at work and ran errands, Victor showed up. Yes, I know. But that's not going to happen, and I will call you if I need you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

As soon as Logan pulled up to his work, he reached for you. “Come here,” he muttered, pulling you across the bench seat. He held you close and kissed you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Logan pecked your lips again before reluctantly getting out of the truck. He grabbed his tools from the bed of the truck before he flashed you a small smile and headed towards the work area. You slid in front of the steering wheel and took a deep breath. You could do this. It was just a few errands.

You had made it through the first two small errands just fine before the anxiety started to build up. As you placed what you bought in the back row of the truck, you noticed that Logan’s lunch sack was still there. You huffed with a light smile. Logan had forgotten his lunch on purpose; you were sure of it. You brought the lunch to the front of the truck before heading back to Logan's work.

You found Logan not too far off from where you had dropped him off. You couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight of Logan swinging the ax. The way his muscles moved under his tight shirt, the way a slight gleam of sweat covered his open skin. Logan was truly a sight to behold. Grabbing his lunch, you slipped out of the truck but found yourself leaning up against the front of it, continuing to watch the show and wondering how long it would take for him even to notice you.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” a man greeted as he came up beside you. You ignored him, still staring at Logan. “What’s brought you here?”

“Looky what we have here,” another man said, coming up with a few others. “You lost little lady?”

“Nope,” you responded, still not looking at any of the men.

The second man did not like that and stepped in front of you, causing you to look at him finally.

“Why don’t we start by you telling us your name?” He requested, but there was a layer of clear intent behind his tone. Something that made you sick and angry.

Logan was about to swing his ax down again when a familiar scent wafted through his nose. With no care for the ax, Logan dropped it and spun around to see you surrounded by his coworkers. His jaw and fists clenched as he noticed how uncomfortable you were getting. The claws threatened to point out of his fists as he began marching over there. But before he could reach you, the man who was standing in front of you suddenly caught on fire. It wasn't that big, just the pocket that his lighter was in, but it caused all the men to freak. A smirk formed on Logan's lips as pride filled his chest. The men quickly took care of the fire as Logan came over.

“So I see you guys have met my wife,” Logan stated as he came up and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Your wife?!” They exclaimed.

“Hey, honey,” you said, focusing on Logan and relaxing now that he was near.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, giving you a short kiss. “The guys bothering you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you shrugged with a wink.

“We’re so sorry, Howlett,” one of them said, clearly scared. “We didn't know.”

“It’s alright, boys,” you waved off the apology. 

“If you don't mind, I think it’s time for my lunch break,” Logan said, staring at the others. They quickly disappeared, saying goodbye as they scrambled off. 

“Should I be more offended that your coworkers didn't know that you had a wife?”

“They didn’t deserve to know.” He kissed your forehead. “You okay?”

“You left your lunch in the truck. I couldn't let you starve.”

“Is that all?”

You sighed. "I was getting a little anxious.”

“Then the plan worked."

“I knew it!" You playfully hit his chest. “You left your lunch on purpose.”

“I knew you would get anxious eventually, and I wanted to make sure that anxiousness brought you to me. I even made sure to slip another sandwich into my lunch sack.”

“Why are you so perfect?”

Logan’s head fell back as he laughed. “Not perfect, sweetheart. Just doing what I can to help my wife. Come on,” he took your hand and grabbed the lunch, “let's eat in the bed of the truck."

Logan pulled you to the back of the truck, handing you the lunch, before lowering the door to the bed of the truck. With gentle hands, Logan lifted you up to sit there before joining you. The two of you enjoyed your lunch, laughing and chatting. Logan’s coworkers kept glancing your way, almost in shock.

“I’m gonna go finish up, and then we’ll head home,” Logan said after lunch. “You okay to wait?”

“As long as you need,” you replied.

Logan smiled before giving you a kiss. “I’ll be quick.” He jogged off to clean up his work area.

“Well, I didn't know you had it in you, Howlett,” one of the men said. “You’re a big softie.”

“Only for the wife.” He looked back at you, only to see you smiling and waving at him. 

“You’re lucky.”

“You have no idea.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Thanks as usual for reading.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Things don’t become comfortable, but familiar. You get into a routine, one which smears the days and nights into the other. The landscape helps with that. The sun is fleeting, even in July. The days are longer but it’s not anywhere as stifling or humid as New York. Like everything else, it’s different. 

The man at the fish place, Frederik, knows your name. His wife, Inga too. When you walk in the door, they put your order to fry before you even get to the counter. They’re friendly and warm. It’s nice to have some smiling faces when you can hardly muster the same.  

They like to ask you about New York; they’re finally planning a big trip to America after twenty-five years together. They remind you of Marigold and her bakery. You long for one of her eclairs and her chatty demeanour. Just another thing to miss. 

As you sit down at a table near the window to eat in, your phone goes off. You answer as you read Sam’s name across the screen. He’s the only one you’ve talked to in the last month. Nearly two now. August is close. 

“Yo, yo, girly pop,” he sings from the other end. 

“Girly pop? Sam,” you chide as you hover a thick cut fry before your mouth. 

“Chicky poo, nope. Girly pop, nope. I’ll get there,” he teases, “finally got a hold of you.” 

“Uh, yeah, the site is far. No signal,” you shrug and take a bite. 

“I know, I'm just needy,” he kids. “So, you hitting the spa? Summer’s going fast.” 

“Not yet,” you swallow. “Sam, there’s a lot of work here and it’s just me. The only help I get is from a local student volunteer and they do three hours a week.” 

“Oof, why does your work sound so boring?” He groans 

“Hey!” 

“Well, I mean, digging up dirt all day, tell me you’re not going mad. You making friends? No one to cool, I hope. I’m still your number one guy.” 

“Not really. It’s tough. Long hours. I don’t know,” you stare out the window as you toy with the bamboo fork.  

“If you were going to hide all day in a hovel, you could’ve stayed in New York,” he sighs. 

“Sam, I’m trying. Really. It’s... It’s going to take some time.” 

“Right,” he agrees grimly. “Time. A year is not that long.”  

You hum and lean back in the chair. You’re not as hungry as you were. You close up the container and stand. 

“I know, alright?” You sniff as you tidy the table and grab your food, “but this isn’t a vacation.” 

“It’s also not a missionary trip,” he retorts. “I’m not tryna be a dick here, I’m helping. You need this.” 

You push out into the street and cluck. Silence. You don’t know what to say. He’s right and just like ever day, the conversation is the same. Over and over. It’s going to drive you crazy. 

“More sunlight this time of year, good for work--” 

“No more work talk,” he interjects, “if you don’t got anything fun going on, I'll just have to make you jealous. Some good old fashioned FOMO. Hm, me and Bucky went to Jersey.” 

“Jersey? Why?” You take the bait, happy for the distraction. 

“Oh, yeah, I told him there was a vintage bike for sale there.” 

“You told him that but...” 

“There wasn’t. I just wanted to see him interact with the locals. The old ladies love him but the men... well, I think he might have a warrant out now.” 

“No, Sam, what the hell?” You exclaim as you stroll along. “Are you trying to get him killed?” 

“Hey, I got his back. Just like I got yours. It was just a prank.” 

“Wait, Sam, where exactly did you take him in Jersey?” 

“Some cribbage club, I don’t know. I saw a page for it online. Thought he’d fit in--” 

“They were old?” 

“They match his energy,” he snorts. 

You can’t help but laugh. It feels good. Just that little bit of home. Your amusement is dampened as your heart sinks. You really were so stupid. You didn’t see what you had all around you; Bucky, Sam, more than just Steve. Now it’s all behind you and going back won’t be the same as before. 

💟

There’s tension in the air. It’s going to rain. You suspect your day will be cut short by the gathering clouds but your persist. No use in running. Again. 

The last time you left in fear of a storm, it waited until the next day. So you sit, boots set in the dirty, hunched over as you carefully trace out the strange lump. It’s more than sediment. Bone but not a skeleton. Likely animal and bent into some tool. You have to be delicate. It’s not like the movies, you can’t just dig your hand in and rip it out. 

Your earbud drones as a retro R&B playlist keeps your mind at focus. You wipe your forehead with the back of your glove, feeling the flecks of dirt cling to your skin. You ignore it and press on. Just a little more, a little more. 

It’s bigger than you expect. Just as you think it might come free, you find it goes further down. You can make out the jagged break and the hide wrapping at it’s base. A spear of some sort.  

You roll your shoulders out and put your tools down on the open role. You peel of the gloves and reach for the tall insulated bottle of water. You gulp, your throat cooling nicely at the flow. You cap the bottle and clear your throat, listening to the silence of the mountain. 

Yet it isn’t quiet. You glance around at the subtle scratching, a strange tapping across the ground. It could be vermin. It’s not unusual to disturb a nest of one thing or another on a dig but they usually leave early on. 

You put the bottle down and shove your hand back into a glove. A puffy breath comes over the scratching. Several breaths in quick succession, as if there’s something sniff. You keep your other glove in your grip and stand. Your legs are so cramped that your steps are stiff and stunted. 

As you search for the source, there’s a yipe and a fuzzy shape catches your eye. You tilt your head, thoroughly confused at the barking beast. You’re not certain that chihuahuas are native to Norway. At least, you wouldn’t assume so. 

The ashy blond dog has longer fur along its ears and chest and a white bolt down its chest. You can tell it isn’t wild despite its behaviour as it is finely groomed and wears a bright red collar. You approach the fence as it hops, stopping only to try to dig beneath with its dirtied paws. 

“Hi, buddy,” you near the eager dog, “how’d you get up here?” 

You stop just across from the dog and poke your fingers through the fence. It stops, you think a ‘he’, and sniffs your fingers. His cold nose tickles you and you wiggle until you can pet his head. The little thunderbolt emblem on hiss collar peeks through his mane. There might be some information there. 

“Thunder!” The booming voice sounds like the very thing it decries, “Thunder, you pest, where’re you off too?” 

There’s a crunching of soil and rock along the mountain pass as the dog growls and barks again, turning to face the skewing of a towering shadow. You watch in shock at the approach. You didn’t think there was life so far up. That or someone has chosen a rather treacherous hiking trail. 

The dog, you assume ‘Thunder’, bounces back and forth in anticipation of his own, calling to him with his pitchy yaps. The man appears around the jagged rock and you feel the air knocked from your chest. You slowly reach to take out your earbud and tuck it in a pocket.

Wow. You blink to make sure it’s real. To be certain this isn’t some trick of the mind or this ancient land. Maybe the gods are real here. 

He’s tall and broad and handsome. His canvas jacket does little to conceal his muscular build as his jeans are snug to his thick thighs. You think he’s even bigger than Steve. You wince at the reminder of the man but it quickly flits away. You can’t ignore the man before you with his golden tresses twisted back into a low bun, stray strands wisping forward to frame his stony jaw and stormy blue eyes. 

You stand gaping through the fence as the man flinches in fright. His gaze meet yours and his cheeks tinge pink as he gives a crooked grin, “ah, Thunder, my darling, you’ve found a friend.” 

He whistles and the dog lunges forward. He picks up the chihuahua, their size difference almost comical as he cradles him in one arm. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can barely think.  

You snap your mouth shut and clear your throat. Work. That’s what you should be doing. 

“Hello,” the man nears the other side of the fence before you can move away, “I’ve been wondering what this is all about. The signs...” he points with his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Oh, uh,” you peer around as if lost. You sort of are. “A dig. Er. Grant,” you stammer out. You take a breath and still your mind, “I work with an archeological society in New York. We’ve been sponsored by your national board to exhume this site.” 

“Ah, yes, makes sense,” he lowers his brows thoughtfully as the dog squirms in his hold, yiping and biting at his sleeve. “Forgive me, she is rather uncouth.” He raises the dog higher and she wiggles in his arm. You see it now, definitely a pampered girl. “This is Thunder. She lives up to her namesake, eh?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you give a brittle smile, unsure. 

“Thor,” he dips his chin down, “I live just up the pass.” 

“You do?” You wonder curiously. “All the way up here?” 

“Oh yes, if you saw the old haunt, you might just want to dig that up too,” he jokes. “We usually go up the pass, towards the river.” 

“The river?” 

“Yes, you mustn’t stray far from here,” he remarks as he raises a hand to lean on the fence, only to nearly tip the unanchored grating. “Oooh, apologies,” he rights himself with a laugh, “anyhow, it is nice to see a new face around here. Better to have a name for it.” 

“Right, uh,” you offer your name and giggle nervously, “it’s just me on-site, guess I forget my manners.” 

“Not to worry. As the resident mountain man, my etiquette does lack,” he winces as Thunder chomps on his thumb knuckle, “eh, you monster, alright.” He holds her up and she pokes her nose through the fence, “she loves new people. Not so keen on the old.” 

“She's cute,” you scratch her nose and she licks your fingers. “Not exactly a native species.” 

“Who knows where she came from? Found the little dragon in the woods. Suppose someone left her there. She was covered in mud, so small I though she was a bloody toad,” he muses as he brings her back against his chest and rocks her, “it was only her thunderous barks which told me otherwise, isn’t that right, darling?” 

He makes a kissy noise at her and her fluffy tail wags wildly against him. You smile more genuinely. It is nice to have another living thing around after digging up the broken and dead for so long. 

“So you’re from New York?” He asks abruptly, his blue eyes rolling over you like a tide. 

“Yeah,” you utter breathily, “yes, New York.” 

“You’ve been here a while?” 

“Couple months,” you shift and twist your glove. 

“Wonderful, and you’ve done much exploring? You must live in town.” 

“About three hours,” you point towards the gravelly road, “haven’t had much time for sightseeing but I found a good fish shop.” 

“A shop? That’s no good. We catch our own fish, fry ‘em up over the pit,” he says, “that’s the way we do it up here.” 

You nod, “sounds fun. Well, er,” you turn halfway and look around, your eyes skimming up to the cloudy sky, “I should probably hustle. Looks like rain.” 

“That it does but it won’t be ‘til midnight,” he assures. 

“You think it’ll hold out?” 

“I know so,” he affirms and lingers by the fence, trying to see past you, “what exactly are you uncovering over there?” 

“Not much so far,” you pull on your loose glove. 

“You must know what this place was. A raider’s camp.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm, yes, the raiders would camp upon the pass away from those who might come ashore, then go off themselves to find a coast to reap,” he explains. 

“And how do you know all that?” You ask as you tramp back to your place in the dirt. 

“Suppose some of my ancestors camped here with them,” he offers casually, “for so long as we’ve been up here. Once the viking scamps settled, they had to find a home somewhere. Some fellow named Agmundr or another built a stone house further up.” 

“Admundr? Family?” You prompt. 

“Distant,” he assures, “been some time and that stone house is now a foundation.” 

You get down to your knees as you grab your brush and peek over at him, “thanks for the information. I’ll have to add it to the land report. Have them crosscheck in the archives.” 

“Not at all. You won’t find it all on your paper, you know? We carry or history on our tongues here.” 

“Sure,” you say as you bend over the spearhead and start again. 

“You don’t mind if I watch? I always did love history and I’ve never seen a proper dig before.” 

“Not much going on, I’m afraid,” you shrug, “but if you want.” 

“Thunder will have a tantrum if I go,” he chuckles, “she likes you.” 

“Hm,” you scoff, “she is very outspoken.” 

You set your eyes on your task but can’t shake the awareness of your audience. It’s not too unusual. There were a few digs you did early on in the heart of the city and people loved to ogle you. This is different. Just the two of you. A stranger even. Friendly as he is, you’re happy for the fence, even if it is rather flimsy. 

“Those bones aren’t for you,” he says to the dog as she wriggles in his grasp. “Let’s find a stick then, you little pest.” 

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

Yes, we have a lot of December left, but I don't think anything else I want to check out will air before 2024 hits (it's cdrama so caveat is - you never know.)

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it's not on the list. This was a pretty good cdrama year, all in all.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

30 legend of twin flower - Not dignifying that drama with capital letters, as the only capital that should be associated with this is capital punishment - which is what watching this feels like.

29 Dominator of Martial Gods - sounds like a bdsm gay porn title. Would probably be better acted and written if it was.

28 Beauty of Resilience - you'd need a lot of said resilience to sit through this incoherent, barely acted mess. The thing that I remember the most other than my annoyance is all the jingly-jangly head gear on JJY. Perhaps they could have sold some of them and spent the money on a better script.

27 Divine Destiny - if you think you have too many brain cells and want to get rid of some, boy do I have a drama for you!

26 Wanru’s Journey - honestly it's probably tied with SEL - I mean it's worse but it has actors who are nowhere as well known and a fraction of SEL's budget. Still, this is a big fat nope. I will not say what I think of Aoi Rupeng's "acting" or I'd have to put money in the curse jar.

25 Snow Eagle Lord - Gulinazha's stone face, nonsense plot, terrible CGI. Take your pick as to why this is terrible.

24 Scent of Time - it was uneven but fun but then that ending was dumb enough to destroy the whole thing. Show me on the doll where common sense hurt you, makers!

23 Royal Rumors - Jeremy Tsui and Meng Ziyi are utterly wasted in this nothing trifle of a drama.

22 Legend of Anle - I had high expectations but alas. This is the drama version of color beige. There is nothing offensive about it but nothing good either. Mediocre actors are mediocre, good actors become mediocre, this is just a waste of our finite time on planet earth.

