#you will prove me wrong there probably....

[irlactualhuman]

Shut the fuck up! (A short primer on accepting compliments)

I suck at this, personally, but I'm learning. Slowly. Painfully. Like I've just clawed my way into the light and I'm seeing color for the very first time.

The most important thing to do when hit by the sunshine-radiance of positive scrutiny: Shut The Fuck Up. Before your brain attacks the foreign substance (genuine praise and kind observance) it finds within, learn to shut up.

You're gonna want to say shit like, "oh naaaah... i got lucky," or perhaps "oh, well it's not like it's hard," or even the awful "you're way better at this than me!" I cannot overstate how fucking dumb you are being. You are actively flinging the mud-monkey mud all over others.

Shut the fuck up. Consider how rude it is to tell someone that what they've observed is silly, unlikely to be true, or just downright stupid. They probably know better than you, anyway. They're not obviously covered in mud. Or maybe they are and they're trying to clean it off. Maybe they realize that helping each other works better.

Compliment them in turn, of course! If you can. Do your best. But this isn't the same as accepting their compliment they've given you. You're being a scared little shit and touché-ing their kindness. How fucking wild would it be to parry a pat on the back so that you can do it to them instead. FIRST: shut the fuck up.

Learn how to ignore your knee-jerk jerk-wad bullshit. Even if it takes all your concentration and you have to mutely stare down your kindly aggressor until they leave. Look like a freak if you have to. Better than proving them wrong. Which you will. Cuz i bet you're probably just as awesome as they think you are.

You can do whatever you put your mind to. Right now you're struggling against the titanic force that is your mighty will. It's trying to get you to suck shit. Consider what it could do if persuaded otherwise.

This is the most important step. Even if you can't squeeze out a "thank you" or a "huh... yeah..." or "hn... perhaps I am the one foretold in prophecy." Shutting the fuck up will get you places in life.

In the broad expanse of time that this skill will provide you, i encourage you to listen to others and formulate and cogitate some words to say when someone hits your shit sucking bone.

Start with "thank you." It's very very hard to say sometimes, but universal and totally worth adding to your vocabulary. It's the auditory signal that you've accepted something someone has shared with you. They like to hear that they've had a positive impact in the world. Just like you do.

Compliment them. That person you think has their shit together and wouldn't need it or want to hear it. They do. They absolutely do. Their shit is dispersed. I promise you. It is a shambles.

I've had someone tell me to my face that they would compliment me, but for the fact that I already know this or that about myself. Huh???? No. Sorry.

No I don't. In my weaker moments I become an ungrateful mud monkey that has never once internalized a compliment

I adore being told you like me or something I've done. It sustains me, and in my weaker moments when I forget that life is good and happy, you might catch me before I fall.

You ever had someone catch you like that? You can do it too. The ones that catch you have been you in that moment before and know they will be again.

[spearbxcheol]

Stray Kids as Tropes. — MAKNAE line ver.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ૮₍ ´• ˕ ��� ₎ა ｡✧:˚*:･｡

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ૮₍ ´• ˕ • ₎ა ｡✧:˚*:･｡

𖤐 Maknae line x Reader.

𖤐 Reactions, fluff, imagine, kisses 😘, one curse word, the term "girlfriend" in felix one, soft and cliche.

𖤐 English is not my first language, so there might be small mistakes. This is a work of fiction and has no connection to real events or people. Just a fan sharing love with other fans ♡

● HAN – Friends to Lovers.

You were feeling frustrated.

Your boss had blamed you for the outcome of a project that went wrong — even though you had nothing to do with it.

Now, you were sitting in your pajamas on Jisung's couch while he made ramen in the kitchen. He would probably pick Howls Moving Castle again for your movie night, but you didn’t mind — it was a comfort film for both of you.

You could feel tears prickling behind your eyes, threatening to fall, and you looked up, trying to stop them.

"Oh no!" You heard Jisung's voice from the kitchen. When you turned your head, you saw him staring at you with wide eyes, full of concern. "You can't cry now! I'm making us ramen, and I can’t run over to hug you!"

You snorted at his comment. He sounded flustered, but you knew he was worried about you crying alone. You waved him off and stood up, walking toward the kitchen.

"I'm not crying" you mumbled, wiping your face, Jisung reached for your hand and gently pulled you toward him, his other hand still busy stirring the egg into the ramen. "It's just... I'm really mad" you confessed. “Who gave him the right to scold me in front of everyone for a mistake he clearly made?”

"He had no right!" Jisung echoed fiercely, frowning. "Just tell me, and I'll go over there and point my finger in his face!"

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes, laughing softly. "My boyfriend, the drama king."

"It's true, baby!" He held you by the waist and puffed his chest. "I'd say, 'Who do you think you are, making my pretty baby upset?!" Jisung deepened his voice in an attempt to sound intimidating, but you just laughed more, giving him a playful smack on the chest.

"I believe you! My knight in shining armor" you said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. His smile widened instantly.

"Go pick a movie for us to watch. I’ll bring the ramen, and then we’re forgetting everything that’s making you upset tonight." You nodded and padded back to the living room, turning on Howls Moving Castle — knowing he'd be happy with the choice.

"Howl, my baby, and ramen? This feels just like the old days," he said, sitting beside you and handing you your bowl. "But I like the current version better. Where my baby is my baby."

"You didn’t like me as your friend?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"I loved you as my friend," he said quickly. "But now you're my best friend and my baby — and I love having both." He winked, and you giggled, hitting play on the movie.

"And so do I," you said, settling against him as the warmth of the moment pulled your thoughts away from the bad day you had.

● FELIX – Fake Dating.

Your eyes widened when you spotted your aunties talking to your friend—well, your now fake-boyfriend-until-this-family-party-is-over. You had begged him to come as your date because your aunties—actually, your whole family—kept saying it made no sense that someone your age had never dated. You just wanted to prove them wrong.

Even if… well, they weren't exactly wrong. It just hadn't been the right time yet. And being hopelessly in love with your best friend—who was standing right there—didn’t exactly help your case.

And now, here you were, walking toward him, playing his girlfriend—okay, fake girlfriend –and trying to catch what your aunties were saying.

"Yes, she treats me really well," Felix said with a polite smile, glancing your way. '' i'm actually really lucky to have her by my side.”

Your heart skipped a beat at those words as you stepped up beside him with a smile.

"Please don’t scare my boyfriend away." you joked to your aunties.

Felix's eyes flickered to yours as his hand gently settled on your waist. You tried your best to act like it was normal, because couples did this all the time. And right now, fake or not, you two were a couple.

"We just wanted to make sure you’re taking good care of him." one auntie said, pointing at him. "Look at that face, you don’t find boys like him every day!"

Felix grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and simply nodded.

"Trust me, auntie, I know" you said with a laugh, excusing yourself as you grabbed Felix's hand and pulled him away—though not before he promised them he'd come back later to chat more.

Once you were out of earshot, you sighed and gave his hand a squeeze, flashing him an apologetic smile.

''Sorry if this is weird. And if they’re making you uncomfortable…"' But Felix just gently pressed your hand in return.

" I'm actually having a lot of fun. Your aunties already love me. Isn't that great?" he chuckled. "We even took a photo together, she wants to show off her beautiful niece's boyfriend."

"No way!" you gasped, and Felix burst out laughing. "You’re loving the attention, I knew it." you grinned. "Don’t worry, though by the end of the night, you’re a free man again."

Still holding your hand, Felix pulled you a little closer and raised an eyebrow. Your cheeks flushed under his attentive gaze.

"You’re already planning our breakup?" he teased. "Didn't you hear a single word your aunt said?" You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, but then his voice dropped, more serious now.

"Let me enjoy this moment," he said softly, sincerely. "I like being called your boyfriend." And then he winked in your direction.

● SEUNGMIN – Rivals to Lovers.

You're forcing a smile on your face as you stand beside Seungmin, listening to your supervisor go on about how great the two of you will be working together on the project. She had high expectations and you had a big problem with the man standing next to you.

"Well, you both are my top employees and always deliver great results, so why not put you together for this?" she smiled, while you were just about ready to explode into tiny pieces.

It was a big deal. Everyone knew you and Seungmin were rivals. He was always meddling in your business, giving you unsolicited advice in front of important clients just to make you look clueless. Not that you were innocent — you did unplug his laptop charger the day he had a huge presentation. Of course, you swooped in at the last second and saved him in front of everyone, gaining extra credit. These kinds of things happened all the time between you two.

And this was exactly why you two should not be running a major project together.

You nodded at your boss’s words while Seungmin thanked her politely. But you could see it in his eyes, that same fire always hiding beneath the surface.

You shook her hand and forced another smile.

"We'll do our best to make it the best project," you said, then walked out the door with Seungmin right behind you, both heading toward the elevator to return to your floor.

While waiting, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Seungmin was tapping his shoe against the floor, creating an irritating noise. You rolled your eyes but said nothing as the elevator doors opened and you both stepped inside.

"I'd appreciate it if you could be professional on this project. It’s important," he said, breaking the silence.

"Are you talking to yourself, Kim Seungmin?" you asked, flashing a fake smile. "Glad you're finally getting some sense knocked into that head of yours."

He scoffed, already dreading how tough this project would be.

"I'm talking to the person who nearly ruined my presentation last week," he said, stepping closer. His body now fully faced yours — and you mirrored the move, narrowing your eyes.

"You mean the person who saved your presentation because you forgot to charge your laptop?" You grinned. "Rookie mistake."

He didn’t back down. Instead, he leaned in close, his voice low, hot breath brushing your ear.

"Your little games don’t scare me. I thrive on competition." Then he pulled back, a sly smile on his face as he looked you up and down. "Let’s play dirty, then."

At that exact moment, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

He walked out, but not without glancing back and winking at you.

"What the fuck?" You put your hand over your mouth, shocked by his boldness, and shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts as you returned to work.

