#why didn't i do this more since earlier???

[fireinmoonshot]

unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all. 

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes. 

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together. 

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower. 

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact. 

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?” 

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?” 

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now. 

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.” 

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ” 

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. 

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real. 

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now. 

[spaceycat]

bob.

BAWB. he's my boyfriend, he is the most boyfriend to ever boyfriend (i havent seen the movie yet)

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༄.° ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 🧸ྀི

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: i'm inlove with you by the 1975 (4:22)

✰ pairing: bob reynolds x fem!reader

✰ cw: pathetic asf!bob, but also brat!bob?? oral (f!recieving), bob is also a munch, p in v sex, riding, a little bit of angst, but we make up for it guys

✰ word count: 1.3k+

✰ summary: you've been busy with work, practically neglecting bob. he has enough of it after you returned home from work late and finally gets what he wants, he practically takes it from you.

✰ a/n: credits to juni for the request and the plot line for this fic, id be dead without her

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ bob ꩜

You've been busy lately, both you and Bob knew that. You didn't have much time for sex, but even then; you didnt even have much time for dates or simply just cuddling on the couch. It was a routine:

Wake up

Ignore Bob's advances to keep you in bed for longer

Go to work

Do said work

Go home

Eat

More work

Get ready for bed

Sleep

A simple routine at that. You felt guilty having to say no to Bob's advances every day, but you had work to do and Bob knew that. But it didnt stop the feelings that were created.

It's been atleast a week since this routine has been set in place, you're doing work on your computer in the living room. Nursing a cup of coffee as you sat on the couch.

"Sweetheart?.." Bob's soft voice broke you out of your trance. You looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed. "What's up?" You set down your coffee, noticing his expression. "Listen I know that you're-- busy with work and stuff.." He paused for a moment, moving to sit down beside you. "But I miss you, y'know?" That sat with you for a moment, you were at a loss for a words. "Bob--" "I don't care what it is, I dont care if you just hold me-- hold my hand, I dont care."

Nothing really came of that night, nothing to note. The next morning the routine continued.

Bob found you in the kitchen the next day, leaning against the counter as you cooked dinner for the two of you. "Why are you cooking so early?" "I've got some meeting at 7, have to have dinner earlier." His smile faltered, "What time are you going to be back?" "Late." "Late." He'd repeat. "You'll be in bed by the time I get back." He bit the inside of his mouth, watching as you plated the food.

He was getting frustrated, he wanted to keep you at home - all to himself, you barely gave him the time of day anymore.

The next few days were similar. Until one day, you came home from work particularly late. Bob was standing near the entry way of your apartment.

"Hey Bob." You looked confused by his positioning as you placed down your bag. Without another word, Bob walked up to you - placing a gentle hand to the side of your face, kissing you deeply. You were confused at first, pulling back for a moment. Watching as he chased your lips. "Good evening to you too." "I just-- I need you so bad, okay? I want to feel you, I need to feel you, please?" He whined, his hands hesitating for a moment as he placed his hands to your hips. You frowned a bit, jesus - you really were neglecting him. You ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah-- yeah, of course, baby."

Bob pulled you towards the couch, sitting you down on it, kneeling down infront of you. Leaning into your touch as you placed a hand to the side of his face. "Thank you.." He mumbled, placing kisses into your palm. Slowly kissing up your arm, to your shoulder, to your neck, finally - placing a kiss to your mouth.

He made his way back down, resting on his calves as he looks at you. Hesitant hands working on your suit pants, pulling them down your thighs until they were tossed beside him.

He placed a kiss to your thigh, muttering another thank you as he kissed your inner thigh with another mumble accompanying it. He looked up to you, fingers feeling the edge of your panties.

You nodded, he pulled aside your panties - diving in like it was his first meal in weeks, tongue circling your clit as his hands settled on your hips. A groan coming from him as you placed a hand into his messy hair.

His tongue licked a stripe up your entire pussy, looking at your reaction the entire time - eyebrows furrowed as he watched you intently. He'd pull your leg over his shoulder, pulling back.

His chin and lips slick with your arousal, absolutely pussy drunk off you. "Thank you." He'd mumble once more, place a kiss to your thigh, moving back in. His tongue lapped at your clit, sucking it into his mouth as he coached you through your orgasm. He was intent on staying down there forevermore, his nose bumping into your clit as he overstimulated you. You were whimpering, pushing away his head. Bob eventually let up, leaning back on his calves. Watching as you wiped some of the slick away from his mouth. "I love you.." He mumbled. "I love you too, Bob."

You then pulled him up onto the couch, he just simply watched you. "I'm sorry for being so distant lately, sweetheart." "I dont care-- I don't give a single shit, okay? I just need you now." As you moved into his lap, you felt the evident bulge in his sweatpants. "Must be really pent up.." "Don't start." His hands gripped onto your hips rather tight after grinded down into his lap, his god-like powers shining through. His lips crashed into yours, tasting yourself on his lips - but you didnt give a slightest shit. You'd place a hand into his messed up hair, pulling him in closer to you. "God-- please, I need to feel you, need you on me." Bob leaned back, making work of his jeans. When your hands stilled him, "Slow down a bit, and let me do this."

You pushed his jeans down to his knees, noticing how hard he was - straining against his boxers. "Oh baby.." You'd tut, dragging a finger up his length. Earning a small groan from him and a buck of his hips.

His hands moved up your slick soaked thighs, "Please- sweetheart... haven't touched me for weeks, missed you.." You'd watch as his cock twitched when your fingers ghosted over the red, leaking tip.

"God-- if you actually would touch me once in a while, I wouldnt have to jerk off in the shower every morning." He muttered, more to himself - almost like he was thinking it but too overwhelmed to keep it out of his lips.

"Say that again?" A smirk landed on your face, when you saw him get flustered, his face a twinge of red. "I said if you--" You interrupted him as you sunk down onto his cock. Your thighs on either side of him, his hands moving to your hips.

"Finish your sentence, Bob." Raising your hips, his cock nearly slipping out of you before planting yourself back on his cock. Feeling him twitch inside of you as his head dropped back into the couch pillows. "I-- just.. stay- fuck... stay still for a moment, let me think--" You kept rolling your hips ontop of him. "I'm giving you what you want, no?""Baby-- I.. oh god--" Groans and whimpers were filing out of his mouth as his hands had an iron grip on your waist. He then wrapped his arms around your waist, practically pulling himself up. He'd place his head into the crook of your neck, his moans silenced by your skin as you ran your hands through his hair once more.

You felt him meet your pace, his hips snapping up into you. "God-- please.. I missed the way you felt, so soft." He'd mutter once more, as his hips stuttered you knew he was so goddamn close. "Cum for me baby.." With that he came deep inside you, hot sticky ropes covering your walls. hips soon falling still. His cock twitching and softening within you.

"Did you cum?.." He'd mutter, voice a bit hoarse. Safe to say that Bob didnt let you leave that couch until you came atleast 5 times. A couple times from his mouth and with his fingers.

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 2

Danny had counted himself lucky that no one had been in the Manor when he'd arrived. It gave him time to stew in the silence about his unwilling occupation of the apartment sized room he'd be staying in. As soon as Alfred and Damian had left earlier with a threat to come and get him for dinner, he'd locked the door and pushed the dresser and bed in front of it.

Just because he was stuck there for the next three months didn't mean he had to interact with anyone. He'd live up to his half status as a ghost and be nothing more than a passing thought for the whole summer.

Now if only everyone else had gotten the memo to stay away.

Apparently, at some point between his arrival and where he now finds himself, Damian and/or Alfred had announced to the rest of the household - former and current - who Danny was and that he'd be staying with them. Luckily, they'd been so kind as to give him a room far away from the others. Unfortunately, that meant that he was only a floor above them all.

Someone had tried to open his door barely and hour ago, calling to be let in so he could introduce himself. Danny ignored him, not saying a word. Eventually, the guy left. About ten minutes later, someone else tried to get in through one of the windows. Danny hadn't been able to do much more than lock those and close the blinds. Though, he had to admit that Bruce Wayne spared nothing on his home security.

Ever since, he'd had several people come to his door, calling for him to open it, that they just wanted to say 'hi'. He studiously ignored all of them, even going so far as to lock himself in the walk-in closet. It wasn't too big a space, thank god, but it was just enough for him to comfortably curl into the fetal position in the back corner of the top shelf.

Being a clone gave him the advantage of having the same memories as whoever he'd been cloned from. While that didn't extend to muscle memory, that had been easy to rectify, Deathstroke and Talia had both made sure of that.

Being half dead gave him the extra advantage of powers to hide better.

Ever wonder why, in the stories and myths, people are almost never able to see a ghost by looking head on? It's because ghosts don't like to be seen. They use a mix of intangibility and partial invisibility to redirect attention from themselves. Rattling chains, opening and closing doors, pushing things off shelves, that's all just to get attention away from them so they can hide.

So, Danny's hidden himself in the farthest corner on the top shelf in a medium sized closet with the lights off and the door closed. The room proper has the windows locked and covered, the door locked and blocked.

He doesn't need to eat, so long as he stays a ghost. And if he doesn't consume anything, then there's no waste for his body to get rid of. And, because he's comfortable, he could totally just sleep the entire summer away.

That is, if he can get himself to relax enough to actually close his eyes for more than a blink.

One of the windows shattered, likely spreading glass all over the floor.

"Danny?" While all the others had been male voices, this one was female. A smooth alto. "I broke your window."

He almost snorted. How very observant of this person.

They, because he wasn't going to assume based solely off of how their voice sounds, were getting close to the closet. "That's a good hiding place you have there. Though, blocking the door was a bit much. Why'd you stick around if you so obviously don't want to be here?"

Because he'd rather not have the League of Assassins on his trail for leaving his 'vacation' early, thank you very much. He didn't say that, though.

The door cracked open. "Y'know, I used to hide in the closet in my room all the time. From what Dick tells me, so did the others." They giggled. "It's kinda like a rite of passage."

Danny cringed, though he didn't move. This was nice spot, no matter what Alto over there was implying.

The door opened fully, revealing the person who'd broken in. They had black hair cropped to their chin, a blue tank-top and black leggings. "My name's Cassandra, but you can call me 'Cass'," they said, "Can I come in?"

They weren't looking at him, but he shook his head anyway. They'd found him, so they could probably see through walls or some shit.

They closed the door, sitting on the floor with their back to it. "Damian told us that you're his brother-"

"He is not my brother," he hissed, "Not in the way they want us to be."

Cassandra leaned her head against the door, looking up but not at him. "Hm. Want to explain?"

He didn't speak.

"Okay. You don't have to." A pause. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Piss off," he growled.

"Okay, okay," their tone aggravated him. Why weren't they getting angry? They didn't leave.

Danny settled deeper into the corner. He'd spent way to long waiting to be beaten at a contest in stall tactics.

Though, even he knew when to recognize a good competition. This was going to be a long night.

Part 4

[anemoiadawn]

< used to this >

pairing:: mostly just bang chan. but felix is there too genre:: pure fluff, nothing weird! slight angst. word count:: 3.7k summary:: "... for the first time in his life, Chan was starved of a compliment." warnings:: none! minors can interact, but please don't follow me or look at my other posts, thank you! notes:: i wrote this for class. had to edit it a bit to be able to post here, and the version for class only had five of them (chan, felix, jisung, changbin, and jeongin)- so that's why you may not see a lot of the others. if my professor sees this no you didn't.

“How would you describe yourself in one word?”

Chan read the last card in his hands aloud, then looked up into the camera lens. He felt his heart sink in his chest, his muscles tensing under his sleek button-down shirt. He brought his knees up to his chest as he racked his brain for an answer. There wasn’t any single word that would describe him well. The other kids had already done their interviews and finished quickly– they seemed to have had little to no trouble with the questions, so surely they had breezed over this one. He’d had those hours to think of his own answer, since he’d already heard the question four times.