21 Romance on the Farm - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like this wholesome slice of farming family life, but it's tailored to trigger every one of my "nope" opinions.

20 Back from the Brink - if I were 12, it would be my favorite thing. I am not 12.

19 Journey of Chong Zi - objectively a terrible drama with plot holes the size of Mars and a leading lady whose face has apparently frozen when the wind changed. But I am a total sucker for the trope of upright shizun falling for his demonic disciple and going mental so here we are. Objectively, garbage, subjectively my precious!

18 Love you Seven Times - just call poor Ding Yuxi "Atlas," he carried this mess so hard.

17 Blooming Days - trashy dogblood harem fight fun throwback. It's not that great (and the fact that it was shredded doesn't help) but it's probably the last gasp of that genre for the foreseeable future, so I am grading on a curve.

16 The Starry Love - a fun fantasy where the secondary OTP stole the thunder but overall a really solid fantasy xianxia romance.

15 The Longest Promise - it could have been better - the secondaries were unbearable and there was too much of them and what they did with Alen Fang's character still gives me rage fits, but the main couple was impeccable and lovely and I rooted so hard for them.

14 Chang Feng Du/Destined - visually gorgeous, solidly acted, impeccable first half. Bland as hell second half. Win some, lose some.

13 Circle of Love - this drama is a nonsense trash heap on fire. After a typhoon hit it. It was also the most entertaining, addicting drama on this whole list.

12 Hidden Love - the sole modern on this list, this story has barely any plot but it made me care about the young, decent lovers so hard.

11 Choice Husband - starts out wacky, continues with angst and blood and happy ending. I loved it, but I've always had a soft spot for melo and schemers turning devoted.

10 Pledge of Allegiance - bromance, super solid acting, visuals, a really dark take on officials and the world. Insanely underrated.

9 Provoke - a truly fun Republican revenge and love tale, showing that short format can be wonderful.

8 Gone with the Rain - some of the secondary characters are rage-inducing (hi there, cardboard boy!) but the scheming, ruthless, vulgar FL is amazing and her slowburn with her age gap general who is delighted by her out-there-ness is great!

7 Wonderland of Love - Fei Wo Si Cun goes wholesome and the result is surprisingly entertaining. Battle couple, glorious visuals, a fast paced plot. It's the first Xu Kai drama I enjoyed in years (and he plays a rare cdrama ML it would be pretty neat to pair up with in rl.)

6 My Journey to You - that ending is infuriating (and I am OK with open endings if done properly) but what a visual feast, probably the most gloriously shot drama on this list, and that's a tough competition. Also it packs a hell of a lot of couples and familial and adversarial relationships into its slim running time; assassin lady won over by a gentle man is my favorite trope and so this is extra great.

5. Till the End of the Moon - the ending is a rage-inducing disaster for me, but this drama was the most incredibly emotionally intense, visually eye popping experience. It was deeply flawed but when it was amazing, it was like nothing else in its visuals, its characters and its narratives. It took insane risks; some paid off and some did not, but it was glorious.

4. Story of Kunning Palace - I don't often care for reverse harem stories but this one was such fun - the main OTP was glorious (strong FL, unhinged ML) but honestly everything about this was just so excellently done.

3. The Ingenious One - the most adult drama on this list. Smart protagonists, intelligent plot, emotions that felt true, this is a revenge and a mystery and found family and goes into so many directions you do not expect (Su Mengyu's PTSD after his first kill - that is something you never see in dramas, definitely not prolonged and profound - not like this.) If I was to say which drama was objectively the best on this list, as opposed to favorite, it would be this.

1 (tie) Lost You Forever 1 - this is an exquisite emotional jewel of a story about damaged people moving forward, with damage always present - their past informs their present and always will. The narrative about Xiao Yao and three very different men in her life makes me think that it's an equivalent of a neutron bomb going off right before the main narrative starts and now we are watching the survivors wander in the wreckage. This is very high fantasy setting but it's one of the most emotionally human narratives out there.

1 A Journey to Love - everything I ever wanted - assassins, ride or die adult OTP with genuine believable conflicts, great and complex secondaries, beautiful fights. Oh, and yeah Liu Shi Shi domming the hell out of every man in a ten mile radius, as she should.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie between Lost You Forever Part 1 and A Journey to Love. LYF1 is a bona fide art piece but it's only part 1 and who knows if part 2 will be any good (seeing the huge ep number cut, I have my doubts) and so it's incomplete. AJTL is an old school wuxia romance with incredibly competent, adult people in love and great cast of secondaries. I can't pick.

WORST DRAMA

romance of twin flower - this is a drama that should not exist. If I could hex everyone involved with it, I would. It's a terrible, stupid, shrill, badly acted drama to start with, but where it really is catapulted into stratosphere of horror is that is took my very favorite non-danmei web novel of all time, a smart and complicated tale with incredible protagonists and turned it into that barftastic abomination. Peng Xiao Ran kept making horrible drama after horrible drama but I kept giving her a chance because of Goodbye My Princess but after this disaster, I've had to accept GMP was a fluke and she is on my "if she's in it, I am out” list. Ding Yuxi is not that far yet (his performance in Seven Lifetimes was the one thing carrying that mess afloat) but he's on freaking thin ice. Anyway, I like to pretend this drama does not exist.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

It was hard because there were so many I loved this year - Deng Wei's traumatized, gentle Seventeen from LYF1 (if someone told me I'd swoon and weep for a character played by Deng Wei, I'd have told them to examine their brains asap), Liu Yuning's incredibly capable, deadly, contained Ning Yuanzhou from AJTL, Zhang Linghe's unhinged Xie Wei from SoKP, Chen Xiao's schemer with a heart Yun Xiang from TIO.

But ultimately, it couldn't be anyone else but Luo Yunxi as Tantai Jin/Demon God/Ming Ye/Cang Jiumin in Till the End of the Moon. He was everything - a demon, a saint, a martyr, a monster, a tormented abuse victim, a savior, joyful, unhinged, smart, pitiable. It was the cdrama performance of the year for me. Luo Yunxi even in a mediocre role is impressive but in a complex (series of) role(s) designed for his strengths, he is a force of nature.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever Part 1). Once again, there were runner ups - Bai Lu's smart a little evil FL in Kunning, the gloriously unhinged assassin domme Liu Shi Shi in AJTL, Esther Yu's assassin longing for a different life in MJTY etc etc etc. But Xiao Yao's damaged, difficult, very self-aware woman stole my heart. I was skeptical going in because I haven't enjoyed a Yang Zi performance in a long time, but she was the wounded beating soul of this incredible drama.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Where do we start? How about all of Seventeen's (LYF1) monster family? His brother, who tortured him for years physically and emotionally to such a degree his body is a horror map and his personality is permanently altered because "mommy liked you better." Psycho mother who created a situation where the kids were going to turn on each other and "let's get my grandson raped" grandma. Where is a well-placed meteorite when you need one.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xiao Yao/Seventeen, LYF1. Yes, a ship of characters played by Yang Zi and Deng Wei is my favorite. Leave me alone, I am on my tenth helping of crow already. They are both incredibly damaged, barely functioning survivors who find what they need in the other - he finds a savior and someone who sees him as a man and rebuilds himself around her and she finds someone who will always put her first and only, and subsume himself in her. Is it healthy? No. Does it make sense for them and is it making them slowly functional? Yes.

Runner up: Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL - two adults, so competent, so chemistry full. She has so much damage and so little normalcy but is so strong and he is oddly gentle (in between murders) and incredibly self-reflective. They are each other's mirrors and I love them.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Mingyu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenious One - the idealistic merchant who wants to join jianghu until he sees its horrors firsthand and a slave entertainer who wants security but decides she wants him more. They are gorgeous and glorious and wholesome and I adore them.

Runner up: Liu Gong Quan/Ming Zhu, The Ingenious One - that drama was a shippy gift, especially impressive considering it wasn't even romance-centric. He's the officer who has to bring down her treasonous father but loves her. Delicious.

Another runner up is Chao Feng/Qian Kui, the angelic good girl and the scheming bad boy in The Starry Love. They stole the drama from the main OTP for me.

NOTP

Scent of Time endgame. What the hell was even that. It made NO sense.

FAVORITE SCENE

So many good scenes this year - Tantai Jin taking apart Li Susu in prison in TTEOTM, the OTP fighting in perfect sync and insane rhythm in the gorge battle in AJTL, Chen Ruoxuan's character stopping the execution in Pledge, Yan Lin's coming of age in Kunning, the poison/antidote "gamble" in MJTY, Cang Xuan detoxing in LYF1. But I think ultimately, me being who I am, my favorite scene is Xiao Yao kissing Seventeen's damaged, scarred knee to show he is in no way inferior for her. AAAAA!

In terms of pure jaw dropping visuals tho nothing will ever beat Ming Ye’s battle against the Devil God in TTEOTM.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL. He's sexy as hell (that height, that way he moves in battle) but he's also so incredibly competent, so adult, so self-reflective and so attracted to a woman for her strength. He also gets whumped on the reg. Anyway, my hormones are ready.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You) - I loved the unhinged, brocon poison boy. He was everything. Also Yan Lin (Kunning) - talk about sunshine; I totally got why all these people felt they needed to save him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

My Journey to You - what the HELL was that ending?

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

legend of twin flower - that is, stab it with scissors like it stabbed the novel until it's dead.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Till the End of the Moon - they clearly cut stuff to fit into the new regs about runtime and it made the last 1/5 rather abrupt. Gimme!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

The emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country!

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

This is the year of a ML who yearns to be dommed by his FL. Long may it continue.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The Legend of Anle - the novel had a great plot, the cast were all actors I either enjoy a lot or somewhat and we got - whatever that soggy piece of wonderbread toast was.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

LYF1 - I only checked out to mock because nobody could explain the story to me and nobody in the cast did anything I like either ever or in years. And then I fell utterly and completely in love and had to eat so much delicious crow.

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

Ancient Love Song is the only one on that list. It looks really good, I just need to brace myself.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctoress - best slowburn and pining and glorious character development and adult leads.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Anticipating any nonaired cdrama is a mug's game but if they air, I will definitely check out all the Fox Matchmaker dramas, LYF2, JoL2 and The Last Immortal. If Prisoner of Beauty ever is allowed out of the vault (dubious), it goes on the list too.

[sardonic-sprite]

Home Alone

Some days, Tim was really fucking glad to have Batman for a next-door neighbor.

He couldn't exactly remember a time when he was quite this glad or relieved, though. He'd never been on the verge of being kidnapped before.

But that was ok. He wasn't going to be kidnapped.

He had a plan.

Call the police would probably have been more rational, but the power was all still dead from the snowstorm, and Tim figured the roads to Bristol were blocked up, too. At the very least, his driveway was, and it was long enough to be considered its own short road.

Stupid fucking snowstorm. It was its fault that Tim's parents couldn't get back in town, and that he was alone and trying not to end up kidnapped on Christmas.

But it was ok. Because he wouldn't. Because he had a plan. And about two hours to set it into motion. And if it failed, the kidnappers were probably just going to be so pissed they'd kill Tim, so technically his goal of don't get kidnapped would still be met.

Technicalities were usually much more fun.

Tim ran around the house in a frenzy, darting glances out the window every few minutes to make sure the creepy men hadn't gotten any closer. But no, they were still huddled around their fires out in the yard, waiting for him to surrender.

Big fat nope to that one. Tim didn't know who they were working for, or why that guy wanted an eleven-year-old kid, but he knew it was most definitely for something very bad, and he wasn't interested in the particulars.

He paused, shuddering at the thought that entered his head, then scattered a few more Lego pieces on the floor.

The thing was, Tim could neither call for help nor run away while the power was out and the bad guys were surrounding the house. But if he got them inside the house, and made sure they couldn't follow, then he could race across the half-mile stretch to the property line. Crossing that would trigger Batman's security, and he'd come and investigate and bring Tim somewhere safe and beat up the bad guys, and maybe even be impressed at how clever and resourceful Tim had been.

Of course, even getting outside hinged on how many bad guys actually did come inside, and how many got caught in Tim's traps long enough to give him a head start. The traps had never been tested, after all, and Tim only had time for so many math calculations to determine their effectiveness. Drake Manor was also so large that he couldn't sufficiently cover it. He'd have to guide the bad guys where he wanted them to go.

Which meant he was using himself as live bait.

... It was gonna be fine.

The clock began striking nine as Tim finished his second-floor traps and double-checked the wiring. His heartbeat was going crazy in his chest, and he took deep, slow breaths in time with the chimes to steady himself. If he hyperventilated and passed out, he was worse than dead.

"TIMOTHY DRAKE," boomed the voice that had called out before, somehow magnified so that each word was perfectly clear, "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE. SURRENDER NOW AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED. REFUSE, AND WE WILL USE ALL FORCE TO APPREHEND YOU."

Tim threw open the nearest window and stuck his head out, squinting against the snow to see the nearest fire. He didn't know if the man was at that one or not, but it didn't matter. He was sure his cry of "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE! EAT SHIT!" was heard by all.

He slammed the window shut as the voice yelled furiously and sprinted down the stairs, skipping over the wires and traps. He wasn't sure how many were going to enter in each direction, but the first landing was the best place to bring them all closer.

Tim had to wait there for several minutes, anxiety building, before he heard the first cry of pain. It sounded like it came from the front door, and Tim smirked, thinking of the heavy vase that had just gotten shattered over the bad guy's head.

Strangled swearing erupted from the kitchen where superglue had stolen shoes to bare feet to a sea of Legos. A howl rose from the living room where a hot plate had been set under the window.

"DRAKE!"

"Last chance to surrender!" Tim hollered mockingly, wiping sweaty hands on his pants.

Screams and a terribly loud bang meant that his flashbomb had successfully blinded someone, and the most creative swear Tim had ever heard in his life confirmed that sticking his mother's sewing needles into the grey carpet had been a stroke of genius.

"You will pay for this, you insolent whelp!"

"You want it in cash or credit?" Tim needed them closer. Besides, it was just a little bit fun to tease.

"In blood!"

The first man appeared at the foot of the stairs. He held his right hand close to his chest, but otherwise looked unharmed. He must have avoided the lighter in the hall, though by the sound of it, one of his buddies hadn't.

Tim gulped. All he could see above the black ninja mask was the man's eyes, and he looked furious.

"Um, how about traveler's checks?"

The man started up the stairs with a roar and immediately toppled backwards, slipping on the generous coating of oil over the hardwood.

"Oh, yeah, I just polished that."

One man staggered into the foyer from the front hall. He still had dust and broken pottery on his head and shoulders, and his eyes looked unfocused. Another limped in from the kitchen, barefoot and glaring. He drew a knife, and Tim scrambled backwards.

"No!" The first man grabbed the other's wrist. He didn't look happy about it, but he said, "Lord Ra's wants the boy alive."

"He can live without his arrogant little tongue!"

Tim tried to think up something clever to say, to get them to come up the stairs, but he really did not want them any closer than they were. Out in the yard, they couldn't hurt him, but here they could. They could hurt Tim very, very bad.

Two more ninjas stumbled in, one blinking and squinting, pant leg still smoldering. The other, who looked like a woman, was walking on the sides of her feet. She left a thin trail of blood behind her, and Tim both felt sorry and wished it were worse all at once.

"He's lost his tongue even without your blade, Hans," laughed the first man. "Not so brave now, are you, boy?"

Brave, Tim. Brave like Robin.

Jason wouldn't be scared of these goons, and neither would Dick. Dick would make fun of them, and Jason would cuss them out, so Tim did both.

"Like hell I'm scared of you shit-faces! The wax dummies at the history museum would make better ninjas than you!"

Hans yelled and ran at the stairs. He didn't hear the first man yell, "Fool, it's oiled!" until he was already flat on his back. Tim listened very hard, but couldn't hear anyone else in the house. He taunted, "Where's the rest of you? Maybe you could use the power of friendship to figure it out," to make sure.

"Thank whatever god guards you there are none others," the woman snarled. "Or you would choke on your blood even as you laugh."

"Dramatic," Tim quipped weakly, voice a bit too high.

"How did we fail him that Lord Ra's would punish us this way," moaned Pottery Man. "Being tormented and mocked by an infant."

"Hey!" Tim cried, indignant. "I'm eleven and five twelfths!"

"Enough of this!" Number One shouted. "Hans, the servant's stair, Edda, the back stair. Jethro, the dumbwaiter." They scattered, and One began stalking up the oiled stairs, clinging to the rail and motioning the blinded man to stay behind. "You think we do not know every hall and stair in this house, boy? Every entrance and exit? What do you think will be your salvation if you stall us?"

Tim swallowed, edging into the hall and carefully pushing open the first door. He may have to adjust his escape plan.

"Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Steven Spielberg, 1981!" Tim hollered. He dove out of the way as his father's massive, prized floor globe, the one twice the size and weight of Tim, rolled down the improvised ramp and onto the stairwell, gathering speed every second.

Tim took off, running down the hall to his bedroom without looking back. He heard screaming from several parts of the house, and would have jeered at them about not expecting him to know how to trap his own house, but he no longer wanted to give away his location. He'd need extra time now. Climbing down from his window was going to be a hell of a lot harder than climbing the rope he'd put in the dumbwaiter for himself.

