#three completely and utterly amazing people

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ��You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you cuddle, that's it :)

cw: fluff, comfort, pinch of angst, established relationship, silliness, extremely self-indulgent, the idea spawned in my head and i had to write it immediately

word count: 1200

an: for the anons and non-anons in my inbox: i see you and i appreciate every ask you sent me, some ideas are really lovely and cute and i will write drabbles about them. i just don't want to force myself to write 24/7 because i get burn out very easily, so it may take me some time to answer you all :DD

You can see it in his optics right away. Sadness, regret, exhaustion. He’s utterly drained, even if his frame doesn’t betray it. Always upright, with perfect posture, to set an example, to be a symbol for his people. But you’ve seen through that facade for a long time now.

He approaches you, a small human sitting on his berth with a book in your hands, wrapped in a blanket. And even despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos undoubtedly storming in his processor, he smiles at you. It's faint, but tender, joyous just to be in your presence.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, returning his smile. “How did the mission go?”

“Greetings, my dearest. Unfortunately, it did not end in success.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you... want to talk about it?”

The smile fades, replaced by bitterness. The Prime returns, the leader is back. As much as he wanted to tell you everything, the wound was too fresh, too raw. He wasn’t ready to revisit those memories—not yet. He would rather think of you, only you. That was his plan for tonight, for the scraps of time you had left together. It was enough for you to just be by his side, to meet his gaze now and then, to smile. He wouldn’t ask for more; he wouldn’t dare.

“I sincerely apologize, but I do not feel comfortable discussing it at this moment. However, I shall divulge the details to you later.”

“All right, I totally understand. I don't want to push you into anything.”

“For that, I am deeply grateful.”

“But! Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“Your presence alone suffices for me.”

You weren’t entirely convinced. Optimus never asked for more. Never demanded, never took the lead. Sometimes he would request but never initiate. You wonder how you even ended up as a couple. How long he must have suppressed his feelings before you realized your own. But you quickly push those thoughts aside. They’re painful and, most importantly, they belong to the past.

“I don’t know... that feels like it’s not enough.” You know he’s about to protest, to launch into a monologue about how he doesn’t expect more from you, so you cut him off. “Wait. I know what you’re going to say, but this time, I want to actually help you. Have you ever... cuddled?"

His optics widen slightly. He wasn’t expecting that question, nor your assertiveness. But now, he’s profoundly grateful for it.

“I am familiar with the term, though I have never partaken in… cuddling. On Cybertron, other customs of expressing affection were prevalent.”

You’ll have to ask him about that later.

“I see. Would you like to cuddle now?”

Your question catches him off guard. He hesitates. If he says ‘yes,’ he’ll be stepping into completely uncharted territory, stripped of control over himself, entirely at your mercy. If he says ‘no,’ he’ll miss the experience of human affection, of tasting a relationship from your perspective, a human perspective. And it might hurt your feelings, which was the last thing he wanted.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Your wide smile is reward enough for him, though the best is yet to come.

You slide the blanket off one side of your body and pat the empty space beside you. The message is clear, and Optimus knows what to do. Fortunately, he still has enough energy to mass-displace, which he does in a matter of seconds, shrinking to a still-imposing three meters.

“Amazing,” you whisper.

He kneels on both knees to reduce the height difference even further. You’ll still have to climb onto his thighs to make the hug work, but you appreciate the effort. Now, it’s all in your hands.

Even in this position, he’s perfect—straight back, arms resting neatly by his sides. A few indecent ideas cross your mind; you know exactly how to take advantage of his submissiveness towards you. But those plans are for later. This is not the time to be lewd.

“If you feel uncomfortable, let me know right away,” you say, approaching him slowly.

You climb onto his thighs, watching his expression closely for any sign of discomfort, for anything he might not voice but would betray through body language. Luckily, you find nothing—not even when you’re face-to-face with him.

With your fingertips, you gently caress the metal where a human would have a cheek. You’re delicate, exploring uncharted territory. Stroking his cheek as a titan was one thing, but this form was new to you, just as it was to him. So you take your time, allowing him to adjust to the new circumstances, to this form of affection. Your hands move to the back, brushing against his audials until they encircle his entire helm. You shift slightly to the side to complete the embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against the side of his.

You don’t expect him to return the hug. This time, you expect nothing from him. This is an experiment, a trial. You just want him to stop thinking about everything that happened on the mission and start thinking about the here and now. To focus on you, on the skin-to-metal contact, on the fact that, for now, he doesn’t have to return to the battlefield. That he’s safe. So you’re surprised when you feel heavy hands on your back, enveloping you completely. But you don’t comment; you don’t say a word about it. You let him, because he deserves it.

His world narrows down to you. To your hair, tickling the back of his helm, to the warm skin pressing against his metal. To your softness, your breath, your heartbeat. To your scent, which he knows so well. You surround him from every angle, allowing him to forget the failure he suffered today. You fill his processor, already overloaded with thoughts of you, with even more admiration for your actions—for how you wanted to help him, even though he never asked you to. You are his universe, his galaxy, his sun around which he orbits. His alpha and omega, his beginning and his end.

This position and action are foreign to him, uncharted, incomparable to any other sensation. It wasn’t like holding you on his shoulder; it wasn’t like reminiscing about your smile. This was something new, far more intimate, and not yet fully understood by him. But it was beautiful and captivating. Raw.

“Everything will be all right,” you assure him, your voice resonating through his entire frame. “Everything is all right.” He believes you.

He can’t tell how long the two of you remain locked in each other’s embrace, but eventually, he feels you shifting. The last thing he wants to do now is let you go, still lost in your closeness, but he has no intention of holding you against your will. He releases you from his grasp, and you pull back from his chassis, leaving behind an unpleasant coldness. He wants you back there, pronto.

“Did you like it?” you ask with a smile, your thumb starting to stroke his cheek.

“Immensely,” he replies, looking into your eyes. A smile creeps onto his faceplate. “Might I request another cuddle?”

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[featherwurm]

I'm going to get a lot more personal on here than I usually do:

Baulder's Gate 3, and especially Karlach, make me feel seen in a way no price of media I've ever engaged with before has. It's a big reason why I love it and why it's sticking with me like it is. I too am a big, loud, enthusiastic woman who says out of pocket shit. I have a heavy internal dialogue with myself. I have a temper, I'm bisexual, I love cute shit. I endured years of being utterly touch starved. I love sex and food and being alive...

I also have cancer; it's Follicular B-Cell Lymphoma. I was diagnosed in 2020 when it had reached stage 3A. It's currently under control after chemo* and I'm living my life normally. But while it's a very treatable kind of cancer, it's not fully curable**. There's nothing in me they can remove (it's my whole lymphatic system that's broken) and no drug currently that can wholly knock it out. It's cause is not known (genetically or environmentally), and its unusual for this type of cancer to affect someone as young as I am (I was diagnosed at 35 - it's much more common 65+***). So every three months I go into oncology and they check my blood and symptoms and see if I'm doing ok. I get imaging and biopsies occasionally too. This will go on until I'm not ok (hopefully a long time yet). I'll have to have still manageable but more invasive treatment the next time around. It's a well researched kind of cancer, and my oncologist hopes that in the next decade there may be some more permanent cure for it.

So you can see where I'm going with this. When you hit Karlach's monologue after killing Gortash, I've never felt better understood. I have no one to blame for my condition, no revenge arc of course, but the very same fear, frustration, grief, and anger are all things my husband has heard from me. I've never seen a more beautiful and moving and real exploration of the topic that resonates with me so meaningfully out of a piece of fiction that I love. Béart's performance is amazing - capturing a whole spectrum of emotion.

Karlach's story is absolutely not incomplete as written, confirmed by both the devs and Sam Béart - a terminal condition is just that. You don't get to fix or save her, you get to go with her through tremendous trial and difficulty. If you want to continue that story in your mind that's great (I know I'm eager to do so, for my own personal encouragement if nothing else) but on it's own it's a whole story about coming to terms with something that doesn't have a quick and easy little fetch-quest resolution.

So - every time I see another whinging post/essay/bitchfest about how her story feels "unfinished" or "incomplete" or "has too much cut content" you can see why I might take it a bit personally - knowing that the life I have, the easy solutions I don't get, and the frustration and grief I live with is seen as incorrect and wrong and bad writing makes me a little pissed off. If you think the story is incomplete as told and think a 'third engine upgrade' is missing you completely missed the point.

Karlach doesn't get a simple easy ending because people like me**** don't get that either. And like my husband and the others who love me you can choose to follow that story anyway. And that's fucking beautiful.

*Yeah dealing with cancer and undergoing chemo during a pandemic was really a peach.

**XKCD hits the nail on the head here and here.

***Current treatments have good decade long prognoses... but saying 'you'll probably be fine for the next 10 years' is a lot different at 35 than it is at 65.

****And believe me I've heard from a lot of chronic/terminally ill folks who love the game for the way it represents these things and feel the same, with her Gale, and Shadowheart too.

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C2)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[twis-world]

The Remedy That Is You (Vil Version)

Mentions: Vil Centric, Fluff, Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader

No matter how many a time the students of Nightraven College witnessed how their Housewarden did a complete 180 in your presence, it never ceased to amaze them.

It eventually got to the point where a majority of students began to question if you really were magickless. There was just no way your mere presence could bring out such light in their eyes, face softening and a smile so tender it was as if they were gazing upon one of the Seven.

Just how did you do it?

Vil

If there was anything Vil would choose to pride himself in other than his looks, it would be his ability to adapt. Adapt, overcome, and adjust to any situation needed. It was a skill he finely tuned at a young age; it would have been utterly foolish not to.

In his line of work you were to always expect the unexpected. Anything could go wrong at any given time. A clothing setback during a shoot. An unavoidable sickness striking before his time on set. A social media scandal that could rip his career to shreds in mere seconds. Nothing was an impossibility.

However, that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a time where he would not grow tired of it all.

“Then you would not believe what that imbecile did next,” he seethed. While he did an impeccable job at keeping the hand you held still in order to allow you to paint a clear coat of nail polish onto his nails, the rest of his body expressed his current agitation. The way his foot, though crossed over one leg, would not stop swaying this way and that. His breathing that came out in heavy puffs. “Not only did he manage to spill the very same drink he ran late for all over the place, but he then demanded we wait for his costume to be washed and dried after it got dirtied from the spill. An incredibly audacious move when that stunt ended up pushing back a week of filming because of the damage done to all the camera wirings in the area!”

“Isn’t this the second time he’s done something like this?” You asked with a raised brow, gently beginning to blow cool air onto his nails. The man in question being a fellow co-star of your boyfriend’s. A man who from day one seemed to make it his mission of making every accompanied day with him a living hell.

Vil rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Don’t even remind me. Really, how incompetent do you have to be to continuously waste not just everyone else's, but my precious time above all else? Surely no one is this daft?”

“He could be doing this all on purpose maybe? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to sabotage you.” You gave him a small glance before looking back at his nails, nodding once you confirmed they were indeed dry and gesturing for him to give the other. He did so whilst inspecting the one you gave back, expressing his approval before continuing on.

“I considered that but I refuse to believe he of all people would be able to dedicate himself to this extent. My dear potato, if you were ever so unfortunate to meet him face to face, you would be surprised at how he seems to create mayhem simply through breathing.”

“I know he’s basically a horror show from what you’ve told me but it can’t be that bad.”

“That bad?” He repeated, staring as if you grew three more heads. “That bad? It's only been a month and he’s already managed to delay us so heavily that the producer is considering just scraping this movie altogether. He himself owes hundreds in set damages after today!”