The interviews had been split into two parts: one member on his own, answering each question about himself– and how he thought the others would answer on his behalf. Then, on the couches in the other room: the remaining members gave their own answers.

It had taken Chan less than five seconds to answer for everyone besides himself. Now, Chan had been sitting in front of the camera for five full minutes, yet still hadn’t uttered a word. The staff behind the camera were getting impatient– they had things to do, footage to edit, places to be. Chan hated being a burden like this. He liked being on stage, all those eyes on him– but this? This was too much.

"Channie is..." he started, trailing off as he stared past the camera lens. He had to say something. Anything.

"Lost." No, that's not enough. Sure, it was true, but it wasn’t… satisfactory. More.

"Channie is… complicated." That wasn’t it. Anyone could say that about themselves. More.

"Channie has got a long way to go." Getting there. It was fine to give up on just one word, Chan thought. One word wouldn’t work. Think deeper. More.

"Channie needs to work harder." Almost. More.

"Channie doesn't even take care of himself. He only takes care of the members."

There it was.

The last interview, his own, concluded with that line. Chan headed out to the lobby with his heart heavy, walking to where the others were all sitting together. To no surprise, they were all joking amongst themselves, playfully poking fun at one another. Chan leaned against the doorframe with a chuckle and let them mess around, his heart lifting in his chest. He knew to set aside his perfectionist tendencies with them, to privately bask in that discomfort as long as they had their fun. It would sour the mood, to tell them to keep it down so the staff could work and pack up for the day. So he stayed quiet.

It was worth the anxiety to see them happy. It was worth the uneasiness to be loved by them. It was worth the stress to be a family. That was all he wanted: “I want to be loved by all the members,” he had said earlier in the interview, the first line out of his mouth as soon as he’d sat down. Everything was for them. Everything.

“You mind if I sit in?” Chan pulled a chair up behind the editor’s desk. He was met with a hum– she didn’t talk much. She never did. Chan liked it, a lot, actually. He didn’t feel pressured to fill the silence with her.

He settled in behind her, watching the muted clips as she worked. On the screen: his members, his brothers, his family. They looked so happy, so carefree. Warm smiles spread across each of their faces– laughing, pushing one another, curled up on the couch. They looked like home. Chan’s home.

“They all love you a lot,” the editor slipped her headset off one ear. Chan had been watching for over twenty minutes, letting her work in silence. “Even when they didn’t say particularly sweet things, their love for you is so obvious.”

Chan felt his ears burning. “Oh,” he whispered, chewing his bottom lip as he looked over her shoulder. She’d paused the video on a frame where two of the members were cuddling. They had never properly learned what personal space was. “Do you mind if I listen?”

“Here,” she took off her headset and placed it on the desk. “Go crazy. I’m basically done.”

Chan took her place at the desk as she went to take her break. He smiled at how they were all over each other, the way Felix was sprawled out across Jeongin’s legs. He was always happy to see Felix happy. Any of them happy, obviously– but Felix, particularly. Felix brought Chan out of that dark, dark place. Felix deserved to be happy the most.

“Chan used to be so scary,” Jisung shivered. Chan figured this was in response to the question asked about first impressions– he didn’t want to rewind and potentially mess up the editor’s progress. 

“I could rarely ever approach him,” Jisung continued. “He had this kind of shadow around him– everyone was scared of him.”

Chan hated thinking about that period of his life. Training was brutal, and the members had only seen the end of it. Seven years. Seven years he’d trained, and Jisung had been the first to join him– but that wasn’t until five years in. He hadn’t seen the worst of it.

“We couldn’t even use his name,” Changbin added. “Even though I’m so close in age to him, he only responded to honorifics.”

Chan had never been one to make people use honorifics for him. But since moving to Korea, and learning how important age dynamics were, and how he was seen as lesser than anyone who was even a day older– it had gotten to him. He had made sure everyone younger than him treated him with respect. The respect he was owed for having trained so long.

“He let me call him ‘Chris’ from day one,” Felix whispered, tugging at his earlobe. “He was always so sweet to me, ever since we met.”

“That’s because you’re from the same hometown,” Jeongin added. “I think you reminded him of home.”

“Maybe,” Felix picked at his fingernails. “He kinda was my new home, in a way. I hope I did. Remind him of home, that is.”

Chan’s heart ached. Did Felix really not know how much he meant to Chan? He tugged at the neckline of his shirt, suddenly unable to breathe in enough air.

“You definitely did,” Jisung smiled, assuring Felix. “He was so ready to debut with just us. Then you came along, and he pulled so many strings to get you in the final lineup for the show. You have no idea how long he fought the managers to let you join.”

Suddenly, Felix poked his head into the room. Chan lifted his head and smiled his way– Felix’s face lit up. “Recording tomorrow, right?” Felix shouted loud enough to be heard over the headphones; Chan took them off swiftly and smiled back.

“Yeah. Just one song. Shouldn’t be too much of a hassle.”

It was, indeed, a hassle– At least for Chan.

The recording took three full hours, despite there only being the one song to record. Usually, the others would leave after they’d finished their parts. It was a blessing for Chan most recording sessions, because that meant he could get right to polishing the track. He loved being around them more than anything, but it was nearly impossible to get any work done with seven young men bickering while he was focusing on the fine details of a song.

For some reason unbeknownst to Chan, they all stayed behind this time. Maybe out of spite– but Chan couldn’t think of a reason why they would want to upset him. Maybe he’d done something wrong, and this was his punishment. Maybe they knew how long he’d held up production the day before and were upset. Maybe the staff had said something, told them to make the recording session a living nightmare, told them to torture Chan to the best of their abilites.

Jisung claimed to have missed Chan’s company, since he was always cooped up in the studio without them– but Chan saw them every single day. Jisung’s excuse for all of them hanging around didn’t feel genuine. To cope, Chan blasted the track at a bleedingly high volume through his overpriced headphones, trying his best to drown out the chatter from the couches behind him.

To his despair, his headset had reached the max volume, and the guys behind him would not let up. They likely weren’t talking too loud, but Chan was used to absolute silence. Even a whisper outside the door would throw him off. Taking a sharp breath through his teeth, he decided to get some fresh air. He yanked off his headset and set it down on the table– just slightly harder than he intended. Chan froze, his breath catching in his chest as the room fell silent, the sound of the headphones against the table instantly dying against the soundproofed walls. He looked back to the couches and was met with four pairs of wide eyes, staring back in silence.

“Ah–” Chan panicked, lifting the headset and waving it like a white flag, surrendering. “Sorry, I… there was a part I... didn’t like. I’m okay, sorry, you guys are fine, it’s–” he rambled on, stammering out excuse after excuse, but they knew him too well. They knew they had upset him, and one after one they left the studio with hushed apologies.

“Good work today,” each of them whispered before leaving. Chan’s heart sank into his stomach. He couldn’t take a compliment to save his life, so the only way they could compliment him was to commend him for his work. Telling him that he sang well, that he performed well, that he looked good? Too far. All he could handle was a quick “good work.” Nothing more. And that’s exactly what they did.

But for the first time in his life, Chan was starved of a compliment. He had put up with so much the last three hours, and every single one of them had just taken him for granted. When Jeongin had complained about each of his lines, Chan had swiftly assigned him one of Changbin’s parts. When Jisung had felt unsatisfied with the fifty takes he’d done, Chan had stepped into the studio and physically supported him through it. When it had been two and half hours and was Changbin’s turn to record in the booth, Changbin had kept cracking jokes and messing up his lines on purpose. Usually, Chan would have just laughed along, but he hadn’t left the room in four hours and exhaustion had already set in. He had just wanted to go home by that point.

Was it too much to ask for praise every now and then? Chan squeezed his eyes shut, leaning as far back in his chair as he could. Sure, he melted every time someone gave him a compliment or praise. Sure, he’d instantly brush it off with some sort of self-deprecating joke, or flip it to the person saying it and praise them instead. He knew it was frustrating for anyone around him to try to show him love, but… alone, in his studio, after the members had all left, Chan started to feel like nobody was trying.

If Chan put in so much effort to make the others feel comfortable, to build up their confidence, to make them feel loved, was it really so much to ask for them to do the same for him? He may be the leader, the oldest, but he was still human. He still needed that support from those closest to him. But Chan would rather die than admit that himself. It would kill him to admit weakness.

Was he not worth the energy? They had all given up a long time ago when it came to praising Chan, but even so– a lot of the other members were like him, too, and that didn’t hinder Chan’s affection. If anything, he was more affectionate with the ones who shied away from it. Jeongin especially, who he lived with now, had always hated any sort of affection– but after being under the same roof as Chan for just a couple months, he’d warmed up to it. ‘Exposure therapy,’ Chan would giggle out as he had hugged Jeongin from behind at any possible chance.

It had taken so long for him to be this comfortable with them. With anyone. He’d lost so many people, lost so many friends, so many people he considered family– he hadn’t been able to trust anyone for years. Hadn’t let anyone in for years. He couldn’t get hurt again, wouldn’t let himself get hurt again.

The track glared through cheap speakers overhead and Chan held his breath. It wasn’t his best work– but Somi had slammed his door open at 2am in hysterics. Chan had just started getting into bed and hadn’t slept in 40 hours before that, but he stayed up all night making the perfect track for Somi for the monthly evaluation. It hurt his own performance the next day, running on two hours of sleep, sure– but she was more important. He couldn’t lose anyone else. Especially not someone who had also taken the same leap: moving to Korea at such a young age, following their dreams. He’d do anything to help someone the way he hadn’t been helped when he first arrived. He needed her to make it. He needed her to stay.

His heart sank when he looked over to the staff as soon as Somi brought the microphone to her lips. Their faces soured listening to her performance, and Chan prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that Somi didn’t see their expressions. She was too sensitive. She couldn’t handle that like he could. She hadn’t been training for as long. She didn’t have his tough skin yet.

Somi finished her song perfectly. Just like she always did. Chan smiled up at her as soon as she sang the last note, her eyes meeting his. He gave her a thumbs-up, nodding– ‘you did well,’ he mouthed, hoping she’d be able to read his lips. Somi smiled in response, sending back a half-heart with her hand.

Microphone feedback buzzed over the speakers and they both winced. Looking back to the front of the practice room, the head trainer started speaking. “Sit down.” His voice pained Chan��s ears. “Next.”

They let her go the next day. No explanation. She was kicked out of the program in the blink of an eye. 

He couldn’t say a word to her as she was packing her bags. Somi asked for him to help, but his hands were shaking too badly to carry any of the boxes. He tried, though– but immediately dropped one. Chan almost cried as soon as the package hit the floor, but Somi assured him: it was only plushies, she promised. It was okay, she promised.

Chan let her hug him, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t wrap his arms around her. He couldn’t comfort her. His muscles had turned to concrete. His bones couldn’t handle the weight on his shoulders as Somi turned to leave.

It was his song that got her eliminated. It was him.

It was his fault.

He walked back to his dorm alone, collapsed onto the bottom bunk, stared up at the railing holding the top bunk in place. It was his fault.

Chan rotted for hours in his bed. He didn’t get up when his roommate, Jisung at the time, called him down for lunch. He didn’t get up when one of the managers knocked on his door to get him down for practice. He didn’t get up when Jisung threatened to sit on his chest if he didn’t get out of bed for dinner. He didn’t get up until the next day, a little after breakfast was served.

Jisung knocked on the wood of the bed frame, Chan’s eyes shooting open after he’d dozed off for a bit. Jisung frowned, wiped a stray tear from Chan’s cheek with his thumb, and spoke: “There’s a new trainee. I don’t think his Korean is too great. Can you come down to help?”

Jisung knew Chan loved to feel needed. He loved to be of use. Chan got up within seconds.

Though Chan’s head was spinning from sitting up too quickly, he made his way down to the lobby.