Tim pulled out his army knife as he passed the dumbwaiter door and started sawing at the rope, grateful the set-up could double as another trap. He didn't even have to cut all the way through, the ninja's weight snapping the fibers in seconds once they frayed. He heard a yell and an awful snap.

The cry of, "I'll kill you, brat!" should not have been comforting, but Tim didn't want to have killed anybody, so it was.

He made it to his room, shut and locked the door, then shoved his dresser against it, grunting and panting. He had to lean against it for a moment to catch his breath, swiping the sweat from his forehead. He gave himself thirty seconds, but dropped it to twenty when the shouting drew nearer.

"I can do this," Tim whispered, stepping onto the windowsill and staring down. "I can totally, one hundred percent do this."

He sat down and shimmied around until he was clutching the window ledge with ungloved hands. His fingers were already freezing. His toes hung and flailed in open air for a few terrifying seconds before they found crevices in the weathered brick.

Tim took a deep breath.

Slowly, inch by inch, he worked his way down the wall until his feet hit the top of the first floor window. His fingers scraped and bled against the bricks, turning white with cold and terror. Sweat ran down his face and back, making him hot and cold both at once. Once he got his hand or foot on a hold, it was hard to make himself move again.

Carefully -- oh, so, so carefully, when Tim's feet hit the top of that window, did he turn his head over his shoulder. The snow rose to the bottom of the window, making the drop only about three feet into a cushion. Tim closed his eyes and jumped.

The snow crunched loudly beneath him, and he broke through it up to his knees. He didn't dare waste time celebrating, but immediately started off, hoping the blizzard would help to cover his tracks.

Half a mile due east. Tim could make it.

Half a mile through ever-deeper snow, in wind and dark, with only a coat and boots, and furious ninjas hunting him down.

Tim had to make it.

At first he tried to run, shoving his hands in his pockets to make them warm, but it was like trying to run through a pool, and Tim soon found himself basically swimming with his arms and legs. Within minutes (though each felt like an hour) he couldn't feel his fingers at all.

The snow was high enough to slip into the tops of his boots, melting into his socks and making his feet grow numb. Tim started crying, only realizing it when the tear tracks burned down his cheeks and froze there. Every breath became a white cloud in front of his face.

The whole world had turned into the snowstorm. Tim didn't know anymore if he was going east or west, north or south, up or down. If he was still going towards Batman and safety, or if he'd got so turned around he was about to run right into the ninjas' arms. He stumbled and staggered, knowing he had to keep moving no matter where he ended up. Fall down in the snow, and he was never getting back up.

Then finally, finally, Tim saw light in the distance.

"Help!" he cried, but his voice was ripped away by the wind.

"Batman! Mr. Wayne! Robin! Help me, please!"

A shadow blocked the light, and Tim sobbed in relief as arms hugged him tight.

"So this was your clever plan, was it, boy? No wonder Lord Ra's took an interest in you."

Tim screamed and started thrashing, but the ninja had his arms pinned, and the snow blocked his kicks. He tried to bite, but there was nothing in front of his face but thick cloth.

"Let go!" he wailed. He was so close, he couldn't fail now. "Let me fucking go! Hel--mmph!"

Tim was spun around and a hand covered his mouth, grip bruisingly tight, enough that Tim couldn't even move his jaw, let alone bite.

"Oh, no, boy," the ninja snarled in his ear. "You will be brought before the Demon's Head, and punished for every injury inflicted, and even the great Detective can't save you!"

"Can't he?"

Tim's heart leapt as a hulking shadow appeared out of the snow, Batman's unmistakable growl now a roar over the wind. He had done it! He'd gotten to Batman! He was saved!

And then he felt ice cold metal against his throat.

"Stay out of this, Detective. Lord Ra's cares not if he must resurrect his prize."

Tim trembled, even though he'd stopped shivering ages ago. He didn't know what that meant, but he never wanted to find out.

"He should care that Gotham and its people are under my protection. Let the boy go, or there will be retaliation."

"We do not fear your posturing, Detective," the ninja sneered. He started dragging Tim back, away from Batman and safety. "And we do not fear your allies. But continue to oppose us now, and we will strike you down--"

"Wanna bet?"

There was a loud thunk and the ninja's hold went slack. The knife dropped to the snow, its wielder crumpling, and Tim stumbled, grabbing for his throat to be sure it wasn't bleeding.

"Kid? Kid, what's wrong, are you hurt?" Robin hollered over the wind.

Tim slowly shook his head, staring at the ninja. He felt something warm and big and surprisingly soft drape over his shoulders, like a blanket, and looked up to see Batman leaning over him with his cape.

"You're freezing," he murmured, sounding much more like Mr. Wayne. "Robin, get him inside!" His voice dipped back to a growl as he said, "I'll deal with the League."

"Here, kid."

Batman was replaced by Robin, but the cloak remained wrapped around Tim. He was bundled tighter into it, then scooped right off the ground and into Robin's arms. He squeaked in surprise, but pressed closer because Robin was so warm.

"Geez, you're tiny!" Robin half-shouted, wading through the snow only a little faster than Tim had. "How old are you, kid?"

"Eleven and a half," Tim mumbled. Jason Todd was a fine one to talk about being small for one's age.

As Robin muttered something like, because the half makes all the difference, a big black shape loomed out of the snow right in front of Tim's face. It took him far too long to realize it was a Bat-Snowmobile; Robin had plopped him on top and climbed on behind him before he registered the headlights had turned on.

"Hang on tight!" Robin ordered, and the engine roared to life.

Tim yelped, grabbing Robin as the vehicle lurched and zoomed into the storm, throwing his arms around the older boy's neck and hiding his face against his shoulder. One arm wrapped around Tim's waist and gently squeezed.

"Just hang in there a few more minutes, squirt. It's not far."

"What's not far?"

Not Tim's house. Please, not Tim's house. He didn't want to go back and run into the rest of the bad guys -- the League -- without Batman. Robin was awesome and warm, but Batman was powerful, and Tim didn't think the League would give up without more of a fight.

Robin hesitated before answering. "Wayne Manor is just under a quarter mile. They can look after you while I go back to help Batman."

Tim sighed in relief. Wayne Manor would be warm and safe, and until Batman and Robin came back to be Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd, Tim would no doubt be looked after by Alfred Pennyworth, and he was as powerful as Batman himself in Tim's book.

I did it, he thought happily, cuddling closer to Robin's warmth. I actually fucking did it.

"Eat shit, Lord Ra's."

Robin laughed.

After only a few more minutes, Wayne Manor appeared, looming out of the dark with a few cheerily lit windows. There was a glowing Christmas tree visible through one, and seeing it warmed something other than Tim's fingers.

Robin parked the Bat-Snowmobile outside the back kitchen door and swung himself off, then scooped up Tim to plop him on the ground. He kept an arm around Tim's shoulders as he went and knocked on the door. Tim could see the kitchen lights on, and it only took a minute before the door opened to reveal Alfred Pennyworth in a robe and nightshirt.

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, and immediately backed up to usher them inside.

"Mr. Pennyworth, this is Tim Drake, your next-door neighbor," Robin introduced. "His home was attacked tonight by the League of Assassins, and he had to run a long way through the cold. If you would look after him and warm him up, Batman and I will be back before too long."

"I-- yes, of course," Mr. Pennyworth said, surprise changing to concern. "Thank you, Master Robin."

Robin nodded and ruffled Tim's hair. "You'll be safe here for a while, ok, squirt? Batman or I'll be back soon."

Tim nodded, and Robin grinned and left. Tim could hear the roar of the Bat-Snowmobile as it tore off outside.

Mr. Pennyworth turned to put a kettle on the stove, then told Tim, "Come, let's get you out of those wet things, Master Tim."

Tim nodded eagerly, stumbling a bit on frozen feet as he followed Mr. Pennyworth to a bathroom, still clutching Batman's cape around his shoulders.

"I'll set some of Master Jason's things outside the door for you. You're about the same size, I think. If you can find your way back to the kitchen, I'll have hot cocoa ready in moments."

"You don't have to go to any trouble," Tim said shyly.

"Nonsense, dear boy." Mr. Pennyworth smiled. "Tisn't any trouble at all, I assure you."

He left, and Tim stripped out of his sweats and socks. He hated to drop Batman's cape on the ground, but it had gotten soggy with snow just like everything else. He tried to fold it up, but it was like trying to fold his sheets, it was so huge.

A knock came at the door, and Mr. Pennyworth called that there were pajamas and a sweatshirt outside. Tim answered with a thank you and waited a moment before sticking one hand out the door to snatch the bundle.

He was startled into a laugh to see that the pajamas were themed like Batman and the hoodie like Nightwing. He wondered if Dick had gotten it for Jason. There were also a non-themed pair of slippers, and now that the feeling was coming back to Tim's toes, he could tell they were wonderfully soft.

Once dressed, he found his way back to the kitchen, where a kettle was starting to whistle before Mr. Pennyworth plucked it off the stove.

"Warming up, Master Tim?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

The butler tutted. "Alfred is quite alright, dear boy."

"Thank you, Alfred," Tim corrected shyly. He'd never called an adult by their first name before.

A very loud yawn from behind made Tim jump, turning to look at the doorway, where...

Tim blinked.

Where stood Jason Todd.

He was dressed in Wonder Woman pajama pants and a red hoodie, rumpled like he'd been asleep, but his hair was still damp and his nose and cheeks pink from the snow and cold. His eyes looked bleary and sleepy, like he'd just woken up, but he most definitely scanned over Tim like he was looking for injuries.

"'S goin' on, Alf?" he asked, slurring his voice to sound half-awake. "Who's that?"

Tim just kept staring, dumbfounded, as Alfred said, "You recall young Timothy Drake, Master Jason? I'm afraid he ran into quite the spot of trouble tonight. Robin brought him here for us to look after until the situation is resolved."

Jason's eyes widened like he hadn't himself, as Robin, dropped Tim off ten minutes ago. "No way," he muttered. "What the hell were you doing, Timbit, that you got mixed up in superhero stuff?"

Tim hesitated.

"Batman! Mr. Wayne! Robin! Help me, please!"

"So this was your clever plan, was it, boy? No wonder Lord Ra's took an interest in you."

Tim hadn't had any idea just why he was being almost-kidnapped, except maybe for ransom or something, until the ninja had said that, and Batman showed up seeming to know all about that Lord Ra's guy and his ninja-kidnappers. At the time, he'd been too terrified to analyze, but now he wondered...

Did Ra's somehow know that Tim knew who Batman was? Tim didn't think that was possible. He hadn't even told his parents. But maybe Ra's was a mind-reader. Or had some kind of special powers. But then why would he need Tim to tell him who Batman was? Especially when the ninja sounded like Ra's and his League already knew all about Batman.

"Timber?"

Tim blinked and looked back at Jason. He and Alfred were both watching Tim, sharp-eyed. That was when he realized Jason wasn't just asking as a shocked civilian, he was investigating as Robin. In order to protect Tim, he and Batman needed to know why he'd been endangered in the first place.

"I...I don't know," he admitted. Jason's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown, until Tim hesitantly added, "But I might have a guess?"

"Yeah? What do you think?"

Alfred set a cup of steaming cocoa on the table in front of Tim. It warmed his face, and he almost thought it burned his hands when he cupped them around it, but he didn't care. One sip warmed him all over inside, like he hadn't been cold or frightened at all. He wondered if Alfred was magic.

There was another clink of ceramic, and Tim realized Jason had gotten a mug of cocoa, too, and had sat down across from Tim. He held out a bowl of marshmallows, and Tim took two with a soft thanks.

Jason waited until Tim had taken two more sips before prompting, "Timmers? What's your guess?"

Tim took a deep breath, trying to calculate how mad Batman was going to be when he found out, and blurted, "I know who Batman and Robin are."

"What? No way! Who are they? How did you figure it out?" Jason gasped, face splitting into a grin, looking for all the world like someone expecting to hear the most amazing secret in the world.

But Tim saw the panic behind his eyes.

"I wouldn't tell you, if you didn't know," he promised. "But they're you. You and Mr. Wayne. I... I know because it was Dick Grayson first. He's the only person ever who can do a quadruple flip, and I saw Robin do it with my own eyes."

Jason stared.

Alfred stared.

Tim ducked his head and stared at his cocoa.

Then Jason said slowly, "You... you saw the first Robin in person? Doing a four-flip?"

"Yes?"

"How... how old were you?"

Tim frowned, calculating. "Nine?"

Alfred coughed.

"You were nine," Jason repeated. "And you were out in Gotham and saw Robin. Doing a fancy flip. And figured out one of the most dangerous and well-kept secrets in the city."

"Yes," Tim said, a bit more confidently. "Like I said, only Dick Grayson can do that flip. And if he's Robin, Bruce Wayne has to be Batman. And you have to be the next Robin. It's... it's just logic."

It's just logic, Jason mouthed. His lips stayed parted in astonishment as he turned to look at Alfred.

"That's... quite impressive, Master Tim," he managed. "Although, might I inquire... just what were the circumstances under which you saw Robin's flip?"

Tim hastily took a sip of cocoa. Jason raised his eyebrows and copied him, not setting down his mug until Tim did. Tim immediately took another sip. Jason and Alfred exchanged a glance.

"IusedtofollowBatmanandRobinaroundatnightandtakepictures," Tim blurted.

Jason blinked rapidly several times before suggesting, "A-again... slowly, please?"

"I... I used to, to follow Batman and Robin around at night. And take pictures."

"And your parents let you?" Jason yelped.

"They didn't... exactly know?"

"How...?" Jason's voice kept sounding more and more strangled. If Tim didn't know better, he'd have thought an invisible villain was throttling him.

"Well..." Tim ducked his head, shoulders almost rising to his ears. He stared intently at the melting marshmallows in his cocoa as he said, "They're not really around much."

"What exactly do you mean by 'not much,' Master Tim?" Alfred asked, both firm and kind, but also concerned.

Tim's ears felt hot. "They're usually on digs. They come back for a weekend or so every couple months. So they never knew I went out at night. I never told them I figured out who you are. I promise that I've never told anybody, and I never would tell anybody, even that Ra's guy, no matter what he did!"

He looked back up at Jason and Alfred, hoping they could see the honesty in his face.

Their faces showed a mix of shock and horror. Jason's eyes were wide and round, but Alfred's were pinched, and his mouth was drawn into a hard line. Tim swallowed nervously.

"You're a very impressive young lad, Master Tim," Alfred said in a carefully measured voice. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I think I ought to go inform Master Bruce of... these developments. I assume your parents were not home tonight?"

"Their flight got cancelled," Tim admitted. He wondered for the first time, as Alfred nodded curtly and stepped out of the room, if Batman had a mind-wipe machine or something. He very much hoped not.

Jason made a low whistle, then murmured, "Well, damn." He took a sip of cocoa, looking at the door Alfred had left through.

"What's 'well damn'?" Tim asked, voice too high.

"Alfie's 'bout'a go off," Jason chuckled, then, seeing Tim's expression, clarified, "not on you, Timberly, on your parents. And Ra's. Definitely also on Ra's."

"Why would Alfred be mad at my parents? And what does he need to tell Batman? Are you mad at me? Because I figured it out? Or..." Tim gasped in horror. "Or because I led them here? I led them here! Oh, God, I told a villain who Batman is! I--"

"Tim! Tim, calm down, it's ok!" Jason seemed torn between laughter and concern, but he reached out and put a bracing hand on Tim's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong. Ra's already knows who we are. Alfred just has to tell Bruce, um. Not to look for your parents. And why they're not there. And that's why he's pissed off, because nobody should leave a little kid all by himself for all but a few weekends out of the year."

Jason looked pissed himself when he said the last bit. Unfortunately, all of it just left Tim with even more questions. But even as he opened his mouth to ask them, there was a loud rattling and banging from above.

"What was that?" Tim yelped, jumping and spilling cocoa on the table.

"The storm," Jason said, completely expressionless. He grabbed some napkins from the holder on the table and dropped them on the spill, clearing it with one neat swipe. "Don't worry about it."

"You're sure it's not the ninjas?"

Jason snorted. "Don't ever let them hear you call them that. I'm sure, kid. Batman's got it covered."

Alfred came back into the kitchen muttering about reception, and took Tim's and Jason's empty mugs over to the sink to wash. There was a loud pounding from up above, first moving distant, then drawing near again. Tim realized it was running feet.

He raised his eyebrows at Jason.

"The storm, huh?"

Jason shrugged with a smile too mischievous to be innocent.

A moment later, Bruce Wayne appeared in the doorway, hair mussed and face pink, barefoot and wearing a red bathrobe that did not succeed at hiding the Batsuit underneath.

The way he blinked and squinted at the warm kitchen light appeared genuine, but he sounded far too awake as he said, "Alfred, what's going on? Who's this? Jason? I thought you went to bed."

Jason glanced at Tim, mischief peaking.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, jumping up and running over. "Dad, you'll never guess what happened! This is Tim Drake, from next door, and he was attacked by supervillains and Batman and Robin came and saved him and brought him here!"