● I.N – Brother's Friend.

You could feel Jeongin’s eyes on you from across the room, but you did your best to pretend you didn’t notice, especially with your brother, his best friend, standing right in front of you.

"Why are you here again?" Hyunjin asked, sounding suspicious. "You don't even like parties. I always invite you and you say you hate them."

You scoffed. He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t a party person at all. But Jeongin had asked you to pretty please come, and you couldn’t say no to that ridiculously cute face. So here you were, at a party thrown by their shared friend.

"Just trying something different," you replied casually. But Hyunjin kept eyeing you like he didn’t buy a word of it. "Don’t let me keep you. Go have fun or whatever." You waved him off and walked away. "I’m gonna find a drink."

Hyunjin watched you leave, raising a brow but letting it go.

Not long after you reached the kitchen, you pretended to be scanning for something to drink, knowing exactly what (or who) you were really waiting for.

"Hello, beautiful." You turned around at the sound of Jeongin’s voice and found him smiling softly.

"I didn’t think you’d actually show up," he added, leaning casually against the counter.

"I had my reasons," you said, leaning back as well. He laughed gently and stepped closer. "But you better be careful. I’ve got a personal security guard following me around."

He chuckled and glanced behind him, confirming that the kitchen was clear. Then he stood in front of you, placing both hands on the counter and caging you in.

"Well, your brother’s not here right now, and you’re with his best friend. Nothing to worry about," he winked.

You laughed and looped your arms around his neck. "Are you sure he doesn’t need to worry about you?" Jeongin looked up thoughtfully, pretending to consider it.

"Nope. Because I just want to. make. my. pretty. girl. happy. Even. If. It. Makes. My. Best. Friend. Mad. At. Me." He paused with each word, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead and then finally sealed the moment with a kiss on your lips, making you giggle against him.

"Oh my god! That’s disgusting!" Hyunjin’s voice echoed through the kitchen. You jumped back from Jeongin, wide-eyed, while Jeongin gulped audibly.

"You two?!" Hyunjin pointed at you both, his face contorted in pure horror.

"Why are you spying on me?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"I wasn’t spying! You’re making out in the middle of the kitchen!"

"We weren’t making out," Jeongin mumbled, just loud enough for Hyunjin to hear—who only narrowed his eyes in response.

"You and I are so talking later," Hyunjin grumbled, reaching past Jeongin to grab a drink.

You exchanged a silent, amused look with Jeongin, barely holding back your laughter. Your brother might be dramatic, but he cared about your happiness and he wasn't stupid. He'd seen the glances between you two long before this.

[kefiteria]

Hi!

Not sure if I'm late or not with this request (just lmk if I am) but

Could I ask for platonic Sebek with half-fae reader that is stronger than him while being smaller than him? Both in terms of combat and in brute strength like lifting objects and such.

O Strength, Thy Name is Pocket-Sized

Platonic Sebek Zigvolt x Half-Fae!Reader Headcanons

a/n🍨: hihi thank you for requesting! sorry it took me longer to finish this🙏🏻 don't worry! requests are always open for now~ do let me know if this is to your liking✨

💤 The First Time You Lifted a Boulder. With One Hand. While Yawning.

It happened during a school trip. A harmless little expedition. Crewel asked for volunteers to help move the landscaping boulders around for an aesthetic adjustment of the botanical garden. No one stepped up—until you did.

Sebek with his arms crossed, said something like “Manual labor is not worthy of my strength!” but in that moment, you—tiny, unimposing, looking like a polite side character with a single voiceline—casually wrapped your fingers around a rock the size of an overfed cow and hefted it into the air like it weighed less than Lilia’s will to live.

Sebek screamed. A shriek, really. Something between a kettle and a wounded peacock.

“WHAT. IN THE NAME OF LORD MALLEUS’ GLORIOUS GLARE—?!”

You blinked at him with a confused face and a tilted head.

“...This one?”

You threw it over your shoulder like an inconvenience. It shattered a gazebo.

🥗 Sebek Develops Several Existential Crises. Sequentially.

“HOW,” he demands, trailing you around the school like a very loud duckling. “YOU ARE HALF-FAE. I AM HALF-FAE. WHY ARE YOU BUILT LIKE A FAE TANK? I TRAIN EVERY DAY. I DRINK THREE RAW EGGS EVERY MORNING. I—”

“Have you tried not yelling all your nutrients out of your body?” you reply, sipping herbal tea with fingers that could probably crush a skull like a grape.

He goes quiet for a moment. And then—

“I SHALL ADD FOUR EGGS.”

Sebek begins doing upside-down push-ups on the ceiling beams at 3AM. You once catch him trying to bench press Grim.

🫙 “Can You Open This?” Is a Weaponized Phrase.

The moment anyone in the dorms says it—"Can you open this jar?"—Sebek springs up like a righteous jack-in-the-box.

“I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL—”

krkkk—

You’ve already opened it. Effortlessly. Pinky only. You even clean the rim.

Sebek stares at you like you just kicked down a cathedral.

🖋️ Sebek, Tragic Poet of Strength-Based Humiliation

He starts narrating his inner turmoil in deeply poetic, bizarrely florid monologues no one asked for.

“Oh Lord Malleus, oh draconian prince of my heart, why hath the cruel laws of muscle-fate bestowed such grotesque disparity upon us? Is it not I who shouts my allegiance into every hallway like a war trumpet? Is it not I who drinks protein shakes thicker than potion sludge?”

Yes, you catch him muttering in a mirror:

“Perhaps I am but a slender reed in a hurricane of your glorious biceps.”

Let’s just pretend you didn’t hear that.

⚔️ Combat Training Gone Wrong. And Then Very Right.

He insists on sparring. Of course he does. “I must test my mettle...” he declares, sword in hand, eyes wild with the need to prove something.

You’re unarmed and also chewing gum.

Ten seconds in, Sebek finds himself flat on the floor, disarmed, and somehow… hugging a traffic cone.

“Why is there a traffic cone in the field?” you murmur in confusion.

“WHY DID YOU THROW ME INTO IT???”

“...You lunged at me weird.”

He trains harder after that. He is often found doing lunges under waterfalls. There are no waterfalls in NRC? He'll built one.

🫂The Half-Fae Solidarity Pact™

Despite it all, there’s this quiet little thing between you both. In the hush between Sebek’s usual dramatic windstorms, when the campus quiets and the moon takes center stage in the great theatre of sky, he says softly:

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong to either world?”

Slowly you glance over with face unreadable. You tear apart an entire metal fence while thinking. “All the time.”

You don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need you to. The bond is forged: not in loud proclamations, but in the quiet understanding of being neither human nor full fae. A half-blood solidarity. Two paradoxes in sync.

And he respects you deeply—not despite your strength, but because you never use it to mock him. You don’t look down on him even though you literally could lift him overhead and chuck him like a javelin.

(You did once. For a bet. He screamed all the way down and then demanded a rematch.)

🧃 Bonus: The Juicebox Incident

You once accidentally crushed a juice box in your hand while thinking too hard.

Sebek watched as it exploded up your arm like some kind of fruity geyser. He whispered:

“You are… terrifyingly majestic.”

Short Conclusion❔ :

You are small, strong, and stoically unbothered.

Sebek is loud, conflicted, and devotedly dramatic.

Together? An unstoppable comedic duo. The hype-man and the heavy-lifter. The philosopher and the puncher of walls.

Sometimes, he tries to open a jam jar just to prove something.

You watch.

You let him try.

You believe in him.

(But you do hide the traffic cones.)

[takumiraine]

So I got braces and am sick and because of both of those things I have to miss pride. So here’s a chapter.

Once Upon a Time chapter 16

<first><prev><next>

“Babs is Oracle isn’t she?” Danny asked once pizza had been ordered and Jason had been quiet for a while.

“What makes you think that?” Jason asked instead of confirming or denying his question.

“Well you had said Oracle found the…. Stuff… about me the other night. And I know Babs does computer stuff in the library a lot, the same way Tuck used to, and you two are close friends, combined that with your family being who they are….” Danny shrugged “it wasn’t that big of a leap.”

“Hm.” Jason gave Danny his best Batman impression. Danny was not phased.

“I’m not going to press it. I know secret identity stuff is important here too.” The assurance was given with a smile. “I just wanted to pose the question. And maybe let you know you should warn your family that I’m not as stupid as my grades make me look.”

“I’ll remind them. Before they all accidentally out themselves one way or another.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew why B always says they gave him gray hair.

“And… tell your dad he doesn’t have to worry about me. I don’t give anything up. Even under torture.” Danny fidgeted. Bit his lip. Turned to look out the window, at the horizon. “If he and his fancy friends want to prove that…. They can. As long as I’m back to class on time.” The opening was given quietly, a combination of reluctant but resigned.

So used to not being trusted by anyone new. Used to having to pay for it in blood. If Danny was the main character in a novel, Jason would be expecting the love interest to sweep in and comfort him within a paragraph.

But this wasn’t a story that began with once upon a time or ended with happily ever after. There was nobody going to come by and keep Danny from being harmed ever again. Living in Gotham with black hair and usually blue eyes meant you were a target for trouble.

“He won’t do that.” Jason said instead. “Batman prides himself on being better than that.” He willed that to be the truth.

Danny just hummed. “Maybe he is, but is the rest of the League?”

Jason didn’t know how to answer that. He just made an unhappy noise. “If they try, they’re not the heroes I think they are.” It wasn’t very comforting, Jason knew, but it was…. Better than nothing.

Any more awkward attempts to be themselves rather than the carefully curated public personas they both had been doing previously was interrupted by the pizza arriving. Jason almost wished he had a camera handy for when Danny saw him come in with four boxes.

“Are your siblings coming back?” He asked, and Jason shook his head, depositing two of the boxes in Danny’s lap.