“Careful,” you chuckle, lips curling as you saw just how heavily he was furrowing his brows. Finished with the remaining nail you set the polish off to the side. Carefully, incredibly mindful of the still drying hand you possessed, you leaned forward and gently softened the skin between his brows with the thumb of your other hand. At the contact his eyes practically fluttered shut, barely leaning into the small massage you were giving. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of giving the Vil Schoenheit early stress wrinkles.”

A huff escaped him as you pulled away. “Never. I would rather such a despicable phenomena come from Epel with the trouble he gives me.”

You hummed, fanning his nails while giving him a cheeky smile. “Not even Neige? I’m sure he would be honored.”

“Are you actively trying to raise my blood pressure even higher than it already is?”

“What a horrid accusation! I would never,” you gasped jokingly, hand raising to your heart as he continued to glare at you. “Ah, don’t be like that my love.”

Vil huffed, avoiding your gaze. “Don’t ‘my love’ me. You are lucky I tolerate such an annoying potato such as yourself.”

“Truly,” you mockingly agreed, rolling your eyes this time at the act. Yet, when he continued to refuse looking back, you sighed. Raising his hand up you softly pressed your lips against his one knuckle, then the next, then next. Gently kissing each till you finished with one final one in the center, this time raising your gaze and finally meeting his own. The pupils were all consuming, capturing the beautiful purple you loved so much. Yet, the scarlet hue that painted his cheeks served for an even prettier sight.

“I really am sorry my love,” you murmured against his hand. While he could still hear present humor in the pet name he could also feel the adoration you poured into it. So much so that he found himself swallowing at a loss for words. It didn’t help that your gaze zero’d in on the movement, piercing yet so intimate. “But I don’t like seeing you get so worked up over some nobody who paid his way into this movie. Your movie. He’s undeserving of occupying another second in your pretty lil head.”

“Oh,” Vil began to grin, “and what would you do to make sure of that?”

“Hmm.” You pulled away from his hand, slowly, not once breaking your gaze away from his. “Whatever you would like. You know I never mind pampering you. It’s like my very own treat.” Leaning forward once again you caressed the crown of his head, lightly brushing against his hair and running fingertips down to tuck the very few strays behind his ears. “I went out earlier and picked up some new face masks we haven’t tried yet. Wouldn’t that feel nice? I’ll even run a hot bath for you if you want.”

A delicate sigh left him, cool air running down your arms. He cupped the back of your hands with his, bringing the wrist of each to his lips and leaving behind a dainty kiss. “That would be lovely.”

[dangermousie]

Top Dozen cdramas - 2024

This can obviously change but nothing truly exciting looks to air for the rest of the year so that's unlikely. My Top Dozen for the year are likely be set in stone.

It's a very idiosyncratic list which has two mini dramas, three moderns (!!! for me that's insane) and a lot of vibes dramas.

12 Hard to Find - all vibes all the times. A tragic romance that feels like a Gothic fairytale, this is what minidramas could be.

11 Love In the Desert - out of all the dramas on this list, this is the one that screams most "a good time." It's a romance and visual feast and webnovel madness and sexy good time and it made me cry.

10 Fortune Writer - a mini that is so smart and meta and fun about narratives and fate and villainy and fighting the story itself. So clever.

9 Derailment - a puzzle and a love story, telling most anything about it would be a spoiler but this story about a rich girl from 2025 who seemingly wakes up in a parallel universe in 2023 in body of a poor doppelganger, and the young man who was in love with the original has everything including addressing what it must feel to people to have a transmigrator possess a loved one.

8 Tender Light - the ending was just - it's the reason it's not n1. But the rest of this drama about an abused wife and an idealistic young man refusing to bow to societal pressure was just exquisite. It addresses morality and loneliness and complicity and sacrifice. Just incredible. Poetry in motion.

7 Will Love In Spring - a modern romance cdrama? In my list? Is the world ending? But seriously, this is such a gorgeous, realistic yet intense exploration of love and loss and trauma. It made me utterly reevaluate Li Xian to boot.

6 Snowfall - this is such a fever dream of a mood piece of a vampire romance, with seriously BDSM and gay vibes, as well as utterly incredible canon age gap ride or die OTP with Ouyang Nana bothering to act for the first time in her life and Vengo Gao embodying a gentleman vampire to perfection. Li Muge remains one of my favorite directors for a reason.

5 Heroes - the story of three very different men all consigned to the dustheap of history by changing times (the best swordsman in the era of guns, a former imperial guard of a regime about to be overthrown, a constable obedient to obsolete code who studied for imperial exams which got abolished) as the Qing dynasty is about to fall, this has fights, humor, three (!) separate love stories, philosophy and utter and complete heartbreak. The performances, the ideas, the filming and the writing all combine to make a bleak masterpiece with a 99% death rate (I am not kidding, only tertiaries make it out.) If I were in charge, it would get all the awards.

4 The Legend of Shen Li - the one truly mainstream idol costume hit on the list. It's an adult, passionate xianxia that reunites Zhao Liying and Lin Gengxin as deities and battle powerhouses in a love story that is so full of yearning and passion and intensity I feel like peeking through my fingers. This is everything xianxia romance tries to be and almost never is. This just might be my favorite xianxia of all time, tbh.

3 Eternal Brotherhood - a dark horse whose existence I didn't even know about before it aired. Visually stunning despite its tiny budget, this narrative about three sworn brothers in a kingdom and world in crisis, is pitch perfect in its humor, its intensity, its tragedy and its themes (also THREE!!!! amazing love stories despite not being a romance-centric show.) The battles, the friendships, the traumas, the darkness at the heart of it all!

2 Fangs of Fortune - the sole drama that can rival JoL2 for me (only caveat is it's still airing), this is visually the most jaw dropping drama I've ever seen, but it's also high fantasy the way it should be - making me feel so immersed that stopping feels like coming up from a deep dive or waking up from a hypervivid dream. It has impeccable performances (many from actors who I don't normally even like), and its plot and relationships and themes - fate and sacrifice and choice and found family bonds and trauma and so many other things - make it feel as if it was made just for me.

1 Joy of Life 2 - THE drama of 2024 for me. It's somehow better than the incredible first installment. It's funny, it's heartbreaking, it has insane performances, a narrative that hits all my personally favorite themes (a person trying to remain human in an inhuman world, righteousness not being weak), a large cast of fascinating characters who feel like they live in front of me (there are no throwaway roles in this), my favorite ship of the year (though it's not even a ship-centric show) and above all, Zhang Ruoyun's live wire of a performance as Fan Xian, arguably my favorite cdrama character of all time. It should not work yet it does. Brilliantly.

[ynscrazylife]

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️ — CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Series Masterlist

It takes quite a lot to confuse Batman. Yet here he stood, reduced to speechlessness, as he stared at the odd group in front of him. The woman called herself Black Widow, said she was looking for his wife. Bruce thought he would’ve remembered if you mentioned anyone like this before.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m also looking for her. How do you know Y/N?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. They didn’t seem to be . . . Evil, but he had no clue who the hell they were or what you had to do with it and that was very annoying.

Black Widow glanced at her friends and another one of them, a man in bulky, flashy red armor, stepped up. “We used to be on a team together. Years ago. Until a mission went wrong and . . . She disappeared. I guess she landed here,” he said.

This did not help at all. In fact, it only made Bruce more confused. He was positive that you never mentioned working on a team before. “How long ago is ‘years ago’?” He asked next.

“About five now,” Black Widow answered.

Bruce felt like he was being slapped in the face. He had met you five years ago, when you were a rookie officer. You and he dated for two years, then married, and you were so skilled that you made detective within four years. Could this really be true?

“How can I trust you?” Bruce asked.

The group all looked at each other, seemingly coming to this conclusion that this masked man had a connection to you. Then, the archer pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, passing it to Bruce. He stared down at it, shocked to find that it was a photo. It was all these people, at some party, and . . . You. You were definitely younger, but it was clearly you, smiling and holding a drink.

Willing his hands not to shake, Bruce looked up at them. “I have a lot of questions,” he said bluntly.

“So do we,” the armored man said. “What do you mean that you’re also looking for her? Isn’t she here?”

Bruce took a deep breath, thankful that the mask covered his face, otherwise they’d see the tears pooling in his eyes. “She was abducted a few days ago,” he replied, forcing his voice to be steady.

“That explains the weird signal I detected,” another man said. He had a beard, a cape and looked like some sort of wizard.

Yeah, Bruce had a shit ton of questions.

//

It took some time for parties, the Avengers and Bruce, to get to really talking. They both had to give up information they’d rather not to learn more about the person they all cared about. The Avengers explained that you used to be on their team, until you went missing on a mission like they mentioned earlier. They said they scoured the world for you, until consulting with the wizard guy over here (who called himself Doctor Strange, Bruce didn’t comment on the weird name).

Doctor Strange said that he detected a signal not long after you had disappeared and, with his magic, found out what it meant: you were off-world. In a whole other universe. They’d been scouring the multiverse (which Bruce almost needed to sit down for a second after hearing), until finding a similar signal a few days ago which led them here.

So that meant . . . Both signals gave your last known location, told them that you had been taken. The first one was from the universe that the Avengers were from and the second was from this one, the one where Bruce made a life with you.

He was still utterly perplexed and didn’t completely trust them, but that picture . . . The timeline . . . It was tugging at something inside him. Bruce admitted that he had known you for these past five years, though he didn’t outright admit that you two were married. He was going to hold that fact close for as long as possible.

Finally, the Avengers led Bruce back to the point of origin, where they arrived in the forest. The masked man turned it all upside down, sadly not finding anything that could help.

But . . . He did have something they could help with.

“I don’t really want to do this,” he admitted, turning back around to face them. “But this is my only choice. My only clue to find Y/N. If I find that you’re messing with me . . .”

“We’re not,” a man, about Bruce’s height, looking like the American flag, said sternly.

Bruce sighed, forcing his shoulders to drop. “I have some footage to show you,” he said, really hoping that he wasn’t going for regret this.

//

As soon as the Avengers saw the footage of the store from earlier, Black Widow went pale.

“No, no, no . . . This . . . They’re inactive. This is impossible,” she said, gritting her teeth. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as all eyes turned to her.

“What?” Bruce asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Play it again,” she snapped, leaning in close to the computer.

Bruce glared, but complied, restarting the video.

She took in a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “These people . . . Their uniforms, their behavior. It has the Red Room written all over them,” she said, as it dawned on the Avengers how serious this was.

“The Red Room? What the hell is that?” Bruce asked, his patience wearing thin.

[maychorian]

Dungeon Meshi has fully consumed me, especially a certain tiny union man, and I want to ramble about Chilchuck's traumatic backstory for a bit. Mild manga spoilers under the cut.

The first time I read the manga I missed this bit, since I was reading an online version that didn't have all the extras included. Since I've come across this litte omake, though, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It just explains so much about why Chilchuck is the way he is.

First, at a surface level, it's interesting that this backstory only comes out in the framework of talking about a monster. Chilchuck is offering basically an anecdote about succubi, adding to the conversation he and his party are having about a monster species. It's all very casual and offhand. No one even remarks on what that experience would have meant to Chilchuck on a personal level, and he doesn't dwell on it, either. You have to wonder if Chilchuck would have ever mentioned it at all if they weren't specifically talking about succubi.