The head trainer was talking to someone right outside the elevators– a boy, slightly taller than Chan. Freckles adorned his cheeks, his shoulder-length hair a golden blonde. He looked like an angel. He looked as if when he spoke, a choir would sing.

Chan approached the two and smiled up at the trainer. The trainer patted Chan on the back, pushing him towards the boy– probably around 16, at the oldest. Years older than Chan was when he joined the company. He was 20, now. Seven years of training.

‘Hello,’ Chan choked out in English. His voice was shot after nearly a day of not speaking. ‘I’m Chris.’

‘Hi,’ the boy spoke, his voice octaves lower than Chan was expecting. He was Australian, just like Chan. Chan was hearing home for the first time in years. ‘I’m Felix.’

By the time the studio door opened again, Chan had moved to the couch. Sitting where the members had sat, he curled up as small as he could, keeping his head buried between his knees. He didn’t need to open his eyes or lift his head to know who had entered the room, anyway.

“Chan.” His throat closed up and it suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter in the studio. Why did it have to be him? “You usually come out by now,” Felix continued. “Are you okay?”

Chan couldn’t choke out a single word. He tried, but nothing would come out. Every inch of his skin ached the more he heard Felix speak. The more he felt at home from Felix’s voice– smelling the Sydney beaches, hearing his dog Berry, tasting the shawarma from his favorite restaurant, seeing his brother and sister every time he closed his eyes, feeling his parents hug him after years of being abroad.

He wasn’t allowed to be mad at Felix. He wasn’t allowed to be mad at any of them. They’d saved him. He wouldn’t even be around if they hadn’t come along. If Felix hadn’t come along, especially. This was silly. It was silly to be upset at them. He wasn’t allowed to–

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Felix whispered. “You know that, right?” Chan felt the couch sink next to him. He curled up tighter, trying to get smaller, if possible. His skin burned red hot. “You don’t always have to be perfect.”

Chan took a shallow breath, the air burning his lungs. The muscles under his skin tensed, tightened, strained. He gripped his left arm tightly, as if the pain would stop if he squeezed hard enough. As if he could stop the ringing in his ears, the ache in his chest.

“Chris?” Felix checked in again and Chan felt a hand on his thigh. Suddenly– one part of his skin wasn’t burning. Felix’s hand was cold, not uncomfortably so, but colder than the lava running through Chan’s veins.

Chan hugged his legs to his chest. “I do, though,” he started. “To be perfect. I need to be perfect, I can’t make mistakes, I need to do everything right.” He felt his heart race fast enough to be heard over his stuttering. “If I mess up, you all won’t rely on me anymore, or I’ll ruin everything for all of us. I need to be perfect, or I’ll lose you, I’ll lose everyone, I’ll lose everything.”

Felix sighed, leaning his head on Chan’s shoulder. Chan froze, his heart dropping into his stomach. Felix’s hair on Chan’s bare shoulder worked as a cooling agent on his burning skin. “You don’t know us at all if you really think we’d stop looking up to you if you made a mistake,” Felix softly caressed Chan’s arm, unknowingly healing his aching skin. “We gave you space after what happened earlier because you clearly couldn’t focus. We should’ve known to give you peace and quiet, like we usually do. We’re the ones who messed up, not you.”

Chan huffed, wiping a tear that had barely escaped. “No, I’m too sensitive, I shouldn’t have–”

“You’re not too sensitive,” Felix interrupted, squeezing Chan’s shoulder. “And we know you. We should have known we would get on your nerves by staying in the studio with you. That’s on us, not you. I’m sorry, Chan. We all are.” Chan sniffled, his head still between his knees, staring down at the couch beneath him.

“I just…” he started, trying to explain. “I’m so scared. I can’t…” Chan steadied his breathing, lifting his head to look Felix in the eye. “If I mess up, I’ll stop being useful. I can’t bear the thought of any of you not needing me anymore.” Felix chuckled in response.

“That’s never going to happen,” Felix turned to face Chan fully and pinched his cheek. “I’ll always need a duo for League,” Felix whispered, wrapping his arms around Chan’s neck to hold him close. “Changbin will always need a gym buddy or someone to cook for him. Jeongin will always need someone to baby the shit out of him. Jisung will always need someone to tell him his lyrics are way too crass. Don’t even get me started on everyone else. You’re always going to be our oldest brother, our leader. You’re always going to be needed. Even if you’re the one needing help sometimes.”

Chan laughed, burying his face in Felix’s shoulder. The aching of Chan’s skin had morphed into a comfortable coolness, spreading from every spot Felix touched. Chan was usually the one initiating any physical contact, so it felt… intense. Now that Felix had initiated it this time. Now that Felix had come to him first, to hold Chan in his arms, to assure him. Now that, for the first time in his life, he was the one being taken care of. It was an unfamiliar feeling: being held instead of holding, being comforted instead of comforting.

He could get used to this.

[zynxsone]

Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans. A review and why it's an abomination to the series and why it has a low rating.

I don’t know why I just decided to write a review now but I still am doing it. Original review is a tad bit long so I shortened it.

First of all, I would gladly say that Trollhunters, 3Below, and Wizards have been an amazing part of my childhood. I started watching the show in 2016 and I absolutely loved it. It excited me that 3Below had come after, along with Wizards in the making. When I heard that there will be a movie to complete the series, I was excited! — only to be disappointed in the outcome. 

While I loved certain parts of the movie, everything else was badly written and executed.

Now, let’s talk about Aja. She was so out of character in the movie, as if she was a totally different person; she would never leave anyone in danger even if she did not know them, especially Claire who is a friend. Aja may be Queen now, but she is no coward and definitely no jerk. 

“Jim, it’s too late, the bridge is about to fall!” Hello? Didn’t she basically try to use her own life core after finding out that Morando had just destroyed half of Arcadia and that it was too late? She would not choose running away as an option, never. She is a warrior.

Eli's appearance was not needed. But I still love him regardless. Though, he did not play a huge part but was used as an emotional anchor for Steve, basically. He doesn't do much in the movie, he didn't even do anything at all. Even if he doesn't appear in it—everything would still be the same since the Robot-Titan he designed was going to be helmed by Varvatos.

The inclusion of the Mpreg subplot felt completely unnecessary. It’s unclear whether it was meant for comedic appeal or simply to put reason to Krel’s dislike to romance. But either way, it added nothing meaningful to the story. It wasn’t even a central detail, and its impact was negligible. Additionally, Aja and Steve's complete lack of concern for their newly born children—who essentially is about to vanish when Jim chose to go back in time—was baffling and emotionally hollow. Their reaction (or lack thereof) undermined any emotional weight the scene could have had. His pregnancy had literally more attention than the building up of the characters and the plot.

Steve had potential to be used in the movie, a more heroic part. But the writers decided to shove him off and be a forced inclusion and it was disturbing to see. But at least it made a number of people laugh. We could have had a scene where the concept of Creepslayerz is back, but NO!!! We get teenage Male pregnancy instead, a detailed one.

 I found this movie deeply disappointing, especially since it wasn’t directed by Guillermo del Toro, the one who started it all.

And the part where they were trying to find the Order— when Douxie's soul got reverted back to his own body, Claire tells Krel that "I can just lock on a Nari and portal us there." Then why didn't you do so to track down Douxie's soul earlier when he was mistaken for Nari at the moment? 😭

So many of the deaths felt unnecessary—especially Nomura’s. Killing off such an important figure in Jim’s life without any real weight or closure was incredibly frustrating. And Strickler’s death? That, too, lacked the emotional depth it deserved. If the writers were aiming for an impactful character death, it would have made more sense to choose Blinky—Jim’s mentor and father figure—whose loss would have carried a much deeper emotional resonance. Draal’s sacrifice worked because it was meaningful and justified within the story. In contrast, Nomura’s death felt careless and hollow. It was as if she were treated like a disposable side character, despite having a significant connection to Jim—especially during his time in the Darklands where they started to have a platonic connection. Her bond with him mattered, and the way her story ended just didn’t reflect that.

Back to Strickler’s part, he really died for nothing. His sacrifice had no use since Skrael’s titan was indestructible by just using some few pieces of bomb. They should have known that bombs will do nothing as the titans–they're made of magic. Him choosing to sacrifice himself was not a bad choice, he would do anything to protect Barbara and now Jim, but it was done unprofessionally.

The mention of Jim’s father after his sacrifice was so random while at that, it was absurd. Jim doesn't care about his father so why does he now? He said it himself, "You know I don't care about my father." To Blinky. I know that this is fan service but we know absolutely NOTHING about his father other than he is a cheater and is probably friends with Steve's father as they both do skiing.

SO many sacrifices, yet none even have the significance they deserve and the writer just shrug it off because hey time is important

Oh, and by the way,

And let’s not forget one of the biggest plot holes: they literally created a fusion of Akiridion tech and magic that could block out magic itself—and no one thought to use it against the Titans? Seriously? Only Toby remembered the artifact, but by that point, they were all on the verge of death. That kind of oversight just makes the characters look incompetent and undermines the stakes entirely. This is bad writing. Like yes, characters can forget their own creations. But this one? The one they made specifically for the Arcane order? The one that removes their magic?? Stop.

There are so MANY plot holes in just one movie, it’s hard to process.

Also, why is Jim suddenly using a serrator—a weapon he’s never used before to fight a demigod made of fire? They could have at least shown that he struggled to use something he has never wielded before. 

Seriously, WHO wrote Jim in this movie? Because I have a gift for you, and it’s ticking. Jim was completely useless in this film. He’s already accepted that he is the Trollhunter—”amulet or not.” So why are we revisiting this question? Yes, the amulet’s rebuild was a nice touch, but Jim constantly went back and forth about whether he’s still the Trollhunter, quoting "but without the amulet am I still the troll hunter?” just feels unnecessary and repetitive. It undermines the growth his character went through, turning him into someone who can’t seem to accept his role despite everything he’s been through. Yes, him being anxious and questioning is his character, but we have already gone through this before. His personality has been completely altered—Almost everyone included!

I liked the jailbreak scene. It made me laugh and smile to see Lucy and Ricky playing a part. [I’m so sorry but Eli absolutely had no point in showing up. He only came back as Steve’s midwife.]

Nari and Skrael’s fight lacked depth. There was barely any meaningful interaction between them beforehand to establish why their confrontation mattered beyond the surface-level conflict—Skrael’s desire to reshape the world versus Nari’s choice to protect her friends. That alone doesn’t justify the importance of their battle. The emotional stakes were weak because their relationship wasn’t explored. On top of that, so many character dynamics were either ignored or rewritten entirely, stripping away their importance to the story and one another.

But I will say that the movie did have great action scenes. But there was no teamwork when fighting Bellroc, everyone was set aside as a decoy.

Jim going back in time was my last straw. He knowingly risked everything—his loved ones, the balance of the world—just to make that speech and undo everything that had happened. He was fully aware that tampering with the past could lead to even greater danger, yet he still made that reckless choice. It undermines the growth he went through and paints him as someone willing to gamble with countless lives, including those he claimed to protect. That moment didn’t feel like a heroic sacrifice—it’s a careless, desperate rewrite.

Toby’s death was well earned, It was a heroic act.

Having Toby become the new Trollhunter is a rushed decision that obviously showed that they had no intention of continuing the franchise. Throughout the series, it was emphasized—both through dialogue and major plot points—that Jim was the Trollhunter and that it was his destiny. There was even an entire episode centered around the idea that if anyone else wielded the amulet, the world would fall into chaos.  Didn’t Merlin himself say that “My Amulet does not make mistakes.” and out of every creature he can choose, it was Jim. So why are we forcing Toby to wield daylight. This is very ridiculous.

The amulet chose Jim for a reason. By suddenly passing it on to Toby, the narrative undermines its own message—especially the core theme that “Destiny is a gift.” If it was never truly Jim’s destiny, then what was the point of all his struggles and sacrifices?

