#trying to be brave ahhhhh

[unapologeticsimp]

I suck at writing, but I love it so much I hate it.

Some braine waste for you.

Sigismund Dijkstra/Original Female Character

He felt troubled.

Troubled? Was that the word he would use to describe the pattern he had just uncovered.

He had been reveling in what he thought had been a great victory, way to have his forbidden cake and savor every tantalizing bite, flaunting to the others drooling at the very idea.

Hell, he had even found a new habit in salivating at the thought of her, only he had already tasted every inch and curve.

She was no doubt difficult, it had taken years to perfect the recipe. Little by little, slowly exchanging ingredients and ways of preparing.

His reasoning for persistence seemed to change by the day, perhaps the hour if he knew the days drew close to her arrival.

And that is where he had found himself in such a conflicting state.

Was she as much of a prick as he was when it came to the twists and turns included with every plan?

He couldn't decide, if she had known or not, but he felt like a fool reflecting back now.

Feeling as if she bent to his very gaze had him under a false ego, having gotten ahead of himself in thinking a divine creature as her had been tamed by the hand of man, his hand at that.

Knowing when she was due to arrive in Novigrad, now being able to recognize the tantalizing aroma of the peculiar pattern he had recognized with his new gifts obtained in order to be able be the only one she would run To.

And from the surface, it had worked.

Charging at him in fit of lust edged with intense pain had been tuned. He could feel the scent of her calling him the moment she walks in, now the first week of every month.

The first week of every month.

On the coin every time.

It drew a smirk to his face to realize it. A scoff to himself his mouth opened before he could analyze the repercussions of his fat mouth. "You've been using me to satisfy your heats."

The young woman that walked in the door just as he accused her, which made her pause briefly.

"That wasn't obvious?" She questioned with a chuckle, a raised brow at his declaration and even more at the look that crossed his face at her statement before he shook his head.

The look of each calculation and angle played through his mind before he shrugged in agreement. "I suppose it should have...been implied with your heritage."

"A new scent from any...solutions to your leg should have too, my dear, but I suppose love can be quite blind." She teased him with a wink.

[spaceyaemonds]

If this fic took place before the show it so would be the interns being like "oh who's she?"

Like she brings the baby for a ear infection or something at the end of abbots shift and the interns are like "aww is that grand baby abbot"

Until the baby goes "dada" at jack and then they all start doing math 😭

hi friend!!!

ahhhhh!!! okay okay a small little drabble under the cut!! also, I gave baby girl a name, but she will mostly be referred to as bug!

Your poor girl is crying her little eyes out as Dr. King and the guy who introduced himself as “just Whitaker” attempt to assess her.

It’s just an ear infection, you know it’s just an ear infection. But your poor baby is screaming her little lungs out and it’s just breaking your heart.

You should have called Jack. You should have called him the second her temp spiked back up even a little.

Honestly, you’re surprised he isn’t in here yet, or that Perlah or Dana haven’t come by to see her.

Dr. King finally takes pity on the four of you and hands her back, “I think you’re right, it does appear to just be an ear infection, but I’d like to have a senior resident or one of our attendings look her over, just to be safe,”

You nod, gently shushing your girl as she clings to your neck, cries finally quieting down.

“Whitaker, I’m going to try to go find Dr. Robby or Collins, can you wait here with them?”

Whitaker knows she isn’t really asking, but glances awkwardly in your direction before nodding, “I’ll make sure that her chart gets updated,”

Dr. King quickly leaves the room, and Whitaker pulls her chart back up on the tablet.

“Why are you not called Dr. Whitaker?”

He glances back up at you, smiling softly, “Well, I’m still just a med student, I haven’t, uh, earned the title yet,”

You nod, not fully understanding but smiling back at him nonetheless as he goes through her chart.

“Layne Abbot? Are you two related to Dr. Abbot?” His eyebrows raise up at you in question, and you bite your lip to hide the smirk creeping up.

“Something like that,”

Whitaker smiles again slightly, “Should I go get him? I’m sure he’ll want to know that his granddaughter is here,”

He says the worst thing at the absolute worst time.

Jack saw Layne’s name on the board while leaving trauma one, and wasted no time getting to the room the two of you were in, ready to question why the fuck you didn’t call him, when instead he hears Whitaker calling his daughter his granddaughter.

Bug must sense him, or hears the scoff he lets out when he hears the garbage that leave Whitaker’s mouth, because her eyes instantly find his.

And because as much as she loves her mommy, nothing compares to her daddy, those pretty eyes that mirror yours have tears welling right back up in them, and a small whimper of “daddy,” quickly leaves her mouth.

Whitaker thinks he wants to die as he watches the attending that typically works night shifts quickly but gently take the baby from you.

He looks between the two of you, face flushing as he tries to stammer something, anything out.

“Whitaker.”

“Yes, Dr. Abbot?” He winces at the way his voice sounds.

“Go find Robby and tell him my kid has an ear infection,” Jack doesn’t leave room for argument, not that Whitaker would in the current moment.

Whitaker quickly takes his leave, and Jack turns to you instantly, “Honey, why didn’t you call?”

You frown, brave face finally leaving you as tears well up in your own eyes, “She wouldn’t stop crying, and I got really scared when her fever came up again. I didn’t want to waste time calling and rushed here. I didn’t think it would take that long for you to realize we were here and then she wouldn’t stop crying in here,”

Jack takes his free hand and runs it through your hair, “You’re okay, honey. It’s okay,”

Looking down at his other girl, he kisses the side of her head, “You’re okay too, baby,”

Dr. King comes back in a minute later with Dr. Robby and Dr. Santos trailing behind her, stopping mid step once she sees you clinging to Jack’s left side and your daughter clinging to his right.

Santos’ own eyes widen slightly, looking to Dr. King for an answer.

“Ma’am, I didn’t realize you know Dr. Abbot,”

Robby steps around the two of them, “If the last name of our patient didn’t give it away, the listed father on her medical chart should have, Dr. King,”

[youvebeengalindafied]

I love every iteration of the trio relationships of Wicked they’re all so insane in their own unique way.

Like you have the all-but-canon Galinda/Elphaba, which is basically the plot of the musical. Two girls whose fates are intertwined, but whose faults are not in their stars but themselves. Elphaba always walking forward and Glinda always trying desperately, fearfully to keep up. Two very different people who cannot change who they are and the roles that their world leads them to take because of their perspectives…but who also see the best in each other that even the audience sometimes doesn’t see. Ever-trusting, ever-loving, a stronger bond than all the powers of the world. And Glinda, who is so very afraid of losing, desperately begs in the end to die for Elphaba - to sacrifice herself for once - and Elphaba demands that she LIVE instead. Recognizing that she can do everything Elphaba couldn’t, because they are BOTH FLAWED CHARACTERS IN COMPLEMENTARY WAYS AHHHHH-

And then you have the canon Elphaba/Fiyero, which on the surface/in Act 1 seems like a pretty standard-issue romance plot. But then Act 2 hits and you realize that no….Fiyero is just as absolutely wild as Elphaba is and is the only one really matching her energy. He dedicates his life to finding her and helping her cause. He actively criticizes the wizard and Morrible when even Glinda dares not. He runs away with Elphaba and she allows him to come knowing that it’ll probably kill them both. He straight up dies to save both of the girls, because he sees their lives and powers as more important than his own. Then his death precipitates the rest of the story, because it’s the one love she ever had that wasn’t conditioned. Wasn’t limited. And Elphaba saw through him from the start: She watched as he jumped to rescue the Lion cub when even she didn’t know what to do. And she goes back for him in Act 2, trusting him to come. “It wasn’t like that.” “But it was.” BUT IT ALWAYS WAS

And then you have Glinda and Fiyero, which I have already written entire ESSAYS on here about. Two people who are too perfect together - who know each other TOO well. They love each other very much: Fiyero pleads with Glinda to run away with him, tells Elphaba that they’ll find Glinda again and make up with her, and his last words are him begging for her forgiveness. And she’s using all of her political power to protect him, to save him from himself. But he’s too much like Elphaba, and he criticizes Glinda, telling her what she already knows about herself: she’s a power-hungry sycophant. They still love each other anyways. The problem is the giant gaping hole in the middle of their relationship where a young green woman used to be.

AND THEN

AND T H E N

YOU HAVE THE ABSOLUTE DEVASTATION THAT IS THE TRIO TOGETHER.

Fiyero’s borderline irrational obsession with Elphaba! Elphaba’s borderline irrational obsession with Glinda! Glinda trying desperately to be more like Fiyero - somebody brave enough to take the leap!

The hole in any pairing within the trio where a third core component of their relationship/friendship used to be! The bittersweet tragedy of a thing that can never be! The way they all complete each other but can never be together because who they are and the world they’re in won’t allow it!!

Elphaba’s overwhelming compassion that destroys her life! Fiyero’s plans and genre-savviness that lets him save them at his own peril! Glinda’s courage in the end to be Glinda the Good! The heart, the brains, and the nerve!!!

“I miss her too, Fiyero” / “Someday, you and Glinda will make up. and we’ll all-“ / “He loves her…” “Glinda, I’m so sorry” GOD.

Idk what they put into these three characters but I am THERE FOR IT BABY.

[latenightdaydreams]

Can you write about Viking!Konig who's the leader of his clan. One time he raids a random village and meets fem!reader, who's beautiful with her hazel eyes and round breasts. Then he takes her as his wife!!!!! Ahhhhh I'm crazy about this. I'm sorry for asking too much 😭😭😭 BTW thank you for accepting my previous request ❤❤❤ love ya so muchhhhh

König is 100000% a boobie man and I will die on that hill😮‍💨 lmao, I LOVE this!!!! Don't ever feel bad for requesting. I'm having a bit of a writers block and this story helped me find my flow again🩷. I hope you're well and taking care of yourself🥰🥰

Viking!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, violence, naughty thoughts

1.0k word count

Part 2 Part 3

.

.

You wake up from your slumber hearing the screams from your neighbors in the small village you live in. You rush past your family who is now also scrambling to their feet, your husband rushing to gather himself as your children panic. You open your door slightly to see rooftops on fire and dead bodies lying in the roads.

Quickly, you close the door and turn to your husband with wide eyes, “Callum, it’s Vikings…” Your voice shakes with fear. You’ve heard stories from other villages about their attacks, leaving nothing but death and sorrow in their paths.