But holy heck, just think about this for a moment. On one of Chilchuck's first outings as an adventurer, possibly the first time he joined a party, his fellow adventurers were planning to feed him to a monster. He's only alive now because he had the instinct that something was wrong and had the speed, wisdom, and stealth to run away. He could have died. He could have been murdered. And it's implied that this happens to half-foots frequently in this world.

How traumatizing would that have been for a young adventurer? The people he should have been able to trust to have his back were literally planning his death, all for monetary gain. He was treated as disposable, a resource to be exploited, not a person. Not only is there the trauma of narrowly escaping death here, there's also the trauma of being mistreated and abused by other thinking, intelligent beings.

No freaking wonder he has trust issues. He's been working with Laios and his party for three years at this point and he's never shared a single solitary personal detail about his life, not even his age. He can't bear to allow any vulnerability to show, because he can't allow himself to be taken advantage of again. No wonder he's so prickly and wary. No wonder he's so sensitive to being viewed as anything other than a capable, skilled, fully realized and autonomous adult. No wonder he shies away from affection and any hint of closeness, especially in the early chapters of the manga.

I'm amazed that Chilchuck had the strength and fortitude to stay in the business at all. He considered his options and took steps to keep himself safe, including only accepting pay in advance and starting a union to protect himself and other half-foots. (Another tidbit you don't get at first in the story--Chilchuck is not just a member of a union or the leader, he started the whole dang thing to begin with.)

But what's so lovely, and wonderful, what makes this story take over my brain so completely and utterly, is that Chilchuck doesn't stay this way. Over the course of the manga, he opens up more and more. He allows himself to be emotionally vulnerable; he shares more and more details of his life. He treats Marcille and Izutsumi like daughters, Laios and Senshi like brothers. He loves them and allows himself to be loved in return.

And that's one of many reasons that Dungeon Meshi is one of the best found-family stories I've come across in a long, long time.

[amethystarachnid]

LAZY DAY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Too Hot To Handle is mentioned because that shows makes me laugh so much, also y/n is on her period, mentions of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so Sirius' death

ᯓ★ Timeline: not in a defined timeline, just after the Avengers where formed

ᯓ★ Request: If it's still possible, I would like to request one too! For Tony with "grumpy x sunhine" I am the most grumpy girl in the morning 😂 and it would be amazing to have Tony to cheer me up with his amazing beauty and by giving me lots of kisses, cuddling in bed in the morning, making me breakfast and spending the day with me in bed 💗 ( @little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sound of the blinds whirring open stirs you from the fringes of sleep. You grunt, pulling the blankets over your head, already dreading the day before it even starts. Mornings have never been your thing, but today… Today is different. Today, you woke up with the telltale ache in your lower abdomen that screams it’s here. And as if on cue, you feel the heavy lethargy that comes with it—your period.

It doesn't help that you woke up to Tony Stark’s penthouse, basking in the golden sunlight streaming in through the windows—because, of course, he’s already up, cheerful as ever.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Tony’s voice rings out, way too chipper for your mood. You can hear the smug smile in his voice, and it grates at your nerves, even if you know he means well.

"Mmrf," you mumble incoherently from under the blankets, hoping he'll just take the hint and let you brood in peace. But no, Tony is… Tony. And subtlety isn't exactly his strong suit.

His weight dips the bed as he climbs back in beside you. You feel his presence hovering, the warmth of his body coming closer. Then, soft kisses. One on your shoulder, another on the nape of your neck. His stubble tickles your skin, but you’re too grumpy to be charmed by it. Not yet, at least.

"Come on, don’t hide from me." His lips trail up to your temple, and then another kiss, right on your cheek. He’s relentless. "I made coffee. Just the way you like it."

You groan again, burying yourself deeper under the covers. “Not now, Stark.”

“Aw, come on, I thought we were past the last-name thing,” Tony teases, his voice filled with playful hurt. “You’re killing me here. I come bearing gifts.” His hands smooth over the blanket that cocoons you, and despite your mood, his touch is soothing.

You’re not sure why it worked—him breaking through your defenses. Maybe it’s because he’s the only one who ever tried.

You met Tony a little over three years ago. Not at one of his infamous parties or on a whirlwind trip to Europe like you might expect, but at a quiet charity event. You were the kind of person who kept to yourself, volunteering quietly behind the scenes. Tony, of course, was the star of the evening, charming everyone in his path. Everyone except you.

He noticed immediately. You weren’t fawning over him, and that caught his attention. He was used to people gravitating toward his magnetism, and for you to seem completely unimpressed? That intrigued him. So, naturally, Tony being Tony, he made it his mission to get a smile out of you.

It took weeks. Weeks of him sending flowers to your office, dropping by with coffee, and pestering you with texts that ranged from the utterly ridiculous to oddly sweet. He was insistent, and even though you found him exasperating, something about his relentless positivity started to wear you down. You were the storm and he was the sunshine, determined to break through your clouds.

Somewhere along the way, you fell for him. Hard. But it was mutual. Tony fell for you, too. For the way you saw the world, for how you never let him get away with his usual antics. You kept him grounded, and he showed you it was okay to let the light in.

Now, here you are. Grumpy as ever, in his bed, while he’s trying to shower you with affection despite the fact you’re ready to bite his head off.

“I know you’re awake in there,” Tony murmurs, his voice softening as he slips under the covers with you. His hand finds your waist, tugging you gently against him. “I’m not going anywhere. You can hide from the day, but not from me.”

“I’m cramping,” you mutter, finally poking your head out from the blankets. Your face is probably scrunched up in irritation, but Tony only smiles, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Ah, the monthly monster strikes again,” he says sympathetically. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve whipped up something better than coffee.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a tiny smirk playing at your lips. “Tony, you’re not even allowed near the stove. Remember last time?”

“Hey, that omelette was edible,” he defends, making you snort. “Barely.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “First, we’re going to stay in bed all day. No meetings, no Avengers nonsense, nothing. Just you and me.”

You hum, the idea already starting to sound more appealing.

“Second,” he continues, his fingers brushing through your hair softly, "I'm going to give you approximately one million kisses. It’s scientifically proven to improve your mood.”

A small, reluctant smile tugs at your lips. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Tony replies, grinning as he leans in and starts peppering your face with light, playful kisses—on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally, your lips. It’s impossible not to laugh, and the sound escapes you before you can stop it.

“There it is,” Tony says triumphantly, pulling back just enough to catch your eye. “I knew I could make you smile.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite behind it. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, you love me,” he shoots back, his voice teasing but laced with affection. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

You bury your face in his chest, hiding the small smile that refuses to leave your lips. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

Tony laughs, a soft, warm sound that vibrates against your cheek, and he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

“Now,” he says, reaching over for the tray, “how about breakfast in bed? Then, we can cuddle and watch whatever cheesy rom-com you’re in the mood for.”

You lift your head slightly, giving him a skeptical look. “You hate rom-coms.”

Tony smirks, handing you a piece of toast. “I hate bad rom-coms. But I love you, so I’ll suffer through it.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he says, settling back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s part of my charm.”

Tony snuggles in closer, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist as he carefully balances the tray on his lap. You sit up a little, taking a piece of toast from the plate, though the idea of eating doesn’t really appeal to you right now. Still, you know he’s trying to make things better in his own way, and that’s worth something. You nibble on the toast to appease him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He strokes his fingers through your hair absently, the simple act soothing in a way only he can make it. The room is quiet, aside from the distant hum of the world outside Stark Tower and Tony’s soft breathing beside you.

For a moment, it’s peaceful. Then Tony breaks the silence, unable to help himself.

“So,” he says, voice playful, “what’s the plan after we finish breakfast? Want to binge some terrible reality TV? Or,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively, “we could finally finish that puzzle we started. You know, the one that’s only 90% done because someone”—he pokes your side—“gave up and declared it was impossible.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m not finishing that puzzle, Tony.”

“But you were so close! Just a few more—”

“No.” You turn to glare at him, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just exhaustion. He notices, his teasing smile softening into something more concerned.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “We’ll skip the puzzle. Maybe just… rest, then?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, sinking further into him, suddenly too tired to care about anything other than the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tony’s hand moves to your lower back, massaging gently. It’s as if he knows exactly where the pain is the worst, his touch deliberate and comforting. You close your eyes, letting the tension in your muscles melt away. Despite the grumpiness that’s been clinging to you since you woke up, you can feel yourself softening against him.

He tilts his head down, his lips grazing your temple. “How about this,” he says softly, “we take the day one hour at a time. No plans, no pressure. If you want to just lie here, we lie here. If you want to nap, we nap. Whatever you need.”

You sigh, appreciating how much he’s willing to adjust for you, for the person you are on days like this. “You’re really okay with just doing nothing all day?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

“With you? I could do nothing for the rest of my life and be happy,” Tony says, his tone surprisingly sincere.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You? Not working for a whole day? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He grins, his fingers tracing circles on your arm. “Okay, okay, I might check a couple emails. But only a couple. Maybe one phone call…”

“Tony.”

“Alright! I’ll leave the work alone for the day,” he promises, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Scout’s honor.”

The warmth of his kiss lingers on your skin, and despite yourself, you feel some of the irritability start to slip away. Tony has always had that effect on you—making even the worst days feel just a little bit more bearable. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, how he could see through all your sharp edges and somehow make you feel seen, cared for.

You shift slightly, finding a more comfortable position in his arms. He takes the empty plate from your hand and sets it aside, his arm slipping back around you without missing a beat.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you ask quietly, unsure where the question comes from. “Taking care of me when I’m like this?”

Tony’s brow furrows slightly, but there’s no hesitation in his response. “No. Never.”

You give him a skeptical look, but before you can argue, he continues. “Hey, we’ve been through worse, haven’t we? You’ve put up with me for years now—there’s no way I’m letting a few grumpy mornings scare me off.”

You bite your lip, feeling that familiar wall start to rise, the one that tells you to brush off his concern and hide behind sarcasm. But Tony’s looking at you so earnestly, with that mix of affection and stubbornness that’s impossible to argue with. So instead, you let out a breath and nod, resting your head back on his shoulder.

“I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” you mutter, though there’s a hint of warmth in your voice.

Tony presses another kiss to your head. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

For a while, you just lie there together, the sound of his breathing steady and calming. You close your eyes, letting the dull ache in your body fade into the background. It’s not gone, not completely, but with Tony beside you, it feels manageable. It always does.

“Tell you what,” Tony says after a while, his voice soft and laced with mischief. “Why don’t we make this a thing? Once a month, we do nothing but stay in bed. No meetings, no saving the world, just us. I’ll even bring you breakfast every time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Once a month? You’d get bored after the first hour.”

He shrugs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. But I could think of a few ways to keep us entertained.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, and despite your grumpiness, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quips, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer.

You don’t reply, but you don’t have to. The way you relax into him, the way you let out a soft sigh of contentment, says enough.

The afternoon sun casts long, lazy shadows across the room as you lie nestled into Tony’s side, still wrapped in the cocoon of blankets. The tray of breakfast long since cleared, the only remnants of your morning now are the occasional crumbs you both keep brushing away. The TV in front of you flickers with the unmistakable chaos of a reality show, and despite your initial protests, you're several episodes deep into Too Hot to Handle.

"Okay, seriously," you groan, watching one of the contestants dramatically storm off after another contrived argument. "How are these people real? There’s no way."

Tony’s laugh rumbles against your back, his arm draped comfortably around you. “I know, right? It’s like watching aliens try to figure out human emotions.”

You snort. “Pretty sure aliens would handle this better.”

On-screen, another contestant confesses that they’re “not here to make friends,” to which Tony rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ah, the classic line. When are they ever here to make friends?”