"Oh! My... God..." Mr. Wayne faltered, glancing from Alfred (who's back was turned to hide his smile) to Tim (who was just as confused as he seemed) to Jason (who was grinning just a bit too wide), before narrowing a bit at the last one.

Jason beamed up at him, and Mr. Wayne apparently decided not to worry about it, because he turned to Tim and asked, "Are you alright, Tim?"

"I... think so," Tim said slowly, staring at Jason, who was mouthing at him. Mr. Wayne glanced down at his son suspiciously, but Jason shut his mouth in an instant.

"Are you hurt at all? Cold?"

"No, I'm ok now. Mr... uh, Alfred's hot chocolate warmed me right up."

Mr. Wayne smiled. "It does that quite well. Are..." He turned hesitant again, glancing at them all before asking, "Do you know if your parents are alright? If they escaped?"

"They weren't even there," Jason said, bright smile turning downright ferocious. "They leave Tim all alone in the house all year and only come in for a weekend every once in a while. And since that's criminal neglect, and Batman and Robin asked us to take care of him, I guess I got a little brother for Christmas like I asked for after all!"

Tim stared. Mr. Wayne stared. Jason beamed. Alfred coughed in a way that sounded much too much like a laugh.

"Um..." Tim started, but had no idea how to continue.

"It... I... don't think it's all quite that simple, Jay," Mr. Wayne cautioned hesitantly. Jason just stared straight up into his face, both grinning and glaring at the same time. It was mildly terrifying, and Mr. Wayne cleared his throat before turning to Tim. "But of course, you're more than welcome to stay with us until it's safe. We'll be glad to have you."

Tim stammered out a thank you, wondering if Mr. Wayne offered because he knew as Batman that it wasn't safe. He hoped not. As awesome as being Jason Todd's little brother sounded, Tim already had parents and a home, even if they were... distant. He also wondered why Jason was pretending he was an ordinary civilian, and that Tim didn't know better. And Alfred was going along with it, even though he'd been about to tell Batman everything just before.

"If you're quite warm and well, Master Tim, I think a good night's rest would do you good," Alfred said, "as it would the rest of us."

"Oh. Um, yes." Tim blinked and looked at the clock, which read 11:30 PM. "Sleep. Yeah."

"Great!" Jason chirped. He did a cartwheel over to Tim, channeling Dick Grayson, probably, and pulled him up, slinging his arm over Tim's shoulders. "C'mon, Timbers, we can have a sleepover in my room."

"Uh, sure."

A sleepover with Robin? Tim was equal parts confused and ecstatic. He followed Jason past a mystified Mr. Wayne, who wished them both goodnight, and up a small back staircase to the second floor.

It wasn't until Jason had showed them into his room and they got settled in bed that Tim finally asked, "Jason? Why didn't we tell Mr. Wayne that I know who you are? Isn't it kind of important?"

"Oh, Timmy Tim Timmers. Think about it. We only get to tell him that once."

"But-- oh. Ohhh."

"Exactly." Jason sounded smug. "Just you wait, Timbit. I have a feeling you and I are gonna be the holiest terrors this city ever saw."

[bardraelyn]

Were the Fallen cast out because they were illiterate?

Ok, big angry thinky meta below. Something just clicked in my head this afternoon, and I had to have a bit of a rant about it.

It was the word "ineffable" that triggered it.

I was thinking about how most demons can’t spell—canonically. It’s not just Shax. The guidebook on angels that Furfur carried has a ton of errors, both in the actual text and in the handwritten annotations. And if they can't spell, it seems likely they also can’t read well, either. Furfur sure struggled with it, and he’s usually on tasks that require a ton of paperwork.

Angels, on the other hand, don't seem to have that problem—the ones that are still in Heaven, that is. (Also, neither does Crowley, but we'll come back to that.)

So, what, did God make a bunch of angels with reading, writing, and/or language difficulties, who presumably had trouble with written directions, and then cast them out of Heaven because they couldn’t understand Her plan?

“Nope, too many questions. Out you go!”

God's great big plan is supposed to be ineffable, right? As in, “too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words”?

Well, who the fuck told everyone it was? The Metatron? The so-called “Voice of God” who is, as we’ve all seen, rather a bit of an asshole?

And are we to take that literally, as in unable to be expressed in any words at all (written or spoken), or is the implication that it simply can't be codified into written language?

If it was the Metatron who called it God's plan ineffable, did he say that because he didn’t want to bother explaining parts of it to a bunch of struggling angels?

"Oh, you can't read it because it's ineffable! It can't really be put into words, so that's the closest approximation of what you're meant to know. Just do your best, and stop asking so many questions!"

Or did he decide it was ineffable because he couldn’t understand it?

He was so condescending toward Muriel about reading a book. Is he masking a disability (and barely hiding some jealous rage) with that holier/smarter-than-thou facade? Is that why he called them "dim"?

He's clearly a bully, which strongly suggests he's insecure, so what are the odds that he's been hiding the written directives from God and started giving "Her" orders verbally instead (declaring himself the "Voice of God" in the process) in order to hide his literacy issues from the other Archangels?

Has he been making up the rules all along? Are the Heavenly Host and their Opposition fucking up God’s actual plan for the universe without even knowing it because the Metatron can’t fucking read?

Did God cast out the Fallen angels, or did the Metatron cast them out to feel better about himself?

Are the legions of Hell mostly made up of illiterate angels, mixed with a few other angels who hung out with them and perhaps even tried to help those who were struggling (just like the big ol’ softy that Crowley happens to be would have done, once he realized the unfairness of their position)?

And what about that Rebellion?

Did Lucifer take advantage of the struggling angels, or was he acting on their behalf, like a parent who takes on the school board when the principal and teachers won't abide by the special needs students' individual education plans*?

If it's the latter, where is/was God in this system?

__________

* Probably took advantage, let's be real. Hell is not a nice place. But maybe he's just a very overwhelmed, frustrated, and rather crappy parental figure who had a breakdown and left the kids to run amok, and they all went Lord of the Flies on him. Who knows? We really have only Crowley's word and the fight with Adam to base our deductions on.

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Academia: Otheon Headcanons

So I'm having fun speculating on the culture, history, and geography of Otheon and Klayd. Because it was 2am when I started writing this and I had nothing better to do, so here's an analysis no one asked for.

Otheon and Klayd are two nations that share an island located between Ireland and the Iberian Peninsula of Europe. The island is slightly bigger than Ireland and based on its location...well, anybody who's looked at a map knows there's no land mass that big there. Everything else in the series indicates My Hero is our world if people spontaneously started getting superpowers set in the near future of early to mid-2100s.

The simplest explanation available is we're just looking at an alternate universe where there is a large island in the Celtic Sea.

Or!

New islands are created naturally a variety of ways.

Volcanic activity

Glacial retreat

Growth from ocean sandbars

Sediment from river deltas

But these processes take longer than a hundred years, and sometimes new islands aren't even permanent. Hawaii was formed via volcanic activity over the course of millions of years. Ireland (formed by tectonic plate movement) is also four times the size of Hawaii, so it's highly unlikely the larger Otheon/Klayd island formed and grew to its size naturally.

...

My headcanon is in the early days of Quirks, a bunch of guys with lava-Quirks and other geology-related powers got high and created it for no reason other than just to see if they could do it. Because humans are really determined to do pointless shit sometimes.

"Yo, what if we just created a fuckin' island, bro! Let's gooo!"

Alternatively, a villain with a similar Quirk could have created the island for the purposes of having a really conspicuous lair.

"How did you discover my secret lair?"

"It's the size of Ireland, dumbass!"

Assuming the Otheon/Klayd island is manmade (and created by one or more persons acting independently of any existing nation), it's location makes things interesting.

Here's Otheon/Klayd's location.

And here's an approximate map of the maritime waters o western Europe. (Approximate because I pulled this off of Google images and have no idea how accurate it is.) As you can see, Otheon/Klayd could be just far enough away from everyone else or just enough in everyone's space that there can be no obvious claim.

Because you know Spain, Portugal, the UK, Ireland, and France all probably did what nations do best: Took one look and the new spit of land and said, "Hey. That's ours."

If we do an overlay of the map, and allow some liberty under the assumption the animation team did not draw the European map 100% perfectly accurate or the boundary was changed by My Hero's 22nd Century, Otheon and Klayd's shared border could be an extension of the Irish/UK maritime border.

Since we know the Trigger bomb was in Rody's home city, we can tell the larger northwestern country is Klayd and the smaller southeast one is Otheon. Taking into account the maritime border, it'd be interesting if Klayd was or still is an Irish territory.

So who claimed Otheon?

Otheon's main city seems to be based on Lisbon, so I guess Portugal won that debate on who got Otheon? And built an identical bridge? I don't know. Admittedly the bridge is not concrete evidence, but based on the architecture, there is definitely a Spanish/Portuguese/general Mediterranean influence. And French. So one of those nations could claimed Otheon based on proximity.

But Otheon and Klayd appear to be independent nations, not part of anyone else. So now I'm imagining some country colonized an uninhabited new island only for those colonists to say, "Nope," and declared independence in under a hundred years.

But setting everything I've written above aside because it all is just wild speculation, the headcanon that I like the most regarding Otheon is the island was created by some hero or group of heroes during the early days of Quirks and it started off as a refuge/ceasefire zone for civilians hoping to escape the chaos of the new reality. Especially since Quirkless people were more common in those days, seeking shelter in a world where people are starting to have powers that can range from a minor inconvenience to god-like destruction would have been a dire need. As a result, the Quirkless population of Otheon and Klayd is much higher compared to other nations.

After society got itself re-stabilized, the island was officially established as a new territory with its two independent nations.

Also, Deku and Rody are probably speaking English with each other, but headcanon that Rody is bilingual or trilingual and was consistently muttering irritably in Portuguese or something whenever Deku did something to annoy him.

[wolfprincesszola]

"Do you want a kiss?" | 707 x Reader

I couldn't think of anything else for the summary because I wanted it to be vague. Have a first kiss scene that's so cute that it makes my teeth rot every time I read it. I smiled so much when I wrote it that people in my house started to ask me if I was texting an s/o (i'm single asf). If you are one of my irl mutuals who know about my obsession with 707, no, you don't see this. Scroll away. (candy fic just in time for halloween <3) ————– Summary: You offer Saeyoung a kiss and he gladly takes the opportunity.

Trigger Warnings: None

Content Warnings: Food (Chocolate), Light Swearing (only one) ————–

"Do you want a kiss?"

707 choked on the water he had been drinking, quickly putting the cup down and going to grab a napkin to wipe his mouth and the remnants of the water that had gotten on his clothes. His voice cracked as he turned to you with confusion, "What?"

"Are you alright?" You asked, staring at him with concern etched on your face.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry about me." 707 brushed it off as he joined you on the couch, "I must've just heard you wrong."

Yeah, that was it. His lovely, innocent girlfriend wouldn't have suggested for them to share your first kiss right then and there.

"Do you want a kiss?" You blinked innocently, enunciating the words so that 707 wouldn't misunderstand you again. "What did you hear?"

Nope. He heard you correctly.

"I heard you correctly, I guess. I'm sorry, that's just such an odd question to ask when I'm drinking water."

"Why?" You raised an eyebrow, "It's something that people normally ask."

707 couldn't help but question the people you had been hanging around and debating trying to take you away from you friends without knowing the full story. Who had been asking you to kiss them and would 707 be able to take them in a fight?

"I don't know. I just never thought that you would be the one to ask me that first. I guess I also thought that it'd be in a more romantic setting than this."

You raised an eyebrow before glancing around the room, "Sitting in the living room together domestically isn't romantic enough for you? I guess I could present it down on one knee too..."

"No, no! There's no need." 707 laughed nervously, stopping you from getting down on one knee, "This is fine. This is romantic enough already."

"Besides, not everything we do has to be romantic." You hummed, smiling at 707, "What are you so nervous about? It's just me asking you if you wanted one. It's okay to say no."

Why weren't you freaking out about this? Why were you treating this like nothing? Had you done this before? Was he ready to make the move? What if he was bad? What if he was horrible and then you wanted to dump him? What if he messed things up because he had agreed to a kiss? Was he overthinking this?

Looking at your nonchalant face, he definitely was.

"It's okay to say no, Saeyoung." You repeated, "You don't have to say yes to make me happy. I don't care either way."

"You don't?" 707 raised an eyebrow.

It wasn't the earliest stage of your relationship together as the two of you had been together for more than half a year already. However, you still had yet to do many things. It took you two almost three months to start holding hands even because of the anxiety 707 held and the inability to make a move you had. You two were fine with the slow pace you were going at though. It was nice and a fresh breath of air from the constant whirling of the rollercoaster life took you two on.

"Of course I don't. Why would I?"

"Well because I just assumed that you never had one before, so this would be as big of a deal for you as it is for me." 707 admitted, "Are you telling me you have?"

You stared at 707 as if he was insane, "Everyone I knew has had one, especially in your elementary school days. Don't tell me you've never had one."

"Of course I haven't! You know me. I mean, you're my first girlfriend."

You raised an eyebrow, "What does that have to do with ever having a kiss?"

707 flushed, knowing that he had greatly assumed that if you had already had your first kiss, it had to have been from your previous boyfriend. 707 did not know a single thing about your ex, but wanted to strangle him for ruining the experience of you ever sharing your first kiss with 707. Great, you had officially turned 707 into a homicidal maniac, ready to kill anyone that got in the way of his relationship. "You're right, it doesn't."

"But you're serious about that? You've never had your first kiss?" You seemed appalled by the statement.

"No!"

"Somehow I doubt that."

"What? You think I'm so likeable that people are just lining up to give me kisses?" 707 accused you.

"Well, yeah! You're the Saeyoung Choi. You're my boyfriend. If I like you, that means that there had to have been several friends of yours that have offered you them." You scoffed, "I mean, I'm not very much of a likeable person and I still had people offer them to me."

"Did you take the offers?"

"Of course I did! It was free kisses. Why wouldn't I?"

"You whore!" 707 scoffed, amusement clearly sparkling his eyes with no malicious intent to the comment.

He was surprised though. For someone who seemed very new and innocent to the relationship idea just like he was, you sure had a lot of experience if you had kissed many people. 707 felt a little jealous at the fact that he wouldn't be your first kiss, although he knew that his thinking was silly. You were his and would always be his for as long as he cherished you. He didn't have to worry about you accepting anyone's offers to kiss anyone while you two were together. There was at least that.

"What? You're telling me you've always refused it when people have offered them to you? I completely doubt that's true." You examined 707 for body signals to show that he was lying.

"They've never offered them to me." 707 admitted, "Unfortunately."

"You never bought any either?"

"Why would I? The booths are just overpriced for something I know I'll experience in time."

"Weirdly poetic for something as small as a kiss." You smirked, "Would you like to try it now?"

His heart started to pound. Was this really happening? Was he really going to kiss you for the first time?

"More than anything." He breathed out as he stared at you. "I just...what if I mess up?"

"Mess up?" You raised an eyebrow, "I doubt you can mess up at this."

"Says who?"

"Says me, who has gotten plenty of kisses in the past!" You giggled.

"Well, I've never had one before, so I don't know what to do."

You stared at your boyfriend before exhaling in amusement, "Alright, fine. I'll help you out. Move your phone, I'm going to sit on your lap."

"O-oh, okay." 707 cleared his throat as he moved his phone, trying not to show his flushed face. You straddled him, your legs in between 707's as you were facing him. 707 wrapped his arms around you to keep you from falling off. "How do I do this?"

"Just relax and close your eyes." You instructed.

707 did just that, feeling the darkness comforting him. He really hoped that you couldn't hear just how loud his heart was pounding.

"Open your mouth."

707 let confusion wash over his face as he emphasized every word to make sure he knew what you were saying, "Open my mouth?"

"Open your mouth." Your voice remarked as he could hear crinkling of something.

"Why would that be beneficial in any way, Y/N?" 707's voice had raised from confusion all the way to bewilderedness.

"Just do it, babe, before I force your mouth open. That's the correct way." You remarked.

"Alright, alright." 707 sighed before letting his jaw open, feeling you move yourself closer to him and his mouth. There seemed to be no more sounds of crinkling as something--your fingers--brushed against his lips. His heartbeat fastened as he was waiting for your lips to close in on his.

Then, he tasted chocolate.

Sweet, creamy, and velvety chocolate. It had the same distinct taste that Hershey's chocolate kisses had.

Oh...that's what you meant. His eyes fluttered open as he looked at you, smiling.

"How is it?"

707 burst out laughing, pulling you close so that he could bury his face into your chest in embarrassment. "Oh my universe. Y/N, you're so innocently sweet. Just like this kiss."

"What?" You laughed, pushing 707 gently off of you so that you could look at his face, "What are you talking about?"

"I thought you were talking about an actual kiss, not a Hershey's. I've had plenty of chocolate kisses before." 707 brushed a hair out of your face as he waited for the recognition to hit you.

"Huh? Oh-OH!" Your eyes widened as you burst out laughing too. "Is that why you were so flustered and nervous?"

"What else was I supposed to think when you just randomly offered me that?"

"The treat! I didn't think you would think of that!"

"Clearly not." 707 gasped for air as he finally finished the chocolate in his mouth before he could choke on it. He cupped your cheeks, "My innocent, sweet girlfriend."