“We have to run, grab the children!” Callum whispers loudly as you stand there feeling overwhelmed with emotions. Everyone always assumed this village would be safe, untouchable, but this proved them all wrong.

Rushing to your children, you quickly squat down, “We are going to have to run, as fast as you can, okay?”

The children nod their heads crying, your oldest trying to be brave for you. Just then you all jump as the door is flung open. Screaming, you turn to see three big men and an equally large woman enter your home. An even bigger man, ducks to enter your home. Your eyes go wide seeing him, you’ve heard of the giant Viking man, but you assumed he was more of a myth to instill fear in people.

Using your body to shield your children as you step in front of them, you look to your husband. Callum seems to be frozen in fear, unable to even breathe. There’s a moment where no one moves and it’s quiet other than the sounds of your children crying.

The large man has a mask covering his face, his pale blue eyes are the only part of his face that is visible in the low light in the home. He has an aura about him that could strike fear in any warrior’s heart.

“P-please leave us, we don’t have much.” You speak up, your voice trembling.

The leader turns to two of the other Vikings and speaks to them in a language that you’ve never heard before. They nod and move to my husband, restraining him. He screams and the woman hits him, making you fear for your lives more. You look up wide eyed as the tall man begins to approach you.

König sees the family before him, a man frozen in fear, three children cowering behind their mother, and then their mother… you. A small but brave woman, brave enough to speak up when her husband couldn’t. It makes him impressed, wondering what type of woman could be so bold.

König approaches you with a hungry look in his eyes. His gaze drops down to the way the thin fabric of your nightgown clings to your body. Your breasts are massive and perfectly round, nipples hard and poking through the fabric. König has always loved a woman with large breasts and a little extra. Your breasts looking so perfectly full, his mind begins to wonder if you are still feeding your youngest. Your body is simply perfect for him.

“Name?” König asks in a low voice.

“Leave her alone!” Your husband shouts, trying to protect you. He gets hit by one of the people restraining him.

“I- I’m y/n.” You respond trying to be brave.

The closer he got the more his true size became obvious. The smell of his clothes-stained copper from the blood and his natural musk filled your nostrils. You feel small as he towers over you. His eyes are still wandering your body.

“I’m König.” He says finally.

He feels himself getting lost in your eyes as he takes in the beautiful color. You gaze up at him with the most stunning sage green eyes speckled with golden brown. The most beautiful hazel eyes he has ever seen. Gently he raises a hand to your face and caresses it, leaving a streak of blood behind. Your skin is so soft to his large and rough hand. He can only imagine the rest of you is this soft.

“Is this your husband?” He points to Callum.

“Yes, and these are our children. Please, we are simply farmers. We don’t have much.”

“Hm, I see.” König takes a deep breath and looks down at your breasts again. “Are you still feeding the youngest?”

“Y-yes…” You answer hesitantly wondering what type of question is that.

That is exactly what he wanted to hear. You are not only bold, daring, and beautiful; but also soft, desirable, and can create children for him. This is what he’s been looking for, and he finds you here. Wasting your milk on a weak man’s offspring.

“Perfect, you’ll be coming with me.”

Your jaw drops stunned as you look up at him shaking your head no, “I- I can’t leave my family. My husband-”

“That man? He’s not worthy of you. You deserve more, and I intend on giving it to you. Now please Liebling, don’t fight.”

König steps to you and grabs your arm to pull you away from your children. Your husband begins to yell at König, saying that he can’t do this. He can’t just take you. Your children stand confused, not understanding the whole situation completely while the youngest cries.

“Please, don’t.” You whimper, looking back at your family as he drags you away.

“You’ll be happy with me. You aren’t a farmer's wife, you’re a queen. My queen. Now come.” König scoops you up into his arms bridal style, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your thighs as he carries you away from your small home.

“Don’t worry, my people will let your family live.” König whispers to you as he walks. His eyes are drifting down your body. He feels the anticipation rising as he begins to walk you back to his clan’s ship on the coast near your village. He wants you in his home, in his bed, undressed where he can enjoy you and gaze into your eyes as he makes you cum. Soon.

Part 2, Part 3

[11queensupreme11]

HI IM HERE TO REMIND YOU ABOUT PONTOLEON!!!!

AHHHHH YES THANK YOU FOR THE REMINDER.

okay, pontoleon 🥺💖

yes he's another incest freak, but he's more of a soft yan so he won't be TOO crazy.... maybe 😭

anyways, this dude's lowkey kind of like thalassandros: snarky, rebellious, HATES poseidon...... but he's a more cowardly, which is painfully ironic considering his name means "LION of the sea" or "BRAVE as the ocean" 💀💀💀💀

while thalassandros has no qualms with snapping at their dad and even trying to attack him, pontoleon stops there 😞 behind all that rude snark is a scared little boy who's absolutely terrified of his father 🥺💔

he's a softie deep down. he genuinely loves all of his siblings (not so much the half-siblings tho LMAO) and his mother, but not his father. in fact, he's the only one who (secretly) considers poseidon as not his father. even thalassandros, who hates poseidon, still acknowledges him as their father, but pontoleon? he hates him so much; for hurting his siblings and their mother, for ruining their family, etc. he doesn't see him as a father, just a monster who hurts his family 💔💔💔 he just doesn't say any of this out loud due to fear

he WANTS to stand up to him, but he's too scared to even speak to him unless spoken to 😭 he's loud, cocky, and arrogant and rude, but the second he feels poseidon's presence, he quiets down and shuffles closer to his mother.

he's one of the younger kids and was born from a later batch of eggs compared to the rest (aside from dory) so he was MOSTLY spared from a good portion of the abuse that the eldest kids weren't, but he's not BLIND to it. he sees it all the time. they way his siblings clam up whenever they sense poseidon, the way they start acting more stiff and quiet whenever he's around, how even his own mother gets scared sometimes.....

he's kinda like the cowardly lion from the wizard of oz! he knows that he's a coward and WANTS to be brave, but while the cowardly lion manages to actually show acts of courage, pontoleon is WAY too terrified to. he has no problems being brave in other situations, but what he truly wants is to stand up to his father and get rid of him for good. his fear just gets in the way ESPECIALLY since he knows he'll die for sure 😞💔💔💔💔💔

[tennessoui]

I just went through most of the pretty bird tag on tumblr again and ahhhhh

I love it so much their crazy relationship they way they are literally freak4freak or more insane4insane

Also during the au where obi Wan gets amnesia and forgets anakin how does he get his memories back is that ever said?

lmaooo freak4freak or more insane4insane or even perhaps insane4youdon'tknowhowinsaneyouareyetbuticanseeyourpotential

thank you for the pretty bird love!! and youre a brave soul for venturing into that tag, i'm pretty sure it was the first tag i established for aus/fics on this blog and it's messy lmao

as for that specific pbatmb au, i feel like obi-wan just gets his memories back one day. like idk a good night's sleep fixes him. seeing some random seasonal fruit at the store fixes him. something just totally inconsequential does it after months of anakin desperately trying to get his obi-wan back (and then giving up and being unable to leave but also no longer luxuriating in obi-wan's presence like a whipped and downtrodden but still loyal dog)

i imagine obi-wan's fucked up enough that when he does get his memories back he wants to wait a day or two to announce this critical piece of information to his men and anakin. mostly he wants to observe what anakin has done, what he's like now, what obi-wan's injury has meant for him. he gives anakin a mark to take out to measure his compliance and dismisses him without even a good job to see how he responds. he wants to wait a bit longer, just to get more data to add to his understanding of anakin, but when he tries to go to bed that night, he's lonely. he doesn't want to sleep by himself. he, actually, cannot sleep by himself. it's annoying, but he comforts himself with one last task to test anakin with: how quickly does he come to obi-wan's door if he receives a text from him at 3 in the morning demanding his presence?

(very quickly)

(and then, quickly, very tearfully when obi-wan greets him with a very familiar and deeply beloved pretty bird.)

[wanderingelvis]

controversial elvis opinion: i honestly prefer elvis when he gained more weight to like baby elvis. i feel like hearing like 75!elvis comforting and holding you and calling you “yittle ‘un”. ahhhhh!!! the dream

i just wanna be his controversially young girlfriend who he dresses up like a doll!

the DREAM <3 I made Elvis have some darker, more controlling vibes here, I hope y'all like it!

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

Pairing: Controlling BDE!Elvis x Young Girlfriend!Reader

Elvis is your whole life

No one has a hold over you quite like he does

You trust him absolutely, why wouldn't you? You don't know any better

And that's exactly why Elvis adores you

You're just a gullible young thing and even you'd admit that you can be a little dumb sometimes

But that's okay - because Elvis is there to think for you

You just need to sit by his side and look pretty

And you do a real good job of that, Elvis often reminds you

Honestly? Elvis has the final say in every aspect of your life

You look to him whenever anyone asks you anything, desperately seeking his guidance

From which of your pretty lil' skirts you're gonna wear or how much allowance money you can spend at the International Hotel, Elvis has the deciding say

Some might call it controlling but you like it, to you, it shows that Elvis cares about you and you haven't always had that before

So you just follow him around like a little lost puppy, with wide eyes and a lot of love in your heart for the big, old rock star that you call Daddy

Elvis also loves what a sensitive little thing you are

Even when you get a paper cut and tears will start forming

And you become a sniffling mess that is being pulled into his lap

Elvis will hold you, his big, strong arm tightly wrapping around your tummy to hold you in place as he coos at you

"S'okay, yittle 'un, Daddy's gotcha, ain't that right, brave girl?"

And you'll softly nod as he thumbs away your little tears from your rosy pink cheeks, letting out a small hiccup every now and then, making you bob up and down adorably in Elvis' lap

And that happens approximately three times a day

But you can't help being a crybaby, it's just in your nature

And Elvis doesn't mind, he loves being the one to comfort and hold you

He knows you get easily overwhelmed and overstimulated

In fact, he encourages it when it's just you two in his suite in the International Hotel, overlooking Vegas

He loves pushing you, his lil' doll, to your limits

And of course, he knows your limits better than you do

He always knows what's best for you

"S'too much, too big-"

You mewl through little cries of overstimulation and lust

"I know you can do it, baby, I know you can take it." Elvis will grunt, trying not to finish as soon as he sees your teary eyes roll back in pleasure when he fills up your tight walls

"Good girl, baby, doin' so good f'me."