“Nah. I just know ever since I came back I’m always starving, and if we’re alike, then it stands to reason you probably are too. But if I’m wrong, you have leftovers for the next day or two.” Jason shrugged and handed out napkins before he flopped back onto the couch. He opened his first box, everything, except no peppers, and grabbed a piece, taking a big bite without looking at Danny.

The guy was so self conscious about the weirdest things, considering the Mansons were nearly as rich as B was and all of the intel said he practically lived there.

Maybe it was the attraction between them that had been muddied by all of this vigilante shit. He had been thinking about asking Danny out before this. He had thought Danny would have said yes.

Damn it. Jason had no idea how even to ask about what was going to happen between them now. He really hoped there were some deserving sons of bitches tonight. His trigger finger felt itchy.

When Jason looked up again, Danny was just looking away. At least he wasn’t alone in the “what is this?” department. He looked away again, giving Danny his space, and finally began to hear the telltale signs of a pizza box being opened.

Good.

He kept quiet through the meal, stuffing his own face in a way that was pretty obvious he was mowing through the pizza. He wondered if it was whatever Danny had said he was unconsciously doing to that broken core…thing he had pulled out of Jason’s chest, or if it was just the remnants of who he had used to be shining through, or if it was just…. Proximity to Danny that infused him with the calmness.

Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Because if it wasn’t him…. He’s not sure he’d be able to give Danny up when the man moved on.

He was a bit surprised Danny hadn’t fled after the debacle with Bruce but, he was glad Danny wasn’t avoiding him like the plague.

Jason looked up again and Danny was watching him, pizza box closed and hands empty.

“Sorry,” Danny muttered, looking away.

Jason shook his head, then paused, realizing it didn’t rattle. “Don’t be.” The answer was a bit gruffer than he intended it. “The pizza alright?”

Danny looked back up, then nodded, “yeah. Thanks. I’m stuffed.” Jason…. Didn’t quite believe him. Whether it was the way he had seen Danny eat nearly everything he could at all times or the way that his clothes still seemed to show his ribs

“Okay. Those two are yours to take home and add to your fridge.” His tone left no room for argument.

Danny still argued. “What? No. You don’t have to do that.”

“Never said I had to. But I’m doing it anyways.”

“You’re a vigilante you-“

Jason cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’m a crime boss who has one of Bruce Wayne’s black cards.” Jason had stolen that particular one from Bruce, completely ignoring the one in his name.

Not that he often used either one, but he still possessed them.

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it several times as if he was trying to formulate a way out or argument. Eventually he gave up, looking adorably grumpy. Jason felt the urge to smile and kiss his forehead, or ruffle his hair like he would one of his younger siblings.

Both options made Jason want to throw himself out the window, for completely rational reasons.

Another minute of awkward silence passed before Jason’s eye was drawn by Danny moving. Hands on his knees instead of the pizza or the table.

“Well…” Danny began, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s getting late.”

The sun was nearly setting. He should start getting ready for patrol. “Worried about being out after dark?” He asked instead. “I can drive you home.”

“What? No…. No I’m okay to walk. You need to get ready for patrol anyways.” Was that an example of the Midwest polite thing that Clark was always going on about?

“With how many times you get mugged or stabbed this could be considered protecting the Alley.” Jason deadpanned back, going into his bedroom and starting to change.

“Really, I don’t want to be any more trouble than I have been. It’s a short walk and it’s nice enough out.”

“You’re outvoted Danny.” Jason hopped in place a bit as he pulled up his patrol pants before walking out as he slid his Kevlar lined undershirt on. Raiding the Cave on occasion had its benefits. “Either I give you a ride home or you’re followed the whole way by The Red Hood.”

Danny met his eyes, then narrowed his own. Jason felt something push at him, and it riled the Pit or his core or whatever the fuck it was, but before he could ask or comment it was gone and Danny was nodding.

“Okay. Since you’re sure it isn’t a problem.” Danny stood and reached through, not into, through, one pizza box before flattening it out and folding it up as much as an empty pizza box could be. He then stacked it on top of the other one and stood, looking somewhat awkward.

“I’m sure. Let’s go.”

The ride was pleasantly quiet and Jason drew comfort from the fact that Danny wasn’t going to get mugged for his pizza.

He didn’t see Danny at school the next day, which wasn’t abnormal. They didn’t have the exact same schedule after all, what was abnormal was Alfred bringing Bruce the phone during mandatory family dinner.

“Master Bruce, I highly suggest you take this call.” Alfred said, presenting the phone to him. Bruce raised an eyebrow and answered.

“Yes?” There was a pause and Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed and swept around the table. Jason knew that look. He was taking stock to make sure everyone was here. They were. “What do you mean you have my son?” It was the Brucie voice, over concerned and a little pitchy. Tim got up and made his way down to the cave, presumably to gather intel. “Oh no! Which son?” A pause. “Not talking? Oh no my poor traumatized baby! What does he look like?” It was disconcerting seeing the Bruce Wayne as Batman face doing Brucie Wayne’s voice without an expression beyond mild confusion and concern.

“Black hair and blue eyes? Hmmm I’ve got four like that. A little short and looks incredibly exhausted? Well that could be one of mine easily. Where do we meet?”

A knot formed in Jason’s stomach as the pit roiled within him and he stood from the table. He knew it was Danny. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. He wasn’t sure who stole Danny, but they were going to pay.

[conundrumoftime]

One of my perpetual annoyances in SF/F film and tv is how often it replicates a broader cultural sexism of women not really being people any more when over 30/married/mothers. Embrace your natural narrative endpoint you are now a support role.

Writers/showrunners have such a blind spot around this. "But some women want to be mothers?" and "what's wrong with settling down with someone she loves?", as if the problem is her choosing those things rather than the assumptions at play behind what happens to women when they do.

It's probably easiest to explain this w/ examples of sci-fi that doesn't do it. Naomi Nagata in The Expanse (books & tv) gets a storyline about motherhood which is about her backstory, motivations, skills, & connections to political ideologies; it adds to her character rather than concluding it. She doesn't disappear when the existence of her son is revealed.

"Walking away is the only choice anyone ever has."

Chrisjen Avasarala is married, a mother, and a grandmother, and all of these things are important to her but none of them are her personality

"No-one starts a war unless I say they can."

By contrast: my much-adored Babylon 5 gives Delenn four seasons of active and fascinating storylines about things like devotion and belonging and guilt over starting wars... and then in s5 after she gets married, the narrative doesn't seem to know what to do with her and her one storyline like that begins with her sneaking out of her husband's bed.

"It pleases me that you care for what I have become. But never forget who I was, what I am, and what I can do."

It's not infidelity but ends up feeling like it - she's meeting someone she's very close to who's in love with her, says "we need to be discreet", strokes his face, and they talk about how her husband can't know about this meeting and whether he knows her "as well as he should." I don't think this is meant as shipper bait (although much appreciated for those of us who do ship that); I think it's an unintentional consequence of female characters getting so often written as either "has own storyline" or "is married now" as if they're mutually opposed, that if she's doing the first it's somehow at the expense of the second.

As for Star Wars and its legions of dead mothers and whatever they were going for with Bix in Andor... sigh.

But! I'll give JJ Abrams of all people credit for inverting this sort of thing in his pre-Star Wars days: Season 1 of Alias sets up Sydney Bristow's dead mother in soft-focus domestic dreamy flashbacks for ages before you find out that she's a) an undercover enemy intelligence agent b) still alive and c) baaaaaack, dun-dun-DUN...

Anyway this is why I worry about SF/F doing storylines in which someone gets into a committed relationship or has a baby despite really enjoying stories about established relationships and motherhood, because it's not in general that these shows can't do this well - they can absolutely write good female characters and often do! - it's that they'll think they are writing this in a really great way while, once again, like so many before them, proving incapable of fitting a whole woman in their heads.

(This was a Bsky thread from last month inspired by Andor and Doctor Who, which I want to expand on in more detail at some point when I have time but i’m throwing it here as-is for now so i can find it if/when ‘some point when I have time’ ever arrives.)

[d4n1elll4]

───〃𖹭 ZUKO

Even though you'll probably fail over and over and over again, you have to try to every time. You can't quit because you're afraid you might fail.

𖹭 A CLASSIC by unfriedough [DRABBLE] [0.8K]

⇢ 2 teenagers, 1 bed.

𖹭 BACK TO YOU by unfriedough [ONESHOT/HEADCANONS] [2.7K]

⇢ You’re mute, and you get kidnapped by zuko when gathering materials. When on his ship, you realise maybe there’s more to him than what meets the eye.

𖹭 BENEATH THE BLOSSOMS by passable-talent [ONESHOT] [1.2K]

⇢ Zuko finds peace by the turtle duck pond, where his mother once taught him kindness. You join him with apple peels and quiet affection, helping him rest and feel like himself—if only for a little while.

𖹭 BENEATH THE ICE by passable-talent [ONESHOT] [1.7K]

⇢ You saved a firebender from drowning under Northern Water Tribe ice—no name, no questions. Months later, you never expected the quiet boy you saved to be Prince Zuko.

𖹭 CAUGHT IN THE ACT by melzula [DRABBLE] [0.7K]

⇢ A private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends.

𖹭 COLD HANDS by fandomlit [DRABBLE] [0.3K]

“Your hands are freezing.” “Thanks, I get it from my mother.” ��� Zuko warms you up when you’re cold.

𖹭 DAI LI | PT.2 | PT.3 | PT.4 | PT.5 | PT.6 | PT.7 | PT.8 by passable-talent [SERIES] [17K]

⇢ You met him as Lee, a kind waiter with a scar and a soft smile. You fell for him slowly, between tea cups and late-night chats. But when truths unravel in Ba Sing Se, you learn he’s Zuko—Fire Nation prince and traitor to his uncle. Furious and heartbroken, you flee with Team Avatar. Yet when he returns, asking for a second chance, all you can do is walk away… because love doesn’t erase betrayal. Will you be able to forgive him?