"Shut up." You huffed, "So you're telling me you've had a Hershey's kiss before?"

"Yes, plenty."

"But not a kiss on the lips?"

"Nope. I've never been offered that."

"Then...do you want a kiss?"

707 stared at you, wondering if you were truly offering it this time. His voice cracked as he tried to ask you to clarify, "What?"

"Do you want a kiss?" You remarked, enunciating things the same way you had asked in the beginning of the situation. "It's okay to say no, babe."

"No, I want it." 707 gave a small smile, "How do I do this?"

"Just close your eyes and this time, close your mouth." You giggled as you cupped 707's face. Your chest was pressed against his and he could practically hear your heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. His heart was pounding almost the same speed as yours.

707 slowly closed his eyes as you leaned in, fully shutting them when he could feel your breath on his face. Your lips brushed together before finally, you gently pressed your lips against each other and then pulled away.

You tasted like Hershey's chocolate kisses and strawberries. Your lips weren't chapped, but instead waxy as only moments before you offered him a kiss, he had watched you apply your signature strawberry chapstick. He hadn't realized how much he had wanted to know what it had tasted like and how it was like to be so close to your lips until the moment he had gotten a taste of you. Maybe that was why your chapstick never seemed to last you long. It would dry out in hopes that the chapstick would once again touch your lips, becoming addicted to that sensation. Now that 707 had gotten a taste of his own, he knew that it would become an addiction of his.

"Was that okay?" You asked as 707's eyes fluttered open, staring at his girlfriend that was facing him with anxiety written all over your face.

All 707 did was pull you closer to him with his arms still wrapped around your waist before having his right hand travel to pull you face closer to his. He crashed his lips onto yours as an answer, desperately wanting another taste of your lips, of you.

You returned the energy as your hands traveled from his face into his hair. 707 could not care less about how you were messing up his hairstyle when you had your fingers in his hair while you were kissing him. Those combined together made the top ten list of his favorite things you did in that moment.

When you two separated--albeit only because you two were humans that needed to breathe--you pressed your foreheads together, whispering a feisty remark, "You never answered my question."

707 couldn't help the smile that spread onto his face, "It was more than okay."

"Good."

You two stayed in quiet silence, enjoying each other's company. Even as you shifted off of 707's lap and onto the spot next to them, you took comfort in nestling closer to one another and holding each other.

The only thing that interrupted the silence was when you held out another chocolate kiss, "Do you want a kiss?"

"I'd love one." 707 replied as he pulled you closer to him for a kiss before grabbing the chocolate and popping it in his mouth. ————– If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! Reblogging helps me a lot and it's just two clicks of a button (trust me, likes don't do anything to help me). Check out my masterlist for more, feel free to request any writings, and stick around if you want to see what other fandoms I like to write for! :)

[argyre169]

Ray's Birthday !

To mark Ray's birthday, I'm excited to share a batch of drawings and little situation I've created just for the occasion ! I hope you'll enjoy them. As I get back into digital drawing, I'm still working on perfecting proportions, but I'm giving it my best shot. Keep an eye out for the big reveal

TW : their is SFW and NSFW drawing, both post will be cut out in two, the SFW which will be posted here and the NSFW one who will not be published on Tumblr for community rules purposes but if you are willing to see it i will gladly take recommandations of where i can post it . Be aware that Binary Star VN is an adult onely game. I am responsible for what I create but not for what you watch so if you'r not ready to see such things please skip this post

Thanks again for this beautiful game @concreteparasite

and Thanks to @shoyastars for their implication in the BSH community, you actually motivated me to do thoses post ;)

Thanks again for all of your likes on the previous post your support means a lot!

PS: The name of my OC is Roxanne. If you'd like more information or want to see more posts like this, don't hesitate to leave a comment ;)

Roxanne : age: 22 height : 1m75/5.8

Ray saving Roxanne from Double : ( SFW version so no potential Triggers you can see the other versions on the second post )

" As Ray held Roxanne in his arms, her delicate form nestled against his chest, a storm raged within him. The scent of her fear mingled with the metallic tang of blood as a reminder of the violence he had unleashed to rescue her from the clutches of Double. His jaw clenched with a suppressed rage as he surveyed the aftermath of his wrath. The lifeless bodies of Double's sidekicks strewn across the ground like discarded puppets. He knew he had acted out of necessity, but the weight of his actions pressed heavily upon him, a burden he bore in silence as always. Yet amidst the chaos and destruction, one thought consumed his mind : Roxanne's safety. She was his to protect, his to cherish, his to love. No one, not even a wretched fiend like Double, would dare lay a finger on her ever again. He could not allow anyone to threaten what was his, to encroach upon his territory. His grip tightened ever so slightly around Roxanne, a silent vow to shield her from harm at any cost. But beneath the facade of stoic resolve, a flicker of exhaustion danced in his eyes. The weight of his responsibilities bore down upon him, the never-ending battle against vilains and aliens taking its toll on his weary soul. Yet, in the midst of his fatigue, a spark of determination burned bright within him. For he was not just a mere man, but the most powerful superhero in the universe. He would stop at nothing to ensure Roxanne's safety, to protect her from the darkness that lurked in the shadows. With a silent nod to his inner demons, Ray gathered Roxanne into his arms and vanished into the night. For she was not just his love, but his everything. And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe, even if it meant sacrificing his own soul in the process."

She said yes ! In this timeline, she is now 25, and he proposed to her 2 days ago. She is overjoyed about it.

In the wake of Ray's proposal just two days prior, Roxanne found herself enveloped in a euphoric haze of happiness and excitement using every excuses to show her engagement ring . The weight of the ring on her finger served as a constant reminder of their shared future, a future filled with endless possibilities and boundless love. Every glance at the sparkling gold sent a flutter of joy through her heart, a tangible symbol of their commitment to each other. She couldn't help but steal glances at her hand throughout the day, marveling at the way the light danced off the delicate band. As she went about her daily routine, her thoughts invariably drifted back to Ray and the tender moment when he had asked her to be his forever. The memory filled her with warmth and affection a sense of belonging that she had never known before. With each passing moment, she found herself falling deeper in love with Ray, grateful for the unwavering support and devotion he had shown her even if the begining of their relation was tumultuous. She knew that their love was a rare and precious gift, one that she would cherish for eternity. And as she gazed into the future with him by her side, she couldn't help but feel a sense of profound gratitude for the man who had captured her heart so completely. For in his arms, she had found her home, her refuge, her everything. And she knew that together, they could conquer any obstacle that lay in their path, guided by the unbreakable bond of their love.

" loved, and being loved. Being loved, and loved. "

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 13

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 4.3k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Ellie

Ellie used to be brave.

She could spend days in the hole without food or sleep or light and come out on the other side mostly sane and ready for more. She turned a gun on her best friend when she got bit and pulled the trigger without hesitation. She was captured and held hostage by the Fireflies for weeks, and when Marlene dropped a fucking bomb about her mother and handed her off to two strangers in the same day, she sucked it up and went willingly. When Sam and Henry died, she dried her tears on the back of her sleeve and helped dig their graves. When Joel was sick, she stitched him up and found food and bartered for medicine, alone. She survived the–

Don’t think about that.

They made it through the winter. They made it to the Fireflies. She let them take her blood and run their tests and cut her open, and if she cried, she cried to herself because that’s what she’d always done.

She never used to need anyone.

But the horde attack seems to have broken her bravery. It’s so stupid because they were safe the whole time. Mostly. Sure, it was hot and smelly and really fucking miserable but it wasn’t like the infected ever got near them. They’d been surrounded by soldiers, six stories up. She’s lived through so much worse.

And yet, it’s like every terrible thing that’s ever happened to her has come crawling back to haunt her, everything she’s ever lost or feared or ached over was carried on the wave of the horde and dumped in her lap.

The nightmares come back. If she’s not dreaming about–

No, no, not that .

She dreams about the infected. She’s trapped in the hole with their clicking and moaning just outside, slimy, rotten flesh clawing for purchase on the walls. She watches Joel die over and over, from a gunshot, a stab wound, a bite. She watches Marlene inject her and feels herself turn, the cold certainty of the fungus spreading beneath her skin, digging long, tendril-like fingers into her brain. It’s a grab bag of horrors, her own Greatest Hits of misery, and every night she fights sleep until it inevitably claims her, until just the act of closing her eyes is enough to spike her heart rate and shorten her breath.

So she goes to Joel. He doesn’t say anything, even though he’s probably getting sick of being crowded out of his own cot by a kid who’s way too old to be crawling into bed with him every night like a fucking toddler. But he just shoves over and lets her steal his blankets and pretend to sleep, even though it’s mostly impossible. Sometimes he’ll rub her back or her hair or her neck–always asking first, because he knows she’s weird about touch after–

Nope. Fuck off.

Two weeks pass like this before they continue the tests; something about the labs getting put back together, a shortage of staff. Marlene stalks around the hospital barking orders, a bomb waiting to go off, jumpy the way FEDRA soldiers always were when terrorist attacks were up.

They do a bone marrow biopsy. Joel argues with Marlene about it, as usual, and Ellie only half listens as they go back and forth.

“She’s tired, can’t you fuckin’ see that? She needs a damn break.”

“We’ve already lost too much time.”

“That ain’t her problem.”

“I’m well aware–”

On and on. It’s the same old shit. But she knows even before they’re finished that she’ll do it because that’s why they’re here, and Joel will go along because she tells him to; he always does. She doesn’t have the energy to make a big deal about their fighting in the meantime.

But this biopsy is worse than any of the other ones combined. The anesthesia is different, but it still makes her sick. Everything hurts after–her back, her legs, her stomach. Her movements feel slow, like her legs weigh a thousand tons each, like she’s trying to move through quicksand and can’t catch her breath.

She’s so fucking tired, but it’s not the kind of tired sleep can fix–not that she’s not getting much of that, either. More and more, she lets her mind go blank, tuning out the noise until she’s just a body waiting for the next needle, the next surgery, the next scar.

She’s tired of being scared. She’s tired of being brave. She’s just tired.

And then she falls.

It was a stupid accident, she got a little dizzy and fell off the chair and bruised her elbow. But Joel makes a big fucking deal of it by getting Marlene and the doctor involved, and soon they’re all crowded in their room and Joel’s doing that pacing thing and he and Marlene are at each others’ throats and the doctor and the nurse are going back and forth over her file. She’s really fucking tired and they’re talking about her appetite and hormones and cycles and low blood pressure and it starts to make sense and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

They think she’s…

Fuck.

But that’s not fucking possible. She got her stupid period last month. Admittedly she didn’t have one for a while but it’s always weird when she gets stressed, and she was probably starving, and it’s not like she’s even been with anyone like that , or even been around anyone but Joel unless you count–

Not that, not thinking about that.

“I’m not,” she says, but no one hears her, not even Joel. And they’re all still talking over her and her head is buzzing and it occurs to her that she’s only been around Joel and if they think he’s–if they think he might have–

Oh, shit.

They’ll separate them. They’ll kill him.

She looks up at everyone, the nurse and the doctor and Marlene and Joel and she swallows hard, heart racing, and she says it aloud, louder, loud enough to fill the room.

“I’m not fucking pregnant.”

Joel

Things go downhill after the horde attack.

The nightmares are worse than ever. Ellie has never been what Joel would call clingy, but now she rarely leaves his side. Her eyes are dull, missing that curious spark that practically defined their first several months together. It’s too much like the weeks after Silver Lake, when they’d been forced to hole up and wait out the winter.

At the time, he’d blamed her retreat on the bitter cold weather and the lack of food, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. He figured she’d talk about it when she was ready, and before the horde attacked, he thought she might be getting there…but now it’s everything he can do just to keep her attention.

Then they had to do that stupid fuckin’ biopsy, even though he tried to tell Marlene that she needed rest. It’s clear this one cost her something. She bears it more stoically than he would–the kid’s tough as nails–but she shouldn’t fuckin’ have to .

The Fireflies aren’t having a great time of it, either. Joel doesn’t know how many died during the attack, but he guesses at least half Marlene’s military is gone. She doesn’t offer more than clipped reassurances that everything is under control, but he notices a lot of the same guards on rotation in the following weeks, they’re no longer doubled up at the exits, and several once-familiar faces are missing.

Then one day they’re hanging out in the hall, Joel having nudged Ellie out of bed to take a walk around the loop that makes up the fourth floor. They’ve done two laps at a pace that a snail could put to shame and now Ellie spins lazily in her chair while Joel leans against the windows of their room, chin to his chest, passing time. One minute she’s in the chair, the next, there’s a distinct thud and she’s on the floor.

“Shit, Ellie–!”

Lee, on duty nearby, is helping her into a sitting position when Joel kneels beside her.

“The hell happened, kid?”

“She passed out,” Lee says.

“Did not,” Ellie mumbles. “Just dizzy.”

“You were barely moving,” Lee says.

“M’fine, dude,” she mutters.

“Bed,” Joel orders. “I’m callin’ Marlene.”

“I’ll get her,” Lee says. “You take her back to the room.”

Without waiting for her to protest, Joel lifts her– too easily , he thinks, she’s still so damn small -and walks back to their room. The fact that Ellie doesn’t put up a fight at being carried scares him almost as much as the fall.

The nurse at the desk gets up as they approach.

“Call the doctor,” Joel barks.

He doesn’t wait for a response, just carries Ellie into the room, depositing her carefully on the bed, then goes to the bathroom to fill a cup with water from the sink.

“You hit your head?”

“Don’t think so,” she winces, frowning at her elbow. “Bruised my stupid arm, though.”

“D’you remember what happened?” he asks, handing her the water.

 She shrugs but won’t meet his eyes, taking a sip. “Just got dizzy.”

His hand goes to her forehead, checking for a temperature.

“Dude, I’m f–”

The door opens and Marlene walks in with the doctor and the nurse right behind. “The guards said something about a fall?”

“She passed out,” Joel says before Ellie can finish. “Think she’s getting sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Ellie sighs.

The doctor frowns at the chart as the nurse hands it over, then starts taking vitals.

“Been usin’ her like a pincushion,” Joel mutters. Ellie submits to the blood pressure cuff readily enough, but her face is a troubling shade of pale.

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Do you know how much blood we’d have to take to cause something like this?”

“I told you the biopsy was a bad idea. I told you but you don’t fuckin’ listen. She needs rest, not more of your fuckin’ experiments.”

“Jesus Christ, do we have to do this every fucking time? She’s here of her own free will–“

“Because you put all these fuckin’ ideas in her head,” he hisses.

The doctor and nurse are talking between themselves, flipping through the pages of her chart. Joel can’t hear what they’re saying, too incensed at Marlene and her goddamn cure, and then Ellie says something but it’s barely a whisper, and he’s thinking of the MRI scans and the cordyceps vining through her body, the fungus that’s embedded in her fuckin’ brain , too aware of the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears and his voice growing louder. He’s about to bypass Marlene to ask the doctor what the fuck is going on when Ellie speaks up again, this time loud enough to silence everyone else in the room.

“I’m not fucking pregnant.”

Only then does Joel notice she’s gone rigid, curled in on herself, knees drawn up and eyes glazed in a familiar terror.

Joel blinks, barely registering the words, her meaning. “What?”

The doctor remains infuriatingly blasé, speaking to Marlene now. “It’s a possibility. She’s post-pubescent, although we don’t have a record of her cycles–”

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” Joel snaps.

“We’ll do a test to–“

He’s in the doctor’s face before the man can finish, only vaguely aware of Marlene’s hand gripping his arm to hold him back.

“I don’t need a stupid test because I’m not pregnant,” Ellie insists tightly, just as Joel snarls, “Get the fuck out.”

The doctor huffs and looks at Marlene, but for once, there’s no resistance from her.

“Let’s give them a minute,” she sighs.

Joel closes the door behind everyone, wishing he could lock it for good measure. He stays there with his hand on the glass, bracing himself, skin crawling as his anger dissolves into horror. He feels sick. His mind races, thinking of Silver Lake, of all those hours they were separated, of the terrifying possibilities, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to him, she won’t talk about–

“Ellie–”

“I’m not,” she repeats, voice wavering. She’s staring at the foot of the bed, not looking at him, her breath too fast and shallow for his liking. “I–I got my period, like, three weeks ago.”

He turns around slowly. They share a bathroom. He’s not the most observant man, but he’s pretty sure he would have noticed something .

As if reading his mind, she continues, grimacing. “Maria gave me one of those…cup…things.”

He has no idea what that means. He swallows hard, takes a deep breath.

“Kiddo…you can talk to me. ‘Bout anything. I won’t be mad or–or–if somethin’ happened, we can–we can fix it, we can–”

“I know,” she spits. Her whole body is quivering, but her words are tightly controlled. “But I’m telling you the truth.”

“You keep sayin’ that–”

She finally looks at him and he sees angry tears gleaming in her eyes. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ellie–I believe you, kiddo, I just–I wasn’t there an’-you won’t…you won’t talk about it.”

At that, she looks away again. “Because I don’t need to.”

“Baby–”

“He didn’t fucking rape me, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

He flinches, the words landing like a slap. A single tear escapes her lash line, making a wet track down her cheek.

“He tried. He tried and he didn’t–he didn’t get that far. Because I bashed his fucking skull in before he could get his fucking pants off.”