He'll praise, as you let yourself go

All over him

And Elvis just know in those moments that he has something extra special in his life now that he has you

So of course, Elvis loves to show you off whenever he gets the chance

He'll make sure his pretty little dolly is always by his side

It's like you're on display for everyone to see, the King's prized possession

"Honey, give everyone a lil' twirl why don't ya? Show everyone how pretty my yittle 'un looks in yer new dress hm?"

Elvis will say midway through a rehearsal, through the microphone whilst he's stood on stage

Obviously, you'll do whatever you're told, and you give everyone a spin, looking up to the stage and keeping your eyes only on Elvis

And everyone will compliment you, making you blush and giggle

In those moments, Elvis will fall in love with you all over again

They make the controversial headlines all worth it

You're all his and he ain't ever lettin' you go

taglist: @prompted-wordsmith @vintagegirl2005 @imaginationlast @presleyenterprise @librafilms @ccab @wolywolymoley @rina3476 @billhaderstan420 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @elvispresleywife @ellie-24 @hollbunn @sassanoe @elvisflowerchild @18lkpeters @eliseinmemphis @fallinlovewithurlove @presleyhearted @elvisbf @slimerspengler @octobers-snow @meetmeatyourworst @reddie-freddie @domaniquessidehoe @mygreenlights @kxnnxy @that-hotdog @lana-4life @littleloveysworld @dandelionxbby @lollabear @s0phlabrunette @mumu-hellokitty @elvispresleyxoxo @sergeantelvis @mooodyblue @ashtag2887 @jaqueline19997 @kyliesgwagon @monster-is-awesome @livelovedilfs @neptuneismysister @woniipii @louisejoy86 @lokislittlepup @uselessbutinteresting

[wordpress-blaze-242934854]

Widow Night Out: Reclaiming Joy in the Midst of Grief

There’s something deeply sacred about laughter after loss. For many widows, joy can feel like a betrayal — like smiling too wide might somehow erase the depth of our grief. But here's the truth: joy doesn't replace grief; it sits beside it. That’s what Widow Night Out is all about.

It’s not about forgetting. It’s about remembering that we are still here — still worthy of fun, of sisterhood, of music that makes us dance, and conversations that make us feel seen. It's a space where no one has to explain why they cry between laughs or why their ring still sits on their finger. Everyone already understands.

The Power of Togetherness

Grief can be isolating, but Widow Night Out reminds us that healing doesn’t happen in silence — it happens in community. When widows gather, there’s an unspoken bond, a shared strength that flows from one woman to the next. We tell stories, sip wine or tea, wear something that makes us feel alive again, and most importantly — we show up.

Healing Isn’t Linear

There are no rules for how long you're supposed to grieve or how quickly you're supposed to move forward. But one thing is certain: allowing yourself to enjoy life again is not dishonoring your past — it's honoring you. These nights are gentle invitations back to ourselves.

Why It Matters

Widowhood is more than a status — it’s a journey. And that journey deserves pauses for lightheartedness and reminders that we’re more than what we’ve lost. We are still becoming.

Widow Night Out is not just about going out — it’s about stepping back into life, slowly but intentionally. Whether it's a quiet dinner, a dance night, or just gathering with women who "get it," it’s a celebration of resilience.

To the widow who needs this reminder:

It’s okay to laugh. It’s okay to dance. It’s okay to live.

You are not moving on — you are moving forward.

Keep going, beautifully.

Source: Widow Night Out: Reclaiming Joy in the Midst of Grief

[serqphites]

hiiii katie!! i’ve been in a massive longlegs phase (mostly bc of lee let’s be honest) and your blog has been a GODSEND 🤍 i’ve been thinking of writing a lee fic for a while but i had a lil idea that i wanted to send your way 🤭

i cannot get over the idea of wife!lee with r on a beach trip—especially if her wife fucking loooves it. she’s not a huge fan of going to the beach (her autistic ass does not fuck with sand) but she’ll go every couple of years bc ofc she’s going to deal with it for her woman!!!!! she’d sit on the beach watching r letting herself get absolutely DEMOLISHED by waves and she thinks it’s cutie af. she will (VERY reluctantly) get in the water once her twice but if something touches her leg? she’s screaming like he arm is getting chopped off she would HATE THATTT.

lol that’s all!! i just love ur blog and i would love to see u expand on this because ur like The Lee Harker Blog Ever for me :) much love ��🤍

— gracie

hello gracie !! oh my god PLEASE write a lee fic i will reblog it until the day that i die. also so honoured you wanted to send this my way hello?? i could cry 🫶 AND THEN YOU ALSO SAID IM THE LEE HARKER BLOG FOR YOU?? sobbing throwing up rolling around on the floor literally deceased

—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—

lee fucking HATESSSS the beach (girl me too) her autistic ass can’t handle it. the sand sticking to her? AHHHHH. the water that’s freezing and lowkey stinks? FUCKKKKK. yeah no this really isn’t for her.

except for the fact it now is because her wife loves it arguably more than she loves her!!

god i can just picture it now, you’re walking onto the beach so fucking happy to finally be back after not going for ages (lee cried and locked herself inside the house the last time you tried to go), and then there’s lee… 🧍‍♀️ girly is just stood on the pathway that leads up to the sand, your bags and folded up towels in hand as she refuses to take just one little step forward onto the sand.

you have to push her to the spot you’d like your towels placed

lee sits on her towel and doesn’t move, she won’t even uncross her legs. she’s just sat awkwardly leaning over the towel so she can make you a sandcastle <3 she’s using various children’s tools she’d ordered from amazon to build, picking up the shells around her to turn them into decoration.

she’s so proud of herself when you come back from the water for a drink 😭 “honey! look what i made you” and she’s all shyyyy

also lee is 100% the kind of person to write your initials in a heart in the sand, and not small too she wants it to be seen by everyone, just so they all get the message (aka “stop staring at my wife’s ass you pervs”).

ice creams on the beach!!! lee is so mad at the wasps swarming her LMAOOO you’re actually petrified so you’ve moved, poor lee is trying to be brave and impress you but if they get too close she drops her act to scream like a child.

after hours of trying to convince her to get into the water, she finally agrees! you lead her to the water (despite her purposefully moving slower than a sloth) and let go of her hand to make your way in, assuming she’d follow.

🧍‍♀️”i don’t want to :/”

SHES SO CUTE I CANT IM LITERALLY ABT TO CRY JUST THINKING ABT HER

“come on baby you can do it! it’s just water!” you attempt to encourage her, and surprisingly it works. lee veryyy slowly starts inching her way towards the water, a wave crashing into her ankle just as she does so. she makes various weird noises, you know when you eat something that feels like it’s just come straight out of a volcano? it sounds something like that.

but hey she’s doing it! she’s walking towards you with a big smile on her face, your expression mirroring her own. that is until lee feels something slimy wrapping around her leg, imagine the scream she lets out when she glances down to discover there’s a green alien trying to worm its way inside of her (there’s seaweed on her leg).

my girl runs for the hills. screaming like she’s being tortured before dropping onto the sand and swatting her attacker away (which is again, seaweed).

you make your way over to her in an instant, removing the seaweed from her leg as you stifle a laugh. the woman, your wife, now caked head to toe in sand… even the poor girls eyelashes have sand in them.

“can we go home please?” poor baby :(

once you’ve returned to the comfort of your own home, lee gets the most cuddles she’s ever gotten from you in her life. despite her silliness (not silliness, she was very viciously attacked by aliens) you’re still so incredibly proud of her for facing her fears and going on a fun little adventure with you.

[picnokinesis]

HI!!! sorry if this is out of the blue but I just read "disarmed" and OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!! I am going insane over it and I needed you to know!!!! I am really into blood and gore especially when it comes to thoschei (I would read about them destroying each other over and over again in any way really, especially in fucked up ways where they almost kill each other and kinda enjoy it), but somehow it's really difficult to find a good fic that is ACTUALLY that descriptive and visceral, and it's especially harder to find one that has no smut (I don't really like smut so it was amazing to find a fic that fits all my criteria). I was hooked from the first chapter and oh my god I don't usually read ffs and when I do I usually skip the ones with more than two chapters but I literally got recommended this one on here after I asked for specific recs and after reading the first chapter I was like oh my god this is insane and went through it all at once I even had dinner eating with my phone in my hand reading with eyes wide open 😭😭 aaaaaa. Also I am a sucker for spydoc with religious undertones and I always yap about wanting more fics that explore that so those lines here and there where the doctor is described as a god in the master's eyes were a really nice surprise (I am obsessed with them). And the doctor-laika parallels !!!!!!! insane !!!!!!!! And on top of this I LOVE temporal loops so what more could I want?????? this was a beautiful read and I'm gonna think about it for a while ....thank you for this...wow

Oh my days HI HELLO this is SO lovely AHH thank you so so much!!!!

Okay first off - real talk, I feel your pain EXACTLY. I'm a firm believer in people writing whatever they want, however I am sex-repulsed, and so genuinely just can't read smut. Thus, with any fandom I'm in, there's always a ton of fics that just are not for me. But on the other hand, I love whump, blood and gore - especially the sort you can get with spydoc, where the violence is intimacy and the intimacy is violence. But, as you said, it's really hard to find content in any context that explores darker adult themes, but also doesn't go into sexual territories too. I think the most obvious example of this is like, horror movies? So many horror movies have sex in them rip

BUT YEAH SO LIKE...if you're looking for that sort of fic, you have absolutely come to the right person oh my days, like that's PRECISELY my brand lmao. I am so honoured and utterly delighted that 1) someone recced by fics to you 2) you enjoyed disarmed this much like ahh!! Also, the fact that you read it whilst eating dinner is sending me, you're a brave soul hahaha, but ahhhhh <3 <3 <3 BUT YEAH it's about them being entangled in each other and hating it, about them trying to cut these threads tying them together and only ending up knotting themselves up tighter. The religious undertones thing gets me so much as well though, because it's like - the Master thinks that the timeless child stuff makes the Doctor like a god, even though it doesn't, it just makes her a child that was exploited, but HE sees her that way and it's really fun to play with that. I definitely used the line 'irreverent reverence' in a fic somewhere once, regarding how the Master looks at the Doctor, and that's the exact vibe. I think Disarmed in particular is my most rancid fic, mostly because I gave myself permission to go ham with it. It was a story that had been sitting in the back of my brain for years, and so actually making it happen was such a cool process - even though, at times, I lowkey hated it haha. Disarmed is like a feral cat that scratches your arm raw when you try and hold it hahah