𖹭 DAMSEL IN DISTRESS by satuguro [ONESHOT] [1.5K]

⇢ In which desperate times call for dsperate measures.

𖹭 DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT by gladerwolfstarkimagines [ONESHOT] [4.3K]

⇢ You tease Sokka and Suki for being embarassingly romantic and they get revenge when they realise you like Zuko.

𖹭 DESTINED TO BE YIN AND YANG by firelordsfirelady [SERIES] [40K]

⇢ When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess?

𖹭 DESTINY by cecilysobsessions [ONESHOT] [6K]

⇢ You are hired as fire lord zuko’s personal bodyguard. Being the stubborn man he is, he doubts that you can protect him. You’re going to prove him wrong.

𖹭 EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON by atlabeth [SERIES] [120K+]

⇢ As a servant in the Fire Nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. But as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to realize a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

𖹭 FIGHT ME, LOSER by unfriedough [HEADCANONS]

𖹭 I WON’T SAY I’M IN LOVE by iloveboysinred [ONESHOT] [1.4K]

⇢ Zuko had never been one to express himself in the right ways, anger had always been his primary emotion. But, when he meets you, a rouge fire bender helping the Avatar, it becomes hard for him to accept the growing warmth in his chest every time you look at him.

𖹭 IMAGINE TRYING TO HELP ZUKO CONVINCE EVERYONE THAT HE’S GOOD… by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction [DRABBLE] [0.3K]

𖹭 IN YOUR EYES by zukosprettyprincess [ONESHOT] [2.3K]

⇢ When Zuko falls for a member of the gaang, he fears that his mistakes may ruin his chances with them.

𖹭 LIFE-CHANGING FIELD TRIP by beifongsss [ONESHOT] [3.1K]

⇢ You just want to test the waters and see if Zuko likes you back, after all, Sokka has been telling you that he does indeed like you. However, every time you try to get close to the prince, he either runs away or ignores you.

𖹭 LIVE FROM EMBER ISLAND: THE WORST ROMANCE EVER (APPARENTLY) by gladerwolfstarkimagines [ONESHOT] [3.2K]

⇢ You and Zuko barely tolerate each other. At least that’s what you thought. But after a certain infamous Ember Island play spins the wildest version of your story , suddenly everyone is convinced there’s something between you two. (Spoiler: Everyone bu you knew)

𖹭 LOVESICK LOSERS by unfriedough [ONESHOT] [2.4K]

⇢ Growing up with the prince, you two were inseparable. And once he was banished, you hadn’t seen him again for years, that was, until you joined team avatar and began fighting against him, and then eventually fighting alongside him.

𖹭 NERVOUS by fandomlit [DRABBLE] [0.2K]

⇢ Imagine Zuko being nervous on your wedding day.

𖹭 OF FIRE AND TRUST | PT.2 by gladerwolfstarkimagines [TWOSHOT] [8.5K]

⇢ Aang ran away with a friend who was visiting when he ran away. After being thawed from the iceberg and meeting Zuko, you can just feel his anger, so everytime you two meet you are just friendly. By the time Zuko joins the crew you are the only one who fully vouches for Zuko because you’ve always seen the good in him.

𖹭 OH, SPIRITS by atlabeth [ONESHOT] [1.8K]

⇢ Literally just the ‘there was only one bed’ cliche with Zuko.

𖹭 PAST LOVERS by fandomlit [DRABBLE] [0.7K]

⇢ Sokka and Zuko talk about their past loves.

𖹭 STRESS RELIEF by passable-talent [ONESHOT] [2.3K]

⇢ Zuko’s been tense all day, but you know just how to fix that.

𖹭 TRANSFERRED by atlabeth [SERIES] [23.6K]

⇢ Trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. Little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

𖹭 WHERE IT HURTS by passable-talent [ONESHOT] [1.7K]

⇢ After a rough day, Zuko asks you to sit with him—not as the Fire Lord, but just as a boy who needs to talk. You listen, reassure him, and remind him how far he’s come. In the quiet warmth of his room, between kisses and confessions, he finally lets himself be loved.

[izzyfishie]

HI GUYS!!!!! SORRY I HAVENT BEEN SUPER ACTIVE MUCH TODAY IVE BEEN SWAMPED WITH IRL STUFF BUT IM HERE TO DO...

IZZY'S THIRD AND FINAL SQUID GAME 3 TRAILER ANALYSIS

[SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!]

GEUMJA WITH HER HAIR DOWN. oh my god im so scared. im assuming this is after we see her crying, right? theyre probably going to have a heart-to-heart here. FUCKKKK

okay so like call me delusional,, but the scenes from season 1 give me HOPE!!!! LIKE PLEASE MENTIONS OR FLASHBACKS OR SOMETHING PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

ALI I MISSED YOU!!!!

SANGWOOWOWIWOIUWHJDSHGJBFHDG SANBGWOO SANGWOO SANGWOI SNAGWOHDSJHD SANGWOOOOOOOOO MY MAN PLEADE COME BACK :((((

"you're not that kind of person." a reminder that gihun needs. a serious reminder. that adds to my "forgiveness means gihun will forgive himself above all" theory.

i love how the flashbacks also show how much gihun has changed over time. holy fuck.

"bad people do bad things, but they blame others and go on to live in peace."

ignorance is the root of the issue. ilnam was ignorant until the moment he died. he never admitted gihun won. to me, that is a very strong narrative choice.

in fact, have this thing i wrote a while ago:

I find it quite interesting how Oh Il-nam died before/when Gi-hun had won their final game (the bet) that they were doing to prove that humans are innately good, or the opposite. His death being right as he is proven wrong feels deliberate from a cinematic standpoint.

It kind of bleeds of the allegory of ignorance, in a way, to those who are more fortunate. Il-nam never surrendered. He had been proven wrong. This kind of matches up with those more fortunate people who ignore the issues of capitalism, because “if they don’t work for it then they deserve it” iykwim. The wealthy choose to blatantly ignore and deflect, rather than accept the system’s major flaws. It shows the rich being removed from the poor’s issues, being willfully blind to suffering.

inho lives similarly---in a state of cynicism and denial, but most of all, ignorance. FUCK YOU INHO ARE YOU READY TO DIE???? BANG BANG BANG BANG HEAR THE SOUNDS OF MY MACHINE GUN YOU FUCKWAD

"good people, on the other hand, beat themselves up about the smallest things."

the fact that that line is shown right when saebyeok's death is shown hurts me. and then right after, we see jungbae's death. holy fucking shit. oh my god. i knew he fucking beats himself up over this shit im telling you guys forgiveness has to be about gihun himself,,,,

he doesn't believe in himself. fuck. cue "comeback" by the score plzplzplzplz.

THE TOP BUTTON IS LIT. THE ELEVATOR IS GOING UP. THEY ARE ACTIVELY GOING TO INHO'S ROOM. OH MY FUCKING GODDDD

..i laughed. but at least we know what the black clock is now? the bg doesnt align but

STOP. GET OFF MY SCREEN IM NOT HANDLING THIS.

i feel like theyre all gonna die. except junho. this scares me tho cuz as armed as junho's team is, they aren't as armed as the pink guards. FUCKKKK.

guys. if you look closely.

this ss doesnt do it very well but that's junhee (?) and geumja behind hyunju. SHES PROTECTING THEM. im so scared for all three of them :( found family don't die on me.

this has me so worried. although this is probably the transition to the unmasking scene. in spanish it says something like "this is going to take a while", which ALSO has me concerned. gihun kill that bitch (i know he probably won't but a girl can dream!!!!) im still not convinced at all he'll forgive him. he's going through even MORE horrors in s3. why would all that get thrown away? if anything, he'd be more angry that inho is youngil, i think. because someone he trusted for a couple days ended up being the one working against him all along. idk

im calling it now, i think that this is inho. i dont think its gihun. the gihun foot fetishers on twitter also dont think its gihuns foot so i trust them! but we already know we're getting inho flashbacks so it makes sense. maybe this was his final game? i dont really think they'd do another final game between gihun and inho, that's just redundant and hdh already said that he doesnt repeat tropes.

THE CALLBACK TO THE FINAL GAMES GIVES ME MORE SANGWOO HOPE. SANGIHUN COME BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW. SANGWOO WILL BE THERE IN S3 (flashback or mention) ON EVERYTHING I OWN. HFHJJ

OKAY AT FIRST I GOT WHIPLASH BC I THOUGHT INHO SAID THAT BUT THANK FUCK IT WAS JUST GIHUN--- inho you bitchass, dont scare me like that.

anyways! we've seen this scene a bajillion times before so i dont have much commentary on it.

AND THAT JUST ABOUT WRAPS IT UP!!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS WONDERFUL RIDE!!!! and dont worry, the analysis is never over. i post analyses all the time on my tumblr, and i will (attempt..) to take notes on season 3 when i watch! probably the second watch though. probably not the first.

ANYWAYS IM WATCHING 01x03 WITH MY MOTHER SOON SO BYE GUYS SEE U SOON XOXO (SANGIHUN CANON!!!!)

[dolce-cerise]

You know what i noticed?

In every dimension we've seen so far where the July 16th kids are directly mentioned, there doesn't seem to be a single one where they survive. Eaps showed us that it doesn't have to be Sun or Moon who kills them. The only reason two of those kids lived was because Puppet, Eclipse, and Foxy have dealt with Vanny before.

Without interdimensional intervention, those kids will die, one way or another and it always has something to do with the pizzaplex.

Hopefully, LaEs Evelyn and the rest of those kids get a happy ending. Because my original thought when they talked about the deaths from the incident was that it was those children, but Evelyn being alive might prove me wrong.

This is probably me being tired because it is 2:30 am as I write this.

[ao3cassandraic]

OH SHIT this is gonna be really really long, y'all, watch out...