Nari was a good inclusion since she plays a big part in the movie and the entire series, but I feel like Douxie was the only well written character throughout the entire movie, but he still has flaws just like every other major character that appears in this movie. Though, he wasn’t really important in the movie. He was more of a sideline.

The two pages of a book being stuck by a sticky food was the dumbest decision to build up climax. Blinky is not that stupid to not notice that two pages are glued to each other, if so, the pages would be bulky. 

Also, WHAT happened to the thousands of foster children of Barbara and Strickler? The last we've seen of them was in 3Below's "Mother's day" episode. Why is Barbara and Strickler on Camelot??? I am very worried

It would have made for a more decent ending if they had allowed Toby to die entirely. While it’s harsh to say, it would have added importance to the story and given Jim a much-needed emotional arc. Jim could have been forced to confront the harsh reality that he can’t save everyone, no matter how much he tries. Instead, he passes his so-called destiny to his friend, the one who he went back in time to, knowing all the huge responsibilities, hardships and death-experiencing moments he had that would now be Toby’s future. Why would he ever want this to his friend that just died a moment ago? This is so stupid, then he goes off chasing after Claire while completely aware of what Toby will go through. 

Toby wouldn’t even survive Bular in the canals. Because as it was stated, Jim only did thanks to his chef skills. Not to be offensive, Toby was in a bad shape at the beginning of the show [not that there’s anything wrong with that of course.] The writers are PRETENDING, gaslighting themselves that Toby will be exactly how Jim came to be the trollhunter. Toby has his own skills and fighting style, but he is not made to wield daylight. It completely invalidates his character and abilities as a person.

And one of the reasons how Jim was able to defeat Gunmar was because he had to SACRIFICE himself to transform into a half troll. Toby will most likely will get himself killed trying to defeat Gunmar and so will Jim, probably. Unless he has the ability to while being human. The world is screwed.

If Jim had to choose a moment to go back to, it would have made sense for him to pick the point just before the fight with Bellroc and Skrael on the train. With the knowledge he gained from experiencing the entire battle, he could have easily defeated them, avoiding the entire mess that followed. [He can actually choose a time to go back to, by the way.] This decision also seems selfish as his choice. 

Honestly, they could have defeated Bellroc without having to use the new amulet if they just remembered to use the trifurcate blaster [magic blocker].

The only good parts in this movie was the animation, cinematography, and the visuals. 

The only reason I’m giving this review two stars is because of Bellroc. Their portrayal in the movie was genuinely compelling, especially the scene where they try to manipulate Jim into abandoning the fight and fleeing to his friends—just to make it easier to seize the Heartstone. [Also a self-indulgent reason because they’ve become my favorite character.]

This was a terrible way to end the series—terribly written, atrocious even, and incredibly rushed. Even fanfictions written by 13-year-old fans have more cohesive plots than this. It’s disappointing to see a story with so much potential collapse like this. It reminded me of how I felt about How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World's ending—but at least that had meaning and had a reason WHY. Rise of the Titans doesn’t even offer that. [And ironically, both stories are canonically set in the same universe] which just makes the contrast more frustrating. It’s like Spider-Man no way home had a cheap copy of an ending. This movie was a mistake.

The ending is what makes you say: “why?”

I recommend stopping at Wizards and imagine your own ending on how they’ve come to save the world.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Not off topic at all! It's yet another reason why these episodes play so poorly. Why the hell did season three give us Miraculer - the episode where Chloe resists an akuma - if that wasn't going to pay off in Chat Blanc? Why show us that akumas could be resisted if you weren't going to let it matter when the male lead got hit by one? Why fill season four with examples of side characters breaking free of akumas if you weren't going to let Adrien break free in Ephemeral? Why let the resistance break free of the nightmare dust if Adrien was going to give into it? It's all incredibly insulting to his character. If you're going to let the male romantic lead fail, then let everyone else fail, too! I have no idea what message canon is trying to send with this crap. It's certainly not an uplifting one.

I'm going to dig into season three's version of this failure to explain how this kind of thing is supposed to work in case anyone was curious about the technical elements. Seemed prudent since this is my lets-get-really-technical-about-how-this-show-failed-the-power-of-love post.

Up until season three, we never saw anyone resist an akuma. Once you were hit, you were trapped until the heroes freed you. The lore about that was a little confusing with some episodes seeing a person revert as soon as the akuma was freed and others requiring a Miraculous Ladybug to be cast, but either way no one was freeing themselves. Then Miraculer aired. Ninth in production order and eleventh in air order, this episode changed everything.

Chloe: No, Hawk Moth! I am a superheroine! I am Queen Bee! Ladybug will come and get me when she needs me! I WILL NEVER JOIN YOU! (throws her photo onto the ground as the akuma exits it... and pants)

With this one move, rejecting akumas was suddenly on the table. In the world of competent story telling, a moment like this is introduced to setup a new power so that the power can have a big payoff later on. The most common payoff for a moment like this is for it to setup a climactic moment to make that moment feel more reasonable to the audience.

For example, if Chat Blanc saw the first ever akuma rejection out of nowhere, then it would throw some audience members out of the story because we'd never seen that happen before. The confusion of this new power coming out of nowhere cheapens the climax because it feels like something the writers made up at the last minute. Instead of being drawn into the story, viewers pause and go, "Wait, what? Since when was that a thing?" For a prime example of this issue in action, see the ending of season four where Gabriel is somehow able to use Ladybug's yo-yo to get the miraculous even though nothing in the show setup the idea that non-Guardians could use that power.

If you want to avoid this type of confusion in your big climatic moment, then you have to establish whatever power you want to use before the climax. That's why you want to either hint at or use this power in a less climactic moment that takes place earlier in the story. That lets the power feel more organic to the world by letting the audience know that the power is a thing when the stakes are lower. It even makes sense to only tell the audience about the power while keeping it a secret from the heroes so that they can be shocked while we go "I knew it!!!! Power of love baby!" Setup and payoff. (Note while this can be foreshadowing, it's not required to be foreshadowing. That's a specific subcategory of setup and payoff that I ranted about in the linked post. Hinting at a power is foreshadowing. Using the power probably isn't.)

For reasons beyond my understanding, canon didn't do any of the above in season three. Chloe rejects an akuma in Miraculer and that lore-changing moment means nothing to the story even though Miraculer comes about half a season before Chat Blanc. No other akuma rejections show up in season three and no one ever finds out that this rejection happened. It's all setup and no payoff making this scene a pointless waste of the audience's time just like everything else about the Chloe arc. It's not here for anything meaningful. Cut it and nothing about canon's story changes. You could even argue that it's worse than a waste of our time because of how badly this moment undermines Adrien's character if people remember it while watching Chat Blanc. They might understandably wonder why Chloe got the love-interest-level akuma-rejection power while Adrien didn't.

If the writers weren't going to use akuma rejections in moments were it truly mattered, then they should never have written Chloe's akuma rejection scene. I'd even argue that they never should have introduced the akuma rejection power because its existence continues to be a problem for Adrien's character throughout the show. For another example, see the multiple akuma rejections in the episodes leading up to Ephemeral where suddenly akuma rejections weren't on the table anymore. Talk about systemic writing issues and a lack of critical thinking!

What message are the writers trying to send by letting everyone but Adrien use this power? Marinette got to use it. Alya got to use it. Nino got to use it. Luka got to use it. Kagami got to use it. Chloe got to use it. Alix's conspiracy theory obsessed brother got to use it. The list goes on! What makes Adrien so unworthy?

Miraculous vs The Power of Love

I've written several posts where I talked about Miraculous' poor use of the power of love trope and how that massively turned me off to canon. Three strikes and you're out! When this topic comes up I usually bring up Adrien and only Adrien. This has led to some anger at the fact that I didn't mention love failing anyone else as it absolutely has. I've also seen some anger over my desire for Adrien to defeat Gabriel's control and win the day since Adrien is a victim and that means that it's perfectly fine if he fails to beat his father's control no matter what the consequences of that failure are. After all, the failure isn't really on Adrien. It's on Gabriel. A sentiment I understand, but don't agree with since this is a writing blog. I'm discussing the message the writing is sending not which character gets the in-universe blame.

I'm not going to change how I discuss this topic since it is my honest opinion, but I can explain that opinion in depth to hopefully save us all from miscommunication! That's why I'm making this post! It addresses all of the above. I'll be linking to this whenever the topic comes up so that I can include some nuance without having to go into all of the detail I'm about to go into because - as you'll see - this is a long one which is why I don't go into this depth in other posts. It would just totally derail them. I'm also not going to go into the deconstruction aspect of things here because this is already really long, but I do have a post on that for even more nuance!

If you disagree with any of this, that's totally fine! I just ask that you keep the your counter arguments civil. Remember, we're talking about a badly written kids show that none of us have the power to change and the magical power of love isn't real so it doesn't actually matter if I'm right about this. Nor is Adrien going to thank you for coming to his aid. He doesn't exist and, as always, my issue is not him as a person. My issue is the way the narrative uses him as a storytelling tool.

What Is the Power of Love?

The power of love is a trope where either platonic or romantic love saves the hero from some type of conflict or upsetting situation. It's a rather broad trope that can be used in conflicts of any size, but even TV tropes acknowledges that it's primarily "applied in dire situations to make things better. In fact, in many Disney movies it's the solution to everything." That definition is how I approach the power of love.

To put it more bluntly, unless we're talking about a specific example, when I say "the power of love" I am thinking of a story's climax or, in the case of something like a multi-season show, one of the climaxes. More specifically, I'm thinking of the lyrics to one of my favorite cheesy pop songs:

There comes a time When you face the toughest of fights Searching for a sign Lost in the darkest of nights The wind blows so cold Standing alone Before the battle's begun But deep in your soul The future unfolds As bright as the rays of the sun You've got to believe In the power of love

If it's not the toughest of fights or the darkest of nights, then the power of love failing may disappoint me, but I don't consider it an unforgivable sin. In some cases, I'd even be disappointed if the power of love was brought in before the climax! The power of love is the ultimate cheesy move so it makes sense to save it for the last minute if using it earlier would lessen or even ruin that last minute epic save.

To show what I mean, let's talk about another trope that Miraculous has failed to use well, but that doesn't ruin the show for me. A trope that has led the show to do the exact thing we just discussed: ignore a small moment when love should have won to allow for a bigger win when all hope seems lost.

The Evil Clone Thing

[Image description: the Buzz and Woody meme with the words "Evil Clones. Evil Clones Everywhere"]

There have been an absurd number of episodes where the evil clone/evil twin trope came into play, but the three big ones are Ladybug, Optigami, and the season four final. In each of these episodes, we see a good character replaced by an identical evil version. We also see the good character's love interest fail to recognize that their crush/romantic partner has been replaced. That means that all three of these episodes see the power of romantic love failing. We also don't see a more platonic version of love show up to save the day.

The worst of these episode is the season four final where Marinette doesn't recognize that Felix has taken Adrien's place. That deception is how Gabriel steals the miraculous so it's obviously a pretty big deal and can be argued as a major fail for the power of love. I don't disagree. I think that Marinette's love should have let her see through the lies and dislike that the writers took this route to make her lose. However, I don't have this on my list of moments when the power of love needed to win for the story to work.

While Marinette failing to recognize Felix leads to her darkest hour, it does not happen in her darkest hour. Her darkest hour comes when she actually loses the miraculous which happens in a completely different scene from the one where she's deceived. It's also worth noting that Felix is not present in this moment of loss so there was no opportunity for the power of love to pull off a last minute win.

The loss of the miraculous leads to a scene where Ladybug is sitting alone in the rain, ready to give up all hope. And what happens next?