Okay but if you want more fics, I can dig some up for you. I guess it depends on what you want? Unfortunately, the best example of "extremely visceral gore but no sex" spydoc that I can think of is not on ao3 anymore, and I made the mistake of not downloading it, but it's by river_of_words on ao3 and if it ever shows up again, I believe it's called 'the unusual hungers of theta and koschei' - and it is extremely rancid but also gorgeously written, and horrifying. That is easily the goriest one. There was also another one that weirdpug wrote for whumptober one year but that's also gone. However! I can rec you a few more that range from gory to heavy whump to general whump:

Fics by other people:

the art of dying by lupescx (where the Master keeps getting killed and the Doctor keeps reviving him)

my greatest escape is my biggest mistake by BlueLillyBlue (ft bloody swordfight between the Doctor and the Master)

what's life like bleeding on the floor? (currently on anon but this one only posted yesterday and it's FABULOUS)

Blood In The Waters by Val_Creative (the Master finds the Doctor dead in a rather horrific way)

As a rule: you should read everything by SleepyMaddy and empty_of_dust just in general because they both write fantastic spydoc. They don't really write gore as such, but they do write these two trying to destroy each other quite often, and definitely write blood and whump on occasion haha. To narrow down their whumpiest fics, off the top of my head you should check out:

i'm all yours (but you're all mine) - (ft the Doctor psychically torturing the Master)

swimming through mercury - (ft the Master having a pretty gnarly arm injury whilst fighting off the Cyberium)

these eyes are made of winter - (this is more psychic whump? It's excellent - divisioned!Doctor vs the Master)

it makes me who i am (i burned it all but i'm doing fine) - (again, psychic injury, but there is blood!)

and without you (is how i disappear) - (the Doctor threatens to cut up her and the Master's shared timeline)

And then, this one is more of a character study for the Master, but it's fantastic - the gardener by riptheh - and involves the Master doing a lot of murder, however it's not that explicit in terms of blood and stuff.

Fics by me:

Outside of Disarmed, by two goriest fics are definitely:

and i find you all unwoven - (aka the heart surgery one)

i'm the paper cut that kills you - (aka another timeloop one!)

There's also scalpel (the Doctor rescues the Master from black market surgeons, and is grumpy about it the whole time) which isn't gory as such but it does match the rancid vibes of Disarmed.

don't go (you're half of me now) - (ft the Doctor and the Master dying together because they mutually murdered each other)

your ex-lover remains dead (i'll kill who you hate) - not gory, but the Master and the Doctor do psychic surgery on each other whilst holding off their regenerations? I don't think this one ended up being that visceral at all, compared to Disarmed, but I do describe the psychic surgery like brain surgery, if that's of interest.

Translation Notes - not gory, but it does focus, again, on a psychic injury which I use a lot of visceral imagery to describe. Fundamentally though this one is about linguistics haha

And then there's also my zombie au but if you're not one for multi-chapters as a rule, and if you're not into AUs then this probably isn't the one for you, but I thought it'd mention it anyway! It's got a lot of violence and blood but actually this one is really more about trauma and virology than anything else lmao (but it is also 100% about the relationship between the Doctor and the Master, so...)

I can't think of anything else off the top of my head but hope this keeps you busy for a while! :D But thank you so much for this ask, this was SO lovely!! And definitely let me know if you find any other non-sexual bloodthirsty spydoc fics, or have any gore/whump related thoughts with regards to these two!!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Down to the Meadow

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 3

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, descriptions of depression, descriptions of violence/gore (canon typical), more of Frank being concerned about what reader is eating (very vague ED references)

a/n: AHHHHH I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! A huge thank you to the anon who reminded me that it was Monday LOL. I am so glad that someone else enjoys this story because I love writing it. This chapter delves into Franks trauma and mental state and I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 5.5k

The dream evolved after the first iteration. Each time he closed his eyes, a new horror cemented itself into the sentient nightmare that was slowly consuming his entire life. 

As with the first dream, it started with you joining Maria in his standard nightmares. Your beautiful figure sitting on the carousel alongside his late wife and kids as those assholes gunned you down. A patch of red slowly spreading across your pretty white dress as your smile morphed into a face of horror. 

The weird thing was, his subconscious laced the nightmares with gorgeous, peaceful images of you. Like his mind was desperately trying to remind him that good things are easily ruined. 

You pulling cookies out of the oven. Then, you being blown to bits in front of him in the field. You laughing at a joke he didn’t mean to make. Followed quickly by your screams as the life drains from your face. 

You picking flowers in a sun kissed field, before a large black mass overtakes you, swallowing you whole. 

Though his resting mind was eager to pry him away from you, to spare you a terrible fate, his waking mind was yearning to let him wrap himself around your finger. The fine line he was treading started to look more like a noose��and he was weaving it himself. 

A cold, squishy object nudged Frank’s outstretched hand deliberately. Groaning, the Marine retracted his hand into the cocoon of sheets he had created in his uneasy sleep. A pitiful whine shattered the early morning silence and sent a white-hot strike of pain through his skull. 

Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, his throat twisted in a silent cry of pain. Prying his eyes open, he was blinded by the daylight, searing an imprint into his eyelids. 

Nausea burned in his gut as he contemplated opening his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to lie here and rot all day, but Max clearly needed to go out. The thought of bringing Max outside the apartment right now was enough to make a gag rise in his throat. An idea rattled around in his skull, the pain of his hangover too intense for him to even remember that Frank Castle never asked for help unless he was on his death bed. Braving the sun’s unintentional inferno, he let his eyes slide open again. 

A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he drew a hand up to block the rays as best he could while he took in his surroundings. He had fallen asleep on his couch after making a mess of his apartment, but his phone sat prominently displayed on the coffee table amid a smattering of empty bottles. Grasping it for dear life, he sent a message as quickly as possible before shutting it off and letting his head fall back to the pillows. 

Frank: I hate to ask this but could you take Max out for me? I’ve got a bad headache. 

A vibration let him know that you’d responded, prompt as always. 

You: I’m sorry you’re not feeling well ☹️ I’ll be right over. 

Breathing deeply, Frank heaved himself off the couch, stumbling to the door to unlock it before retreating to his created sanctuary. 

Frank: You can let yourself in. Door’s open. 

Drifting in and out of a painful consciousness, Frank hazily remembered the door opening, a cool hand on his face, the same gentle palm offering him some extra strength painkillers and a glass of water, before all signs of other life disappeared from his apartment. 

When he woke again, you were returning with Max in tow—your ethereal form outlined by a halo of golden light as you crouched in front of him. Frank was vexed by the sight of the skirt of your beautiful dress pooling on the floor.

“Hey, big guy. Feeling any better?” Your voice was soft as your dainty fingers stroked his arm with a featherlight touch. 

Frank grunted in affirmation, not trusting himself to look at your dazzling eyes and risk seeing honest concern. There was no way his fatigue riddled mind could resist you, it was too dangerous. 

You gave him a small smile. “Well I took Max for a walk to and around Central Park, so he should be a happy camper for a while. Did you want me to stay?” 

Blood rushed to Frank’s ears. This is exactly what he was afraid of. Do not say yes. Do not say yes. Do not— “Please.” His voice cracked around the word, making him cringe. You fucking asshole. You piece of shit. 

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but tell it to quiet down. It doesn’t seem to be helping.” Your knuckles brushed over his cheek and he leaned into the touch, weakening your worried frown. 

“I just…I ain’t good company, sunshine. I shouldn’t let you stay, I can’t ask that of you.” Your pinched expression intensified as you listened to his deep grumble crack on the pet name he used for you. Cupping his cheek tenderly, a small smile slipped through as you reassured him. 

“You don’t need to be good company for me to enjoy being with you, Frank.” You shuffled closer to the couch, hand moving to scratch lightly at his scalp which made him groan in appreciation, eyes falling closed. 

Frank sighed, a strong sense of guilt ballooning in his chest “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Oh stop. You deserve to be happy. Whatever and whoever helps you get there, yah?” Your voice was definitive, almost stern, which made the corners of his lips twitch up in a smirk. 

“So bossy.” He murmured, his smirk growing as you gave his hair a small tug in retaliation.

“Can I sit?” You jerked your head to his couch and he nodded, sitting up to make room for you.

Ignoring his desire to let you care for him, he rested his arms across the back of the couch. The ghost of your body heat dancing over his exposed skin in an almost comforting waltz. It wasn’t a great placebo for your gentle touches, but it would have to do. 

You were quiet for a moment, worriedly glancing around the apartment. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the coffee table. While you wouldn’t dare call Frank’s place “messy,” your rigid, grouchy neighbor was never less than meticulous. He’d mentioned his military background to you once, which would explain his precision and attention to detail. And that was why the litter seemed so out of place, you supposed. 

Preoccupied with brainstorming a way to assist, Frank nearly made you jump when he broke the silence. 

“Sorry I ain’t much fun.” 

You chuckled, poking his shoulder. “I already told you, tough guy, you don’t have to be fun. You can sleep more if you want.” 

“Nah.” Frank’s face contorted with a grimace making you giggle.

“Ok, have you eaten yet?” You tilted your head at him, darling smile persisting even though his place was a mess and he was a disaster. His doubt began churning again. She deserves better. Send her away. 

Frank just shook his head, both to clear it of the whirling thoughts and to answer your question, so you continued. “How does an incredibly greasy burger sound?”

The Marine groaned, “Like fuckin’ heaven.” 

Giggling, you took his hand. “I know a good diner not far from here. Join me for lunch?” 

“Sounds like a plan, sunshine.” Frank allowed you to pull him from the couch, appreciative that you took care not to jostle him too much. Armed with more painkillers and a pair of sunglasses, the two of you headed out for a meal. 

The amount of care you took, in the short walk between his apartment and your destination, to ensure his comfort on the bustling NYC streets was honestly outrageous. How someone could give two shits about a man that massacred people without trying was beyond him, but he was grateful nonetheless. Keeping a tender hold of his hand, you led him around the other New Yorkers with immense grace, your sweet face bright with a smile the entire time. Thinking it would be best for his pounding head, you refrained from making conversation, simply turning around to grin at him every once in a while. 