All this is good and right! I think it's Ratthi's flavor of something all the PresAuxers (even Gurathin the kinda-sorta-adoptive PresAuxer) have: an absolutely primal need to be Good At Things. To be competent. To be right -- not because someone else has to be wrong (that's very not how PresAux rolls), but because being wrong oneself is very, very bad. Ideally, to be Good At Everything Ever, as though this were both sensible to want and possible to achieve.

The flip side of this need is, um, not ever being allowed to need anything from others, because if you need something it proves you're not Good At Everything and that's bad and you're bad. You might even be Useless, which is the actual worst thing you can possibly be (and I think we can all see how PresAlliance's stated resource constraints would play into that mindset).

I want to hug all of PresAux, even Gurathin who would probably hate it, because I was named a gifted kid too, I too was told that it was my job to be Good At All The Things (and probably cure cancer on the side), I too was told that a whole two points off a super-scary physics exam was a failure, I too was told that I was lucky to have been given all the advantages I had and so it was my obligation to live up to them and provide good ROI, I too was told that I had to be sufficient unto myself because after all I had no reason to need anything, I too was told that quitters never win and something is wrong with them (me), I too was ripped stem to stern for leaving an abusive Ph.D program despite being so stressed and burned out I was suffering some quite nasty psychosomatic shit. (Do not image search "severe pompholyx" unless you have a strong stomach.)

Oh, PresAux. Sweethearts. I love you all and I am so sorry for what has been done to you.

Anyway.

It is not accidental that PresAux first really sees Murderbot (rather than viewing it as unnecessary and unaesthetic furniture) after it manages an extremely competent rescue. Not accidental at all. PresAux lives for competence.

We see Mensah's flavor of omnicompetence very early on, and we're told everyone admires her for it -- she is a skillful and respected leader, she is Good At Family, she's a terraforming expert with a doctorate, she's the best pilot in PresAux, she's even a gotdang calligrapher, holy crap, is there nothing this woman cannot do?

Yeah, there's something. Admitting to panic attacks is what she can't do. Because that would be asking for help, and... yeah, no, not an option. If anybody's still wondering why the panic attacks got brought back in the timeline -- I really think it's because the writers wanted all of PresAux to have some failing (and I use this word advisedly; I don't think panic is a fatal flaw but PresAlliance society does) that they can't admit to, and the panic attacks were right there at hand.

Similarly, Bharadwaj can't admit that she needs some R&R after the millipede attack, nor can she accept Gurathin's offer of therapy modules. I still think she's got some Ph.D FOMO going on (though it's been pointed out to me that in Europe "Professor" carries more cachet than in the States, so, um, okay). It just breaks my heart that she can admit her PTSD insomnia to outsider LeeBeeBee but not to her comrades.

Going into shock in a crisis is Arada's bete noire (never mind that crisis responders are trained to the nth degree because avoiding a freeze response doesn't come naturally to most). Ratthi's is explored in the post I'm reblogging: he has to be Competent At Relationships and he's also beating himself up over the gun-training thing (he missed an opportunity for Competence because he is Not Competent at handling substance use and ouch).

Pin-Lee's chosen areas of Competence are giving everyone else (especially Arada) what they want while not taking anything for themself, not doing anything frivolous (like gitting gud at video games), and putting on a Mensah-like face of intimidation rooted in total competence. Arada, who is very emotionally aware of others, knows this about her spouse: "you're intimidating too, babe." (They, um, aren't, at least not to me. But I can totally understand why they want to be!)

And part of the whump lambasting poor Gurathin is that he has Needed Help (therapy modules!) and they all know it. His competence area is that he Knows How The Worlds Work, And Everything In Them -- he rather than Pin-Lee is Mensah's backup corpo negotiator, and he's totally not wrong about PresAlliance financing its society through debt dependence on the Corporation Rim. Yet he is being forced to admit he's wrong in key ways about Murderbot. Probably hurts him worse than the gunshot wound. And the blow to his Competence is definitely why he keeps doubling down on his suspicions.

Now. Watch how Mensah finesses this. When it becomes obvious that Bharadwaj is in no shape to check out the Unmapped Zone Possibly Crawling With More Millipedes, Mensah gives her something else to do. Mensah's no fool, Mensah is self-aware and leadership-savvy enough to understand the ironclad Competency Requirement, so Mensah ensures that Bharadwaj can save face... though they do get into that little disciplinary pissing match still, because not even Mensah is immune to Competency Requirement.

This is not the only time Mensah offers alternate routes to competence! She does it with Gurathin, to ease the sting of how often the poor guy gets left behind. She does it with Arada when Arada can't handle dragging freshly-shot Murderbot back to the hopper. (I'm wondering if "why couldn't you land a shot on that EvilSurvey bitch?!" is gonna come up next ep, because if it does, it'll be devastating.) And it's one of Mensah's first gambits with Murderbot: she asks it to analyze the messed-up maps, a bit gingerly so as not to step on Gurathin's or Pin-Lee's toes.

And letting them all save face is a kind, generous response! It's the response of a true servant leader out to encourage and foster the people she leads! I respect it! The thing is, though, it doesn't dismantle or deconstruct the sick system all of them are trapped in. It leaves them to continue uncritically worshipping Competence.

Humaniform wrecking ball that Murderbot is, it is constantly wrecking this system. First it's a janky decrepit piece of corpo shit that pulls off an impeccable rescue. Then it's manifestly incompetent at personal-relations stuff like graciously accepting compliments and eye contact. Then it accepts help from Mensah without going into an emotional tailspin over doing so -- it even calls her "an intrepid galactic explorer" in its most-approving (which is maybe not very, but that's our Murderbot) tone.

And in e6, it readily admits its fuckup with the hopper specs and accepts Mensah's justified ire calmly and undefensively. (It defends its show, but not itself!) About as un-PresAux as it could possibly get. Then it offers her the help she needs without thinking any less of her for needing it -- indeed, while showing her that it's needed the same kind of help any number of times. Then it trusts her, despite the vulnerability she just showed it, to do a procedurally and emotionally difficult surgery she's not trained for!

Murderbot isn't omnicompetent and doesn't try to be. Murderbot freely admits that, to Mensah and to itself. Murderbot accepts help and gives help without judgment. Murderbot accepts its own fuckups (less calmly internally than ex-, granted, but still). Murderbot rejects humanity, in so doing rejecting the PresAux omnicompetence ideal.

Murderbot is what PresAux needs. Which is not to say that it's responsible for fixing them, or even that its example will suffice to fix them. It's not... and I doubt its example is enough to topple the PresAlliance omnicompetence ideal. But just in showing them a different way to be, it's opening a door for them.

Yeah, sorry, this was really long. But I've been thinking about it for a while, and I do think it's one of the steel thematic cables tying the whole show together.

Not to psychoanalyze Ratthi from the Murderbot tv show, but he seems to me to desperately want to be part of something.

Like, you know that quote from The Incredibles, “if everyone’s special, then no one is?”

It seems to me like in Preservation, everyone is part of the community, everyone is welcomed, and probably for some people it must also feel like they are part of the group not because of who they are, but because it’s the norm. Like… do they even like me, specifically? Or am I being treated as part of the community just because I’m here and it’s the norm, but actually I did nothing to earn that?

In another parallel to SecUnit, albeit a subtler one than is the case with Gurathin, I feel like Ratthi is yearning to feel like he belongs.

Like, it all fits. The way he tries too hard to be hyper-friendly to the point it comes across as annoying. The way he cheats at video games. How he wants to be the hero, the one who saves the others (even tho he doesn’t know how to use a gun). The way he goes super hard on not just “Gurathin is 100% one of us and we love him!” but also “SecUnit is 100% one of us and also my bff! That’s right I’m friend with a SecUnit ☺️ you guys probably wouldn’t, like, get it.”

Not to mention the entire mess with the throuple. He is trying so so so hard to belong to something, to have been chosen by someone for something, anything.

(He also gives big “youngest sibling who knows his family likes him but isn’t sure it is because they like him or because it’s their responsibility to like him” vibe but let’s not spend too much time on that).

[thesnackthatsmilesbacck]

The library doesn't like you!

A katsuki x reader fanfiction where katsuki is the book keeper of a library where souls go when they are passing to the next life. You, arrive at the library with curiosity. However, why are you here if you are still alive?

Slow burn between katsuki and the reader!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2, Tea.

Short chapter sorry 😞

You go to work like normal.

Which is to say: you show up, you nod through conversations, you stare at the clock like it might accidentally tell you something new.

People talk at you. Probably. You can’t really tell. Every voice sounds like it’s coming through a wall. Every question gets answered with a half-smile and a vague “yeah,” like your brain’s buffering too slowly to load actual meaning.

You spill coffee down your sleeve and don’t notice until someone points it out.

You laugh at the wrong time during a meeting.

You almost walk into traffic.

Normal things.

You think maybe the Library took something. Like time, or sleep, or part of your spine.

You think maybe you left something behind.

You think about Katsuki’s face. The way his voice scraped across your chest. The way he said living like it didn’t apply to him. Or maybe like it used to.

You think about what it means to be alive. If this is it—commuting and eating microwaved leftovers and lying to your coworkers about why you look tired—then maybe he’s right. Maybe you don’t belong here either.

You wonder what he meant by rules.

You wonder what happens if you break them.

You wonder if he's ever broken them himself.

When you finally crawl into bed that night, it’s not because you’re tired. It’s because you’re curious.

The sleep comes easy.

It always does now.

And when the Library folds open around you, it’s quieter than usual.

You walk the aisles slowly. Like you’re being watched. Like you want to be.

The light is warmer tonight. Dim and amber, like late afternoon, even though there are no windows. It feels staged. Like someone lit the whole place for a scene you haven’t been told your lines in.

You don’t go far before you see him.

The Bookkeeper is behind the desk.

He’s reading.