[Image description: Chat Noir standing in the rain, smiling, holding out his hand to Ladybug]

Chat Noir shows up to reignite Ladybug's will to fight via his love and support. She takes his hand, he draws her into a hug, and they stand together as one, ready to once again face their enemy:

Cat Noir: We're gonna get them back one by one…until the very last. And we'll make sure this never happens again. Ladybug: You...and me? Cat Noir: You, the best superhero there ever was... and me, your loyal partner.

A lot of people love this scene and it led to some major hype for season five which means that it's time to quote some more of that cheesy song that I brought up at the start:

Stand by my side There's nothing to hide Together we'll fight to the end Take hold of my hand And you'll understand What it truly means to be friends You've got to believe (you've got to believe) In the power of love

While I don't love the season four final, it is a B-tier execution of the thing I was talking about earlier. Canon let love fail in a small moment to increase tension and give Ladybug a "darkest night" moment. That darkest night moment then led to a semi-epic power-of-love comeback that understandably got a lot of fans super excited for season five because they assumed that it was going to be the season of Ladynoir. In other words, for a lot of fans, the power of love did its job in the season four final!

All of this is why I don't bring up Marinette when I talk about the power of love failing. It does fail her, but not in her darkest nights and toughest fights. Any time she's overwhelmed and ready to give up all hope, someone comes along to give her the will to fight on. That person is usually Chat Noir because he's her end game love interest so of course the writers use him! His "you and me against the world" moments may not be the most epic example of the power of love winning, but they are the power of love winning, so saying that the power of love fails Marinette feels like an overstatement of harm. She's never had a total loss.

The closest we get to Marinette truly losing is the season five final. That episode feels like an ultimate-level failure to many of us, on par with Ephemeral, but the writers clearly don't agree. For them, season five had a happy ending which makes critiquing that final fight tricky. I'll be arguing that Adrien lost hard in the next section, but I can't say the same for Marinette and this section is about her so let's focus on that for now.

No matter how much I hate the final, I can't look at the picture below this paragraph and argue that love failed Marinette because what did losing cost her? This isn't the season four final where she genuinely suffered. This is her getting everything she's ever wanted! The miraculous are back in her hands, she won the heart of the boy she loves, and no one is actively messing with her love life anymore. That's a pretty solid win even if she didn't win the actual fight.

[Image description: Adrien and Marinette at the end of the season five final, kissing in the spot that used to house Emilie's statue.]

This is further complicated by the fact that - as written - the season five final doesn't put Marinette in a position to use the power of love. She's never given a chance to save Adrien or even just talk to him. She doesn't know that's he's in trouble, locked up in a padded cell, suffering all alone! And Adrien's love can't rally her in her darkest moment when all hope seems lost because - for the first time ever in a season final - she never got one of those! She was a badass in the final fight! No pep talk or supportive teammates necessary! She would have had a total victory if the writers hasn't made her try to talk sense to the villain or sent her Adrien's ring just so Gabriel could make the wish, further adding to the problem of this show's absolutely vile messaging around love.

In other words, lack of love isn't why Marinette loses the final fight. She loses because the writers wanted love to empower Gabriel in his darkest moment, a move the writers have the audacity to call a mutual victory. (Gross. Abusive terrorist should not get power of love moments without a massive redemption arc first. It's yet another insult to the trope. Gabriel did not deserve peace while his son goes on to suffer.)

If you think about the episodes Ladybug and Optigami you'll notice a similar problem. The power of love failed to let Chat Noir and Alya recognize that their romantic interests had been replaced, but that failure didn't lead to their ultimate defeat. It didn't even lead the villains to a minor victory! Both episodes maintain the status quo.

This doesn't mean that I like those episodes. I would rewrite both of them to let love win because they're good examples of small moments where love can win without cheapening or ruining the season's big climax. I just don't view these episodes as times when the show needed to use the power of love if it wanted to honor its chosen genre. That requirement only applies when it's a darkest night or toughest fight.

Before we move on, please note that Ladybug was the power of Adrien's love failing, yet I never mention it when I'm complaining about the power of love failing. That's because I'm never purposefully listing every time Adrien's love failed and ignoring everyone else. I'm simply listing the moments when love needed to let the heroes win because we were in one of the show's darkest hours and that is the only time when I consider the power of love a true requirement. Love can fail in small moments to increase the tension, but if love fails at the moment when all hope seems lost, then why are we even here?

There are only three episodes that get that level of criticism from me and each one had a single character whose writing infuriated me: Adrien.

Adrien vs The Power of Love

There are three episodes where Gabriel's identity is revealed and the final fight goes down. Those episodes are Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, and the season five final. In each of these episodes, Adrien suffers on a scale that no other character has had to suffer:

In Chat Blanc he is akumatized and forced to use his cataclysm to kill both his father and the love of his life, dooming him to spend eternity alone in a dead word.

In Ephemeral he is akumatized and forced to use his powers to hand the love of his life over to his father, thereby allowing Gabriel to win and rewrite reality.

In the season five final, Adrien is left alone in a jail cell, tormented by nightmares while his father dies leaving Adrien an orphan. Adrien is then told some truly colossal lies about what actually happened, leading him to believe that Gabriel scarified himself to save Ladybug's life. Since Chat Noir's usual role in fights is protecting Ladybug, this is arguably the equivalent of Adrien being told that his failure to show up killed his father. I'm not even sure if that's the wrong message because Gabriel did die from a cataclysm and Adrien would understandably blame himself for that, too, so maybe this was a way to address that without going too dark for kids and why does that argument hold water? Wtf was this trash fire of a story line???

When you compare Adrien's treatment in these episodes to something like Marinette's treatment in season four final you can hopefully see why it feels like comparing a broken arm to a mortal blow. It's not that Marinette doesn't suffer. In terms of individual moments of suffering, Marinette beats out every other character! But while she may beat Adrien in breadth, he is the clear winner in terms of depth and the only one who never gets a true power of love moment.

Marinette's darkest nights and toughest fights ultimately work out so that she can go on to some new type of suffering, the old suffering fading away to nothing more than memory. Adrien's darkest nights and toughest fights lead to loss and suffering for which there is no cure other than rewinding time or rewriting reality. The season five final even has Adrien directly state that he's not worthy of Marinette's love:

Adrien: I'm not in my right mind. I'm too angry — at myself for falling short of Marinette's love, at my father for sending me here in London, at this stupid app and these rings that use my image... it makes me sick! This nightmare is giving me the horrible feeling that, if I transform, I'll get akumatized and destroy everything with my Cataclysm — Marinette, Ladybug... (Takes off the ring and hands it to Plagg.) Plagg: Surely Ladybug can help you. Adrien: If I ask her for help, I'd have to give her information that would jeopardize my secret identity... and I can't.

This is literally Adrien's last scene in the main story line. He doesn't show up again until the happily ever after epilogue where he and Marinette kiss. In other words, the show had Adrien directly state that he's unworthy of Marinette's love and then did nothing to counter that statement. I guess this poor unfortunate soul is just lucky that Marinette likes him enough to keep him around in spite of his many failings...

Writers, seriously, what the hell are you doing? This is the kind of dialogue that should lead into a power of love moment! How is thinking about Marinette leading Adrien to despair instead of strength? Why is Plagg just accepting this? Plagg is a magical being who was assigned to watch over Adrien. Shouldn't a character like that help Adrien rally in his darkest night? Where's Adrien's you and me against the world pep talk? That should go both ways!!! Have him break out, call Ladybug to tell her that he's not coming, only for her to rally him so he comes and at least fights outside in the city while she does her solo fight! Don't leave him alone to rot while almost every other character in the freaking show gets to fight!

It would be one thing if Adrien gave up because he was alone and scared, but Plagg is there and the writers directly bring up Marinette and love only to do nothing to show those as positive forces in Adrien's life!!! Instead, Marinette is the thing that keeps him from the fight because Adrien's nightmare is him getting akumatized and killing Marinette even though Adrien knows nothing about Chat Blanc.

[Image description: Adrien's nightmare where he's a blue haired version of Chat Blanc, holding Marinette's body in his arms having killed her with a cataclysm]

To be clear, in each of the three episodes I listed above, Adrien is undeniably a victim suffering at the hands of his main abuser. They're also some of the worst moments of abuse in the entire show. It would be perfectly reasonable for a real life person to give into despair if they were put into this situation, but real life people don't transform into magical cat boys who wield the raw power of Destruction. I was not looking for realism here. I was looking for hope and inspiration!

I wanted to see Adrien win! I wanted his love for Marinette and/or his friends to give him the strength to overpower his father's control because that's what the power of love is all about! When all hope seems lost, it's there to let the hero win because love is stronger than despair, hatred, fear, and magical remote controls! It is the bright light that blasts away the darkness in your darkest night! Unless your name is Adrien Agreste, then no love for you! Suffer, feather boy, suffer!

Example of what I wanted from canon

There are many ways to fix these three episodes so love wins, but to keep this simple let's focus on Chat Blanc and what the power of love winning might look like if we let canon play unchanged up until the moment where Adrien loses control of his powers:

Hawk Moth: Cat Blanc, I'm giving you the infinite power of destruction!! Together, you and I will seize Ladybug's Miraculous and awaken your mother!!! Obey!!! Cat Noir: (tries to fight back but fails) I'm sorry, Ladybug! (He succumbs his akumatization and transforms into Cat Blanc. Ladybug watches in horror at his transformation.) Hawk Moth: Seize her Miraculous, My Son!!! (Cat Blanc lifts his right arm to Ladybug, activating Mega Cataclysm.) Ladybug: No, Adrien! You have to resist!! (Cat Blanc whimpers as he changes his mind and points his arm to Hawk Moth.) Hawk Moth: How dare you!? Not me, Adrien!! Cat Blanc: (whimpering while looking to both of them) I... I don't know what to do!!!!!!

Instead of having the mega cataclysm go off here, we instead see this: Ladybug and Hawk Moth both realize that Chat Blanc is incapable of listening to either of them. Hawk Moth's reaction is to turn and run away, desperate to save himself. Ladybug's reaction is to run to her boyfriend's side, not caring about the danger. She wraps her arms around him, closes her eyes, and tells him that it's okay. That she's here and she loves him and she'll stay here and love him no matter what. It doesn't matter who his father is, it's still him and her against the world now and forever.

The more she talks, the weaker the mega cataclysm grows. By the time she makes her final vow, the mega cataclysm is little more than a flickering glow. A black clad hand touches both of her hair ties, disintegrating them, leaving her hair to fall free around her face since that was a thing in this episode. The minor wardrobe change makes her pull back and look at her boyfriend to see that he's back to Chat Noir, a purified akumas fluttering off in the distance. Chat Noir is crying, clearly distraught, but he's himself again because Marinette's presence allowed him to focus on her love over his father's poison. They won. Love won. Fear and abuse lost.

The couple embraces. Hawk Moth's big gambit failed and they now know his identity so the fight is almost over. Paris will soon be free.

From there you can have an epic battle with the temp holders where the butterfly and the peacock are recovered. Nino gets to punch Gabriel in the face a dozen times or so as a treat and Adrien gets to cuddle up with some treats, sitting the fight out since he's already done his part by surviving the reveal of his father's identity.

You could also have Gabriel just give up because he doesn't have any moves left and the full implications of what he did are smacking him in the face, sapping him of the will to fight. Anything that lets this asshole suffer is fine by me! Emilie's fate is up to you. I like to make her at least semi-decent and revive her to give Adrien a happier ending and Gabriel the horror of divorce papers, but that's just me.

Final Thoughts

As I said at the top, I'm going to continue to complain about the way that Adrien was written in these episodes. I don't consider his victim status a reasonable excuse for the way these episodes played out. If anything, his victim status is an even bigger black mark against the writing!

I come to family-oriented media for hope and happy endings! I want stories about victims being empowered! I want Gabriel's controlling nature to totally backfire on him and not in a mutually-assured-destruction way like we saw in Chat Blanc. I want Gabriel's choice to cost him everything and for him to suffer that loss for the rest of his life while Adrien gets endless love and support, allowing him to survive the reveal and go on to live a happy life. If that's not what you're selling, then I'm not buying thus me giving up on canon after the season five final. There's just no coming back from that kind of colossal writing failure.