As you reached the diner, you pulled open the door for him before his outstretched free hand could touch the handle. Frank was always so chivalrous around you, it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. Smiling sweetly, you bit back a laugh at his narrowing eyes as he skeptically accepted your action. 

“Thanks, sunshine.” 

“Why of course, sweetheart.” You coated your voice with honey and Frank grumbled, furrow above his brow deepening. Bringing his calloused hand up to your lips, you placed a kiss on his knuckles before brushing over them with your thumb. “Relax, Frank. Let someone else care for you this time, hmm?” 

The tension on his face ebbed before evaporating. Poking his cheek, that was now dusted with a rosy blush, you giggled, pulling him towards an empty booth. 

Sitting across from you, Frank slid his sunglasses off to fully appreciate your appearance today while you read over the laminated menu. Dolled up in one of your signature floral sundresses, your hair was styled differently—pulled away from your face, revealing more of you to him. Natural light poured in from the window framing your booth, highlighting your slender hands and neckline that plunged deeper than normal. Frank found his eyes tracing the line of fabric down into the valley of your visible cleavage until your sudden movement spooked him from the trance. 

“Ooooo the red onion and goat cheese burger looks good. That must be new or I would have tried it before. What are you going to get?” You beamed at him, blissfully unaware of the way his thoughts lingered on your skin. Stuck in his own head, he wondered if your melodic voice would respond to his touches the way he wished it would. What would you sound like if he ran a hand over your thighs? Would you get louder once it became his tongue?

“Frank?” You took hold of his arm that was resting on the dull plastic table, startling him. Your pretty brow pinched, eyes running over his face for any sign of distress. “Are you ok? Is it too loud or bright in here?” 

“I’m a’right, sunshine. Jus’ lookin’ at ya, is all.” He grumbled, picking up his own menu as heat rushed to your face. 

“Oh, well, er—everything is good, so whatever you choose will be, um, good.” You stumbled through the sentence, trying not to dwell on Frank’s consistent compliments. 

A waitress eventually approached the two of you to take your order. Taking your cues from Frank, you ordered a strawberry milkshake with your burger while he requested a chocolate one—Frank seemed more than pleased about the addition to your meal and you weren’t quite sure why. 

While waiting for your food, you and Frank were looking out at the flow of people through the window beside you. You happily commented on their outfits, and what jobs you thought they held. Though it was clear you were being overly goofy to lighten his mood, he encouraged it—asking you to describe their personality and voice along with their job. 

Letting your lilting tone wash over him, he focused on the way your fingers fit so perfectly in his. Your thumb continued drawing patterns across his knuckles, even though your focus was outside. 

While you were giving a ridiculous impression of a man in a full suit that clearly thought he was tough shit, Frank felt a confession bubbling up in his throat. 

“Friday is my daughter's birthday. She would have been 18.”

“Oh, Frank…” The devastation in his statement made emotion well up in your own chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thought I owed ya an explanation. F’r the mess.” His hand circled towards himself lamely. 

“You don’t owe me anything. Not one single thing, sweetheart. I’m here for whatever you need, explanation or not.” You squeezed his hand again, looking at him with concern, but not pity. 

“I meant what I said earlier. You deserve better.” Keeping his eyes downcast, his heart plunged when your fingers stilled over the back of his hand before slipping out of his hold entirely. 

Closing his eyes in disappointment, he assumed he’d rightfully lost your support until he felt a burst of heat settle against his side as you wrapped him in an embrace. Your hand buried itself in his hair and he let you pull him into your neck. 

“You are exactly the kind of man I deserve, Frank. You’re allowed to grieve, and, honestly, if you showed no emotion that would be a huge red flag. It’s ok to struggle and it’s ok to ask for help. I am always always a door away if you need company or someone to talk to. I know I tend to dominate the conversation, but I have been told that I’m occasionally a good listener.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, stroking over the spot of impact gently when he subconsciously leaned into the contact. 

“I don’t doubt it, sunshine.” He idled in your hold before drawing back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he moved away. “Her name was Lisa. She, um, she died in a shootout. Along with my wife and son.” 

Before he could continue, your waitress returned to your table. Thanking her briefly for the food, you positioned Frank’s food in front of him, picking up a fry. Watching you turn to him expectantly, he found himself telling you everything. For the first time in his life, he understood why Red felt so strongly about his religion. Confessing his sins to you lifted a burden that he had lived with for so long, he had previously assumed it was a permanent piece of him. He’d found a new altar to kneel at, and he wouldn’t give that up, he couldn’t. 

He talked for what felt like hours. Telling you about Maria, their meeting, their love, their marriage. He told you about Lisa and Frankie, how he felt like he had failed Frankie more so than anyone else because of the responsibility he’d unknowingly placed on the boy’s shoulders. While he didn’t go into detail about their deaths, he spoke about things that had haunted him silently. The pieces of his relationships with his wife and children that he kept so close to his chest, Curtis didn’t even know about them. 

By the time he’d picked his plate clean, he was exhausted. Revealing his fears to you was relieving, but it took so much energy. Running a palm over his face roughly, he drained the last of his milkshake. 

“I’m sorry, sunshine. That was…a lot.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I appreciate you trusting me with this.” Your words were genuine. “Let me finish my burger and then we can go home.” 

His heart fluttered at the small implication that his apartment was your home as well. You may not have intended it, but it’s warmed his chest nonetheless. As you worked your way through the rest of your food, you remained tucked into Frank’s side with his arm around your shoulders. 

Letting his arm fall to your waist, he stroked a thumb over your hip gently, making you smile. Popping the last bit of sandwich into your mouth, you fell more firmly into his hold. Studying his face with a small smile, you brushed a few strands of hair off of his face, eyes landing on his lips for a moment before you looked away. 

Flagging down your waitress, you started to hand over your card but Frank’s large hand settled over yours. Passing the waitress his card instead, his lips twitched in a tiny smile. 

“I got this one, sunshine. Could she get the rest of that shake to go?” 

You grinned at him, pressing another kiss to his cheek. 

Frank was sure he hadn’t smiled this much in years. The pair of you traipsed along the city streets, under the impression that the sunlight would do you both some good. Of course, he’d needed to persuade you and your adorably furrowed brow that his headache had faded and could withstand the bright lights and urban ambiance. You’d once again woven your fingers with his as you ambled along, this time threading your arms together too. The heat of your skin pressed to his was a drug unlike any other. He was infuriatingly drunk on you and his heart refused to do anything about it. 

Because it was you, with your brilliant smile and silvery laugh. He’d been constructing walls around himself for years, and you’d strode up with a basket of pastries, walking straight into his life and tidying it up like you had always been there. 

Stuck in his own mind, Frank failed to see the teenager sprinting down the sidewalk. His growing daydream of you cementing yourself into his life was shattered as your hand was abruptly tugged from his grasp, your body falling to the cement under the weight of the gangly teen who’d toppled you. 

“Oh gosh, are you alright, ma’am? I am so sorry! I didn’t see—“ 

“The hell?” Frank snapped at the kid, who turned white as a sheet as he stared up at the towering man. 

Kneeling beside you, Frank felt his heart constrict seeing the crimson-tinged scrapes on your elbows, small trickles of blood spreading from them across your pristine skin. Not to mention, your beautiful dress was splattered with the remnants of your milkshake, the styrofoam crushed against your chest. 

Snarling, Frank turned back to the boy, still crouched beside you, arm outstretched so you could pull yourself up. “Jesus, did ya even look where you were goin’? Or did ya just feel like injuring her and ruining her pretty dress.” 

The kid’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped in terror, wide eyes watching Frank’s movements as he backed away in surrender. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been paying attention.” 

“Yah. Ya should’ve. Fat lot of good that does us now, though.” Frank spoke tersely, feeling a hand rest on his bicep. 

Sitting up, you gave him a pointed look before smiling at the teen. “It’s quite alright, I just got scraped up, is all. Don’t worry about him, he’s a little protective. Are you ok?” 

Only you would be able to experience a mess like that and worry about the idiot that caused it. The kid nodded, breathlessly running his hands through curly, brown hair. 

“I’m fine, ma’am. I am so sorry, again, did you need help—“ Bravely (or stupidly), the boy stepped towards you with an arm held out, offering to help you up. Fists clenching, a low growl left Frank, scaring the kid back into his senses. 

“Sorry, er, have a good day!” The kid chirped fearfully, dashing away. You giggled, craning your neck to watch him disappear into the masses. Grabbing Frank’s hand with your own sugar-stained fingers, you allowed him to help you stand, brushing a knuckle over his cheek when you saw his fierce scowl. 

“I’m ok, tough guy. He didn’t mean it.” Giving him an earnest look, you withdrew your hand from his face, giggling when he slid forward on his toes to follow the warmth of your touch. Gently sliding your palm against his nape, you scratched at his hair—earning a deep, pleased rumble from him—and tugged him back into a moderate pace. “I would love to get this dress washed so it doesn’t stain, though. Let’s get home.”

Tense scowl easing, Frank gratefully let you guide him back to your building. 

“Frank, really, I’m ok! You don’t need to—“ You pleaded, watching the man pace around his apartment, grabbing various first aid supplies to tend to your shallow wounds. 

Frank ignored your bargaining tone, shuffling through his depleted kits for the supplies he sought.  Armed with bandages, saline, and cotton pads, he kneeled before your seated form on his couch. “Course I don’t need to. I want to. That bother ya?”

Sitting before him in a cotton shirt and pajama pants, he felt his heart clench as he studied your soft figure. You shook your head at his inquiry, looking at him with eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion. Had he upset you? Was he being too pushy?

“No, it’s just…” You trailed off, eyes avoiding his own as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. His stomach tightened, waiting for you to reveal that he’d pushed you away, but the sentiment never came. “I don’t want to be any trouble, Frankie.” 

Oh. Oh. It’s not defensiveness, it’s doubt. Guilt. He’d been so wrapped up in his own insecurities that he had forgotten you were fully capable of falling prey to your own. Setting the supplies aside, he took your hands, looking firmly into your eyes. 

“Ain’t no trouble. Not to me. Not when it’s you.” His words were honest and the short, strangled gasp that escaped you told him you weren’t expecting it. A hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, making his mouth twitch in tandem. 

Silently, he pushed up your sleeve and rotated your arm to expose the torn skin. Dampening a cotton pad with saline, he swiped over the injury as tenderly as he could, terrified of seeing you wince. Holding still, you smiled at him, free hand coming to rub circles over his back as he worked. 