A mug of something sits next to him—tea, maybe. The steam curls upward, soft and lazy. His eyes flick across the page, slow and methodical, like he’s absorbing the book through sheer force of will.

He doesn’t look up when you approach. But he speaks.

“Back again.”

You hesitate. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

Silence falls between you. Heavy, but not hostile.

You lean against the counter. Try not to look like you’re staring. “What are you reading?”

He flips the page. “Your file.”

You freeze. “I have a file?”

He looks up. Meets your eyes. “Everyone does.”

Your throat tightens. “What does it say?”

He doesn’t answer. He just sips his tea, slowly, deliberately, like someone used to being asked the wrong questions.

You swallow, nerves coiling tight. “Do you have a name?”

A pause.

Then: “Yeah.”

You wait. But that’s all he says.

You huff, almost smiling. “Are you gonna tell me, or…?”

He sets the mug down. Leans forward on his elbows. “Why do you want to know?”

The question throws you. Not because it’s complicated. But because you don’t know how to answer it without saying something stupid. Because you’re interesting. Because you scare me. Because you look at me like I’m a mistake you’re trying not to make again.

You settle on: “Because you keep showing up in my head.”

Katsuki stares at you for a beat too long.

Then, finally: “Katsuki.”

You repeat it. “Katsuki.”

The name tastes real. Not dreamlike. Not soft-edged. Just sharp enough to prove he’s more than fiction.

He nods once. Then stands.

“Tsk.”

You blink. “What?”

“You wanna know why you’re here?”

You nod.

He grabs a floating candle off a nearby shelf and turns toward the back of the Library.

“Then stop waiting for me to tell you.”

[houseofthedragonn]

Hey! Just came across your reply with the Hurt/Confort content for a sick fic with Cregan and sick!wife (I love sick fics too much aaaahh) I wonder, how would it be with a sick! Aemond bedridden and wife/reader as caretaker. How would you picture it? I think I've seen it the other way around, but I think the reversal and the shift in power would actually be an interesting dynamic. You can also do with sick!Cregan ^^ Thank you <3

MY FIRST AEMOND FIC YAY but i picture him hating it fully, feeling weak is a sore spot for him for sure so it’s angsty but i love that scary mf🫣 and you can find the sick! cregan headcanons here & THANK YOU! <3

sick love,

aemond targaryen x caretaker! wife

“YOU ARE SICK, LOVE! HELLS, HOW MANY times must the royal Maesters, your mother, and I tell you that until you get it through your thick head?” I was exasperated, at my wits end with an ailing Aemond refusing bedrest.

“When you get it through your even thicker head that I need no one’s bloody help, wife!” Aemond raised his voice for every servant in our royal apartments to hear, pacing around in only his trousers as his fever has him glistening mad with sweat.

He was never in the best mood to begin with, even when not ill, but sick he was even worse. Even with me.

As marriage he had never cared for anyway, knowing it was his duty to do so for power, not love. When our match was made between House Targaryen and mine, the richest Great House in the realm, he saw me as nothing more than a dowry. Means to an end, a way to fill his house’s coffers for war against the pretender Rhaenyra, which was proving to be expensive. But I was hells-bent on not being trapped in a loveless marriage. It proved hard at first, but there were parts of him I grew to love. The parts he did not dare show anyone else. Parts I only saw when I followed him to the places he escaped away to from the Red Keep. Finding him in the arms of a whore, I saw him for what he was: just a boy.

A boy who never knew love, and went looking for it in all of the wrong places.

Finding myself in the right one, at the wrong time. As he grew wise to my stalking him after the third time or so that I did, and I thought he would surely have me killed for finding out such an intimate secret. Not that he lay with whores, but rather that he did not lay with them. Talking to the mistress about all his troubles as she held him like a babe. But it was not until I told him that I could do that for him that things between us started to change. Not overnight, but at a slow and gradual pace.

It had been a fortnight since we made the deal, and he took me up on the offer. And we grew closer, his manner kinder.

But the sickness proved to sour his mood, and we were back at the beginning, bickering, “That’s not what you said a fortnight ago, Aemond, asking for my help with all of your problems…”

I knew talking back would only make things worse, but my patience was wearing thin, and all I wanted to do was help him.

Though I could not, as he made it impossible to.

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind… maybe I prefer whores on the Street of Silk than the touch of my wife…” Aemond spat back in between coughing, his voice sounding sickly.

“Fine, go back to them then, for all I care, husband! But if it was so easy for me to follow you there, gods only know Aegon could find you there. Heavens forbid anyone should tell him…” I gave him a taste of his own medicine, threatening to reveal his secret as I poured myself a cup of wine.

“You wouldn’t dare…” Aemond seethed, squinting at me as his sapphire, scared eye stared me down, but I didn’t back down.

Because I was not afraid of him. Probably one of the only ones in all of realm who did not fear the Targaryen and his dragon. I just smiled back at him, “Oh, I would. Now wouldn’t you rather tell me your problems in the safety of our royal apartments, my Prince? Where your brother never has to know…”

I slowly strode over to our large featherbed, sitting down in only my nightgown, cup of wine in hand.

Aemond weighed his options, as I left him with little to none. Simmering with a mix of anger and defeat, he joined me on the bed begrudgingly, grumbling, “I suppose… the first time we tried to talk like that was not so horrible… it was—”

“Nice. You won’t burst into flames if you say so, you know,” I teased, holding out the chalice of wine for him to take.

Taking the cup harshly, he drained it in one swig. Just as I had known he would, which was why I slipped medicine in it when he had his back turned to me mere moments ago, pacing like a mad man. Knowing it was dishonest, but Alicent and all of the Maesters could not get him to take it. So we agreed using me and a cup of wine was the best way to get him to take it. Gods forbid something happen to Aegon after Aemond catches his death with the illness he caught and the realm was left without a ruler to take care of all seven kingdoms.

Gods forbid I lose my husband right when we started to warm up to one another.

“I may as well have already… but you are right enough, my wife…” Aemond agreed, although I knew a part of him could tell the wine was not the same. “And you are wiser than I give you credit for… there was medicine in the cup, wasn’t there?”

“Would you have taken it any other way? I only wish to help you… my love,” I tested the waters, taking the empty cup from his hands and abandoning it on the table across our bed.

“I suppose not… and if anyone must help me, I would rather it be you than mother or the Maesters… my love,” Aemond admitted, resting his head of long silver hair on my shoulder after I sat back down on the bed beside him. Sighing, “It’s just being bedridden I hate—I hate being so weak!”

“Being bedridden is not weakness! It’s just bedrest to regain your strength, my handsome husband… and I can stay at your side and listen how I did a fortnight ago. If that is what you want, if that helps you… that is all I ever want to do, Aemond…” I reassured him, my hands rubbing soothing circles into the bare flesh of his muscled back.

“That would be… nice,” Aemond acquiesced, his lids fluttering shut as I hummed his favorite songs, holding him how I knew he liked.

I felt him shift his head on my shoulder, raising it to press a kiss to my cheek, and then my lips. Slowly, savoring the moment.

“Why don’t you rest your head on my lap and tell me all that ails you, my love?” I softly suggested, leaning back against the pillows on our big featherbed.

Aemond made his way over to me from the foot of our bed. At his most vulnerable, getting comfortable with resting his head under my palm, caressing his hair. He did not start right away, and I did not rush him. Just staying like that until he was ready.

“Where do I even begin…” Aemond angrily mumbled, muffled against me as his hands held my other one not brushing his long hair.

“Wherever you want to, love…”

[aurescentia]

For the @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow pop-up event - prompt: violet

ao3 || Song: Keep It Warm by Flo & Eddie || WC: 2,456 || Rating: T || CW: language, mild violence, references to weapons || Tags: Season 4 Rewrite, Fix-It, Coming of Age, Friendship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, References to guns 'n' stuff, Not Canon Compliant, Background/kinda foreground Steddie

"Stick another grape in the juicer Or fill your guts with grease and get looser You are what you eat, so eat it warm"

March 27, 1986

Something’s wrong.

Okay, that’s… probably the biggest understatement of Frank’s life, because something’s been ‘wrong’ all fucking week. Honestly put a real damper on what should have been an awesome spring break, and– shit.

Not the point. Anyway–

Something’s wrong in a way that has him scaling up a telephone pole at one in the morning to break into the j-box, which, he supposes, as he opens the panel hidden inside, isn’t that out of the ordinary for him. He’s habitually checked the tape recorder once or twice a month since he started tapping it back in ’83.

What is out of the ordinary, and what led him to where he is now, tossing pebbles at Gareth’s bedroom window, is that the tapes aren’t empty like they usually are. And, yeah– since it’s a voice-activated recorder, no secret government calls meant no secret (i.e., illegal) government recordings. Which meant normally, they were blank.

Except for when they weren’t. Like in fall of ’83 and ’84, when those kids went missing, or last year, when the mall blew up and the whole town was crawling with feds. Except for now, when the whole town was calling Eddie a murderer, and there was nothing Frank could do to prove him innocent.

Until–

Gareth’s window finally opens, and Frank can see him peering out behind his bedhead mop.

“Psst!”

“Dude. What the fuck are you –”

“Can you come down?” Frank whisper-shouts up at him. Jeff’s head pops up beside Gareth’s, looking rumpled with sleep.

“Oh, Jeff’s here too? Sick, that saves us a trip.”

Gareth opens his mouth, probably to ask, ‘who’s ‘us’?’ but then Jeff’s shoving him out of the way to call back to Frank.

“We’ll be down in a minute. Wait there.” And then the window slides shut again.

For the record, it takes way longer than a minute for them to sneak through the side and out to where Frank’s waiting, but he doesn’t have time to waste moaning about them dragging their feet. They have, as Eddie would put it, negative time to get moving, and that’s under the optimistic assumption he can convince them to come.

But Frank doesn’t get to start explaining before Gareth’s shambling over, kicking at the backpacks he left scattered on the lawn.