Some dim part of him thinks he should feel relieved, but that’s impossible when her face crumples. He goes to her because he can’t do anything else, sits on the edge of the bed, hand twitching in a vain effort to keep himself from reaching for her.

“Happy now?” she grits out, jaw set. 

“No,” he breathes. “I could never be happy about that.”

She’s fully panicking now. Every breath sounds high and pitchy, like she’s sucking air through a straw.

“He’s gone, baby. He’s…it’s done. It’s over, you don’t ever have to go back, okay?”

A shuddering hiccup and she lifts her eyes to his. She nods tightly, tremors rippling across her shoulders as she tries to get her breathing under control.

“It’s over,” he repeats, hoping he sounds more certain than he feels. “You’re safe.”

Another jerky nod.

“And…I’m sorry,” he rasps. He wipes at his face in frustration, surprised when his hand comes back wet.

“Wasn’t your fault,” she mutters thickly.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry that–I shoulda been there, couldn’t–couldn’t help–”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers, eyes red but dry. “Doesn’t change anything…right?”

Shame swirls in his gut. She may be right, but the old saws hound him anyway. It’s not enough, this is your fault, you’re failing her, you were always going to fail her. He tentatively reaches out and puts a hand on her knee, hopeful when she doesn’t flinch or pull away.

“I shoulda believed you. I’m sorry.”

Her jaw ticks at that, and she chews on her lip ‘til it’s red and raw. She’s rocking slightly, probably not even aware she’s doing it. She’s going away, he realizes, withdrawing again.

“Ellie?”

He squeezes her knee gently, trying to bring her back.

“C’mon, kiddo, you gotta…you gotta talk to me. You need to–it’s gotta come out. The only way this gets better is if you let it out, and–”

“I can’t,” she whispers, almost a whine, ducking her head. “I know I have to, but I just–I can’t–okay? Not yet. Please…don’t make me.”

Please don’t make me.

His heart cracks and splinters in his chest. She sounds so small, so exhausted. How many times has she been forced, coerced, manipulated by people who claimed to care for her? 

Taking a chance, he clasps one of her hands, cold fingers white as porcelain. He tugs gently, asking a silent question, and she folds forward, pressing herself into his side until he can wrap an arm around her shoulders. He does his best to bundle her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Alright. You don’t have to,” he whispers into her hair. “Don’t have to do anythin’ right now, okay? Nothin’ you don’t want.”

She nods, gives a tiny hiccup that might be a sob. It’s a long time before she pulls away, wiping a sleeve over her eyes, looking up at him with her jaw set.

“Tell them they can do the dumb test,” she sniffs. “But I’m not fucking pregnant.”

~*~

“No pregnancy. Her iron and RBCs are low,” the nurse says with finality.

“Told you, fuckers,” Ellie mutters, obviously feeling well enough to snark, although the dark circles under her eyes are even more pronounced than before.

“How the hell did you miss that?” Marlene asks.

The nurse scowls. “Dr. Anderson gets reports with all the lab work, he said nothing to indicate the anemia was a problem.”

“So you’re tellin’ me she’s anemic and your brilliant doctor didn’t think to mention it?” Joel cuts in. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you people–”

“Enough,” Marlene snaps, looking back and forth between them, then settles her gaze on the nurse. “What’s the treatment plan?”

“She needs to eat, rest, keep up her strength. Pause the testing until she’s back in healthy range.”

“How long?”

“I can’t say,” the nurse sighs. “If we can find some supplements, we might be able to speed up the process…but the best way is for her to eat.”

And so, two days later, it’s standoff over dinner.

“I can’t.”

“You have to,” Marlene says cooly. “The only way this works is if you keep up your strength, and the only way for you to stay strong is to eat. We’re using precious rations to keep you fed and your blood counts are low.”

Ellie hunches over her half-full tray of food while Marlene hovers. She’s eaten a few bites of vegetables and a piece of bread, but large chunks of venison remain on the tray. He knows why it turns her stomach, why she sends back her trays without touching the stuff.

But he also watched her pass out two days ago.

“I can’t keep it down, it doesn’t fucking work ,” she hisses.

“Come on, Ellie,” Marlene murmurs. “You owe it to us to try.”

“I am trying,” she says. “But my fucking stomach hurts.”

Marlene sighs. “Just…one bite. Try. Please.”

Ellie lets out a disgusted groan, but she picks up a piece of meat with her fork, grimacing as she puts it in her mouth. She chews and her jaw works and works because the stuff is mostly gristle and it’s cooked to the consistency of leather–Joel struggled to choke down his smaller portion, too. He watches her throat bob in a swallow.

Then she’s gagging, choking, and the contents of her stomach–the venison and everything else along with it–are covering the floor next to her bed. She gags and gags, her face red, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Marlene huffs under her breath and that’s the last fucking straw.

“Outside,” Joel snaps, making for the door without waiting for her to answer. When they’re out in the hall, he faces her, snarling. “You don’t talk to her like that.” 

“She needs to eat.”

“She can’t do venison.”

“She’ll have to suck it up,” Marlene says flatly. “Her iron is low and venison is the best source we have at this point–”

“That girl,” he jabs his finger at the window behind her, “is putting her whole fuckin’ life on the line for you. So you can figure out how to get her the stuff she needs without forcin’ it down her fuckin’ throat.”

Her jaw clenches, she blows a hard breath out her nose. 

“Fine,” she snaps. “I’ll send a scavenging party out for supplements. God knows how good they’ll be, but–”

“Whatever you gotta do, I don’t give a shit. But don’t you ever–e ver– talk to her like that again,” he says. “She ain’t your puppet.”

She folds her arms, clicking her tongue. “Heard.”

He nods and goes back in, finds Ellie on the floor, attempting to wipe up the vomit. He kneels and gently takes the cloth from her hands to finish the job.

“It’s my mess. I can get it,” Ellie hiccups, cheeks red. He can see her hands shaking as she sits back on her knees.

“Not your fault,” he says. “You can’t eat the meat, you can’t eat it. S’their problem, not yours.”

She sniffs and wipes at her face with her sleeve.

“You brushed your teeth yet?” he asks, standing with a suppressed groan and tossing the soiled towel on the floor outside their room. Let the Fireflies deal with it. “Go on. You’ll feel better if you do.”

Ellie goes to the bathroom and closes the door. He hears the water running. When she returns, her face is damp, cheeks blotchy, eyes red-rimmed. She climbs back into bed still looking defeated.

“I hate to admit it, but Marlene’s right about one thing,” he murmurs. “You gotta eat, kid.”

“I’m trying, asshole,” she spits, chin trembling. “I’m trying but…it’s all…stupid deer meat and I can’t–I can’t. After–”

“Alright,” he soothes, rubbing her back. “I know. Marlene’s gonna try to find…pills or somethin’.”

Her face falls. “That’ll take too long.”

“Hey,” he says, hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “They’re on your schedule, not the other way around, right?”

She rolls her eyes but nods, teary.

“K. Why don’t you get back in bed and get some rest. We’ll figure it out.”

For once, she doesn’t argue. Part of him wishes she would.

Ellie is sleeping soundly when Marlene comes back later that night. They take the conversation to the hallway, speaking in low voices so as not to wake her.

“Dr. Anderson wants to do a blood transfusion,” she says. “It’ll work faster than any supplements we’d be able to find.”

“S’it safe?”

“No riskier than giving her expired iron pills or letting her stay anemic,” she says.

“An’ you got everythin’ for that?”

“Well, the Red Cross isn’t exactly operational,” she says drily. “We need to find someone with a matching blood type. My staff are being typed as we speak.”

Joel grimaces. “I’m a universal donor. Test mine. If it’ll help her…”

He trails off, glancing through the window where Ellie is still curled up in bed.

“You sure? You’re clean?”

He glares at her.

“Hey, we both know the QZ life wasn’t exactly squeaky,” she says. “But…I’m not going to turn it down if you’re willing. I’ll send the nurse in to get a blood sample so we can screen you.”

~*~

Screened and typed and confirmed a match, Joel finds himself laid up in bed with a needle in his arm a few days later.

“This is sick, dude,” Ellie says, lounging in her bed, watching intently as his blood fills the pint-sized holding bag at his side. Her fascination remains unnerving–especially now that it’s directed at him.

“Don’t you have somethin’ to do?”

“I am doing something, I’m resting like you said,” she says, rolling over to dangle her head off the side of the bed. Then she perks up. “Oh, shit! I know!”

She goes to her bag on the floor and pulls out her pun book, flipping through the pages.

“Aha,” he mutters. “Will Livingston strikes again.”

“Hey, Joel,” she says, grinning. “I know a couple of vampire puns…but they all suck. Get it? They suck? ‘Cause it’s a vampire.”

“I got it,” he mutters, trying and failing to hold back a smile. It’s been weeks since she’s joked around with him like this, weeks since they’ve been able to have more than short, stilted conversations that usually end with her staring off into space.

“Maybe don’t ‘B negative’ about it, then.”

That earns her a groan.

“Ooh, ooh wait! I got a better one–”

“Highly doubt that,” he drawls, but he’s full-on smiling now.

“I wanted to write a blood pun, but it was all ‘in vein’!”

“That’s terrible. Negative six.”

“You can’t do negative numbers, dude,” she says, flopping back down on the bed with her book.

“Can for that joke.”

She snorts. “I’m gonna age, like, fifty years with your old man blood.”

“Better than passin’ out in the fuckin’ hall,” he says pointedly.

“I guess,” she sighs. “Kinda cool you’re, like, a walking blood supply.”

“Don’t get any ideas. It ain’t an infinite supply. You still gotta eat.”

“I just figured with the…y’know,” she says quietly, gesturing to his stomach, where the scar on his abdomen still pulls a little when he stands too quickly. “You lost a lot of blood…before.”

“Still doin’ better than you in the iron department.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she hums, thinking, then stretches out with a sigh. “Hey, Joel,” she murmurs, resting her head on her pillow. She blinks sleepily, probably ready for another nap. God, he hopes like hell this transfusion does what it’s supposed to. “Once they do the transfusion thing…does that make us blood relatives?”

“This one of your jokes?”

“No,” she yawns. “S’just funny, when they say ‘blood relation’, they don't mean you share actual blood. Except…we will, kinda.”

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

“S’pretty cool,” she whispers.

“Uh-huh. You’re s’posed to be resting,” he says, watching with fond exasperation as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

She frowns and wrinkles her nose and suddenly looks five years younger, sporting the kind of pout he remembers seeing on Sarah’s face when she was overtired and fighting sleep. “M’not tired.”

“Nice to meet you, Not Tired. I’m Joel,” he says drily. “Go to sleep, kid. I’ll wake you up when I’m done being bled dry over here.”

She rolls her eyes and grumbles something he can’t quite hear– something something show you bled dry, old man– but she turns over with a huff. She’s fast asleep and snoring before the donation bag is full.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Ok but Wukong claims MK as Yubei's honorary/sworn older brother. Macaque who was in the room suddenly feels a cold swear as he Realized Wukong Sees MK As His Kid. His Clcub, who Macaque had chased fown and hunted like an animal in an effort to keep LBD's attention off of Wukong himself.

Macaque has that revelation loooong before Yuebei is born.

You see...

When Macaque was still processing that Wukong (his former mate) had been pregnant with the Egg for many many years - he had a brief brain-fart during "Shadow Play" and at during his panic he asks;

Macaque: "Is it my kid!? Wait..." *glares at MK really hard* "Are you my kid???" MK: "Wut." Macaque: "No, no, wait, thats dumb, it's the same baby now as back then. Sorry bud, but I am totally freaking out right now." MK: "Because you spent the last couple hundred years being a deadbeat dad?" Macaque, grabs MK by the shoulders: "YES!!"

The rest of the MKrew escape the Shadow Lantern simply because Mac was panicking so hard he dropped it. Even being super mad at him, they stay until he stops hyperventillating. In Mac's defense, he's not sure how long normal Stone Monkey pregnancies should be.

Even once the realisation kicks in that the "Egg" is a Stone Egg formed from Wukong being encased in the mountain without resources - Macaque has a second "crap Im dad" realisation when he realises that him abandoning/cutting-off Wukong back then is what triggered the process. He still wants to take responsibility for the Egg as it's indirect creator.

And ofc during S3, Macaque notices how protective/paternal Wukong is with MK and starts to realise;

MK might not be Macaque's kid, but Wukong certainly considers MK to be *his* kid.

Macaque has tricked, fought, and psychologically tormented said kid in his goal to either hurt Wukong or extract information.

Macaque is now being forced to capture said kid and/or Wukong for LBD less he suffers a fate worse than death. And while Macaque would hate to do either, he can't stand the thought of handing Wukong over. So MK is his primary target throughout S3, even if Mac tries his best to "soften the blow" if it were when he tries capturing him.

MK is super excited to meet the Egg when it's finally born, and is acting in a manner typical of an older monkey cub wanting to care for their younger sibling. It's too fricking cute and-

Well crap, now Mac doesn't want to turn the kid over. Mostly cus doing so will def hurt Wukong and make his King somehow hate Mac even more than he does now.

Maybe if they do get the Samadhi Fire, him and Wukong might- Macaque, begings violently batting away his talkative shadow clones: "NOPE! Get the heck out of here with that!! I'm just getting the Fire to be free of LBD's influence!"

And once Yuebei is finally born...

Wukong, talking to the baby: "Bao bei [treasure], this is your big brother, MK. Well, honorary big brother, but you get what I mean." MK, holding Yuebei: *is so happy he can't form words + is happy-crying* Macaque: *trying his best not to ask MK "hey, wanna be our son?", cus Mk has his adoptive dads + Mac thinks the kid hates him anyway* "Hah. Crybaby." MK, still crying: "Shut up. You cried when you saw her for the first time." Macaque, trying his best not happy-cry again: "She looks like me! Of course I'd cry - such a curse to place upon a innocent soul!" Wukong: *sighs fondly at the back-and-forth*

Mac's gut reaction is to insult others/himself when he feels emotionally vulnerable, and MK knows how to flip it around.

It very much becomes a "Dad treating his eldest son vs younger daughter" situation, especially if Bai He is thrown into the mix. Mac will 100% spoil his little princesses, but MK...

MK can handle it. He's Wukong's heir. He's ok with Mac only really being soft on him when no one else is around. Secretly Mac's kinda jealous of the dad-attention Pigsy, Wukong, and even Tang get from the kidm even though in his heart he knows it's unlikely MK will ever see Mac as a father figure.

[salty-jade]

Steps: Hand Holding

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Theme: Fluff, just fluff.

Summary: Peter wants to hold hand with you, but how are you going to do that without exlpoding every single time he touches you?

Note: Okay, I'm back at it again. I think... Tbh this is sort of based on my own what if of myself once I have that special someone. also, I did this all in one go, so no edits whatsoever :D. If there is something triggering in this pls let me know!

Everyone in you circle of friends knew you had the biggest crush on Peter Parker. Obviously they didn’t know why since he was sort of a nerd and a geek at the same time. Well for you, that wasn’t a deal breaker since you liked him because he was just him. Loving, caring, sweet and if you look closely, actually handsome. Nevertheless, your friends were supportive and tried everything to get you two together.

So it came to no surprise for them that you two ended up together. Though, it was really because you discovered his secret identity by accident when you were taking out the trash at the same alley way where Peter would change into his super suit. Plus point for you since you saw his bare torso, which you swore justified your case on how handsome he was.

Still, because of that incident, you two became closer, and bloomed into something more. So now your friends are gushing over the possible things you and Peter would do as a new couple. Eat lunch together, walk to class together, talk about each other to other people, hold hands.

Wait.

Hold hands?

As in you and Peter’s fingers locking together while swinging your arms as you both cross a field of daisies???

Nope. Nope. and NOPE!

If Peter had a big secret to keep from the whole world, you had one too. Well, it’s not as huge as Peter’s but still something that you don’t want other people to know about. Peter’s your first boyfriend, therefore you’ve never really been physical with a guy before. The only people you could tolerate physical touch was the men in your family.

“Oh, don’t forget protection ok?! tell him to wrap his junior before sticking it in”

“Also, consent is important for both you and him okay girl? also…”

While your friends kept giving you tips on how to essentially ‘turn on’ your boyfriend and please him, all you could think in your head was about how you were going to even hold hands with him when he asks. forget sex, you could die just from holding hands!

So far, Peter hasn’t really touched you in anyway whatsoever. Heck, when you both confessed, Peter couldn’t event try and land a kiss on you because suddenly his senses alerted him of a villain so he had to drop you off somewhere safe before going out to battle.

The moment he wrapped his arms around your waist to hoist him up, your stomach was doing flips, face becoming different shades of red, and your brain turned into mush. You had to dunk your head into the bathtub to cool yourself from the heat of your face. You thought something was wrong with you. You thought it was weird for someone to be overstimulated with just a few touches with your partner. The romcoms you watch in your laptop certainly made it seem so. It made it seem like an amazing experience where you and your partner could share sweet moments together and just enjoy each other’s presence and act like it was only you two in the entire world. Well, both your heart and mind could not handle that much intimacy.