I will try to remember to use the word "forced" when describing the problems (as in "forced to kill"), but that's the only thing I can change while still sharing my honest opinion since my main problem with these episodes isn't Gabriel's treatment of Adrien. While I don't like how far these episodes took Gabriel, you don't need to rewrite him to make the episodes work. It doesn't matter how far the writing takes Gabriel, he should never be able to successfully manipulate Adrien while threatening Adrien's supposed True Love.

As soon as Adrien knows that Marinette/Ladybug is in danger, it should be game over for Gabriel because love is supposed to be stronger than all of the awful things that Gabriel has done up to and including the sentimonster crap. In fact, the sentimonster crap just makes it even more important for Adrien to win! Gabriel should think he has victory in the bag because he views Adrien as a perfect doll, but love proves Gabriel wrong letting Adrien overpower his amok and win. The trope is called "love conquers all" not "love conquers the mildly inconvenient." The more dire the straits, the more important the win!

Unfortunately, that's not the message Miraculous is sending. By letting Adrien give into his father's control in the show's darkest hours, the message is that Gabriel's control is stronger than love. That Adrien will never be free. That he was Gabriel's perfect doll and you were silly if you ever expected him to be more than that. That's not a message that I'm that ever going to agree with and is yet another reason why I only bring up Adrien + these three episodes when I talk about the power of love failing.

You are never going to convince me that Adrien being allowed to give into despair was a good thing unless you pair that argument with some major changes to canon like love square not being together and/or Adrien not knowing that his actions would endanger Marinette. Even then you need to design that fix in a way that ultimately allows Adrien to win otherwise you are sending a terrible message to the audience. There should never be a scenario where the final battle ends the way canon had it end.

Gabriel is the show's big bad, Adrien is his main victim, and the theme of their relationship has been control. That means that, when it comes to the final fight with Gabriel, Adrien needs to be involved in a way that gives him agency. I'm not saying he needs to fight his father on his own or even at all! I'm okay with him sitting out the fight so long as you pair it with something big like Adrien being the one to learn Gabriel's identity or something more dramatic like my simple Chat Blanc fix.

However, Adrien sitting out only works if it's his own, freely-made choice. As soon as you pair it with something like magic nightmare dust you are once again sending the message that Gabriel's control is the strongest force in Adrien's life. I truly don't understand how anyone can embrace that message and call it good, especially when canon didn't ultimately do something positive with it like letting Adrien become stronger as time went on. He actually got weaker as the show went on!

Chat Blanc saw everyone lose because Adrien was able to at least try to fight back, denying his father total victory. Ephemeral saw none of that fighting spirit and Gabriel just outright won. Season five once again saw Gabriel win only, this time, the show didn't even let Adrien be part of the fight. What an uplifting character arc for Adrien! (That was sarcasm.) Play the episodes in reverse order and you might actually have something if you add a fourth one where he finally wins!

If you want to talk about more minor conflicts where the power of love should have won then I'm happy to do that! Canon has lots of options to pick from! But unless you specify that you want to talk about something minor, these three episodes are going to be my only examples of the power of love failing because they are the only times when love completely failed the character in question. Total loss, no silver lining, writers wtf are you doing?

Listing times when love failed Marinette or Alya in the same list as these three episodes just feels insulting to Adrien unless the context is something like a list ranking the failures from smallest to largest. I'll once again point out that I don't even list the other times when love failed Adrien because my issue isn't Adrien as a person. My issue is Adrien as a tool of the narrative and the asinine message that the Agreste arc sends to the young children this show is aimed at. I wouldn't even be okay with this in a show aimed at adults unless it was clearly marketed as a grimdark take on superheroes. Miraculous should not feel like a kiddiefied version of The Boys and yet here we are.

Why was Adrien granted magical powers and allowed to fight his controlling father for five seasons if Gabriel was just going to die without Adrien getting a decisive victory? Why focus season five on Gabriel controlling Adrien to such an extreme if Adrien was never going to be allowed to break free? Why make Adrien the main love interest and focus the entire show on romantic love if you don't have anything positive to say about romantic love? Why bother getting the love square together before every single final showdown in the freaking show if their relationship status was going to mean nothing? Where is my power of love always so strong?

(Btw, that song I kept quoting is from the original English dub soundtrack to Sailor Moon R - The Promise of the Rose. It plays as love and friendship save the planet Earth from an asteroid. The updated dub replaced the song with the original Japanese soundtrack and the comments are full of people complaining about the change because the song just takes this scene to the next level! I bring this up because Sailor Moon set many people's standards for the magical girl team show genre that Miraculous is clearly taking inspiration from, but failing to fully embrace. If you don't want love and friendship to be on par with nuclear weapons and asteroid attacks, then don't write a show about love and magic aimed at kids.)

[angelltheninth]

Vampire Boyfriend Gets Distracted by the Scent of Your Blood

Pairing: Male!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, distractions, blood lust, teasing, established relationship, domestic fluff

Prompt: "Mhm, you smell good." - List

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: This prompt fit so well for vampires that I just had to write a little something for it. Enjoy, comment, reblog and all that good stuff.

Ever since this morning your boyfriend has been acting a bit strange. He walked by you quickly, he kisses you for just enough to make your lips tingle for more, he didn't breathe around you, and that last one was the strangest one of all. Normally he didn't need to breathe that much at all, he was a vampire after all, his heart wasn't beating, breathing was just a habit that was left over from when he was still human, hundreds of years ago.

He wasn't sick, at least you didn't so. Could vampires even get sick? And if he was he would have told you. You've been dating for a few years at this point, and have recently started living together. You told each other everything.

You caught him staring at you more than once today too, he would always look away, his ears downcast the tiniest bit. Then he would do it again, and so it went for the entire day. He was clearly hiding something from you, something embarrassing.

"And here we go, one romantic candle-lit dinner for my beautiful darling!" He carried the plates of food like an expert, having worked in the food service industry several times, with several identities. The food had a strong, almost overpowering scent spice and meat. It was making your mouth water. "Hungry?"

"When you're cooking, how can I not be?" You smiled at him before taking off your sweater, and the moment you did you heard a crash. Shattered glass and wine spilled all over the floor of your kitchen while your boyfriend just stood there, frozen.

"Fuck, I'll get the broom!" He yelled after a moment. For as long as you ate he cleaned. Odd given his superhuman speed, you knew he could have cleaned it up in less than a minute and joined you at the table.

At least he joined you on the couch, you were watching Nosferatu, the new one. It was a warm night so his cold arms were more than a welcome heaven.

"You're stiff." You commented, not taking your eyes off the TV.

"S-Sorry, that scene was really hot... I can move if you... oh..." He paused when he saw the raised eyebrow and your serious look. "You mean stiff as in not relaxed."

"You've been like that all day today. Whenever I get close to you it's like you freeze up, you stop breathing. Earlier you dropped the glasses and the wine bottle. You never do those things. Am I doing something to make you uncomfortable? This was originally your apartment, so if I'm overstepping somehow I want to know." You almost wanted to move away from him. If it weren't for him holding you and you wanting honest answers you might have.

He sighed heavily and took a deep breath, his pupils dilating as he did. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart." His cold nose pressed against your neck and he took another deep breath. "You smell really good. It's becoming hard to ignore. Very distracting. I didn't know it'd be like this when we started living together. But I don't want you to move out! I love having you here!"

"Do you want to suck my blood? I'm not opposed to that, as you know." You rubbed your thighs together, remembering the bite marks that were still there, glanced down at your arms, also covered with more, all but faded marks. They take a long time to heal, which is why even though your blood tastes the best to him it's rare that he drinks it.

Only on special occasions.

"I'm not hungry exactly, it just gets me worked up. Not in that sense. It's gonna take some time to get used to this new living situation. I've never had a roommate that made me hungry in more ways than one." He kissed your neck, the fangs prickling at your skin for a brief moment. "I'll get used to it eventually. Hopefully with less and less incidents."

"You should have said so sooner! For a moment I thought you were avoiding me cause I was annoying you." As soon as the words left your mouth your boyfriend gasped dramatically, offended.

"You could never, I love living with you! I want to live with you until you're old and gray, and even beyond then." His cold lips found your warm ones, exchanging different temperatures, a cold tongue against a warm one. The two of you were fundamentally different, but together, you could always make something beautiful, no matter the obstacle.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[legendarycherryblossomlove]

Can you do a Ultra Magnus/minimums NSFW that mech deserves much appreciation pls?

Stress relief

[Ultra Magnus x Reader +18.]

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[Warning: Fluff sex]

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It was like any ordinary day for Ultra Magnus, he had to take care of Rodimus' bullshit for the whole 24 hours shift. No rest, no breaks cause he knows how damn reckless that flaming Prime could be. Good thing he isn't the only one though, Megatron's scowled face during the entire day says so.

But today, you wanted to help your beloved Magnus. You notice how distant he was lately because of the endless reports given by him.

So you thought why not give a little visit? You know, catch up. It feels like forever. You guys haven't actually had such intimacy around the ship..

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Knock knock

"Rodimus, if you're here to annoy me. I do not need your constant ya-" Ultra Magnus was cut off when he saw you at his office door.

"Dear? What are you doing here?" He was shocked. Well, not much shocked more like surprised. He didn't expect you to visit him during his work hours. Or so he thought..

"I came here for a visit. Can I not visit my darling?" You said with tease but Magnus wasn't having it.

"I'm busy. Your constant yapping will have to be rescheduled next week."

But you whined at his words. He's always making up plans and never has the time to spend with you!

"Magnus please. Just this once?"

You pleaded with your gigantic conjunx. He was about to decline but since he's very busy, he sighed and lets you stay with him.

"Fine. But don't dilly dally on my work or my desk." He scolded lightly.

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You could hear how Magnus would grunt and groan everytime Rodimus would assign him with anything.

"Are you oka-"

Boom.

Magnus' servos fisted up into a ball and hit it on his desk, breaking it into pieces.

"My love, calm down." You tried to ease his stress but he didn't listen. His frown deepening as stress overcomes him.

He lets out a sharp vent to calm down for a moment.

"I need to relax..." He unclenched his fists.

With empathy filling in your spark, you volunteer to be his little stress relief.

You placed a servo over your chest plate where your spark is.

"Ruin me, break me. Do whatever you want with me. In exchange of hoping it will help you relax, Magnus." You said with pure determination.

Magnus looked at you with a bit of horror but mostly it's just concern etched on his faceplate.

I mean, he was flattered with the offer. But the way you said it with raw words/affection without any hesitation, caught him off guard.

He was about to say something but was again cut off when you sat on his lap.

"And remember. Don't hold back until you're satisfied." Magnus was shocked due to your confidence.

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Hot vents and moans filled his office as he gently ram his spike into your inviting valve.

Ultra Magnus' voice hitches. He's trying to warn you. He wants to warn you that he might break you just by his spike!

But you brushed it off with a soft caress on his cheekplate.

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.

.

Between the soft and gentle fragging, Ultra Magnus would slow his pace. Even though his stress levels is on max.

Everything was going soft until...Rodimus started throwing in new reports for Magnus in his audio sensors. He can hear how many he needs to accomplish WITHIN A DAY.

In anger, his pace started to become rough and frantic.

"MAGNUS~! s-slow do-down ahh..."

You pleaded between your moans. His sudden rough pace caught you off guard, making you choke.

"I'm so sorry, dear. Its just that..- ah.." Magnus tried to apologise for his rough pace. But this is a life crisis. His stress is on the line and he isn't risking his mental health again.

.

.

.

After his overload. He quickly made sure that you were taken care immediately. Kisses, cuddles and words of assurance. He even offered a cloth to clean you up.

You then placed a servo on his cheekplate.

"Better?"