Focusing his eyes intently on the wound, he ignored the growing warmth in his chest, expanding with your continued touches. Though he was staring at your ravaged skin, his thoughts were elsewhere—leading him to put too much pressure on the wound. Your hand gave a barely noticeable twitch of pain, but he cursed his existence anyway. 

“Shit, ‘m sorry darlin’.” Loosening his hold on you, he bandaged up the shallow cuts. You just smiled at him, tracing a finger over his chin. 

“No need to be sorry, Frankie. Thanks for taking care of me.” He blushed, grumbling out a dismissive response and returning to his work. 

Though the day had already worn him out, long strings of words spilled out his mouth. Stories pulled from him by your sheer magnetism. You gave reassuring touches and encouraging nods as he once again told you everything. How he’d been a trouble maker as a kid and ended up enlisting, the brotherhood he’d found in Curtis and Billy. There was no way your perceptive eyes missed the flinch he gave when mentioning his former best friend, so he moved on quickly. He spoke about coming home to Maria and the kids, dealing with the shenanigans of two elementary schoolers while struggling with PTSD, the way he’d grown to appreciate the quiet and the way he hated it now. 

While you were more than comfortable carrying a conversation, he’d never found more solace in letting someone listen to him. You remained quiet, but present enough to stoke the embers of his energy as he rambled, squeezing his arm when he stuttered and smiling softly at the anecdotes. With a sigh, he placed the final bandage on your skin and pulled your sleeve to cover it. You were silent for a moment, studying the fabric of your top before his doubt got the better of him. 

“I’m sorry, you can leave if you want. I didn’t mean—“ 

“Oh Frank,” Chuckling softly, you pulled him into a hug. While the gesture was unexpected, he was overwhelmed with gratitude as he melted into the embrace. Pulling back slightly, you pressed your forehead to his. “What on earth gave you the impression that I didn’t want to be here with you?” 

Snorting at his own lack of control over his fears, he nudged his marred, crooked nose against your pristine one. “Wanted to give you a route to escape, is all.” 

“Don’t want one.” You whispered, growing breathless as he ran his fingers along the soft skin of your cheeks. 

The two of you sat there, slowly melding together, for what felt like hours. A cloud of hesitation and want steadily growing around both of you as you desperately sorted out whether or not to make a move. Before either of you could act on your desires, a shrill alarm rung out—startling you so intensely you shrieked, nearly toppling off the couch. 

“Shit, sorry, honey that’s me.” Large thumbs fumbling over the screen of his crappy phone, he shut off the horrific noise and chucked the device across the coffee table. “You ok?” 

You were panting, on the edge of giggles at your clumsiness, but you nodded. “Something wrong?” 

“No, sunshine, nothin’ like that. My friend, Curt, he’s hostin’ group today. Asked me to come.” Frank wallowed in the disappointment of the ruined moment, cursing his own rotten luck for pushing you away. 

“Oh, I can get out of your hair. Sorry to keep you!” Standing from the couch, you made to straighten the fabric bunched around your waist but a hand shot out to wrap around your wrist. 

“It’s not for a couple a’ hours, if you wanna stay.” Frank’s dark eyes flitted over your face, scanning for any sign of required affection. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to break into your signature dazzling smile and perch on the edge of his seat, practically sitting in his lap. 

“Course I’ll stay. I could make something for you to bring, if you’d like?” 

“Somethin’ like those addictive cookies?” Frank asked, raising a brow teasingly. 

Leaning in close, your murmur danced across his chin as you grinned up at him. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you the recipe, then you can bring them whenever you’d like. You have to be careful though, these are dangerous secrets I’m revealing to you, sir.”

Frank laughed, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll take ‘em to the grave, sunshine.” 

Scrolling through your phone, you sighed as you switched apps yet again. Nothing was holding your attention and the boredom of it all was eating you alive. 

Biting your lip hopefully, you flicked your screen to your message inbox, heart sinking when you saw there were no new messages. 

You’d spent damn near 8 hours with Frank, yet you couldn’t help but mourn his absence this evening. It was well-known both to you and your loved ones that you were quick to get attached to people, especially if they were brooding or lonely. Leo always referred to this as your “penchant for strays” given your obsession with pitbulls and black cats in addition to society’s lone wolves. But there was so much more to Frank than his soft grumpiness. 

Frank was sweet and protective, and his actions were proof that cared for you deeply despite only knowing you a few weeks. Your face felt clammy just thinking about the way he patched up your minor scrapes earlier today. You wondered if his tender first aid skills were developed during his short time with his wife and children. 

It was no surprise to learn about Frank’s tragic backstory. Though you had done your best to keep his life private, you’d managed to piece together the key points of his service, his loss, and his downfall. Your conversations today had simply filled the gaps, and fueled your existing desire to learn more about him. 

Despite your unassuming, feminine nature, you couldn’t help but empathize with Frank and his violent past. His actions didn’t scare you, revenge was something you’d dealt with intimately throughout your life, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful that so many dangerous individuals were no longer around to terrorize your beloved city. 

Learning more about his past had only drawn you to Frank even more, as if learning about each segment of his being only strengthened the invisible current that washed you repeatedly against his rocky cliff side. His violence wasn’t unnerving to you, simply more evidence that this man was exactly as passionate as you’d interpreted him to be. 

“The Punisher” they called him. The name was brutal, absolute. It wasn’t the image of the vigilante that you’d settled on. Yours was complicated, human. Just a man who loved his family so deeply that he was willing to bring hell to the people who took them away. His journey was one you couldn’t fathom, yet you understood. 

So you continued to pursue a friendship, maybe allowing it to blossom past traditional platonic boundaries, but how could you resist. Spending time with him meant time flying past, sharing bubbling laughs and stupid jokes with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon. When Frank was with you, his attention was deliberate and profound. He was focused on you and only you, even when surrounded by a myriad of other people and stimuli. You basked in the intensity of his gaze, letting it warm you from the inside out like a bright flame on a dark night. Did the world really expect you to not stoke those embers? 

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the unique text tone you’d assigned to Frank’s number sounded, igniting a bright smile on your face. 

Frank: You might have created a problem for me, sunshine. These guys want me to bring cookies every week now. 

You: All good things come at a price, sweetheart. Did you really think that you didn’t need to sell a piece of your soul to make cookies that good?

Frank: Pretty evil of you not to warn me. I’m starting to think this was your plan all along. 

You: Damn! You found me out. What can I do to make it up to you?

Frank: Do me a favor? 

You: What’s the favor?

A firm knock on your door startled you, making you drop your phone. Tilting your head quizzically, you shuffled over to peek out the peephole, grinning when you saw who had knocked. Pulling the door open, a very stern looking Frank—contrasted by the wiggling, excited pitbull at his feet—stood before you. 

“Hey there, sweethearts! C'mon in!” Beckoning the pair into your apartment, you led them to the couch, happily letting Max jump into your lap. 

“You’re spoilin’ him. He’s gonna think any furniture is fair game.” Frank’s gruff voice held a tinge of amusement but his face held a whirlwind of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. Clearly, he was avoiding something. 

“He’s the bestest boy, Frankie! He deserves to sit on the couch with me!” Squishing the pit’s face, you gave Max a kiss before looking at Frank expectantly. “Sooo…you needed a favor?” 

Looking away from you, Frank sighed, rubbing at his nape. “Yah, shit, I hate to ask this, sunshine. I, uh, I was hopin’ you’d be willin’ to watch Max for a few days for me?” 

Your heart pounded, body flooding with concern, and slight excitement. “Of course, Frank. Everything ok?” 

He nodded, slouching forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, still refusing to make eye contact. “Yah, just a business trip, nothin’ crazy. I just wasn’t expectin’ it and couldn’t get him into his usual place. If you don’t wanna do it—“

“Frank,” You placed your hand on his forearm, stroking his skin softly as you tried to encourage him to relax. “Of course I’ll watch him. That’s not an issue. I’m just worried about you is all.” 

Frank snorted quietly, letting you take his hand and pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “No need to worry, sunshine. I can handle myself.”

Sliding out from under Max, you strode over to the broad man on your couch and knelt before him, taking his other hand. “Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart—but I’m going to worry about you anyway. Anybody going with you on this job?” 

“Nah, just me. Why, you gettin’ jealous on me, darlin’?” Frank smirked at you and you shoved his knee, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at the new nickname. 

“You wish, Castiglione. I’m cool as a cucumber.” Mirroring his tender affection, you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Just don’t want you to forget about me while you’re out galavanting, is all.” 

“Don’t think that’s possible, sunshine. I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya.” Frank murmured, finally meeting your eyes. The two of you hovered mere inches apart, tension growing around you in a thick fog before Frank cleared his throat, dissipating it. 

“Anyway, I can leave a key with ya, if that’s not too weird…” 

“Yah, yah.” You let go of his hands, standing up to brush off your dress. “That works, Frankie. When do you leave?” 

“Well, uh, now. If you’re truly ok watching Max?” 

“I’d be honored. Just…promise me you’ll drive safe, sweetheart.” 

Frank’s gaze was fervent, drawing you in and pushing everything else away.

“I promise, sunshine.” 

Thank you for reading!! Comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated!

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrixx@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight

[fairytaehl]

lgief rewatch ep. 10

this one is a goodie!!! so happy with the progress we get in this episode from both miaomiao and ziqi. also, i think this water demon was probably my favorite in terms of the location design, the costuming, the ability, and plot along with it.

if youd like to discuss lgief, feel free to send me asks, chats, or reply to any of these posts.

ep 1 / ep 2 / ep 3 / ep 4 pre-festival / ep 4 festival / ep 5, 5 part 2 / ep 6 / ep 7 / ep 8 / ep 9 / ep 10

ziqi, let her peruse!

i like the difference between here and later in the capital where he indulged her tho.

ziqi taking the lead on cracking the case, and miaomiao and him are so perceptive!

thank you for reassuring her that it isnt her fault. very nice <3

its just heartwarming that he cares enough for her to try to dispel her worries without hesitation. i think this wouldve weighed down on miaomiao a lot if it he didnt say something, even though, yes, there are many distractions to follow.

they all rush forward but only ziqi realizes and goes back for miaomiao.

oooh how he says her name and how beautiful he looks as he turns around... gobsmacked at how hes real (like a human. like not a drawn character.)

im going to sound like a jerk here maybe but how come yao was SO worried about her joining them, making it a huge deal about how safeguarding her is her responsibility, to not even notice this? yao, if its your responsibility, shouldnt you be more attentive?

so what happens to all these people on the ground? does he move them, or do they just all get up like "woah, crazy town party last night!"?

crying at how miaomiao tries to bravely go in with them.

ahhhhh i love shots of the 4 of them... also i really love the atmosphere of the mountains. fog machine did its job.

just the little details of how ziqi quickly turns his head to make sure miaomiao is still with them, and grabbing the vine for her to go under it.

its scary how quickly they lost each other! no mercy.

god, i miss these early episodes where miaomiao had to problem solve and was actually seen as a knowledgeable person.

i do LOVE this show, but they did her dirty in the second arc!

full review is here

[unapologeticsimp]

THIS IS NOT DONE!!!