“They’re not even here to find love,” you mutter. “They just want the prize money.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “And the Instagram followers.”

You half-laugh, half-groan as a new couple starts having a heated conversation about trust—again, for the third time in the episode. “This is torture. Why did I let you talk me into watching this?”

“Oh, I talked you into it?” Tony teases, giving your waist a playful squeeze. “Because if I recall, you were the one who said, ‘Anything, as long as it doesn’t require brain power.’ This show? Zero brain power required. It's perfect.”

You glare up at him, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you. “I hate that you’re right.”

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “It happens more than you think.”

You turn your attention back to the show, shaking your head in disbelief as the contestants participate in yet another ridiculous challenge. “They’re literally just being forced to sit on a beach and not make out. How is this a show?”

Tony chuckles. “Human willpower, baby. People love watching others struggle.”

“That’s not willpower. That’s just people being dumb,” you mutter, shifting against him to get more comfortable.

He shifts too, adjusting the pillows behind him, making sure you're completely settled before draping his arm back over your shoulders. “You know, if we were on this show, we’d be dominating,” Tony says, nodding towards the screen.

You shoot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “We wouldn’t even be on this show. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d avoid at all costs.”

“Hypothetically, though,” Tony continues, a mischievous glint in his eye, “if we were on this island or retreat or whatever… We’d walk away with all the money. Zero slip-ups. We'd be a power couple.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. You’d be the first one to break the rules.”

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I can control myself.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. You can’t even make it through a whole episode of this without making some comment about how ‘ridiculous’ it is. There’s no way you’d last.”

Tony leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “I’m very good at following rules… when I want to.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t let him see how much his words affect you. You shove him playfully, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “See? You’d crack under pressure.”

“Never,” he insists, though his grin gives him away. “But you? You’d be the real rule-breaker.”

You tilt your head, amused. “Me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says with a nod, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You act all tough and grumpy, but deep down? You’ve got a soft side. You’d cave the second they throw a romantic dinner at you.”

You scoff. “I’m not that soft.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, completely unconvinced. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. I’ve seen you cry at dog videos.”

You nudge him with your elbow, but you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “Shut up.”

Tony grins, pulling you closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “Face it—we’d be the most entertaining couple on the show. The producers would love us.”

“Because I’d be constantly yelling at you to follow the rules?” you quip.

“Exactly,” Tony says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You shake your head, laughing at the absurdity of the conversation, but there’s something about it that feels… nice. Even on a day like this Tony still manages to make you laugh, to make you feel lighter. It’s ridiculous, but it’s exactly what you need.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say, leaning your head against his chest.

“I am, actually,” Tony says, his tone suddenly softer, more genuine. “Every day.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget about the ridiculous show on TV. You look up at him, seeing that familiar warmth in his eyes—the same look he gave you the first time he told you he loved you, the same look that reminds you why, despite all his quirks and chaos, you fell for him in the first place.

You reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second longer than usual. “I’m lucky too.”

Tony smiles, the kind of smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is right, even when your body aches and your mood is sour. “So,” he says, voice light again, “do we keep watching, or do we switch to something less… terrible?”

You glance back at the TV, where yet another argument is brewing between contestants who probably won’t last past the reunion episode. “Let’s keep watching,” you say, surprising yourself.

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You’re getting into it, aren’t you?”

You sigh, leaning back into him. “No, it’s just… if I have to suffer, I’m dragging you down with me.”

Tony laughs, that infectious sound filling the room as he pulls you even closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And just like that, the afternoon drifts by, with the two of you lost in the ridiculous drama on screen, but more importantly, lost in the warmth of each other’s company.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the room in a soft orange glow, you’re still comfortably tucked into bed, your legs intertwined with Tony’s. The reality show marathon had finally come to an end—mercifully—and now the two of you are lounging in the blissful silence of the early evening.

Tony, ever the thoughtful partner, has already ordered takeout for dinner. You didn’t even need to ask; he knew you wouldn’t feel like cooking, especially today. “I got McDonald’s,” he announces with a proud grin as he taps away on his phone, tracking the delivery.

“Comfort food. Nice touch,” you say, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“You’re not gonna complain about all the fries I ordered?” Tony teases.

“Not today,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. “I’m going to hop in the shower. My body feels all… ugh.”

Tony’s eyes light up, his grin widening as he sits up too, resting his chin on his hand. “Oh? Shower, you say?”

You immediately catch the playful tone in his voice, and you shoot him a look, knowing exactly where this is going. “Tony—”

“Come on,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s been a lazy day, and I think we could both use a nice, hot, shared shower. I promise, I’ll behave.” He gives you an exaggerated wink that’s so over-the-top, you can’t help but laugh.

You shake your head, sliding off the bed. “Absolutely not.”

Tony pouts, shifting onto his knees as he watches you walk to the bathroom. “Why not?” he protests, though there’s no real weight behind his argument. “We’re in a committed relationship. There’s nothing wrong with—”

“I’m on my period,” you interrupt flatly, raising an eyebrow as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Tony pauses, his eyes narrowing in consideration before he stands and follows you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, refusing to let the conversation go. “So?” he says, shrugging. “Not like I care. I just want to be near you.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. “Tony, I love you, but this is my one chance to have five minutes of peace.”

His grin softens into something a little more affectionate, though his tone remains light. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your ‘me’ time. But if you change your mind…” He leans in closer, dropping his voice into a whisper. “I’ll be right here. Ready.”

You can’t help but laugh, shoving him playfully toward the bedroom. “Go wait for the food, Stark.”

He gives you one last, overdramatic pout before retreating with a sigh. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Shaking your head, you finally close the door, the sound of Tony’s soft humming fading as you start the water. The hot steam begins to fill the small space, and you let out a contented sigh as you step under the showerhead. The warmth helps soothe the dull ache in your body, and for the first time all day, you feel a little more like yourself.

When you finally emerge, your hair wrapped in a towel and a fresh pair of pajamas on, the scent of fries and burgers has filled the room. Tony’s already settled back on the bed, the food laid out neatly on the tray between the two of you. He’s wearing one of his worn-out band t-shirts, the kind that’s been washed so many times it’s practically soft enough to sleep in.

“Look at that timing,” Tony says as you approach. “Hot shower and hot food all waiting for you. I should win some kind of award for this.”

You smile, climbing back into bed and settling next to him. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

He grins, popping a fry into his mouth. “I live to serve.”

You grab a burger and unwrap it, savoring the familiar comfort of the greasy food. There’s something about McDonald’s that hits differently on days like this, and you let out a satisfied sigh as you take the first bite.

Tony reaches for the remote, flicking through the movie options. “Okay, your choice—Harry Potter marathon or Lord of the Rings marathon? I’m letting you pick because I’m a generous, loving boyfriend.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “Harry Potter.”

“Good choice,” he nods approvingly as he navigates to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. “Though I may regret this later when you start crying.”

You roll your eyes, though you know he’s right. Sirius’s death always hits hard, but today, with your emotions running higher than usual, you know it’s going to hit even harder. Still, there’s something comforting about watching a movie you’ve seen a hundred times, where you know every scene, every line. It feels like home.

As the movie starts, the two of you settle in with your food, occasionally exchanging bits of conversation and laughter between bites. Tony sneaks a few of your fries, even though he has his own, and you flick a stray piece of lettuce at him when he teases you for getting emotional over Harry’s reunion with Sirius.

Then the fateful moment arrives. As Bellatrix’s spell hits Sirius, sending him tumbling through the veil, your heart clenches. You feel your throat tighten, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes.

Tony, of course, notices immediately.

“Oh no, here it comes,” he says softly, putting down his burger and wrapping his arm around you. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, leaning into him as your eyes stay glued to the screen. “It’s just so unfair,” you mutter, your voice thick with emotion. “He finally had someone. He was going to have a family again.”

Tony nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. It sucks.”

You curl into him more, the sadness of the scene mingling with your already fragile emotions. The tears start to spill over, and Tony just holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out. I’ll cry with you if you want.”

You laugh through the tears, wiping at your eyes. “No, you won’t.”

He grins, squeezing you gently. “Alright, maybe not. But I’ll be here while you do.”

For the rest of the scene, you cling to him, the sadness ebbing and flowing as you mourn the loss of Sirius for the hundredth time. Tony doesn’t say much, just holds you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He knows better than to try to fix it—he just lets you feel what you need to feel.

As the movie moves on and your tears subside, you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes and letting out a long breath. Tony reaches over to hand you a napkin, and you smile, taking it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you mumble, dabbing at your face.

He leans in, kissing your cheek. “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

With the worst of the tears behind you, you settle back into the comfort of Tony’s arms, the two of you snuggled up under the covers as the movie continues. The food is mostly forgotten at this point, but you don’t mind. The weight of the day, the grumpiness, the cramps—they all seem a little more distant with Tony by your side.

I'm sorry I just love Sirius so much that I had to put him here even if it's about his death...If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog (that's what keeps Tumblr posts going) and maybe leave a comment or a follow if you want! <3

Ivy Rose

[porphyriosao3]

Day 27 - Ancestor

Bilbo smiled across the couch at Thorin. The hobbit was lying down, his feet scandalously propped in Thorin's lap, and the magic of powerful dwarven hands was once again making itself known. "Oh that feels so nice," he sighed. They had been speaking of dwarven history over dinner, so he fought to remember the thread of what they were talking about before he was completely distracted by firm fingers pressing into his soles. "I've heard you speak of your ancestors being forced out of Mo... Khazad... Khazad-dim?" He tried.

"Dûm," Thorin corrected his pronunciation with a shy grin. "Yes." He paused, face falling a bit. "Though perhaps call it Moria with strange dwarves. They might sneer, but it won't risk offence at an outsider knowing even that much of our language." A gusty sigh accompanied this, making Bilbo arch an eyebrow. "Some of our kin are quite ridiculous, in case you hadn't noticed yet."

"I... might have done," Bilbo admitted with a wicked grin. "There doesn't seem to be much indecision in dwarf society... no matter how ridiculous the conclusion might have been." Thorin snorted, ducking his head to hide a grin.

"But enough of that," the dwarf said, beginning to card his fingertips through the hair atop Bilbo's feet in an utterly inappropriate manner. As usual with inappropriate things, it felt amazing. "Tell me of your ancestors. Have your people always lived in the Shire, there in western Eriador?"

"No," Bilbo admitted after an involuntary groan. "No we haven't." He stopped and winced as Thorin found a tangle, then sighed again when the stroking resumed. "We came from... oh, that's lovely... from somewhere else, though nobody remembers where and we weren't exactly literate at the time, I'm sad to say," he murmured. "Our oldest stories tell of a land between a river and a forest that went on forever, but whether that was real or not, who can say at this point. The Time of Troubles started. Of course, we have no way of knowing what that was, whether it was a drought or a flood or a war or what, but the three clans of the hobbits all passed west over the mountains - presumably the Misty Mountains - and settled there at the invitation of the Great King in the North. We've been there ever since."

"How long ago was this?" Thorin asked, brows raised. "Your ancestors may well have known, or at least met, my own."

"Long ago," Bilbo said with a grin. "Almost one thousand, four hundred years ago." Thorin whooped with laughter, making the hobbit eye him. "What's so funny?"

"Long ago?" Thorin choked out, still laughing. "Bilbo, the fall of Khazad-Dûm was only a thousand years ago, more or less," he replied. "That's modern history, as far as any dwarf is concerned."

"Well pardon me very much, Lord Forever-Memory," Bilbo grumped. Despite himself, he couldn't be but so angry with someone making his feet feel like that, though. "It's a far off long time to us hobbits."