Was it because you’ve never date anyone before? or was it because you just have high expectations so your afraid of underperforming. Regardless of the reason, it was better to come clean to Peter rather than just keeping it to yourself.

Just as you made your self-declaration, you felt and hand on your arm, pulling you closer to another person’s body.

“Hey there Y/N!” your body, as if it was on auto-pilot, jumped at his touch and voice and instinctively backed a bit to hard unto your locker. Causing it to temporarily shake both the locker and somewhat your body due to the shock. Peter, being the lovely boyfriend he was, felt bad since he thought it was his fault for startling you and tried to hold you to help soothe the pain. Before he could do that though, you again backed away from him and kept a safe distance from him so he couldn’t touch you so you wouldn’t turn to mush.

“Hey! Hey Peter! umm how’s it going?” the fact that you tried to deescalate the situation to make it seem less awkward, just made the situation more awkward. Peter could only raise a brow at you and replied to your question.

“Everything’s good. yeah. I just wanted to see if you would want to walk to AP calculus together…” He said. The sound of guilt and confusion lingered in his voice as every time he raised his hand even slightly you would sort of jerk away from his touch.

“sure sure. we can do that, I just need to…” you looked around your surroundings to find a place where you could cool down for a bit before getting to class. Luckily, you found a bathroom.

“go to the bathroom real quick that’s all! So wait for me okay?! great!” before he could even reply, you dashed across the hall and into the bathroom to spare you the embarrassment.

One of your friends just patted Peter in the back to help reassure him that that was just who you were. “don’t worry, she LOVES you to death. she’s just shy that’s all.” and with that, your friend group had dispersed, each going to their own classes for today.

While you were in the bathroom checking the mirror to see if your face was still red from being touched by Peter. It wasn’t that Peter was not allowed to touch you. In fact, you really wanted to hold hands with him, but your body just reacts in the weirdest ways and your brain perceives it as you being overstimulated.

Before going out again, you took out a few books from your bag and carried them instead, just so could occupy them and avoid holding hands with Peter.

Peter saw you coming out of the bathroom, and he gave you his honest smile and walked up to you.

“I can carry those books for you if you wa-”

“NO!” ok that response was too fast, let’s try that again.

“I mean, no need. It’s ok! besides, you wouldn’t want people to know about the ‘thing you have right’?” you let out a dry chuckle, knowing that your excuse was the dumbest thing Peter might have heard in his entire life.

The whole walk towards class was weird in general. Peter kept wanting to try and find an opening to at least hold your shoulder or at least offer to carry your stuff so he could hold your hand, but something tells him that you were intentionally avoiding that opportunity for him. In the end, when you both made it to your seats in class, you both just exchanged notes while you tried to send him cute doodles so that he didn’t feel too bummed out about not being able to hold your hand.

You knew he didn’t deserve this treatment. He should be able to hold his girlfriend, kiss her whenever he wanted to. But, you just couldn’t handle the overload of affection from him. He was like the sun, while you were the midnight sky shying away from everything.

You both went on with your days as if you were just friends. Peter still tried to find an opening to at least graze your hand but, nothing. He sensed there must be something wrong with you. Maybe he was imagining things when you actually confessed that you liked him? was he reading the signals wrong? whatever it was, even Peter couldn’t solve this with only his intuition only. It was best that he asked you directly instead.

As soon as you both stepped out of the school, where a good few inches of empty space were between you and Peter, peter turned to you before you had the chance to escape the awkward situation.

“Can we talk?” he said. Your instincts were telling you that he probably wanted to talk about what happened this morning and your over all behavior today. I mean who could blame him, the whole day you’ve been avoiding his touches and advances the best you could so that you wouldn’t explode from an overload.

“y-yeah sure…”

Peter and you agreed it be better to talk about it back at his place since May wouldn’t be around the apartment. Though, it didn’t help you calm your worries since this is more about how are you going to explain it to Peter rather than having to go through May’s constant teasing of the two of you.

And now here you were, in his apartment.

alone.

together.

on the couch.

.

.

.

NOPE NOPE NOPE! even if there was no contact between you two, for some reason this situation alone was enough to make you overload. Even a blind person could tell you were nervous about this whole situation. You were as stiff as a tree, you wouldn’t even let yourself relax into the couch and sat in an upright position with your legs shut close together, while your hands were a=placed on top of them in the form of fist. Where even your knuckles started to turn white. Ok, now is a good as time as any for Peter to bring it up.

Peter sat back down on the couch after he grabbed you both something cool to drink. For some reason, he knew this conversation was going to make you burn up.

“Okay, umm… did I do something wrong?” your head shot up to look at him the instant he said those words.

“WHAT?! NO! I-I mean…. no… well, I mean there is something wrong but it’s not you per say… rather,” and there you go, falling a part as soon as you opened your mouth. God, you wish you could just crawl into a hole and die rather than explain the weirdest thing about you. But as you looked into his eyes. his warm brown eyes, you knew he deserved to know. So, you took a deep breath and tried to carefully construct the next few sentences in your head so that Peter can understand you.

“just so were on the same page, you noticed I’ve been trying to avoid… touching you right?”

All Peter could do was nod at your statement. He decided it was best if he added some words to it as well.

“Yeah, and I mean I get it if you don’t want us to be physical because if that’s your preference then by all means go-” You waved your hands in the air to tell him to shut up for a bit.

“No, no that’s not what I meant…I guess you could say I’m the weird one” Peter was sure he wasn’t following what you were saying just now. How could you be weird?

“Look, I don’t know why I’m like this, but… I’ve never had a boyfriend before and the thought of being in a relationship is new to me. What’s also new to me is the fact that I get to be physical with someone that I have really like and…” you looked back again at his face to see if he was following you along before continuing.

“The thought of even just holding hands with someone, especially you, just overwhelms me. I feel warm and fuzzy of course when I’m with you, like my heart just wants to jump around the room. But at the same time it feels like it might just burst and I feel like a PC that just short-circuits due to the heat. I guess you could say I get overstimulated? I’m not sure what to call it, but that’s just how I am…”

You didn’t realize that you were curling up into a ball on his couch when you finished your explanation. it did make a nice place to burry your head into so that you could calm yourself down for a bit before hearing Peter’s reply to what you just said.

Peter felt, giddy? like as if he saw the most cutest plush bear in the world and wanted to hug it so tight cause it was so cute. That was how he felt after your whole explanation. Your reason was totally valid, but on the other hand it also make Peter want to hold you close and see your face get red in the cutest way possible. Though, that might just make things worse.

You heard rustling from the other side of the couch and watch Peter hold up one of his fingers to you. Your brows furrowed at his sudden act.

“Let’s try something. I hold up one of my finger, and you just touch mine with your. how bout that?”

You swore this whole situation felt like something a pre-school teacher would do to a kid to get to know them.

“come on just humor me. Besides, think of it as a training exercise for yourself” and so you did.

You held out your index finger and connected the two together. You felt like Peter was E.T and you were the young boy in the movie.

“Are we recreating E.T here?!”

“I don’t know, maybe~” you giggled at his response.

“Ok, how bout we try this now,” Peter held out all his other fingers, signaling you to do the same with your hands. You showed signs of hesitance but you wanted to try even for a bit.

You unraveled your hands and brought both of your fingertips together slowly. First the thumbs, then the middle finger, the ring finger and finally your pinky. Your stomach felt like it was fluttering, along with you heartbeat starting to pick up the pace.

Peter could tell you were starting to “short-circuit” as you described. So he let you know it was ok if you didn’t want to continue. “We can stop if you want.”

you shook your head while keeping your hand steady in the air with his. Both of your fingertips were still touching, not once have you flinched away from his.

“I-it’s okay, I really wanna try holding your hand” the last bit of the sentence you dialed it down a bit so that Peter couldn’t hear it. Though, we all know he could hear it.

As if you were an astronaut taking your first step on a planet, you slowly brought you palm closer to Peter’s. Peter has not moved an inch from his position, so all of this was your own doing. Then slowly, but surely, your hands were clasped together. Now you could feel your face starting to burn, and your heart was pumping faster. This was only just hands touching, imagine if you did some of the things your friends kept telling you about.

Peter felt proud of you, even though he could see your face turn into different shades of red, but proud. Now, he felt like doing something bold, maybe you weren’t ready for it, but he wanted to at least try and see your reaction.

“I’m gonna do something so, be prepared ok”

“what?”

“Trust me” trust me. Never would you think those were the words from Peter that would make you turn into mush.

Peter then did the unthinkable, well at least for you. He shifted his hand a bit and slowly intertwined his hands with yours. Now, your fingers were interlaced with each other. You were both now holding hands. Something Peter wanted to do for the whole day. His hold on you was firm, not to the point where it hurts, but firm in a way that says he would never let go of you.

Your eyes widened, your instincts are telling you to pull away and stick your head into the bathtub filled with cold water. are your hands starting to sweat? you think it does. Are you sweating? maybe? God you are! What’s happening? can you still see Peter? Yes, but right now you really don’t want to turn into a tomato in front of him so you look to the side so that your hair is covering your face and avoid looking at him. But despite all that, your hand was still holding his. Never letting go.

Peter thought enough was enough so he tried to pull a way so that you could at least breath. Surprisingly, you were the one that held on.

“I- I don’t want my efforts to go to waste, or yours. So… is it okay if we stay like this for a bit” you were still looking away from Peter, but you lowered your hands so that it was comfortably resting on the couch.

“My heart is like beating a thousand miles per second right now I think, but I-I’m okay…” You finally looked at Peter. Your cheeks were flushed with shades of red, and your eyes seemed more like a doe to Peter now. God, he really wanted to hold you close now.

He shuffled a bit in the couch, trying to close the distance between you little by little.

“Is this okay?” Peter asked. He was still an arms length far from you, but closer nonetheless. You nodded. He then shifted closer, asking the same thing, and you replied the same. After going back and forth a bit, Peter was now only a few inches away from your body. You both still kept some form of distance, but the proximity between you two was closer than you could ever imagine. Peter asked one last time.

“How about this? Is this too close for you?” He said, almost like a whisper. Your heart had reached it’s breaking point, your brain was already in the process of turning into goop, your body was overheating as if gas was leaking out of your skin. Yeah, this was your limit for now Peter thought.

He backed a few inches away from you so you could compose yourself, while his eyes were still watching your every move. You finally let go of his hand and fanned yourself to cool your face.

You gave him a sheepish smile as you’re still embarrassed about the whole thing you just did with him, at the same time you were happy he tried to help you. Though, you don’t know how much your heart can take it if he keeps doing these things.

“How bout we just stick to hand holding for now?” you said.

Peter gave you his signature smile and grabbed your hand to hold it on his own. Though, he wasn’t done teasing you just yet, as once he grabbed your hand, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it as if he was a prince in a fairy tale giving the princess a greeting.

yeah, it was then and there you fainted.

[clatterbane]

While I am evidently on a ranting roll tonight, it also really fucking bothered me that the new endocrinologist that I happened to see for a routine yearly diabetes check-in a few weeks back, after the last one moved? She apparently decided that as essentially an ethnic minority of one here, I look weird enough that it might well be pathological.

(I would probably feel a little different about it if she weren't also from anothet ethnic minority--albeit one that is MUCH more common locally and in this country at large. It doesn't hit quite the same that way, but I still found it pretty damned offensive.)

It also didn't help that my basic build helped get me treated like garbage so much under the NHS--with definite racial undertones at times. I would just as soon never hear a single word about my meat form again, which is not very directly relevant to the issue I have come in over, and in a non-fatphobic way.

But yeah, I have ended up looking like a lot of my mother's family in middle age. If one of the thinner versions these days.

Shitty crop of me with my mom, 20 years and at least 50 lbs. ago.

We have big kinda flat faces with barrel chests and big shoulders--and our arms and legs also turn skinnier-looking by comparison to the big old torso as we get older. No matter how much meat is over it (and I am still fairly scrawny now!), you are still gonna be mostly shoulders and a ribcage which is NOT dainty. Mr. C half-laughingly backed me up that half my family is just Like This, and he hasn't even seen all the extended clan together.

And the (very) extended family resemblance kinda goes farther than that. (Thus the ethnic part being very fucking relevant.) I don't always necessarily like it, but that's just how we're made.

So yeah, that new endo decided to send me to be tested for Cushing's Syndrome, entirely based on eyeballing.

Look, it's me! Go off, I guess.

(She also asked some pointed questions like whether my freakishly skinny arms made it difficult to wheel myself around in the chair. Erm, NOPE, not at all. Absolutely no symptoms other than striking her as Wrong Looking. She also recorded in the notes which I can see online, that I was getting less exercise than I said I was--very possibly mentally filtering my actual answer through that Freakish Twig Limb perception.)

What gets me even worse is that I DO totally coincidentally have experience with Cushing's, from when I got that pituitary tumor in my teens. She knew nothing about this when she brought the subject up out of the blue.

As the first medical professional to ever do so over the past 30-odd years, I might add. Nobody who has actually been aware of that history has triggered on it either.

Cushing's is very noticeable and very hard to live with! I got extremely sick, gained like 80 lbs. over a year from it, and developed the actual corticosteroid moonface then! Nobody much wanted to listen to me at the time, likely mostly because AFAB teenager! But, I do know very well what that fucking feels like!

But yeah, that thankfully got fixed and I haven't experienced symptoms for like 30 years. That whole experience was also very freaking traumatic, which is probably not helping my reaction now with it getting brought back up so bizarrely and unexpectedly. (Also, could I somehow be secretly Very Sick now without realizing it?! I do very much rationally doubt it, but doubt still keeps nagging at me.)

I guess I had better play along for now. In a way, it is good to see another demonstration that they don't seem to do the same kind of foolish pennypinching here as under the NHS. They will refer you for whatever testing they think is necessary, even if that sometimes includes a labwork wild goose chase based on some terrible assumptions! I would rather have them be thorough, even when it's dumb as hell and kinda insulting.

I am indeed pretty confident that I just look like a middle-aged $SURNAME from another freaking continent, who is also recovering from malnutrition and still pretty scrawny. (Which the doc was aware of.) I am also still feeling some kind of way about this fact setting off weird alarm bells in some new doctor that I am stuck dealing with for the foreseeable future.

I could easily make some of my own unflattering speculations based on her appearance, which was very different from my own. Sorta Marfanoid, with buggy eyes possibly indicating thyroid issues? (Maybe there's also some wider ethnic thing going on there too, for all I know. I have seen a lot more folks from her part of the world than basically anyone here has from mine!)

But yeah, that really really would not go over too well. And it's not my place either.

[eri-pl]

Forgive me for asking, but when you say you like Morgoth do you mean you find him an entertaining character or that you think he had a point?

Oh. This will be long. Thank you for asking! (And I guess the parts that you feel needs forgiving is assuming that I may agree with him? I don't think you had enough data. Anyway if there's a need, I forgive you. I hope it's not "forgive me for sending asks", I like getting asks, especially actual asks! (As opposed to reblog chains and other random fun stuff which I sometimes like sometimes not))

No, Morgoth did not have a valid point in his rebellion. More details under the cut (it's long).

But he had a point, in the sense that he existed for a reason. (He much failed this point.) I think it shows through at times. Even if he wasn't evil, I think he was meant to be a trickster, challenger and the starting point of changes.

Like, I can see a situation where stealing the Silmarils would not be wrong (and not involve murder. It is far from canon, but if Feanor got obsessed with them without Melkor's "help", stealing the gems and leaving them in some funny place could be helpful. The classic fairy tale trickster.

So, in this sense he had a point.

But his actual goals as started in the book? Nope. 100% nope.

Like, yesterday I had my own teenage child look at me strangely when I said that I relate to Hurin's reaction. Not with the name-calling, but the "nope you are not as powerful as you say, this is not true and I don't care what you do to me about it" part. It is the valid reaction, in my opinion. L

But there's more in my liking for Morgoth than "I find him entertaining" (however this is true too at some points, mostly BoLT).

It's mostly "he's spawning a lot of headcanons in my head and I relate to them". It's a difference between "Morgoth as Tolkien seems to have intended him" and "Morgoth as I read him", which is a small difference in a way, but also a big one.

Ok let's address the elephant. I have no problem internalizing "Eru is God". But at the same time I have a lot of a problem internalizing "and Melkor is the devil".

This is a strange combo but that's what my brain does and I can't much avoid it.

His reasons are too relatable. Wrong but relatable. Very human. "I was not paying attention, busy with fantasies of power to soothe my insecurities and now when I have to do a creative activity with people, I can't sync with them" is a very relatable situation to me (I played a lot of ttrpg) and trying to fix it by being a jerk is something I have done. It's wrong but... I can't condemn a character for things I have done too.

(I realized I started explaining me reading of Melkor|Morgoth through his whole career, so here it goes)

And then he gets angry, which is stupid but still relatable. And makes orcs from elves which is awful but also canon cannot decide what exactly happened also it's too easy to assume he didn't realize they were actual persons...

And he corrupts humans? The tale of Adanel? What was her name? That one in Morgoth's ring, close to Athrabeth... It's one of 2 places where he actually reads (for me) as satanic as intended... Until the part where am obvious void-spider-related trauma shows. Which makes no sense in the timeline, but the whole story has huge timeline problems.