HOWEVER...I wanna see what the thoughts are.

BRACELESS

"You're typically a better liar than that." Serenity spoke lowly and carefully.

Her emerald eyes burned into the unusually bright brown orbs of the large man in front of her. Leaning on his elbows, large hands laced together, hiding his mouth as those dangerouseyes peeked over. An unbroken gaze following her every move as she took calculated steps across the room.

"Who exactly do you think you're talking to?" He responded in a deep and promising tone, far from the witty playful response she had been expecting. Hands still clasped as he answered.

"The books surrounding us, I apologize, should I have been more elaborate?" She responded, her tone flattened to match his, her eyes narrowing just the slightest as his pupils retracted.

She had started to play special attention, a suspicion creeping up her spine.

The slight grit of teeth echoed lightly in her ear as he bit back the small rumble that managed to escape. "Your sense of humor and wit is almost as dull as your..." the sentence trailing.

She didn't deserve one of his recent explosive episodes of scornful words. Beyond anything he was known for. One of the expected side effects he had been prepared to deal with.

Hence why he had been alone. *And* had ordered Happen to keep any and everyone away from him, especially in the coming days of a full moon.

Which, from what he had learned from their last few encounters with her, this one was one draw of a wildcard.

And that tantalizing scent drifting from her direction, put together all the pieces he had previously collected on her.

Pausing, Serenity's eyebrows shot up lightly as he seemingly stumbled with a comeback, that was unusual for the infamous Sigi Reuven. Normally the bastard was quick witted and a sense of sweet during their brief last encounters.

They had played a few games of keep away with information the each knew the other wanted, during which some tensions could be cut with a blade.

But now, as he sat stooping at his desk, she couldn't help but notice something...off.

And despite the lack of the scent of an oil she had taken notice on him each time. Yet this time, he *reeked* of a rival scent despite the copious amounts of fragrance surrounding them in his bathhouse.

"So my options are...you went out wandering in the wilderness, aimless like an scared little lamb." She chuckled, the shit eating grin that was fighting to play at her plump lips, brightening her freckle dusted face with an amused glow.

"Or you've been playing with witches." She continued to smirk stopping a few feet from his desk.

Sigi, did *not* find such an implication funny.

"You're a genius considering our last conversation consisted of nothing but my distain for magical wenches."

However much he, admittedly, enjoyed the sublte resistance she was giving him. As he had nearly every encounter.

He had a feeling she was close to discovering how correct she was.

"One disgused as a whore perhaps?" Serenity's eyes flicked to the brace he had hastily thrown aside when she opened the door.

"A Werewhore?" She smirked, holding a laugh at the situation before her.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

first i want to thank you so much for all that you do… feeding the housemd agere community near single handedly and bringing me and many others so much joy…. o7!! do take care of yourself tho!

second… sorry this is SUPER specific, so you don’t have to follow every detail if you don’t want to haha 😅 but could you write smth like, the ducklings find out abt house’s regression (to like 5ish) because he got triggered or was super stressed during a case, and started slipping involuntarily? trying to hold it back but fails and is then upset/scared and small… the team tries to take care of him for a bit b4 getting wilson who explains a bit & worriedly helps, n he & the team get greg to feel better! & maybe they ponder on the surprise of it a bit

Ahhhhh sorry for the wait! School begins once more. One more request to go in the stack!

-----

Word Count: 1552

Summery: House is given a bear from a dying child patient whose case they fail to solve in time. It causes him to regress involuntarily after being informed of her death.

*Warning for mentioned death of a child patient.

-----

CLANG.

House pitched his pager off the metal leg of his desk, and it skittered across the carpet. She was dead. They failed. They should have had at least a few more days. She shouldn’t have declined so fast, they had time. 

Apparently they were wrong. He was wrong. The little girl had her first of a series of cardiac arrests in the early hours of the morning, and each arrest that followed got harder and harder to pull her back from until, according to his pager, twenty minutes ago, when her time of death was called.

He wasn’t known for grieving dead patients. He wasn’t Wilson, he didn’t get emotionally invested in his cases enough to mourn when some inevitably died, but even he could admit that this failure stung worse than the others. Madalyn Fleech, just six years old. The nurses had gushed obnoxiously about her in the first few days after her admission, cooing about how cute, how sweet and brave she was. Like all child patients, he had thought. Oh-so brave and adorable until it came time for a test or exam, then suddenly they became a pain in the ass like all children. But Madalyn didn’t fight a single test. She didn’t fight any of the dozens of tests they’d put her through; she barely even cried. And then, and then…

The stuffed dog sat innocently on his desk, dressed in a doctor’s coat and staring blankly at him with its plastic eyes. It was purchased from the hospital gift shop by one of the girl’s visitors, and Madalyn had given it to him the day before when he was overseeing her lumbar puncture.

“I already got so many stuffies! I want you to have it, for helpin’ me.”

He intended to get rid of it, or maybe give it to someone more sentimental, like Cameron, but between DDX meetings and tests he hadn’t found the time. Now it was on his desk, looking at him, reminding him that he failed. She was dead because they had done something wrong somewhere.

Where? What did they do wrong?

Something stupid and emotional prompted him to reach forward and grab the dog. It was a golden retriever, filled mostly with stuffing with beads in the paws to allow it to sit upright. The lab coat it was wearing was cheaply made compared to the rest of it, and the flimsy stethoscope was curled up on itself. He smoothed it down with his finger and gave the dog’s head an absent scratch. The ambient hospital sounds outside blurred over, and it was like the only two things left in the world were him and this little toy dog. His hand brushed over a rough spot in the fur. A small portion of the fluff was matted with a hard neon green substance. Jello. Madalyn had probably finished her cup of lime flavoured hospital jello and then buried her sticky face on top of its head without thinking about it, like every dumb little kid.

But she wouldn’t have any more jello. She wouldn’t cuddle any more stuffies because they failed her. Madalyn was dead.

His eyes began to burn, and a wall of fuzz crowded his brain without his permission. No. Not right now. Go away. He couldn’t be small like this. Not here, sitting in his office with a dead girl’s stuffed animal, and not now, when his fellows would be back any minute for a debriefing on the case. But the fuzz wouldn’t listen, and the urge to squeeze the dog to his chest and cry only grew stronger. Did Madalyn feel like this? So small and out-of-control? 

It was like his adult brain was being smothered in a warm blanket, both comforting and terrifying. He hated slipping, and he hated it even more when it was caused by something like this. It was his job, death happened all the time. He gave in and hugged the dog tight. But it was his fault, and she was so little. He didn’t mean to let her die. She wasn’t supposed to die.

-

Cameron clicked her tongue and sat back on her heels. She’d asked every way she could think of; concerned co-worker, worried friend, stern request, she’d even broke down and patient-voiced him, a tone that should have had House snapping at her for daring to express pity, but nothing could get House to tell them what on earth was going on. All they knew was that they’d failed to diagnose Madalyn in time, that she had passed away, and suddenly House was crying at his desk with his face shoved into a gift shop stuffed dog and refusing to speak to them.

She turned to Foreman and Chase, who were hovering awkwardly by the door. “So… differential?”

Chase ran a hand through his hair, perplexed. “Jeez I dunno, brain tumour?” His tone was equal parts sarcasm and genuine suggestion.

“Maybe he finally snapped and this is some kind of mental breakdown?” Foreman suggested. “Who knows, maybe this patient finally got to him.”

“Patients don’t just ‘get to him’, though. We’ve lost people before who were a lot younger than—“

House cut her off with a little sob, and she startled. Madalyn’s death hit them all hard, but hearing House cry twisted something deep in her stomach.

“I think it’s safe to say this is about the patient.” Chase said flatly, then he squinted and pointed at the stuffed dog. “Is that the dog she gave him?”

Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Madalyn gave him her toy? And he kept it?”

“Yeah, yesterday, when I was doing her lumbar puncture.”

House really was clutching the dog like his life depended on it. She’d never seen him act anything like this, and if she was being honest, it was a bit unsettling. Everything about his body language screamed scared, curled up on himself like he was trying to hide away from them.

“Oh, no way…” Chase muttered under his breath, and she and Foreman looked at him expectantly. “He’s nonverbal, the dog, the crying, the hiding… What if it’s age regression? He was stressed out, he was upset about Madalyn’s de— the case, and her toy could’ve triggered it.”

Instantly House tensed up in his chair, and that was enough to confirm Chase’s theory.

“If our boss is mentally a child, does mean I’m in charge?” Foreman said after a long moment of silence.

Cameron rolled her eyes and turned back to House. The only way they were going to be able to help was if House told them how. “House, have you ever felt like this before?” She asked gently, but not too gently. Even if he had the thought process of a child, it was still House. 

She had to stop herself from chuckling when he tried glaring back at her over the head of the dog. While it was a valiant effort, through his wet eyes and red face it turned into more of a sad pout. Still, he gave a short nod anyway. It was both surprising and relieving to find out that the regression was at least something House seemed to be familiar with, whether intentionally or not.

“Okay, uh… good! What do you usually do when you feel like this? How can we help?” She prodded a little further, maybe a little too far into pity-territory, because House made a disgusted face.

“Go.” He said, like he was trying to order them, but it came out weak.

Cameron looked back at Chase and Foreman, who both gave her similar unhelpful stares. Great. Thanks, guys. “Are you sure? It’d make me feel better if one of us stayed here with you, just to make sure—“

“No!” House physically recoiled at the suggestion like she had just spit on him, then let out a whiny huffing sound. “…Wilson.”