"What it tells me is this," Thorin said more soberly. "Both of our peoples lost their ancestral home at roughly the same time. Both of them have prospered in their new homes, as well. I am glad that you found a good place to settle, Bilbo Baggins of the Hobbits," he whispered, pressing - oh Green Lady - pressing a kiss to Bilbo's toes. "You are precious to me, and all that you are kin to is precious as well." There wasn't much to be said in response to that but a kiss, so Bilbo made it happen, and the rest of the night was spent exchanging similar pleasantries.

[thisweekinfandomhistory]

Icicle?! This week, Emily and V hold a sort of jazz funeral for a fandom event that shaped both of them as human people, and that cannot and should not ever happen again. The Three-Year Summer was a pivotal stretch of time for fandom culture as a whole because a) every fucking person alive was in this fandom, b) the whole point was that there was no canon and the world was wide open for the taking, and c) the Internet was young enough that you could claim ANYTHING on that shit. And we all did! And we all believed each other about it! It was amazing! It was fresh and new! And it has been tainted forever! We completely understand if you do not want to listen to an episode about Harry Potter. We get it. We'll see you next week. <3 We denounce JK Rowling and her bigotry with every fiber of our beings. Her views, words, and actions are utterly abhorrent and antithetical to everything that we value. She 100% must be deplatformed.

This Week In Fandom History is a fandom-centric podcast that tells you… what happened this week in fandom history!

Follow This Week in Fandom History on Tumblr at @thisweekinfandomhistory

You can support the show via our Patreon at http://www.patreon.com/thisweekinfandomhistory. 

If you have a fannish company, event, or service and would like to sponsor or partner with TWIFH, please contact us via the Tumblr link above.

Please remember to rate the show 5 stars on your listening platform of choice!

[sidekick-hero]

wear me like a locket around your throat

(steddie | explicit | 4.5k | @kinktober2023 prompt collar | AO3 | written by @yournowheregirl and @sidekick-hero)

Steve has always been possessive in his relationships.

Not just in his romantic ones either, although that was where the possessiveness reared its ugly head the most. But even with his friends, Steve had always wanted to be their best friend. Their only friend, really. Before Nancy, Carol had been the only real test of his and Tommy's friendship. Tommy had been his best friend, and sharing him with Carol was not something Steve wanted to do.

So he'd made her his, too, the three of them inseparable. Until everything changed.

With his girlfriends, the possessiveness was even worse. He wasn't proud of it, far from it. So he tried to curb it, he really did. All Steve allowed himself were these little reminders, little things here and there that showed the world that this one person was completely and utterly his. It's why he gave Kelly his varsity jacket sophomore year, and it's why he bragged all night when Julie wore one of his button-downs at a pool party. It's the same reason he gave Nancy his class ring, because he was so proud to call her his at the time.

That's all he really let himself have, just these little things, mostly insignificant to anyone but himself. Steve had it totally under control.

Until Eddie.

Maybe it’s because he almost lost him before he even got the chance to call Eddie his. Maybe it’s because he already lost too much, so he clung to the things, the people, he still had even tighter.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s Eddie.

It doesn't really matter why, the fact remains that Eddie is making Steve a little bit feral, and the animal part of his brain demanded that he do something about it.

And that's why he bought Eddie a fucking collar, of all things.

He hadn't set out to buy one. He had just tagged along when Eddie had invited the kids on a trip to Indy because this supposedly amazing D&D store had just opened and they had to check it out. But as Eddie and the kids spent hours and hours in that store, Steve had gotten bored and had wandered off to kill some time until the nerd troop had had their fill for the day. As he walked along the sidewalk, half window-shopping, half people-watching, he came across a sex shop and curiosity got the better of him.

A faint blush had crept across Steve's face as he entered and saw all the whips, harnesses and toys the store sold. He and Eddie had only recently dipped their toes into the... less vanilla sex stuff, so while they had done a lot of extensive research and he definitely recognized some of the items, Steve still felt a little overwhelmed by the amount of options.

As he walked along the aisles, he looked at some of the toys, but finally decided that this was something he wanted to buy with Eddie. The thought of being able to watch Eddie pick out something for them to use was weirdly arousing, and so he made up his mind that he would leave the store empty-handed that day.

That is, until his eyes landed on the collar.

It was nothing special, really. Just a wide band of soft-looking black leather with a silver metal hoop on the front. But it was enough to make Steve's heart skip a beat, because now all he could think about was Eddie in that collar. Eddie in that collar and nothing else. Eddie in that collar as a true sign of devotion, of belonging, of belonging to Steve.

A mantra of mine, mine, mine echoed through his mind as he grabbed the collar and bought it without thinking twice. It was as if he had blacked out, someone else taking control of his body at that moment. Like a horny, possessive mind flayer. Steve vaguely remembers the saleswoman winking at him, telling him to have fun, and Steve assuring her that he would.

It was as if he saw himself walking out of the store, a discreet plastic bag in his hand, which he hurriedly tossed into the trunk of his car as he saw Eddie and the kids coming out of the store.

He made up some story about a new belt, and as they drove back to Hawkins, he tried to push all thoughts of his latest acquisition out of his mind.

But now, a few days later, the collar feels heavy in the plastic bag as Steve takes two steps at a time up the stairs to the trailer’s porch. His heart is in his throat as he knocks on the door. He hasn't felt this nervous since he picked up Eddie for their first date.

What if Eddie doesn't like the idea? What if this is somehow too far for him? Or worse, what if he pretends to like it too, just for Steve's sake, but secretly finds it weird or unsettling?

Wait, no. Eddie wouldn't do that. He always stresses the importance of open communication and telling each other what they like and don't like, what they need and want from each other. Eddie would tell him if he didn't like it and they could move on.

So this is going to be fine.

Steve really hopes it will be fine.

For a second he considers running back to his car, throwing the collar back in the trunk and just forgetting about the whole thing. But he doesn't get the chance, because just then Eddie opens the door.

The sight takes his breath away. It always does. Even in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his hair a wild mess, Eddie still manages to look gorgeous and that voice in his head pipes up again.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie greets him with the same smile he always has. His Steve smile, as Robin likes to call it, with his brown eyes all warm and sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide grin that puts his dimples on full display.

“Hi.” Steve replies with his own private smile as he walks in and presses a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“Whatcha got there? A present? For me?" Eddie's eyes immediately zero in on the plastic bag in Steve's hand. Steve lets out a breathy laugh, because he should have known that Eddie would notice the bag right away. He's like a dragon from one of his fantasy novels, always on the hunt for more treasures to hoard, and lucky for him, Steve brings him plenty of treasures.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of."

"Can I open it?" Eddie asks, mischief and anticipation written all over his face. He's already making grabby hands in the direction of the bag, so Steve decides to get it over with quickly, knowing full well that Eddie would be insufferable if he didn't get his present immediately.

He swallows thickly and wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans as Eddie takes the bag and reaches inside to grab the only item in it. God, Steve really hopes he didn’t make the wrong decision and even more so, he hopes that Eddie likes it as much as he does. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Eddie hates it. Spontaneously combust, maybe.

God, Eddie's dramatics are rubbing off on him.

The trailer is dead quiet as Eddie stares at the leather collar in his hands, the only sound being the crinkle of the plastic bag as it falls to the floor. Eddie's unusual silence doesn't do much for Steve's nerves, and he feels his stomach twist into knots the longer Eddie remains silent. He has to say something, anything.

"It's okay if you don't like it." Steve blurts out. "I mean, I don't know if I can return it, the lady at the store didn't say. Or maybe I can sell it, I dunno, but just know that it's totally fine if you don't like it. I just thought..."

"When did you buy it?" Eddie interrupts his ramblings, and really, God bless him. At least this is a simple question, not like 'Why do you want me to wear a collar?' because honestly, Steve isn't sure he's ready to answer that.

"Last week. When we were in Indy."

"You sneaky bastard, I knew you hadn't bought a new belt!" Eddie grins. "I can't believe you had that with you when the kids were there. Can you imagine Henderson finding that?"

"Oh my God, can you please not mention him right now?" Steve groans. Judging by the fact that Eddie hasn't said anything negative about the collar, Steve's confidence is slowly returning. Still, he needs to know if Eddie really likes it, that he really wants this, too. "So, uh, do you like it?"

"Yeah." Eddie nods, his eyes again fixed on the collar in his hands. "Yeah, it's... I like it. Thank you." The last part is said with Eddie's eyes boring into his, and the intensity behind them makes Steve's heart beat faster in his chest.

"Good. Glad you like it." He tells Eddie, his own voice full of... something.

Something heavy.

There's a long silence in which they both stare at each other, unsure of what to say. Or maybe they know exactly what to say next, what to do next, they're just not sure who's going to be the one to actually bring it up.

Eddie is the first to break the silence, he always is.

"You want me to put it on for you?"

Steve feels his dick twitch at the question, the for you ringing in his ears at the same time the mine, mine, mine mantra comes back with a vengeance.

"Please."

Steve doesn't even recognize his own voice at that one single word, but Eddie doesn't comment on the naked need in it. He just nods thoughtfully, and Steve somehow expects Eddie to just fasten the collar around his neck himself.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he holds the collar out to Steve, and when Steve takes it from him with a questioning look, Eddie smiles his Steve smile and holds his hair up, exposing his neck in a clear invitation. It's such a small gesture, but it's enough to make Steve's mind spin out of control.

Steve has helped Eddie with accessories before. He's untangled dozens of necklaces, untied his leather bracelets countless times, and he's always the one to remove Eddie's rings before they go to sleep. In theory, putting on a collar shouldn't be much different, but they both know it's more than just an accessory.

It's a symbol of trust, of devotion, and it makes Steve feel like his skin is too tight for his body.

Steve feels like he's watching himself from outside his body as he undoes the clasp and places the collar around Eddie's neck.

Eddie's skin is almost hot to the touch under Steve's cold hands, and he can feel Eddie flinching slightly at the initial shock before giving himself completely to Steve's touch. Steve doesn't believe Eddie realizes this, yet Steve's heartbeat swells with the quiet trust and submission.

Steve makes a silent vow to never fail Eddie's faith in him.

Before fastening the collar for good, Steve tests the fit by sliding his finger between the leather and Eddie's neck. When he finds the perfect fit, he buckles the collar and presses a kiss to the skin between the sharp edge of his jaw and the soft leather.

"Alright? Not too tight?" Steve asks, his breathing already heavy.

"No. No, it's perfect." Eddie croaks.

Steve takes a slow step back to admire the sight of Eddie wearing the collar. His collar, the one Steve gave him. Steve's breath stutters at the sight of it. It's really not that different from the accessories he usually wears, it fits right in with the chains and heavy rings, but it's still different.

Because while his accessories are a part of Eddie, the collar is a part of Steve. There is a meaning behind it, a purpose. It's not about aesthetics, though the black leather looks incredibly alluring against Eddie's pale skin. It's a visual reminder of their bond, their hearts worn not on their sleeves but on Eddie's neck. It says that Eddie is his, but it's also a tangible sign of Steve's devotion.

He only ever wants Eddie to wear his collar, and his mind is already buzzing with ideas for a custom-made one.

“Fuck.”

"Yeah? You like it?" Eddie ducks his head as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. The juxtaposition of Eddie's sweet shyness and the things Steve wants to do to him makes his stomach do summersaults.

"Yeah. I really, really do. Now c'mere because I need to kiss you right the fuck now." Steve mutters, his hand coming up to cupping Eddie's cheek and pulling him in to crash their lips together.