“Why do you have– Frank, are those guns??” he asks, staring slack-jawed at the shotgun poking up through one of the bags.

Frank nudges it aside with his foot, placing one hand on either of their shoulders, desperate for their attention.

“And a couple of M72 LAWs, but ignore that for a sec and just listen to me,” he urges, shaking Gareth when he tries to argue again.

“Listen! I found Eddie, and he’s in danger. Like, full-on end-of-the-world, government conspiracies, danger. There’s too much to explain, and I’m probably going to seriously regret this, but I– I wanted to ask you guys to come along. Help save him.”

“And the whole world, probably, but that’s sort of a secondary concern,” Frank adds, unable to help himself.

“Whoa, hold on. Can I ask –?” Jeff shakes his head, rubbing at his temples.

“Whatever. I’m going to ask anyway. Is– is this shit tied to your CIA dad?” Jeff asks, lowering his voice.

“Former CIA dad, how many times do I have to tell you?” Frank mutters. “And… kind of? In a super roundabout way that also involves interdimensional monsters, and, more importantly, saving Eddie’s life. Which means I just need a yes or no response.”

“Wait a minute, this –”

Gareth starts to talk, but Jeff interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder, closing their circle in.

“Can you explain on the way?” he asks, nodding once at Frank.

“Uh, yeah– what else are we going to talk about on the way? The weather? That chem assignment you haven’t started?”

“Yes, of course I’ll explain,” Frank mutters when Jeff shoots him an expectant look.

“Alright. In that case, I’m in,” he says after a moment, shrugging when Gareth shoots him a betrayed look.

“But the guns –”

“I raided my dad’s closet for all the beefy shit he can’t sell at the store,” Frank says, waving away Gareth’s protests.

It was less ‘closet’ and more ‘underground bunker,’ but the less they knew about that, the better. Whatever shit his dad sold outside the War Zone (i.e., off the records) was his business. Literally.

“Are you in or not, Gareth?”

He glances warily from Frank’s earnest expression down to the bags, and back. Sighs heavily, like this is all one big inconvenience instead of life or death.

“Fine, yeah. I guess I’ll tag along for the suicide mission.”

Frank slaps him on the shoulder cheerily.

“That’s the spirit.”

Thirty minutes later, they’re rolling Forest Hills, bags heavy with all the shit Frank had to haul solo on his initial ride. He’s done his best to fill them in on everything – his dad’s paranoia, tapping the j-box outside the nondescript building the feds didn’t want anyone to know they occupied when shit hit the fan in Hawkins, how often shit hit the fan here; all of it.

They only had to make one pitstop along the way to pepper spray the absolute shit out of Jason Carver and his cronies. And, yeah, it was possibly (mostly) unprovoked, but Frank figured there was no way they were out this late to do anything good.

And besides, they fucked up Gareth’s drumkit, so Frank assumes they deserved it.

But now that Carver’s taken care of and everyone’s up to speed, there’s a lull in the conversation as the three of them drop their bikes on the familiar steps leading up to the Munson trailer. Maybe less familiar, as it currently stands, with the windows vacant and dark. With the knowledge that Chrissy died here, and knowing that, without understanding how, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault.

“And you’re sure this is where Eddie’s hiding?”

“Seems like the last place he should go in a situation like this,” Gareth mumbles, eyeing the graffiti-covered trailer. 

“He is here… kind of,” Frank says firmly, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

From what he’d gathered from listening back to the recorded calls, the feds were aware of something they were calling ‘exits.’ That they’d been popping up everywhere the kids– where Chrissy had died. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out the rest.

And while the feds were too busy circle jerking to finish assembling a ‘task force,’ that meant Eddie could have slipped through unnoticed. Which meant they were about to follow.

Any further questions were met with a resounding, terrifying answer – one that took the unfortunate shape of a ‘YES’ spread out in a jagged chasm across the ceiling. The three of them stared at each other, at the anomalous sheet-bend ladder dangling from nothing.

There might have been a moment of second-guessing, of wondering if they were getting in too deep, but then they could hear voices coming through the chasm, and that was enough to get Jeff reaching for the ladder.

He pauses for a moment, just before he begins the climb, looking back at Frank and Gareth with an air of grave solemnity. 

“If I die, tell Rebecca Ives I’m in love with her.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, but kneels to give him a boost up anyway.

“Like we’d let you die without us.”

Gravity goes weird as Frank hauls himself up (down?) the ladder, everything shifting, flipping as he falls into the awaiting mattress landing pad. He thinks, god, the trailer’s seen better days, huh, even as they’re picking themselves up and following the voices toward the not-Munson-trailer front door.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate the nightmare reverse quality of everything here, or even worry about the spores floating in the air that have him itching for the inhaler he left at home, because Gareth’s already at the door, flinging it open with one hand. He’s got his other hand firmly latched around one of the tire irons Frank had brought.

The earth – if they’re even on earth anymore – seems to stand still. Because there’s Eddie, alive and mostly unharmed. Eddie and Dustin, and– well, shit. A whole fucking gaggle of others.

At the sound of the door opening, everyone outside whirled around to face them, hands on their weapons like they were expecting a fight. Which, yeah, they might well have been. Wasn’t that the whole reason the feds had been calling each other like crazy? Why they were out there, somewhere, assembling a task force at this very moment? The reason Eddie was here at all?

Because there was something out there, too large and inhuman to comprehend. Something that was just that – too much – and they needed to fight it. Had to kill it.

 “Jeff?” Eddie asks after a long pause, glancing surreptitiously back at the older group, as if making sure they could see them too.

“Eddie– Holy shit, dude,” Jeff breathes, taking an aborted step toward him.

He stops when Wheeler – yes, Nancy-goddamn-Wheeler – lifts her shotgun and aims it directly at the three of them, still smushed together in the doorway. Harrington shoots her a scowl, and she lowers it a little, but her fingers stay locked, ready to fire.

“How’d you get here?” Nancy asks warily, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. Frank wonders what else he has missed in the tapped calls – what other tricks of the mind the rest of the group experienced before they got there.

“Uh, we used the front door?” Gareth mutters, side-eyeing Frank like maybe Wheeler had a few screws loose.

“And the rope, don’t forget the rope into another dimension.”

 Wheeler frowns at this, opening her mouth to say argue – probably ‘go back, it’s too dangerous’ or some other noble, heroic shit, but Eddie’s already lifting a placating hand.

“We don’t have time to ask why they’re here. They’re here, and we need all the help we can get if we’re going to stop Vecna –”

“– the DnD guy?”

“– if we’re going to stop him before he gets Mayfield,” Eddie continues, ignoring Gareth’s muttered outburst. “And I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’ve seen enough kids die in the last week to last me a lifetime.”

“Go. Do your job. And make sure you get that fucker.”

The three of them – Wheeler, Buckley, and Harrington – all nod in eerie unison, resolidified by Eddie’s conviction. And they’re about to take off, head toward some unknown, separate danger, when Jeff nudges Frank’s shoulder, nodding to the bag of weapons. Right.

“Wait!” he calls to them, closing the distance with the bag of offerings held out. Wheeler’s eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, is that a bazooka?” Robin sputters, taking a step away from them.

“It’s an M72,” Frank and Nancy say in unison, then eye each other appreciatively.

Seems like Wheeler knows her shit.

“Where’d you –” Nancy cuts herself off with a shake of her head, accepting the bag Frank thrusts into her hands. “This is– wow, thank you. Honestly, it’s impressive.”

“What good would we be if we showed up empty-handed?” he says, grinning at her.

Feels good, knowing all this work wouldn’t go to waste. Nancy smiles at him, shyly, before hoisting the bag over her shoulder. Nods once, and then Wheeler, Buckley and Harrington disappear into the woods beyond.

Frank’s still staring after their retreating forms when he hears Eddie come up from behind, clapping an arm over his shoulder.

“As much as I’d love to bask in the warmth of this surprise reunion, we’re kind of busy preparing for battle,” Eddie says, smiling down his nose at him. “So, if you don’t mind a little walk-and-talk crash course, we can get each other up to speed.”

Frank laughs because, despite everything, it feels right being here with him. Together. Ready to fight for their town, for each other.

“Yeah, man. Let’s get to work.”

THREE DAYS LATER

They’re fourth (fourth!) in line to visit Eddie in the hospital once he wakes. The first and second positions were obvious – Wayne first, because yeah, they’re family; followed closely by Dustin, who was already here for Mayfield this morning when she woke.

But Gareth’s been moaning nonstop about the third person, who currently stood somewhere beyond the closed door of Eddie’s hospital room. His federally guarded hospital room, Frank might add, which was making his skin crawl, reminded of the very tapped, very illegal recordings he had stashed somewhere at the bottom of his bag.

“I just don’t get it,” Gareth’s saying for probably the tenth time since they got here. “We go through all that trouble – bringing the weapons, saving everyone’s ass, crushing all those interdimensional bats into bits–”

One of the feds gives Gareth a wary look, which he waves off with an annoyed flick of his hand.

“Look, buddy, I’m not breaking any NDAs if you pencil-pushers are the only ones to hear me,” he mutters.

“Anyway, point being! All Harrington does is ride in at the last second like a goddamn knight in shining armor, performs a little CPR on Eddie, and now we’re playing second fiddle to him? Where’s the rationale in that!”

Frank and Jeff share a look over Gareth’s shoulder, knowing that’s not… exactly how it went down, and he knows it, too. Frank certainly wouldn’t call what they saw Eddie and Steve do, pressed up against the driver’s side door as they left for the hospital, CPR for CPR’s sake.

More like the ‘holy shit, I almost watched you die’ and ‘holy shit, I almost died and now you’re carrying me, bridal style, to safety’ kind of embrace. One that included a lot of crying. And tongue.

“None of us broke our ankle saving him,” Jeff supplies drily. “I think that’s earned him a little favoritism, at the moment.”