Then he gets captured. And again, my angst-living narrative brain assumes that he did try to behave better, just didn't put much effort in it. And then he met Feanor, and I have a while essay on how this triggered Melkor's narcissistic injury or whatever to call the issues he had. Not for Feanor's fault, just... Wrong time, wrong place, wrong family drama.

Yes, his reaction to that was unarguably evil. But also I can't stop myself from imagining extremely strong emotional pain behind it. It's like... I can't force myself to be so angry at him to enjoy the idea of "Morgoth's gonna get destroyed, yay!". There's too much pain on this (which is not in the book just in my head, I know)

He streaks the Silmarils, and keeps them when though they burn, because to do otherwise would be a period that he was wrong. And all his further decisions (again, unarguably evil) are made under extreme pain and distress of holy gems judging him all the time. (Look how they impacted Maedhros and Maglor. How much despair they got. And Morgoth is so much more).

He's evil, but also I can't with confidence say that I would never do similar things, especially in the circumstances. Evil but who am I to judge.

Like, at the end of of, it comes back to "I can't see the Valar ( including Melkor) as 100% good or bad, they're too human to be proper angels". Even Manwe (semi-)canonically makes a moral mistake. Some texts (not in published Silm) day that the Valar showed lack of estel by (making Valinor? Inviting elves? Sorry, I forgot the details) and that is a moral falling.

Don't get me wrong, it is a very small one, and I'm not trying to equate Manwe with Morgoth or anything, just to say that the Valar are less absolute than I would expect angels to be. (Not an expert on angels though)

(I love Manwe, he's wonderful, overworked, burned out but still trying, he's a sweet, good, idealistic birb. Who is not an angel. I love them all, even Orome who is canonically vengeful and I consider this a problem, and Yavanna who is really irritating at times. And let's not forget poor, bullied Aule who is a walking proof of the "not 100%".)

And with all that I've said before, I can't help but to project many of my issues and character failings at Morgoth. Yes, he's evil. I've also been evil. Technically less so, but I like to go things to 11 when projecting.

And another huge topic is how wonderful he would be if he wasn't evil, because he's got some of my favorite aesthetics and themes (void, paradoxes, out of the box thinking, trickster archetype, jak of all trades... Even the fire and ice thing has its beauty).

Sometimes I really want to punch him in the face for wasting all that. Just, not lethally.

And the beauty of what he could be is probably what pushes him in my head from the "I'm sorry for them being evil" category of evil and evil-leaning characters (which includes Sauron, fir example ) or the "eeewgh but I'm sorry for them anyway" (Ar-Pharazon , Gollum, all the exceptionally uncool bad guys) to "I'm sorry for them but also I like them no matter how little sense it makes". Ymmv, I have a strange aesthetics sometimes.

Also, he got defeated in the book and that gives him compassion points in my brain. I do feel sorry for him. No matter what I try to do with my brain, I can't stop. I just can't. One day I'll figure out how to untangle it but now I don't know.

Last but not least, I love some comedic takes. For me, comedy didn't ask what's right or wrong, just explores ideas... It's like a brain cleaner, a bit like dreams. It's allowed more than more serious genres. I do enjoy comedic Morgoth (Hurinovy Deti does it really well, also some fics and comics with that one ship... It's just funny. And it's not like they portray him as being right, just... Don't focus on him being evil, just in the comedy?)

To clear something that I left hanging: the second scene where Morgoth is as-probably-intended is "the words of Morgoth and Hurin" or what's it called. Sorry, I'm on vacations, so I'm doing less fact-checking. It works for me. If Tolkien gave Morgoth more dialogue, my mental image of him would probably be more as intended.

Also, to not leave it unsaid: he canonically tries rape, I think twice. I am aware of this. This is very awful. And evil. Still, doesn't make me see him as irredeemable. I just don't see people as irredeemable and I can't read the books as (probably?) intended and not see Morgoth and all the Valar in the category of "people".

It's probably more complicated by the fact that Tolkien's intent did change in time, but I'm not an expert and I don't know how it changed about the Valar, especially Morgoth. So it's not like there is one canon that is 100% coherent, and I'm not even sure which parts of my reading I should call a headcanon and which not.

Tldr: I don't like Satan (that was an understatement), I like Morgoth probably because I have issues which I like projecting on fictional characters and he works well for that, also I make some (hopefully) interesting headcanons and that's it. Hope this answered your question.

[m3r1m4r5u333]

I've seen some speculation about either Eddie or Chris maybe getting hurt, and Buck and Eddie having financial trouble. I'm combining these to create a wilder theory!

Buck would have financial trouble because living prices have gone up (it was on the news he was watching while he looked at some papers, possibly bills), and like Tommy hinted, his condo is impressive for his salary, and also now he's trashed a very nice hotel room SUITE with the help of Eddie, and some randos - who have since fucked off and are unlikely to be found again...!!!!

Like holy shit, did you guys see the end result, there was even some shit on the CEILING? Hotels fee for damage like this mercilessly because they cannot room people in that space while they clean and renovate. So it's not just about replacing damaged property, and sending the bill for the new stuff they had to buy!!

Nope, they lose money not only from the new furnishings and materials needed, labour needed to do the repairs...

-- but also for the hotel days needed to fix the mess, from needing to cancel someone else's stay and losing the money for each day of their stay, and also possibly compensating them for whatever costs (travels, the price of another room etc.) this unexpected last minute room cancelation triggered!!

I looked up the bill of a real "hangover party" like this, it was on the news. The bill, the money that hotel charged for this fine party of pigs was nearly 100K!! The pigs were SUED!

So looks like Buck is fucked, that bill will be insane.

And Eddie? He's basically a single dad of a child with health issues, also living on a firefighter's salary - in a fairly big, nice house! (He just kicked Marisol out, they would not share a wallet.)

He's also into BUYING VERY STUPID CARS for his income,

and took part in the demolition of that very expensive hotel suite, too, he will certainly be held responsible!

So they're both fucked, both running into financial trouble!

And the theory about either Eddie or Chris getting hurt, and the titles of the upcoming episodes; Ashes, ashes and All fall down: the theme being nursery rhymes - those two lines are from a famously creepy one...

What if the DIAZ house burns down? That could be BAD btw, Chris doesn't move very fast.

And when they survive (shut up, they will), they'll need a place to live!!

Well, Buck would open his home to them, wouldn't he, he loves them, he has that condo, he's partly responsible for their financial ruin, and could also benefit from sharing the living costs!!!

But Chris can't really use the stairs can he? And that's where the sleeping space is, upstairs.

So tadaaaaah, Chris sleeps downstairs, and Eddie and Buck will share the bed 😁 Because obvs they're the best platonic buds eva and Eddie totally doesn't panic about sleeping in the same bed with his best, bisexual male friend...

Yeah. The greatest fucking pine forest of all time has been planted 😇

Oh and Tommy...? How would he not be jealous, his boyfriend now lives like he has a damn husband, and a child. Even if Buck and Eddie don't share a bed, it would still be Eddie, Buck and Chris sharing a home, living in a tight space, like a family.

Btw this probably won't happen but please do write us this fic if you got inspired...

But nobody can say there hasn't been foreshadowing if this does happen!!

Buckley parents, the couch, the talk of stairs in 6x11.

https://youtu.be/KghkBnwidAk?feature=shared

Eddie dropping Chris at Buck's after the tsunami, directing him to the couch...?

[ploxpoke]

Don't you dare (make me fall in love with you)

I wasn't going to finish this but thanks to @linpunny I did!

yes the title is from that one Kadyen MacKay song (LISTEN TO IT WHILE YOU READ THIS PLEASEEEE)

This is Taiju x gn!reader bc I'm in love with big soft men

it is based on a little imagine I did lolz

Tw- choking (non-sexual), descriptions of violence, mention of blood, cussing, reader briefly passes out (as a result of non-sexual choking)

Let me know if there's any trigger-warnings I missed, I don't think there's any but I could be wrong

You were by yourself in the park, your destination unknown, you were simply taking a walk to calm your nerves after a long day, as you did everyday, an your walk was going as usual until you heard a loud noise and yelling that sounded painful coming from behind a nearby building. It looked abandoned with its windows busted in and the walls crumbling.  

"What is going on?" you said softly to yourself, but your words were drowned by the yelps and grunts that came from behind the building. You could hear scuffling and running as well as a bunch of cussing. You felt a pang of fear shoot up your body as well as a chill down your spine as you guessed what was going on.

You couldn’t help but to investigate and slowly approached the source of noise, walking around the corner, you saw several people fighting and your body tensed. You couldn’t help but to stare as these people fought. Your eyes drifted across the scene, settling on a tall figure with blue hair and piercing yellow eyes. He was gorgeous, and all you could do was stare at him as he sat there punching any poor soul he could get his hands on.

You could feel your stomach tighten in a way you hadn't felt in a long time, a small blush crept up your face as you stared in shock and awe at the man before you came to your sense and realized what was happening. You were watching a gang fight and your heart dropped to your feet as you processed the danger you were in. You quickly left, your heart beating out of your chest as you did.

"Oh shit, shit, shit-" You whispered to yourself as you walked away quickly, not wanting to get involved in that mess of blood and punches.

As you walked away, Taiju noticed you. He noticed as soon as you showed up. He could feel your eyes on him and once you turned around he decided to look at you, his eyes following your figure as you disappeared around the corner.

The leader of the Black Dragons, stood up and motioned for his men to stay there and wait for him, leaving the bloody scene he had started behind to follow the stranger he had seen. 

“Well, well, well…” he growled to himself as he caught up to you on  the other side of the building. Seeing your smaller frame quickly walking down the sidewalk made him feel something he could put his finger on. He felt the need to make you look at him but he also wanted to just let you walk away, but his pride wouldn’t let him just let you go.

As you kept walking, you suddenly heard footsteps behind you, turning back you saw the same tall man, this time closer than before. Now you could really appreciate his looks, but you also realized he had seen you.

 Your breath hitched in your throat and you prepared to run or scream or both, but the man stopped in front of you and stared down at you with an intense gaze. Before he had the chance to say anything you turned around and ran. It was the only thing you could think to do.

"Nope, nope, nope" you said to yourself as you ran down the street, not daring to look behind you. You didn’t want to know if he was chasing you, but you knew he was. You could feel it and you knew you wouldn’t outrun him. There was no way you could and yet you still ran.

The tall man; Taiju, chased after you, his strides long and powerful, catching up to you easily. He grabbed your wrist firmly, spinning you around to face him and pushing you up against an alley wall with a force that left you breathless.

His hand clamped around your neck, cutting off air supply as he pressed you to the wall leaving you no room to wiggle out of his grasp. He leaned in close, his face mere inches from yours. He studied your face, his eyes scrunched in a focused sort of way that would be cute if he wasn’t choking you out right now.

 "You really shouldn’t have run away…," he growled, "you’re quite pretty, I was going to be nice if you just stayed put.." 

Your eyes widened in fear as you struggled to breathe, your hands clawing at the hand that was suffocating you as your vision started to blur. "Please I wasn’t gonna say anything-" you said but he wouldn't listen. You tried to reason with him, but the sound was muffled by the tight grip around your throat.

 Taiju's face was twisted into a cruel sneer, his yellow eyes burning with intensity as he watched you struggle. 'This can't be happening no, no, no-' you thought to yourself as you felt the world start to fade out around you, tears forming in your eyes, you realized he was saying something to you but you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears.

“I c-can’t breathe” You gasp out, but it was too late, the lack of oxygen caused you to pass out, tears rolling down your cheeks. You slumped forward and Taiju caught you, releasing his hold on your neck instantly, a look of dread and guilt on his face.

Taiju was frozen in that moment, he hadn’t realized he was being so rough with you but there you were limp in his arms. He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest and felt relief knowing you were alive but all he could think of was the guilt forming within him.

He’d never felt guilty for beating someone up, it was just what he did but this was different. He didn’t mean to hurt you, in fact when he realized you were watching he didn’t look at you so you could get away.

Taiju carried you bridal style through the streets, his grip tightening around your waist as he made his way to a safer area where his crew waited.

The men parted to let him through, their expressions a mix of confusion and anticipation as they saw the person he was holding so tightly to his chest. He sets you down roughly against the wall, releasing you from his grasp but not before giving you one last glance 

"What are you looking at? Back off, go make sure nobody bothers me!" He tells his men and he sits down across the alley from you as he waits for you to wake up.

When you opened your eyes slowly, blinking several times as you regained consciousness, the world swimming in front of you as you tried to make sense of everything.

 You found yourself against a wall in an alleyway, alone with the tall man that had choked you earlier. Your breathing was ragged and uneven, and you coughed slightly, trying to regain your bearings as well as remember how to breathe properly "W-where am I...?” you asked softly, your voice cracking slightly, looking over at the man in front of you with wide eyes, tear stains down your cheeks. 

Taiju walked over to you, his brow furrowed as he studied you, concern evident in his gaze despite the fact that he was the one who caused this in the first place. He reached out and brushed a finger under your chin, tipping it up so you had to look at him. His tightened in his chest as your eyes fluttered.

He admired your face, unable to help himself from thinking you were the most precious person in the world. It took all his self control for him not to squeeze your cheeks between his fingers and instead he let go of your face.

"You're safe now," he told you softly, even though you were in a back alley with a stranger. He glanced over his shoulder at the men standing guard behind him, making sure they knew not to approach any closer. He wanted to talk to you and you alone.

"Do you remember what happened? I didn't want you to panic anymore by asking you a thousand questions as soon as you woke up…." He looks remorseful as he notices the bruise forming on the side of your neck.

He bit his lip, feeling even more guilty and he crouched down in front of you. He pushed your chin up slowly and ran his finger down the bruise, taking note of how you winced before pulling his hand away. 

Your voice was small and quiet, you didn't dare to look at him directly, you could feel the intensity of his gaze on you. You coughed again and you could feel pain shooting up your throat, as you put your small hand on it.

You looked at Taiju with wide eyes, and you nodded slowly. "Y-yes, I remember. I saw you and your men fighting and I panicked and ran away…, then you caught me and choked me..." 

You trailed off, looking down at your knees, fidgeting with your fingers "I don't know why I deserved that... but I'm sorry..." You started to tear up again and your voice shook as you spoke "I-I really didn't mean to make you angry-"

Taiju frowned deeply, his expression softening somewhat as he saw your tears, he couldn't help but feel protective towards you. He crouched down in front of you, pulling your chin up again so he could look you in the eye.

 "It's okay," He said softly, "I didn't mean to scare you like that. You didn't do anything wrong; you didn't deserve what happened. I over reacted...So I should say I'm sorry." He surprised himself with how kind he sounded and even more so when he apologized. He never thought he would but here he was.

"But if I hurt you because of something you didn’t even do, then I need to make it right somehow." He hated how he had acted towards you and how it made him feel, but something about your innocent apology made him feel even worse, his throat was tight and his chest hurt when he realized you were blaming yourself for what he did

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you protectively and holding you tightly against his chest, his large frame enveloping your tiny form.

"You don't need to be sorry at all. I shouldn't have handled things like that, but you didn't deserve to be treated like that either. It's not your fault." He wiped your tears away from your cheeks, his expression soft and understanding.

"Please don't cry-" He couldn’t stand seeing you cry and he didn’t understand why. He’s never felt like this after hurting someone so why now and why you?

After that Taiju insisted on making sure you were safe and sound. He would have Kokonoi or Inupi escort you around when he couldn’t and he made sure that nobody could lay a finger on you.

His whole demeanor changed around you, his voice quieting and the roughness he used on others was absent around you. You were oblivious to Taiju’s obvious crush and Taiju denied even liking you anytime it’s brought up. He refused to even entertain the idea and would fight anyone who dared to bring it up.

One day, you were walking home alone when someone decided that you’d be a good target to rob. A person in a mask runs up behind you and pushes you to the floor and steals all the money you have, but not before beating you up. When you arrive home in tears with bruises on your body and dirt on your clothes, Taiji's brain goes blank except for one thing.

“Who fucking did it!” He yells as he rushes over to you, doting over your injuries. He cups your sweet face that he loves so much and wipes the tears away. He sets out on a man hunt, calling in several favors and hunts down the person who dared put their hands on you. 

Once he gets his hands on them he doesn’t hold back and you have to hold his hands back from killing the person. You were crying, again, and you had your arms wrapped around his arm preventing him from punching without hurting you in the process

“I’m fine! I swear I am, that’s enough!” You plead, almost begging him to stop and he does immediately lest he upset you anymore. When he looks at your face his entire body lightens and he stands up and takes a step towards you, grabbing your shoulders and leaning down to you.

He kisses you sweet and slowly, taking his time. He moves his hands from your shoulders to your waist and you wrap your arms around his shoulders for support. When he finally pulls away from you and he stares down at you with pure admiration in his eyes “How did you manage-” He pants as he lifts you up in his arms, not bothering to finish his sentence, his voice shaking with emotion

“How dare you make me fall in love with you…”

 He whispered in your ear as he kissed you again. You could feel the raw emotion behind the kiss as he grabs the back of your head. Taiju deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he runs his hand through your soft hair.

He pulls back and looks down at you before cupping your cheeks and kissing you all over your face, a broad grin on his face.

"You're free tomorrow right? I'm taking you out" Taiju says it in a way that leave no room for debate.