From the moment their lips touch, Steve's entire body is on fire. Any other day he would enjoy teasing this kind of kiss out of Eddie, driving him wild with barely there kisses and pulling back at perfectly timed moments.

But not today. Today it's heated from the start, fueled by nothing more than that simple leather band around Eddie's throat.

Steve feels like the sight of Eddie wearing the collar has unleashed the insatiable beast in his chest. He's never been so demanding when kissing anyone before, but it's like a feedback loop between him and Eddie. The more hunger Steve feeds into Eddie's mouth with his tongue, the more Eddie demands. He coaxes Steve to push harder, to plunge his tongue deeper, ready to let Steve crawl into him through his throat.

With his hands on Eddie's hips, Steve begins to walk them back until Eddie hits the kitchen counter. The moment he does so, Eddie leans back and spreads his legs so easily for him, just wide enough for Steve to slide his leg between them. Their simultaneous moans fill the room as their clothed dicks brush against each other and Steve is pretty sure he's never been so hard in his life. And they're not even naked, not even doing anything but kissing.

Eddie Munson is going to be the death of him. But what a way to go.

Not slowing down as he tries to eat him alive, Steve begins to roll his hips against Eddie, his upward strokes forceful, just this side of too much. The delicious drag of his heavy cock against Eddie is enough to force Eddie to pull away from Steve's mouth, a series of needy whimpers rolling off his tongue.

"Shit, Steve. Fuck, you feel so good." Eddie gasps, his chest heaving and his eyes heavy-lidded.

But Steve isn't done kissing him, and without thinking twice, he grabs the metal loop of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie toward him. Their lips are only inches apart when they both realize what has just happened. Steve's cheeks turn red with shame and he's about to stammer an apology when he meets Eddie's eyes. He expects to find a sense of shock in those dark brown eyes, but instead the only thing Steve finds there is a heavy dose of lust.

Steve swallows his apology and instead asks, "Okay?"

"So fucking okay." Eddie smiles, his voice dazed.

Steve smiles back at him and uses the collar to pull him the last few inches so their lips can finally meet again. Eddie whimpers so beautifully against his mouth and it's a sound Steve wants to hear over and over again.

Licking over Eddie's lower lip, Steve lets the hand that's not still hooked into the metal ring of Eddie's collar travel south to Eddie's chest. It finds a nipple through the fabric of Eddie's shirt, the material thin from wear, and he thumbs it.

It has the desired effect, allowing him to swallow more of the whimpers that fall from Eddie's mouth. Another hard thrust of Steve's hips against his cock makes Eddie throw his head back with a high-pitched moan, showing off his beautiful neck with its collar.

Steve thinks he's going to die if he doesn't get his hands and mouth on every inch of Eddie he can reach.

Fixing his mouth to the tantalizing patch of skin just below the collar where Eddie's neck meets his shoulder, Steve steps right in between Eddie's legs, spreading them even wider. Before Eddie can react to any of this, he stoops, grabs the back of Eddie's thighs and lifts. Eddie yelps, his legs and arms wrapping around Steve on pure instinct, and Steve hums against Eddie's neck. The weight of Eddie in his arms feels good, their groins pressed tightly together and his body heat seeping into Steve.

"Oh my God, how are you even real?" Eddie asks, but Steve thinks it's one of those hypothetical questions he likes to ask sometimes. So he ignores it, just scrapes his teeth across Eddie's skin to show him that he's very real and willing to leave reminders of that on Eddie's body.

With careful steps so as not to drop his precious cargo, Steve walks over to the couch and drops onto it. Eddie bounces into his lap, the movement causing him to slide forward so that his ass sits on Steve's hard-on. Unable (and unwilling) to stop himself, Steve humps up once, letting Eddie know how fucking hard and desperate he is for him.

"I need you to touch me. Please, Steve, touch me." Eddie begs so sweetly. The blush on his face reaches under the collar of his shirt and Steve needs to see how deep it goes. He quickly removes Eddie's shirt, relishing the miles of pale skin adorned with black ink and red desire. Their position brings him to eye level with Eddie's chest and he immediately fastens his mouth to Eddie's stiff nipple as if he's hungry for it.

And he is, a hunger deeper than anything he's ever felt before. A hunger that can never be fully satisfied.

Above him, Eddie whines, a pained sound, as if it hurts, as if it's too much, the way Steve licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive bud. But he also brings his hands up and buries them in Steve's hair, pressing his face against Eddie's chest as his hips roll against Steve.

"Off," Eddie demands, and for a second Steve is afraid he has misread Eddie, that he wants Steve off of him. But then he tugs on the back of Steve's shirt and whines another "Off", and Steve gets the hint.

Releasing Eddie's nipple, he moves to pull off his shirt, not helped at all by Eddie's greedy hands on his body. After tossing it somewhere behind the couch, he grabs the metal ring of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie forward again to catch his lips in another desperate kiss.

His fingers remain hooked around the metal loop as their mouths slide against each other and his eager tongue licks the spit from Eddie's teeth. At the same time, Steve moves his other hand down from where it's pressed between Eddie's shoulder blades to the small of his back, encouraging him to ride his lap.

Eddie ruts against him, the roll of his hips picking up speed, their rhythm sloppier, and they both pant into each other's mouths at the delicious yet not enough friction of denim on denim.

They continue to make out, Eddie writhing on top of him while Steve devours his mouth. At some point, Steve slips his hand under Eddie's jeans and underwear, kneading and squeezing his ass to get him even more riled up. Steve has noticed how Eddie gets turned on whenever Steve plays with his ass, and today is no exception. As soon as his fingers start to tease his hole, Eddie comes apart over him.

The sounds Steve is pulling out of him have Steve almost on the verge of coming himself, and when he looks up at Eddie's face, he finds his eyes glazed over and his cheeks flaming. In between whimpering and moaning, Eddie continues to babble incoherently, pleading and begging Steve for anything, everything, as he continues to rub against Steve's lap. His movements become more and more erratic and Steve knows that this is a sure sign that Eddie is close, a hair's trigger away from spilling into his boxers.

And even though the thought makes more heat pool in his own groin, that's not what Steve wants right now. He wants to savor this moment, wants to burn it into his memory forever.

Wrapping his hand around Eddie's neck, just above the collar, he restrains Eddie from moving.

Eddie whines pitifully, no shame in his face at his own need. He's gone too far, Steve realizes, he's been floating for a while and Steve putting a stop to it must feel like punishment to him.

"Shhh, sweet thing," Steve coos in his most soothing voice. "Just lemme look at you. Just for a moment. Wanna remember you like this."

And Eddie tries, he really does. Tries to let Steve look at him, holds still as Steve noses up his sternum and to his jaw, biting the jut lovingly. But that's all he can take and Steve feels the strain in his legs from trying to keep his hips from chasing his release.

Steve decides to put him out of his misery because Eddie has been so good for him, so sweet and obedient.

"Aw baby, you need a little help?" he asks sweetly.

Eddie nods frantically, his mouth slack and his face and chest pink, his blush visible under his collar.

"Maybe next time I'll buy you a leash. You'd like that, huh?" Steve can't help but push a little, playing with their newfound dynamic. "D'you like being on my leash, parading around town and showing everyone who you belong to?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes." Eddie slurs his words, his body limp like a rag doll as he writhes on top of Steve, desperately seeking more friction.

"Say it."

"Steve..."

"Say it." Steve's grip on the collar tightens.

"'m yours, Stevie. I'm yours, always yours." Eddie whimpers.

"Good boy."

It's as if that's all Eddie needed to hear to come with a broken sob, a litany of "thank you, thank you, thank you" falling from his mouth as he shakes apart in Steve's arms. His hips continue to stutter against Steve's lap as his orgasm rips through him and the pressure against Steve's own painfully hard cock is the sweetest torture.

When it's over, the last drop milked from him, Eddie collapses forward like a marionette whose strings have been cut. His face is pressed into Steve's neck and he continues to make snuffling noises against it, his lips and tongue wet against Steve's overheated skin.

It's so trusting, so vulnerable as Eddie lies in his arms, limp and completely out of it. The voice in his brain sings its mantra of mine, mine, mine louder than ever, eager to claim Eddie even more as its own.

Fueled by this desire, Steve lifts Eddie out of his lap and spreads him out on the couch before straddling his waist. The subtle pressure of Steve's ass against Eddie's spent and sensitive cock draws another whimper from Eddie as he stares up at Steve in starstruck wonder. It's an exquisite sight, Eddie's beautiful body offered to him in satiated surrender.

Steve unzips his pants and frees his hard and leaking cock, sighing with relief that it's no longer straining behind his jeans. He's so turned on by the sight of Eddie like this, all floating and spent and his, that he doesn't have to think twice as he grips his aching cock. He starts at the head, collecting the leaking pre-cum and spreading it over his length to ease the glide as he begins to jerk himself off with a grunt. Fuck, but it hurts so good.

"God, look at you. So pretty and all mine. My good boy." Steve moans, his hand speeding up. He's already close, feels like he's been since he closed the clasp of the collar around Eddie's neck.

"The sounds you made, Eddie, shit. Never sounded sweeter. Wish I could have filmed it, want to show everyone what a good boy you are for me, just for me. Wanna put you on a leash and show you off, show everyone who you belong to."

Eddie's mouth goes slack as Steve's dirty praise sinks in and he whimpers his name brokenly.

"What is it, baby, what do you need? I'll give you anything you want."

"Wanna," Eddie starts before a bitten whine cuts him off. "Wanna suck your cock, God, it's so big, I need it, stuff it down my throat, Steve, please."

Fuck, Steve wants that too. But there is still that voice in his head chanting mine, mine, mine and claim, claim, claim and he knows what he has to do to appease it.

Wanting to at least stuff Eddie's mouth with something, he slides three thick fingers between his lips and Eddie begins sucking eagerly.

"That's right, doll," Steve praises Eddie, his voice sweet even with the condensing words that follow. "You need your mouth stuffed so bad, don't you? Look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around my fingers."

He's jerking off furiously, turned on beyond belief. When Eddie's hips hump into him, it throws him off balance, sending him tumbling forward, his fingers sinking deeper into Eddie's mouth and Eddie gags on them.

It's the feel of Eddie's throat fluttering around his fingers that sends Steve over the edge, thick white streaks of cum splattering Eddie's face, neck and chest.

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Steve has left the building, letting his animal brain take over as he pulls his fingers out of Eddie's mouth, covered in Eddie's saliva, and uses them to rub his cum into the leather of the collar.

"Mine," he whispers reverently before capturing Eddie's lips in a surprisingly soft kiss.

Eddie's too out of it to really kiss back, floating somewhere above them, so Steve decides to clean him up before the cooling cum becomes uncomfortable.

Pressing another soft kiss right between his eyebrows, he tells Eddie, "I'll just get a washcloth, be back before you know it.

And he is, taking no more than ninety seconds to return with a glass of water and a warm washcloth to clean Eddie's cheeks and chest. He removes Eddie's pants and carefully cleans his groin as well. When he's finished, he takes off his own pants and underwear, grabs the soft blanket hanging over the back of the couch, and joins Eddie on the couch.

He pulls Eddie on top of him and spreads the blanket over them. Wayne won't be home for a few hours, so Steve isn't worried. Above him, Eddie gets comfortable, nestling his face in the crook of Steve's neck and sighing contentedly. Steve begins to stroke Eddie's hair, sure that if he could, Eddie would be purring right now. With a smile on his face, Steve decides that buying the collar was the best idea he ever had.

He closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to Eddie's forehead before letting sleep take over.

[atopvisenyashill]

one thing i remain baffled by is how they decided to portray jace's visit to winterfell. they made cregan's voiceover the opening sequence of the entire season yet gave us next to nothing to explain why he gets so involved later on. it's almost like they treated the north's appearance as fan service. i understand them deciding that the accounts we have are inaccurate or biased, but if none of that was cregan's motivation then what WAS? any ideas where they're going with him???

okay a few things

yes objectively they're just treating the entire northern plot and i would argue the bulk of the riverlands arc as fan service. i think this is bad writing that came about due to the short seasons - they've talked a bunch about how hotd is more "intimate" it's about this One Family but that's just like,,,,, not true! For one thing, there's THREE different families here lmao (Targaryens, Velaryons, Hightowers) but for another even despite some of the annoying fixation on Only Targaryen Kings that F&B has, every section is about that king's COURT not JUST about the Targaryens in it and the dance specifically is about a LOT of different people. but they just prioritized the king's landing/dragonstone story lines over everything else to the detriment of every other story line so now the north and riverlands, which is INTEGRAL to the ending of the dance, is reduced to like, that unnamed prince of dorne cameo equivalent in got s8 instead of being an entire story arc in and of itself.

i think even more specifically, this season likely WAS supposed to be the same amount of eps (10) as last season but then the strike happened. they could see it was about to happen and figured they had eight scripts mostly finished so they prioritized those and are going to tack the last two eps onto the front end of season 3. this is a wildly different show but grey's anatomy did something similar with seasons one and two - they had scripts for 16 episodes of the first season but the network said they're only getting 13 episodes, so they tacked the last three onto the front of season two, so season two was like 27 episodes. the thing about that is that the "finale" of season one is still REALLY good as ending point (that "meredith i'm so sorry" "you must be the woman that's fucking my husband" is just an amazing goddamn ending to a season) so it really worked as the finale ( i honestly didn't realize it wasn't meant to be the finale until a few years later). vs this is so clearly not the finale they were gearing up to and i would bet real money on the first two eps of next season being FULL of action and ep 2 being very obviously the finale we were meant to get, and probably features the winter wolves.

beyond strike/production interference which i do think is the main issue...........the hater's take is that this is a self fulfilling prophecy wherein the main show refused to prioritize the Stark storylines (completely changing and utterly destroying both Sansa and Bran's arcs, forgetting about Rickon for years on end, turning Arya and Jon into standard Action Heroes instead of a conversation on the harm being forced to be The Action Hero takes on a person's psyche, stealing Catelyn's entire arc and giving it to Robb then cutting them both off at the knees anyway) because they thought the Lannisters and Dany were cooler, getting that sweet sweet merch money because the Lannisers and Dany have name brand recognition, then prioritizing them more in the story because that's what the fans want, then justifying it because its what the fans want, but the reason the fans want it is because they cut the Starks to begin with, etc etc. Vicious cycle here until we get the poor Cregan actor doing his best Kit Harington impression and nothing else. They obviously aren't the only people to get that treatment (see DORNE see GREYJOYS) but it's like...this is one of the main three families in this series, reduced to nothing because they're "boring." They're only boring because these bitches cut every single aspect of their story out of the goddamn show! "north story is boring" sorry but if you think the winter wolves are boring and claim you like asoiaf because it's "real and gritty" i think maybe you don't actually like the "real and gritty" parts of the story at all, i think you just want to see a hot person with a shitty blond wig kill people on a dragon. unfortunately, d&d did only want to see that lmao and that's the world we're stuck in now.

[aois-amaterasu-painting]

Black B- PASS- Special Issue - The GazettE - NINTH Reference book - (part 3 - Members interview translation)

■ Interviewer: Finally... after three years, a new original album!!

Aoi: Why are you trying to force the excitement? (laughs)

■ Interviewer: Please don’t tease me (laughs). Since this band interview will introduce the magazine, can you tell us your first thoughts upon completion?

Ruki: First thoughts? All I could think of was "death." There was nothing but death (laughs).

Uruha: (Laughs)

■ Interviewer: Death, you say (laughs). So you felt utterly spent.

Ruki: It felt like a posthumous work.

Reita: (Laughs) When it was done, it felt like, “Ah, we made it through.” When you’re extremely sleepy, it’s like…

Ruki: Turned to "nil" (laughs).

Reita: Yeah. And it’s amazing we finished in time.

Ruki: Anyway, I was thinking, "We have to make it in time!" But even when we did, it didn't feel like we could take a breather.

Kai: That's true. There was a sense of relief, but also a feeling of, “Did we really do everything we could?” (laughs). Now that some time has passed and I’ve listened to it repeatedly, I feel like we made a good piece of work. Of course, there were no issues (laughs).

Uruha: For me, after the mastering was finished and I listened to the final version, my first word was, “Fast.”

■ Interviewer: What do you mean?

Uruha: It’s about 45 minutes long, but it felt shorter. Like, “That was quick.” Even though we spent so much time on it, I thought, “Is that all?” (laughs). There was a sense of ephemerality in those 45 minutes.

Ruki: Your words just summed it all up... Thank you very much.

■ Interviewer: No, we’re not done yet (laughs). What about you, Aoi?

Aoi: If I only talk about the moment we finished... it was like I passed out, and then it was over (laughs).

Reita: That’s right (laughs).

Aoi: But everyone really did their best. By the end, everyone was working purely on willpower. The mixing took a long time, working from noon to morning, and then starting again at noon. But those behind-the-scenes stories don’t really matter to the listeners.

■ Interviewer: Since you’re all saying it was that tough, does that mean this was the hardest production process ever?

Aoi: The production process seems to get harder each year. Not just the music, but everything we release takes a considerable amount of time.

■ Interviewer: In recent years, it’s not just about judging the music but also doing more hands-on work yourselves, right?

Aoi: We want to release something we think is cool... because we are people who want to show everyone something we find cool. It’s a natural flow for it to take time. It’s not about how others evaluate it, but about showing everyone what we think is good. We want people to listen and feel it, so we get particular about it regardless of the time it takes. Of course, the workload varies, and we hardly saw each other towards the end, but being together for 16 years made it possible... Is it okay if we wrap up here?

■ Interviewer: Hahaha! So, we're still in we're still in the introduction part (laughs).

Ruki: Please structure it with bold letters like this.

Reita: Shall we move on to the personal interviews then? (laughs).

■ Interviewer: No, no (laughs). Let's go back to the topic. the GazettE is often seen as a band that emphasizes its worldview, but you are also a band that follows what you want to do at the time, making you quite free. From "TOXIC" to "DIVISION. BEAUTIFUL DEFORMITY," and "DOGMA," what direction were your desires headed in with "NINTH"?

Ruki: "DOGMA" was a conceptually strong album, so the songs had a certain direction. This time, we wanted to show that this is our ninth album, something that reflects our journey from the first album to now. Rather than focusing on a musical genre, it’s more about showing our life perspective—something that reveals the history of the GazettE.

■ Interviewer: So it’s a condensation of the GazettE’s trajectory.

Ruki: Yes. We’ve done many things to get to this point, and now we’re straightforwardly showing that. Without aiming for a particular image or how we want to be seen, we wanted to say, “This is the GazettE now.”

■ Interviewer: When this kind of guiding principle—being both a theme and not a theme—was presented, what did you all think?

Kai: It fit perfectly with being a theme yet not a theme. However, we didn’t specifically discuss it like we did with the "DOGMA" concept.

Ruki: Yeah.

Kai: It wasn’t something that could be understood simply. I kept wondering if there was something more to it. Of course, I knew it was our ninth album, but I initially thought the title “NINTH” was temporary. But when it was officially decided that the title would be “NINTH,” my thinking shifted to what RUKI mentioned.

Ruki: Regarding each song, I think we were talking about their positioning in live performances, whether they were fun, intense, or whatever.

■ Interviewer: I see. So, while it's full of aggression, there are also ballad-like, melodic, and melancholic songs.

Uruha: Yeah. At the initial stage, it was like deciding a setlist, keeping live performances in mind. That was always the foundation. Since the previous work "DOGMA" was such a strong image-driven project, we knew we weren’t going in that direction again. We thought it would be natural to go in a more straightforward direction this time. So, we naturally came up with songs while considering live performances. As the songs gradually came together, we sometimes felt a certain atmosphere was missing and created new songs to fill those gaps. But the basic approach was natural.

Aoi: So, while we were mindful of live performances, there wasn’t a clear overall vision. It was more about putting out songs and adjusting as we went along. Even when you talk about a “live feeling,” there are many different forms that can take.

■ Interviewer: So, as time passed, "NINTH" gradually took shape, and everyone started to share a concrete overall vision at the same time?

Uruha: Well, we might not have had a clear overall vision until the very end (laughs).

Aoi: Yeah, I think we didn't have one this time.

■ Interviewer: That’s surprising. Didn’t that make it more challenging?

Ruki: There was the difficulty of creating songs that fit, but we weren’t particularly aiming for a unified world view throughout the album. When you listen from start to finish, the flow was already good. It’s because we had “DOGMA” that we ended up this way. Instead of a single story like “DOGMA,” this album is more purely about the current the GazettE.

Aoi: That's right. It's different from saying we have no concept.

Ruki: Exactly. If you ask if there's no concept, it's more like, "Hmm..."

■ Interviewer: So, because you have 16 years of experience, you can naturally express what’s inside and shape it into an album?

Ruki: Yes… So, it was like making a typical album. Creating a piece with a beginning, middle, and end. The title reflects this too. It's not about having some big overarching theme, like the title suggests, but rather each song has its own world, expressing what "the GazettE of 2018" is about, I suppose.

■ Interviewer: I wonder if there's a deep meaning behind the word "NINTH" here.

Ruki: Well, that might have been typical for us in recent years. But honestly, I can't really say anything much about it this time (laughs).

Reita: Haha, yeah, that's true (laughs). Also, we've always been conscious of making something that shines in live performances, but I feel like that standard keeps getting higher each year. So, this album might just be a collection of things that meet that standard.

■ Interviewer: When the songs started coming together, did you all naturally understand and play them in sync with each other?

Ruki: How was it?

Reita: In terms of being in sync... This time, we really only gathered for pre-production at the very beginning (laughs).

Uruha: Well, there were parts that went smoothly and parts that were challenging. But we introduced a system for smoother data exchange this time, which made interactions between members less stressful than ever before.

Reita: Yes, we’re fully modern kids (laughs). It was very convenient.

Uruha: In the past, we’d email files, and if you missed the email, it could be a problem. This time, we had a place where the latest data was always available, so we just had to check there.

Ruki: Certainly, when the members gathered, there was always the task of taking something home with you, so the process of finalizing things was probably less than usual.

Reita: And (with emails), sometimes when you tried to download the data, it would already have expired.

Ruki: That happened a lot.

Reita: But that doesn’t happen anymore.

Uruha: It's hard to ask for a resend, so sometimes you just had to wait for the next one (laughs).

All: Hahaha!

■ Interviewer: You wouldn’t have to say, “Send it again,” which can delay things (laughs).

Aoi: Haha. But, it's really convenient, huh? Especially because corrections could be made quickly.

■ Interviewer: It seems like this approach really suits the current state of the GazettE. Just from this segment, it sounds like everything went incredibly smoothly, but...

Ruki: Actually, it was quite difficult (laughs). Especially the process of producing the songs. It’s like harvesting vegetables.