Chase snorted behind her. Cameron ignored him. “You want us to get Wilson? Okay. Yeah, sure, we can do that.” She turned to glare at Chase. “Make yourself useful and go find Wilson, would you?”

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Chase to return with Wilson in toe, looking concerned but calm.

He took Cameron’s place in front of House. “Okay, fill me in? What happened?”

“We lost a patient today, and when we came back for the debriefing, he was acting like this,” Cameron said, “We’re pretty sure it’s—“

“Regression.” Wilson filled in. He didn’t elaborate any further and she didn’t press him for details, but it did make her wonder; just how much did Wilson know about House regressing?  

“…Yeah. Um, does he need anything? What can we do?”

“Honestly? Leave.” Wilson said bluntly, but his expression was soft. “You three should go home, get some sleep. He’ll be fine, I’ve got him.”

It felt wrong to leave when House was obviously still upset, but she trusted Wilson. If that was what he thought was best, then they would listen. She glanced to Foreman and Chase, who nodded and left to gather their things.

After lingering for an extra second, just to make sure she wasn’t needed in some way, she went to follow them. As she opened the door, she turned and gave House a little wave goodbye. “Feel better, House. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

[accio-victuuri]

SBMS Clowning Series ☀️ v.2

xz finally sort of answered what he thinks about age gaps in relationship. tho his answer is not exclusive to the romantic type, i still appreciate the fact that it’s finally addressed in an interview. i was waiting for it to come up in OOL & YGY but nothing.

I like what he said and it made me think of his relationship with web. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

The biggest theme is that what age gives you is just that you have more experiences than another person. (…) Just like what we need to convey is to warm each other and grow with each other so that we can become more brave.

Tho in their case, I think WYB’s life experience can’t be discounted to. Even if he didn’t go the usual route and worked in an office, ZZ himself even said that WYB is his “senior”. Growing together and being better version of themselves. I just— it’s like he is saying it doesn’t matter much. One person just lived a bit longer, but what’s important is the time you will be spending together now & in the future.

Now onto more “coincidences….”

• WYB’s bananain ad photos in green which is of course his favorite color. But the fact that it’s for THURSDAY is sending me! What are the chances? That’s their day. Thursday is a good day to see you.

• XZS and YBO similarities. Same BGM for p1 and p2 videos uploaded on Douyin. p4 and p5 same caption of 1,2,3. I know these are not the most unique things and practically anyone else may have done this one way or another but let’s add it to the long list of their studio’s similarities in captions and editing. 💪🏻

• In today’s episode of SBMS, there is this scene where they hold hand accidentally and Shengyang pulls away. It was giving the same energy as that SINA interview “incident” ~

Yes, that scene is part of the drama and most probably scripted. However, that doesn’t mean he can’t draw expressions from things he experienced before ( for example his jealous face is the exact same as the one in Happy Camp ).

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! With all their subconscious hand holding tendencies, XZ looks like was trying not expose them 😂😂😂😂

• In the CCTV interview teaser he said: “ I was particularly able to put myself into it because I felt that maybe my parents’ generation didn’t know how to express love, but they both had each other in their hearts.”

because in the drama, his parents had a misunderstanding because they don’t express themselves openly. CPFs are interpreting it as him saying that he is not like that at all when it comes to his romantic relationship. He is able to say what he wants and show his love.

Why wouldn’t he? His other half is as direct as can be when it comes to love ⬇️⬇️⬇️

• Another AU pairing for your consideration!

Shengyang & Chen Yu - the sunny yangyang meets the hot headed young police officer! AHHHHH!!!!

Chen Shuo & Gu Wei - blame this on the new still released of him going to the hospital and that’s when he meets WeiWei. He goes to their house to treat their uncle cause he saw how much Shuo Shuo panicked.

-END.

[imaginarylungfish]

AUDHD 👏 GOJO 👏

I’m right there with you so, in true AuDHD style, I’m zooming into your inbox to infodump because I’m ALWAYS desperate to scream about this (shout out to @ellionwrites for patiently and compassionately listening to my unpolished rambles about a lot of this stuff in private)!

I actually have a LOT of thoughts about 236 and how it’s Gojo’s “unmasking”. That chapter is really emotional for me because of how well it articulates my personal experience of navigating the world as an autistic person. This post (and especially its tags) from right after it came out says it in a much more concise way, but Gojo’s upset pout breaks my heart because, to me, that's evidence of “no matter how much you try, people will misunderstand you” and damn… that hits a little close to home 🥲

It’s why his death had such a strong impact on me, especially when it felt like half the internet was ignoring the actual words Gojo said to claim “he never cared about that stuff, he was arrogant from the start and you just misread him". In combination with “it was the best ending for a character like Gojo" — right after we find out how deeply lonely he’s been, never able to truly connect with anyone after Geto left? Well, it was mindblowingly meta and, therefore, pretty painful to read.

I wrote an analysis of Gojo’s character in 236 and, even though I wasn’t viewing him through an autistic lens for that particular post, I think my words under the cut still read that way — that’s how baked into his character I think this stuff is! I genuinely think the two pairs of sorcerers sitting with their backs to each other is a visual representation of the double empathy problem. I'm not sure autistic and allistic people can ever arrive at a place where we fully understand each other, but that doesn’t mean autistic people have to carry all the burden and remain isolated. That’s why it’s meaningful that Gege makes it clear that all the characters care about each other, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye.

Glad to see you shouting about this reading of his character, because I haven’t seen many people talking about it. Some people are very hostile to ND headcanons, especially for characters as popular as Gojo, which is why I haven’t really talked about it much myself. However, I feel like any fellow AuDHDers who read my fic must be side-eying me constantly because I don’t think I’m subtle about how I write Gojo’s character at ALL 🤪

Maybe it’s time to be brave and publicly share my 236 AuDHD!Gojo manifesto for the five of us who are standing in a circle screaming about this! Cheering you on and sending lots of love ♥️

Ahhhhh thank you so much for this infodump!!!! I was on a AuDHD!Gojo rampage last night as my brain worm hit right as I should have been going to sleep. But such are things....

Like idk why it didn't truly hit me until now, but I can't unseen Gojo as AuDHD. (It was probably because I re-watched "Everything's Gonna be Okay" with some AuDHD representation and then I started thinking of other AuDHD characters and immediately thought of Gojo.) I did play with the idea a few months back, but it hit me with full force yesterday.

Idk like I get a little annoyed with people who think I or others like Gojo just because "he's hot" because like okay fine yes (but also I think I just have gender envy but that's a whole other can of worms). But also, no no no that's not it! My love for Gojo is more than that! He speaks to me as a character. He's misunderstood. He's seen as something he isn't. In my eyes, he's neurodivergent (and queer). And Geto was the only other person who ever saw him for who he really was.

Gojo's death was really hard on me. I remember exactly where I was when I read that chapter. And then the airport. Fuck. EmOtIOns. At first, I tried understanding Nanami's words. I really did. But really, I just didn't if I'm honest. Those words were a shock to me. Like yeah okay he's selfish (but like aren't all humans?). He also helps though! Isn't that obvious? And at the end? He wanted to have an equal to go all out with in a fight. Again, why was that bad? He was also helping! What's the issue? He's a fallible human. Like you said in your analysis, he contains multitudes. What's wrong with that?

So, like many others, I thought maybe I misread Gojo. But no. Now I think the missing piece was that Gojo is AuDHD and Nanami didn't quite get that. He didn't understand Gojo's actions. (And ahh god that lil pout. Gojo was just living his life and people saw him but they never ~saw~ him.)

I think the visual of the sorcerers back-to-back is a great metaphor for the double empathy problem. I never saw it that way, but I see it now and like it! And I think you're so right with the fact that the characters still respect and support each other even if they don't understand each other fully. I think that's a theme woven throughout the story.

Blahhh I feel like there is so much textual support for AuDHD Gojo. Like him being blindsided by Geto's defection because he didn't see Geto's decline (and don't get me started about Autistic!Geto with his strict black-and-white thinking), him just blabbing about sweets when he meets up with Megumi before fighting one-finger Sukuna at the beginning, the fact he thought revealing Yuuji to his classmates at the exchange event would be funny (cause hey, I thought it would too until it happened and I saw oh hey, it wasn't), etc. Plus, his blindfold. His overall personality. Like, it's such a heavy mask. Now I see that.

I feel like people either love Gojo or they hate him. (I immediately gobbled up your analysis and 100% agree. And I think people's reactions to his death are pretty telling.)

So, thank you for the yummy AuDHD!Gojo content. Please feel free to send me more/link me to things. I feel like I have a million more things to say but my brain is jumping all over the place and I've already spent 40 minutes this morning on this when I should have been getting ready for work. Hehe, whoops.

Gojo is AuDHD. I will die on this hill. Let's keep staring and screaming at each other about this. Sending you good vibes and love as well 🤍

[hiddenmoonbeam]

Can I add onto the ask from yesterday about Sirius coming out to James, and James asking ‘you’re not in love with me, right?’ to present a third option:

Sirius is in love with James but hearing those words, especially in the way James frames the question, as if it’s something both ridiculous and Wrong at the same time, and he panics. James won’t accept it, it’ll change their friendship if he finds out, but Sirius has never been able to keep something from James. So he does the first thing that crosses his mind: he tells him he’s in love with Remus, hoping to distract him.

James knows there’s something off about that statement but he really really does not want to think about what that means, and so he goes along with it.

He suppresses all the signs and hints that it’s not true, and he decides to help Sirius and Remus get together. Because if they’re together, Sirius will surely not look at him like that anymore, and their friendship will go back to normal, right?

It’s not successful, Remus ignores everything they set up and takes it in a completely platonic way even as they get more and more ridiculous; Sirius isn’t happy because James is treating him differently and trying to get Sirius’s attention off of him and onto Remus and he’s afraid of losing his friendship with Remus as well over this and he doesn’t even want to date him; and James is getting more and more frustrated because he doesn’t see why Remus wouldn’t want to date Sirius! He’s highly intelligent, sticks up for what he believes in and who he loves, he’s caring and brave, he has an amazing sense of humour and he’s good-looking to boot! Anyone would be lucky to date him! And that’s when he realises that he might want to date Sirius himself…

Yes yeesss you definitely can! And ahhhhh I love this 😌 such good dog kicking + the unrequited pining turns double when James realizes what he's feeling 👌👌