"A bit. But next time let me know if I was being too rough or much earlier..." Magnus said sheepishly

"I will, don't worry handsome."

"Love you."

"I love you too, dear."

[vyladerz]

Ah season 10, I certainly have feelings. So after watching season 10 I took a long needed break. I was letting this show consume too much of my time and I felt like I needed to come back with an updated perspective. I'm just gonna yap away now without trying to cut anything out, just my unfiltered thoughts like no one's reading.

-Demon Dean. Oh hell yeah. Definitely the highlight of this season for me. It's so unfair that I have to let go of Dean's overgrown hair. I'm so glad he was put in reds and blacks in terms of his wardrobe, man does it suit him so well. He's everything I hoped for and more when it came to demon Dean. I love the hints of humanity you see within him, I'm glad the real him manages to shine through somehow. Those details are powerful for a character who doesn't believe he has many redeeming qualities. It made me appreciate the best parts of Dean that make him so well rounded, the love he shares in small unassuming ways and the selfless pain he endures for the ones he loves. His misogynistic attitude as a demon really made me want Dean go back to normal. Similar to when souless Sam kept pushing his asshole behavior, just made me appreciate these characters more. The only underwhelming part of the demon Dean arc was the ritual scene. Didn't have the same kick as Crowley's, too quick with not enough emotional tension. Also why did the mark of Cain arc go nowhere for so long? I love some good filler but there should've been priorities with such a high stakes plotline.

-Castiel. Well it's sorta his paragraph, just his relationships so far. His dynamic with Hannah was nice. Didn't love nor hate it, just felt sorta awkward at times. I did like Hannah's adjustment to humanity and her growing appreciation for it overtime. My favorite instance of this is when she realized she had robbed her human vessel of their rightful autonomy and choose to let go. Which inspired Cas to make amends with Claire. Giving us a sweet father and daughter duo between the two. I don't get the Claire Novak distain personally, I find her and her relationship with Castiel endearing. Sometimes she can be a bit overkill with the angst but that doesn't deter me from appreciating her. There's not much else for me to note for Castiel on his own cause he wasn't given anything, well noteworthy to do. Last season he was passive for good reason but now I found myself patiently twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my king to do something. As long as the next season doesn't continue this trend then I'm good.

-Rowena. I've been dying for her appearance since I started watching during the earlier seasons. I'm a sucker for a gorgeous manipulative witch. I hope this show gives her more to work with besides her relation to Crowley. Her side plots that involved Crowley were less than favorable. A whole lot of nothing happening but now that she's back on her own by the end, I have hope.

Rant time.

-Crowley. I've noticed a concerning trend with Crowley that has been rearing it's ugly head blatantly this season. This show has stopped trying to make him a powerful threat and instead, a sad caricature of himself. Yes he is a silly guy and was first introduced as such. He is also a scheming bastard that would do anything to achieve his goals as the KING of hell no matter what. Now the whole Crowley becoming vulnerable due to being injected with human blood has a fair argument here. IF it was done intentionally and in favor of his character. However that is not the case. Almost every time Crowley shows vulnerability it doesn't show intrigue into his psyche rather just makes him look like an idiot with no foresight whatsoever. Everyone talks about Castiel's lobotomy but I'm here witnessing Crowley's and I feel like I'm going insane watching this iconic character get turned into a shell of his former self. I'd lose all hope if it weren't for that brilliant scene in episode 22 'The Prisoner.' Thank god that scene exists or I would've lost faith.

-Charlie & 'Dark Dynasty'. So this is easily my least favorite episode from Supernatural. (Ignoring last season's objectively worse episode 'Bloodlines') I had put off ranking season 10 mostly because I knew I had to revisit this episode. Well now I'm going to stop stalling. Fuck whatever the stupid Frankenstein and Nazi thing was. They were devoid of anything remotely interesting. Moving on. The character interactions this episode were so stiff and unbelievable. (I'm blaming most of that on the dialogue and pacing.) Each character felt completely dumbed down. Charlie leaving to an easily trackable motel, Castiel doing nothing, Rowena bitching too much this time, Crowley doing demon chores or whatever, and Sam having to babysit fully grown adults while Dean is...well there. None of that compares to what they did to my dear Charlie. Oh why oh why oh why did they kill her???? Her death served NO PURPOSE. "Actions have consequences teehee" AHHHHH I'm losing my mind all over again.

Oh Charlie you deserved so much better. When I say I genuinely have not cried this hard to a stupid shock value type of death before. I mean I had to turn away from my screen and stare at the wall while the next episode continued. I felt nothing for the burning of her body because there was no emotion in the scene except for resentment and rage. How am I supposed to care after there's been so many of these pointless salt and body burning scenes?

The real take away.

-Sam's devotion and drive towards saving Dean is something I really appreciate here especially in stark contrast to him not searching for Dean in purgatory. (Hey this sounds like my season 9 review) Gaining a better perspective after finishing this season, Sam lying and isolating himself from others is very much in character. This version of him descending into a frantic panic by searching for a way to save Dean parallels him in season 3. Boy oh boy do things get scary when Sam starts to lose control. (Mystery Spot mentioned?) I haven't seen this layer of deep unfettered rage from Sam since the early seasons 1-4. It's also clear that the brotherly resolve from the season 8 finale hasn't totally healed Sam of his emotional scars. That guilt is still haunting him and the heavy burden of the mark isn't just on Dean. It's kind of poetic actually how Sam seems to have a greater gradual downfall than Dean, the one with the actual mark.

-"Close your eyes Sammy." This show will put me through heaven and hell through an entire season and then manage to yank my heart out by the season finale each time. I don't really have words for this part. The final episode, 'Brothers Keeper' has a crushing emotional scene that just keeps the tears flowing in a good way. Dean being this close to taking Sam's life felt inevitable from the moment John told him he would have to. I completely lost it when Sam showed Dean the photos and told him to hold on to them. What a cruel show, I should know this by now. I wasn't kidding by having no words left but sometimes that's the best compliment to give.

Even though I'd say this would be one of my absolute least favorite seasons I wouldn't drop this show ever. Plus this season still has a lot of great episodes overall so I still count it as a win. I seriously couldn't imagine ever wanting to drop this show for any reason. At the end of the day it's just a show and although I was fairly upset before, that really never compares to how much love and appreciation I have for it.

[theallianceofcelestials]

Could I ask for a drabble of a what-if scenario? For ETD?

If so; The what-if would be this..;

"What if someone from the second oil rig tore Eclipse's arm off a day before Ruin came around again, and Ruin finds out when trying to find the animatronic he loves so much?"

I'm going to assume you mean the very beginning of the second chapter, when he's trying to sleep, tho he was there earlier as well, so he's likely aware Eclipse was in some way hurt, though he may not know the extent of it

Eclipse grits his teeth, glaring daggers towards the door as his freshly reattached arm twinges in pain. Probably from connections being burnt out, and just a general misplacement of the limb.

He really hates this rig, really hates these people. He already didn't like them all that much when he first came here, but now he's feeling downright murderous.

It also made him reconsider quite a few things. The little lighter he has seems to burn in his breast pocket, but the imagined pain it causes flares more with indignation on his behalf, than of horror at what he's thinking. Almost like all those ghostly weights are agreeing him.

He does like to think his friends would have put a stop to this before it even began. They were good like that.

But now he's counting on someone else being good to him. Someone, who hopefully still wants him.

Someone, who's hopefully here

He watches his battery tick up another percent, which is why he only becomes aware of the sudden stillness after a minute.

And then, a feather-light touch to his damaged arm, coaxing the limb up. Something in him uncurls from its previously tense position, and he turns his head to look at someone dear.

"I'll need a face and a name darling. A face and a name."

Eclipse sighs, leaning back on his bed. He's truly relaxed for the first time since he arrived here.

"Hello Ruin"

"My love"

The eldritch being eyes his arm with a special kind of coolness, one that speaks of hatred. It does nothing to scare him.

"What little worm dared to touch you? How dare that thing touch you?!"

In his clear rage, the amalgam is clearly not as careful as he should be, fingers digging in and going right through Eclipse in a saddening moment. That gives them both a pause

Ruin pulls away, looking at his hands with a look between annoyance and contempt, and his frustration is palpable. It's rather depressing.

He just wants a hug. Just wants his love to hold him. Just wants the oh so powerful being to make it all right. But he can't do that. Not until he's free.

"I'm truly sorry my dear, I didn't mean to ruin the illusion"

He sighs, wishing with everything he could just lean against the shorter animatronic body.

"It's okay. This is not your fault"

They sit quietly next to each other after that. Each of them staring ahead of themselves, wondering. It feels just a little daunting.

But even knowing Ruin can't do much for him right now, he still finds himself relaxing, optics sliding shut.

"Eclipse, won't you stay with me this time? Won't you let me take care of this? Of you?"

He hums, optics cracking open just enough so he can look up into mismatched eyes. There's a silent desparation there.

"I will"

There's no taking back those words now. No saying he didn't mean it. He knows this from the delighted look on the eldritch horror's face.

Eclipse doesn't feel too concerned over signing himself away

"That's wonderful- Oh you made me so happy!"

The amalgamation leans down, pressing a barely there kiss to his forehead. His visions turns off with it, tiredness finally too heavy to ignore.

"You and I will be together forever darling! And I'll make sure nothing can hurt you"

Eclipse believes him

[ohitslen]

Living together.

The snail video if you are interested :)

[slayerdurge]

A Deal with God (Post-Ending Durgetash Fanfic)

CHAPTER TWO - THE REUNION

Enver re-entered his body screaming.

As The Dark Urge listened in transfixed stillness, his screams gradually changed into a strange and discordant mixture of laughter and sobs, and all she could think was that she’d heard that sound before.

But she couldn’t place it until a series of sensuous fragmented memories crashed into her mind—the damp stone walls of an underground dungeon, the thrust of steel as it penetrated flesh, the tantalizing ferrous scent of fresh blood, an influx of saliva pooling in the bottom of her mouth, and the howling keen emanating from the pile of meat in front of her. Then came the feeling of satisfaction. The knife clattered to the floor, and as she wiped her mouth, she heard the sound change.

It was the sound of a torture victim who’d been offered a moment of reprieve, and the only coherent thought she could form in the mangled, macerated caverns of her brain was that that sound should not be coming out of him.

She couldn’t say exactly how long the sound continued, but eventually she became aware that it had stopped, and that his eyes, which had been alternately twitching and rolling backwards into his head, had refocused. He was looking at her.

She became aware of what she must look like, standing stock-still and staring at him in paralyzed silence, but she could rouse herself to neither speech nor movement. 

Slowly, he sat up, supporting his unsteady balance by spreading his hands flat on the rock’s surface. He looked around, taking in the sizeless expanse of the Astral Prism. His gaze seemed to sharpen. “How long?” he asked.

“How long…” She didn’t immediately understand the question. 

“How long was I dead?” he repeated, over-enunciating each word impatiently. 

The twinge of annoyance that caused within her brought her fully back to herself. “Less than a day,” she said. “Maybe slightly more. I lost track of time during the battle.” She glared at him pointedly. “You’re welcome, by the way. For your life.”

He stood, wobbling slightly but catching himself and righting his posture quickly. He walked towards her, stopping when there was only a few feet of distance between them, and met her gaze evenly. “Thank you,” he said, without a trace of sarcasm. “For my life.”

The Dark Urge found it suddenly difficult to maintain eye contact. 

[read more on ao3]

[nomidreams]

god i finally watched new episodes my honest reaction is jgiwoaoKzmxmkwkakkak

[seaofreverie]

NEW CONCERT ON THE HORIZON..... Going to see Franz Ferdinand next year !!!

[transmasc-rose]

I was talking to Curtis about how certain aspects of Doctor Who would be treated if they were episodes of Torchwood and/or had that rating leniency of Torchwood (imo the limitations of Doctor Who make for better TV than Torchwood in general, but not always) and when I brought up Amy's Choice, Curtis said I should do an episode rewrite and.