■ Interviewer: I see, starting from planting the seeds.

Ruki: Yes. And the cooking after harvesting is quite challenging too, waiting for the final product to be good.

■ Interviewer: So here we have 12 carefully selected masterpieces.

Ruki: Yes. There were some songs that weren't completed until the very last moment to ensure they were satisfactory. It's like that song from “Kiteretsu Daihyakka” - “What happened to the cabbage?” (laughs).

■ Interviewer: Which song was completed at the very last moment?

Ruki: ……………… Oh, it just smoothly went by. (laughs).

Reita: Ahahaha!

■ Interviewer: Oops, I should have reacted more! (The interviewer was not familiar with the opening theme of “Kiteretsu Daihyakka” called "Cooking March")

Ruki: It's okay. The 11th song, "ABHOR GOD."

Reita: That one was tough.

Ruki: It's the crucial part that leads towards the very end.

■ Interviewer: I heard that the whole band composed this song together, which is rare for the GazettE.

Ruki: Yes. Because I was working on the lyrics, I wasn’t able to join the band for that part.

Reita: Well, he was kind of like remote control (laughs).

Uruha: There were about three different versions... no, maybe more.

Kai: Yeah, there were more.

Reita: And in the end, it mutated suddenly.

All: Hahaha!

■ Interviewer: I see (laughs). The sing-along chorus “Wow - Wow” is also fresh for the GazettE.

Ruki: I recorded that part after everyone had already heard it. I didn't have time to let them hear the demo, so I presented it after recording it, saying, "Here it is." On the contrary, I was curious about how the four of them had created it together. When I asked Uruha, he said, "REITA jumped around..." and "We made it so that it would be jumpable."

Reita: Well, I just jumped around. And the next day, I had muscle pain.

All: Hahaha!

Aoi: I watched the process closely without getting too involved.

Ruki: This part was handled by Kai, this was what REITA mentioned, parts where members were involved are well reflected, I think.

Reita: When I sent the data and asked, “How is it?” RUKI responded with, “How do you all feel about it?” (laughs). He wrote something like, "Are you guys having doubts?"

Uruha: Well, we were (laughs).

Reita: RUKI probably had a different idea in mind. It wasn’t quite that… more like…

Ruki: Well, rather than different…

Kai: It was more like I received directions from RUKI saying, "I want it to feel like this," so I gathered up those keywords and started thinking from there.

Ruki: I thought it should be fun and intense, but the first sounds that came were quite maniacal. I thought, “Oh, maybe they’re struggling with it.”

All: Ahahaha!

Aoi: Especially these two (URUHA and KAI), they really felt responsible (laughs).

Uruha: We felt it, we felt it.

Kai: Yeah, yeah, yeah (laughs).

Ruki: When the song started to come together, it was quite dark at first, which made me feel a bit down.

Reita: (laughs) Sorry about that.

Ruki: There was just one phrase, an intro part in the original song. I personally thought, "Oh, that's good." So, I called and asked if it would be okay to use that as the intro.

Aoi: The rest was no good (laughs).

Ruki: No, no (laughs). We kept that part and just made the tempo a bit faster.

Uruha: Speeding up the tempo was tough.

■ Interviewer: That’s really a collaborative process for a song.

Ruki: If you say so (laughs). It might look like we flipped the table.

Reita: It felt like someone just ate the strawberries off the shortcake.

All: Ahahaha!

■ Interviewer: I see (laughs). That fun atmosphere can be felt in the sing-along parts.

Ruki: I thought it would be good to have that kind of vibe.

Aoi: So, it’s not us but the audience singing that part?

Ruki: I didn't think about it that far. Do you think they’ll sing it? In our case, even if we include such parts, our fans don’t usually sing along.

Reita: That’s true.

Ruki: It's like with "Maximum Impulse.” The members' faces just get redder and redder.

Reita: Yeah, especially me (laughs).

Aoi: Oh, I need to listen to the new chorus parts.

■ Interviewer: Yes, the new work seems to have a lot of chorus parts.

Ruki: We’ll verify it during rehearsal.

Aoi: Are there any parts that seem too difficult?

Ruki: I don’t think there were any.

Reita: Well, you say that every time (laughs).

Aoi: Sometimes, if the rhythm is completely different while playing, it’s the most tricky part.

■ Interviewer: I see. The new album also features melodious and emotionally charged songs with a straight beat, like "UNFINISHED," which might not have been possible in the previous album. Were you concerned that such impactful songs might overshadow others?

Ruki: No, not at all.

Aoi: Oh, we have a new perspective here.

■ Interviewer: Oh, really? (laughs) Did you also have the intention of showcasing the original coolness of visual kei, which is your forte?

Ruki: No, we didn’t have any intention of appealing outwardly. We just did what we thought was cool at the time. Things that might have seemed unconvincing or outdated before now feel better. We’ve always thought it’s better to be a band capable of various types of songs. After “DOGMA,” people might have assumed we’d continue in a certain direction, perhaps towards a more metal sound, but we didn’t think that way at all.

■ Interviewer: So, it wasn't intentional.

Ruki: Even if we’re good at something, it’s not intentional. On the contrary, sometimes we intentionally avoid certain things. During “DOGMA,” we purposely didn’t include audience singing parts. So, this time, it's more standard, I suppose.

■ Interviewer: Understood. And this time, you released the music video for "Falling," the practical opening track, ahead of the album. This is unusual for the GazettE, but it seems to show your unwavering confidence in the band now.

Kai: We weren’t particularly conscious of confidence in the band, but when RUKI created “Falling,” we all recognized it as the prologue of "NINTH." We felt it was the beginning.

■ Interviewer: Ah, so it's similar to the fans' perspective.

Kai: So for me, during the process of creating the song, I listened to "Falling" with the mindset that this is the prologue.

Uruha: And by not selling it, but instead choosing to release it for free, I think it definitely increased awareness. I think "Falling" was good because I heard that the evaluation of the song was high, which raised expectations for "NINTH." So, that song became a very good introduction, and I hope the album will continue to surprise with different approaches from "Falling" to "UNFINISHED." It feels like it was well-calculated, so it's ultimately alright.

■ Interviewer: Showing a glimpse of the album in advance didn’t have any negative impact; it made it more effective.

Uruha: Exactly. The album doesn’t continue with the same type of songs, so there’s no disappointment.

■ Interviewer: Aoi, how do you feel about the songs lined up in the album?

Aoi: There were parts where it was difficult to grasp the overall picture until it was completed, but the final result is very satisfying. Honestly, I didn’t expect it to fit together so well, but it turned out to be an album with a solid story.

Reita: Yes, it’s easy to listen to and has everything. We will perform other songs on the tour, but there won’t be any sense of discord when they’re combined, and I think this is the current ideal form of the GazettE.

Kai: As for me, the process was unusual and we were pressed for time, so I had mixed feelings. There were moments of anxiety, but also relief when it was finished. This album is packed with those feelings, and it’s different from anything we’ve done before. The process felt simultaneous with our emotions, rather than trying to catch up with them. The songs felt like they progressed alongside us, and I felt that strongly this time. It’s quite refreshing.

■ Interviewer: I see. How about you, Ruki?

Ruki: I poured a lot into each song, so I can’t look at them objectively yet. I have strong feelings for each song. But I can say that I put everything into it. Even though we were pressed for time, there was no compromise. It was a situation where we either compromised or didn’t sleep, and I think we managed to push through to the end. This applies to the staff and engineers as well. If I were in their shoes, I would have definitely quit. Normally, engineers don't stay overnight.

Kai: Haha, they might have felt like we were punishing them.

Ruki: So, I think what we've done up to this point won't happen again, and I feel like this album embodies that dedication.

All scans are from The Archive (rad-is-more) Interview translation is ChatGPT.

[moon--mama]

Some more ideas I have now that I’m done reading Iron Flame:

**Andarna is the seventh breed of dragon, which means Violet’s second signet might be something that no one has seen in 600+ years. What if it’s something like “purification” and she’s able to heal venin? Sort of like healing or mending, but purifying instead.

**I expect that Xaden will attempt to tamp down the reality that the earth magic is tempting like a drug. With the issues he and Violet already have in being honest, it’s going to be a wild ride that will probably lead to a breakup at some point. This series has had far too much spice and fluff to go on another three books without some turmoil. Of course, that’s not what I want to see happen, but there aren’t any rainbows without rain.

**in a breakup scenario, or even an Evil Xaden scenario, Violet knows the ultimate secret that could utterly wreck Xaden’s life. If she let it slip that he was hiding his mind reading signet, literally no one would trust him again. His leadership would absolutely be called into question. She’s not amazing at keeping secrets, so it’s only a matter of time.

**General Sorrengail’s communication before the final chapter states “we have tried every method we know of, as you requested. There is no cure. There is only control.” It’s from a random Nolon Colbersy. This leads to several thoughts. First, why was Lilith trying to cure something? Who or what was she trying to cure? Could be a venin, could have been papa sorrengail, could be herself, or could even possibly be Violet. Second, is Colbersy alive? Third, “we know of” suggests that perhaps there’s information they don’t know—in a society that has been happily deleting and omitting information for centuries, it’s likely there’s some more info out there.

**the shared dreaming about the Sage: What if the Sage was going after both Violet and Xaden on purpose, since together they’re a crazy weapon? Since they both kept having the same nightmare, and Violet kept thinking about how real it was because it kept changing subtly, it seems like a powerful venin might be able to project themselves into a dream. The dragon crew knows very little about mind powers, since they kill off most intinsics. Maybe the Gryphon riders have some answers—but if they aren’t talking to each other about their recurring identical nightmares, it’s unlikely that they will talk to other people.

**knowing Xaden can read minds makes this series suddenly more hilarious. Think about all the times Violet thought something cringey and then Xaden responded. She has thought to herself over and over “oh? I must have accidentally said that out loud.” I was even getting annoyed that it kept happening until the big secret came out, and now it’s just funny to think about.

**another sad thought about the mind reading—Xaden and Cat were betrothed. Xaden developed new powers what, three years ago? It’s hinted that he used to be in a relationship with Cat, like an actual relationship, even though he’s now completely over her and plays it down to Violet. What if there was a sudden moment when he went to see her and he was able to read her mind for the first time? That would have put a quick end to any relationship. Poor guy was probably pretty shaken up to realize that he could now pre-scan his ladies to find out why they were interested. If they were betrothed, it’s also likely that he spent a lot of time at her uncle’s house as a little kid, so there’s probably some Riorson family memories tied up in his relationship with Cat too.

**I don’t think it’s possible that Tairn’s previous rider is alive. The dragons have that telepathic link that hurts when it’s severed. Turning venin evidently doesn’t sever dragon links, since Sgaeyl seems to be freezing Xaden out (he still has signet powers, the GPS link to Violet, etc) However, I do think it’s possible that the venin general is still alive. Xaden kept watching for his body in the river and never saw it.

**is the venin magic just a gigantic glaring plot hole? Because you can’t tell me that every single infantry person wouldn’t “reach for power” if it was there and it meant saving the lives of their friends or living through a battle.

**we never actually saw what happened when Xaden “turned” venin. There might be more that was said or done. His POV cut off when he woke up from his memory/nightmare. Do we count the dream as a memory?

**At one point, Lilith said to Violet “when you become a mother” and not “if.” I wonder if this will take an “oh no we left all the contraceptive tinctures in Basgaith” turn at some point. Are Venin still people? Can they have children? Does that make the children part Venin? Maybe we will find out.

Okay that’s all for now but I’m sure more ideas will occur to me.