Hm. Hmmm. That could be really interesting. Amy and Rory and the Doctor's dynamic would be so... different in a Torchwood rated show, given the things they do with them in Doctor Who, and if they actually used the Dream Lord as an interesting villain (and they'd actually be able to play into the Doctor's worst traits in an adult show! For better and for worse!)...

However I'd have to actually rewatch Amy's Choice, and also decide how much I want to stay faithful to the episode, how much I want to stay faithful to "what would/could Torchwood have done here, and how much I actually want the result to be. Good.

Because "what Torchwood would do" and "what would be interesting" are not necessarily the same things.

(Accidentally wrote a Novel in the tags also. Whoops.)

[starry-bi-sky]

Just as it was in the air, the drive to wherever they're going is a mess of orange-streetlight smeared blurs and rapid-passing buildings. Danny keeps his head rested against the door, forehead pressing against the cold window, and breathing slowly through his mouth.

From his unfocused peripherals, the man -- of whom with the passing lights, Danny can see is dressed as... some kind of bat? Honestly, not the weirdest thing he's ever seen. -- routinely keeps glancing over at him. He's never seen someone grip a steering wheel so tightly.

"Do you know what your godfather poisoned you with?" The man eventually asks, his voice just as soft and raspy as it was in the air.

It takes Danny a moment to realize he spoke at all, his brain sluggishly catching up to his ears. "Hrm?" He blinks, lifting his head. Danny regrets it immediately, his vision swims nauseatingly and blurs dangerously. He rests his head again. "Oh. Y'h. A flow'r called blood bloss'um."

They pass a streetlight, shining just enough light that Danny sees the Bat-Man's lips purse. Danny's mouth opens, but he makes no sound, his mind trying to find the words he's looking for. "I'z- it's extinct."

He huffs a laugh just as the man snaps his head to look at him, regretting it with a sharp cough and a feeling of dust in his lungs. Weakly waggling his fingers to make jazz hands, Danny slurs; "Shcience."

A coughing fit overtakes him then, and without the adrenaline of flying and running away from Vlad to distract him, the ache and burn of consistently coughing returns and hits hard and sharp. He's been stabbed before, and somehow this still hurts more.

(Well, one is being stabbed. The other is the result of a toxin made from a flower specifically evolved to eat ectoplasm. Something Danny is 50% made of.)

Whining low and through grit teeth, Danny turns and curls back up into the corner of his seat, arms boxing over his head as if that will make him hurt less. Tears spring into his eyes, and he tries to use the feeling of breathing to distract himself.

If he's still breathing, everything will be okay.

Wherever they're going, he hopes they get there fast.

----

("You're a hero, right?" The boy said, but the way he said it made it sound like he was only asking as a formality. That of course Bruce was a hero, it was obvious.)

(He didn't know how to tell him that no, he wasn't. Then he didn't have the time.)

Bruce's hands would be shaking if it weren't for the white-knuckle grip on the car's steering wheel. Every time he focuses back on the road in front of him, his eyes are drawn back towards the boy coiled like a ball in the passenger seat.

He can't tell if it's rage or fear that's making his arms tremble.

The boy -- Daniel, if the voice of his godfather was to be believed -- is small. Bruce could wrap his thumb and forefinger around his wrist, and he's positive they would touch. A waifish, slip of a thing, and Bruce thought he'd been small as a child. His clothes -- simple, unremarkable; a hoodie that hangs off his shoulders and a band shirt he doesn't recognize -- look too big on him, and Bruce wonders if Daniel even knows he's shivering.

This was not how Bruce thought his night would be going -- he was following a lead on Falcone and his people. Now he was rushing back to the cave with a boy who couldn't be any older than fifteen, a boy who was dying of poison because of his godfather.

Hurt and fury bubbles beneath his ribs.

(Who does this to a kid?)

He glances at Daniel again. Messy, sweat-slicked black hair clings to his forehead, and gathers around his ears. It looks like it hasn't been cut in months. He's unnaturally pale, and Bruce isn't sure if his paleness is from the poison, or his natural color. It highlights the dark circles beneath glassy blue eyes, peering unfocused and teary out from lidded eyes.

The blood dripping off his chin is damning and stark against his skin. Some of it is half-dried against his cheek, but most is a horrifying dark red and wet, staining down his throat and into his shirt. Every time the boy coughs, Bruce fears that blood will spill from his mouth next.

He breathes in shakily, and swerves around a left corner. The boy moves with the momentum. Bruce throws his arm out to catch him, and keep him in his seat, the boy jerks, and grunts quietly.

Guilt turns the back of Bruce's neck red. That, and embarrassment. "...Apologies." He murmurs, retracting his hand quickly. Daniel blinks slowly, Bruce nervously keeps an eye on the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

He's pulled away when, much to his surprise, the boy smiles. It's weak, barely even there and trembling like the rest of him, but glazed in fondness. "S'ok'y." Daniel mumbles, blood sticking to his mouth as he slumps back into the corner. "M'dad drove the same way."

...There were a lot of questions there. But the hurting, discomforting squeeze of Bruce's heart turns his tongue to lead. His throat swells shut, grows a cancerous lump, and keeps his lungs thick. "..Hh."

(What does he say to that?)

A silence, ugly, falls over them again for a few minutes more. Bruce should keep the boy talking -- it's confirmation that Daniel was still alive, still breathing, Bruce hasn't failed yet -- and yet, he can't think of a single thing to say.

They're coming close up on the cemetery, Bruce turns down the road leading to it. His eyes flick to Daniel again. The boy is staring at him, the sickly yellow streetlights catching shadows on his face, leaving a glow lingering in his eyes.

(In his lazy eye, his mind tricks him into seeing a corpse. Bruce suppresses a flinch, and looks over again.)

(Daniel is still breathing. Good. Good. Good.)

He breathes in shakily, something dark and angry rearing its head once again. Who does this? Who does this? He grits his teeth, biting back the scowl pulling on his face.

("You're a hero, right?")

(No, but for now he can pretend he is.)

----

They end up in a tunnel somewhere. Danny's not quite sure where, but the road gets bumpy and the uncomfortable, rough jostling brings a groan out from him. His eyes pound in their sockets, the discomfort ricocheting to this temples and circling to the back of his head.

His head lolls, and Danny shoves it back against the seat with a thud, ignoring the dull pain it rings through his skull. "Are w'there yet?" He asks, blood spilling into his mouth that he tiredly tries to spit out. He's done with drinking it instead.

The numbness he'd been so graciously left with was starting to fade now, returning back to a burning, rhythmic soreness spreading through his limbs. It clustered up around his joints, feeling like pins and needles in his fingers and down his spine.

Bat-man guy grunts shortly, shifts the gearshift into a new position, and glances over to him for the nth time that night. "Almost."

Almost. Almost was... good? Probably. Hopefully. Danny doesn't give a response, just nods mutely.

The car comes to a stop some minutes later, parked in a wide open space with LED lights spread erratically through the floor that hurt Danny's eyes.

Bat-Man barely has the car in park before he's flying out of his side. If Danny didn't know better, he'd have thought the man had phased right through the metal. That's not what happened, and he watches the guy zip around the front of the car to his side.

He's barely understood that he's even gotten out of the car before Bat-Man has Danny's door open. He jolts involuntarily, sitting lame in his seat as Bat-Man gets him unbuckled and pulled out of the car.

The lights are still painfully bright in Danny's eyes as Bat-Man pulls him out, and he whines involuntarily, tilting his face inward to hide it against the armor-weave.

"--sleep at a reasonable-- dear god! What happened!?"

Oh, forget the lights. Danny turns his head and braces against the brightness -- and his tilting, whorling sight -- to see who else was here. He sees an older man with a cane standing near one of the tables.

"His godfather poisoned him." Bat-Man growls, Danny nods heavily. "I need my antidote kit. Alfred, I need you to stay by him, make sure he doesn't start choking if he throws up."

The older man -- Alfred? Scoffs, and when Bat-Man passes by he follows after him. "As if you need to ask me. But where do you even plan on putting him?"

Without answering, Bat-Man shifts Danny until he's being held in one arm, and then approaches a metal table covered in nuts, bolts, and half-finished gadgets and gizmos. Without blinking, Bat-Man uses his free arm to shove it all off the table with a crashing, clattering, banging sound.

Then he lays Danny down.

The metal is freezing, sinking through the fabric of his jacket and shirt, and Danny turns his head to watch Bat-Man. In the process, he catches a glimpse at Alfred's expression -- and the sheer exasperated affront written on his face forces a laugh out of him.

Bat-Man's hands still from where they're tilting him onto his side, and Danny covers his mouth with his hand to stifle his giggling. "Sorry." He says, trying to catch his breath. "th'look on his face was funny."

The Alfred man sends a look at the Bat-Man when he glances at him, one eyebrow arched, before stepping over as Bat-Man gets Danny full on his side. Bat-Man disappears down somewhere, his footsteps echoing through the room.

"I hope he knows that he'll be picking all of this up when we're done, because I am certainly not." Alfred says stiffly, procuring a pristine handkerchief out of thin air. One of those nice looking ones that are probably made of like, butterfly silk.

Danny almost smiles, but Alfred starts reaching for his face, so instead he suppresses a flinch. There's a pause, before Alfred's hand glides over his cheek. Despite the callous padding on his palm, his touch is resoundingly gentle.

He cups Danny's jaw, and starts wiping the blood from his face.

...Oh.

Danny blinks uncomprehendingly up at him. He hasn't felt an actual affectionate touch in months. Vlad tried to be, but every touch to Danny's skin felt oily; disgusting. Danny wanted to scrub at the spot every time he pulled away.

So this was like warm sunlight on his face, and he hums low and pleasantly. "Tha'feels nice." He mumbles, relaxing unconsciously.

"I would hope so, young man." Alfred-guy says, folding his already blood-stained handkerchief in half for a cleaner square and moving to clean the blood from his throat. "All this blood couldn't have felt pleasant."

No, no, Danny thinks slowly, not that part.

"May I ask for your name?" Alfred asks before Danny can correct him. "It's not every night that the young master brings someone back with him."

Danny stares. "Danny." He says, "Mnh... just Danny. M'godfath'r calls me Daniel, an' he poisoned me."

Alfred nods, and pulls his handkerchief away. It was stained right through with blood. Danny cringes with shame. That probably won't come out. "I wish we were meeting on better circumstances, Mister Danny. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His good midwestern manners kicks in, and Danny nods curtly. HIs head spins in revenge for the movement. "Y'too, sir."

Bat-Man reappears in that moment, clearing off a space on the table across from them with a kit of various bottles and vials and other doodads that Danny's too unfocused to recognize.

He watches him yank off the vambraces wrapped around his arms, and then the gloves on both his hands. Alfred brushes the hair off his forehead, gathering Danny's attention again.

"If you don't mind, how did you two meet?" He asks, Bat-Man glances over his shoulder at them both, but says nothing. There's a clattering of bottles before he bounds off again down a tunnel. Danny takes that as his sign to explain instead.

"All'y." Danny says, shifting when the pressure on his shoulder grew too uncomfortable. His stomach flips, and he freezes in place to breathe in slow. He swallows dryly when the nausea passes. "Um-- I w'z runnin' from Vlad, an' I saw him in one 'f the alleyways."

Bat-Man reappears again with more things, and starts messing around with his collection of bottles and tubes and whatever -- probably to fix an antidote.

...Would he even be able to make one? Fuck, Danny hadn't thought of that. Blood Blossoms interact with him differently.

He forcibly keeps his breathing even, and zeroes in on Alfred. "I thou' he was a hero, n' I was right. He is." He smiles, and Alfred's expression softens out.

Danny breathes in sharp, pain ricocheting up his spine. "He's-- mine, at least."

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.