More than favoritism, if Eddie’s blood loss induced, romantic whispers to Frank on the way to the hospital could be believed. But Frank was currently saving that embarrassing piece of blackmail for a rainy day.

“Sorry we were good at saving everyone’s lives and didn’t need to break anything to get the job done,” Gareth mutters sullenly, checking his watch again.

“Hey. Sunglasses,” he snaps at one of the guards, nodding at the closed door.

“Can you knock or something? Tell them their time’s up or–”

Gareth’s interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing a rather pink-faced Steve Harrington, beckoning them in.

“Sorry for, ah. For the hold up, guys,” he mumbles, scrubbing at the back of his neck.

“He’s ready for you now.”

please check out @corrodedcoffinfest for all the other entries, or to generally see what they've got goin' on over there. always tons of cool shit! and if you want to follow along for the rest of the week, you can find my posts here on tumblr, or saved to the Spectra series // Corroded Coffin Fest Collection on ao3 for everyone's submissions.

[1loer]

my half of my collaboration with @dr2-hell !!!!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!! this was so super fun to do I'm so excited with how everything turned out! Their idea was so fun to write! AND THE COMIC HE DID FOR ONE OF THE SCENES IS SO EPIC SO PLEASE LOOK AT IT TOO IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY!!!

Link to AO3 (but also it's under the read-more for tumblrinas ^^ )

Despite all the time he’d spent on this island, this was the first time Komaeda had seen the sunset from the beach. He couldn’t help but think that that was a waste, but he supposed most people would probably argue he’d had other things to worry about. The fading of the bright sun into the ocean was a melancholy experience. A bright hope fading into a deep and endless darkness. But for the sun to rise tomorrow, it must set tonight. 

A thought like that was usually a comfort. Now, something about it made the gaping hole that yawned in his chest moan louder than it usually did. No one else would really understand what he meant by that. Perhaps that was what made this all feel so horribly sad. Instead of hope, the sunset just reminded him that he was alone. This wasn’t a new thought, but something about it felt more final now. As childish as it was, Komaeda had always held a small and quiet hope within himself that something may happen to prove his beliefs wrong. No matter how certain he’d been that he was alone, that hope had remained and wiggled its way to the surface like a worm tricked by a seagull pounding its feet on the ground. Right now he couldn’t help but feel like that small hope had been crushed for good, but he didn’t really know why. 

His loneliness was made all the more potent by the silence him and his audience sat in. He hadn’t seen Hinata approach, hadn’t even heard him sit down. Just one moment he wasn’t there then the next he was, a blurry smudge in the corner of his vision. Komaeda hadn’t questioned it; hadn’t even looked straight at him. He’d been too busy focusing on convincing himself he didn’t want to speak to him. It hadn’t worked. He switched tactics, instead trying to strengthen his resolve so Hinata would have to speak first. This was usually easy, and with the amount of tension that ran between them now, he’d have thought that Hinata would’ve broken after less than a minute of silence. He could already imagine his face, how he’d demand an explanation, or god forbid, an apology, like he deserved either of those things. Or at least, Komaeda was trying really hard to convince himself he didn’t want to give him those things. 

He’d told him once that he’d stoop to begging if that's what it took to have Hinata talk to him. At the time, he could tell from Hinata’s face that he’d thought he was being facetious. If only. Komaeda thought that after everything, that feeling would have changed. It hadn’t. Speaking to Hinata had always been much too easy. This silence was unnatural. He’d rather they argued. Despite what should be, his desperate feelings hadn’t changed, and desperate is as desperate does. 

“You’ve never been this quiet before. You must be really mad.” only the waves responded, crashing against the sand rhythmically, “Or maybe you’re making fun of me. Either would be reasonable. I would do the same if I was in your shoes right now.” the sun shimmered on the ocean’s horizon, and Hinata stayed quiet. It gave him too much space to talk. Without a response, it was easy to forget anyone was there to hear him at all, “Though it’s strange. I usually feel quite reprehensible, but right now, it seems worse. It reminds me of when my parents died…” the sudden vulnerability was all the proof he’d needed that he’d forgotten himself in the silence, “Ah! I told you that was a lie, didn’t I? Do you believe me more, now that I’ve brought it up again so flippantly? Revisiting the topic so out of the blue could only suggest that it’s real, right? Do you feel bad for me yet?” Hinata stayed quiet. Perhaps he really could see through him as clearly as Komaeda always hoped he could. But what right did he really have to wish for something like that when he was always so quick to run away at the first sign of sincerity? Komaeda had always wanted after everything he couldn’t have; an envious creature from birth. Though, perhaps not as envious as most. He smiled into the sand that nearly buried his boots at the thought, “Somehow, even if you did, I don't think it would feel as sweet anymore.”  

Still nothing. The sickly burn of shame gurgled in him. A feeling that quickly turned hot. Maybe before he could’ve settled with the idea that Hinata didn’t care for what he had to say. An Ultimate shouldn’t care for the idle prattle of some commoner like him when it had no use other than to distract them from their goal of furthering the hope of this world. But Hinata wasn’t an Ultimate. Hinata wasn’t anyone worthwhile at all. 

Now, it all seemed obvious, and Komaeda felt more stupid than he had the entire time he’d known him. From the first time he’d seen him he’d known that they were the same. At first it was suspicious. Why out of everyone would Hinata not remember his talent? To Komaeda it could only have meant that he was different from the others. One of the first things he’d thought was that perhaps Hinata didn’t have a talent at all. He certainly didn’t stand out in any particular way. But still, there was something about him that set him apart from others. Something special. The more time had gone on and the more of Hinata’s good traits he’d seen, the opposite seemed more and more likely, and the more the question of what had intrigued him. 

But there was nothing. Whatever Komaeda had sensed must have been a delusion, because someone like Hinata couldn’t be special at all. To think he’d been right all along…Perhaps he could call it a lucky guess. 

And now Hinata sat here, no better than him, perhaps even in some ways worse, and after everything that had happened, he had the audacity to ignore him.

“Do you know why I feel like this, Hinata?” somehow, he managed to keep the vitriol out of his voice, “Something tells me that it’s your fault, so you should own up to it, okay? Take responsibility.” 

Still, Hinata said nothing. Komaeda’s hands tightened their grip on his knees.

“You’re a really stubborn guy, huh? Though, I suppose I always knew that. I’m pretty stubborn too.” he pretended to catch himself on his words, and laughed at his slip up, “Sorry, I know you don't like it when I compare the two of us. I understand it’d be a hard thing to accept. I can't even accept myself. But there’s no doubt you can hide behind now. I was right, we are the same…” he tried not to smile as he said it. He didn’t have to try that hard. Words that usually tasted so temptingly sweet now just felt sad, like a sweet where the only taste came from its sugar coating and now, he’d sucked it clean there was nothing left. 

Maybe less of a sweet and more of a pill, one he still struggled to swallow, and it had nothing to do with how he felt about the Reserve Course and everything to do with who Hinata was. Hinata, who’d been a leader, a friend, a scapegoat, a motivator. A talentless, Reserve Course, second string, nobody and still everything Komaeda wanted to be and more. 

Komaeda had been an envious creature from birth. 

The sun bled red across the sky, an even, deep colour that soaked into the ocean, staining it a dark red. The sun must’ve set further when he wasn’t looking. It drained the idyllic feeling from the view. Now, it only made his apprehension worse and even more difficult to figure out. Hinata still didn’t move. Komaeda still couldn’t look at him. It was more than just stubbornness, that was much too simple an explanation for the sinking dread he had at even the idea of looking at him. It choked him up, a nostalgic nausea overcoming him if he even so much as tilted his head too far in his direction.

“But if we are the same, then shouldn’t I hate you? Reserve course and talentless, and a peer to swine like me. It only makes sense to hate you.” Komaeda ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “So why…” 

Why then could he not be happier that he was here with him? The thought of him leaving was worse. The idea of being alone right now was terrifying. Not the usual fear he’d lived with all his life. Instead, Komaeda was strangely and harrowingly certain that if Hinata left, he’d disappear. He wanted to feel okay about that. Maybe some nights he’d even had the thought that such a thing would be a blessing. But he couldn’t accept it. He hadn’t done what he needed to yet. 

Of course. How strange that he’d forgotten. He had something to do, maybe the most important and meaningful thing he’d ever done in his life. He couldn’t help the tremble of excitement that went through him. Everything he’d built up to his entire life, all his suffering, all the pain, it would finally mean something. Most of all, it would finally come to an end. One final bet on his luck, and one last chance for it to steer him right. Finally, he would become the stepping stone he’d always wanted to be, always knew he could be.

If Hinata could do it, then why couldn’t he? 

The traitor, he was sure it was Nanami. It was the only person that made sense. The only one who hadn’t fallen to despair, or so it seemed with the information he had. Their truest hope, the only one of them left that was worthy of his support. To be the one who destroyed despair, to be the back she jumped off into the future, that person could only be described as Ultimate Hope. 

He wasn’t too big to admit he was scared. It was going to hurt. This would be no Irish goodbye. If he was going out, agent of despair or not, he was getting the exit he deserved. Too long had he shrivelled in the shadows. In that moment, he would be in the spotlight. He was going to make it big, make it messy, make it horrific. Spit in the faces of all his classmates who’d dared to look down on him when they were all Ultimates who’d failed so horribly at their destiny. Komaeda couldn’t contain his disappointment. Disappointment wasn’t a strong enough word for this feeling. It edged against hate. Komaeda may have failed once to do what he needed; he would not make the same mistake again. Now he would set it all right. 

It should’ve been easy. The boy in his peripheral made him second guess it all. 

Hinata had been kind to him in a way no one else had. Even after he failed the first time, and Hinata had found out about the part of him he’d hoped he could hide, Hinata had still sought him out, over and over, no matter what Komaeda revealed about himself. Why the hell had he even ended up with them all in the first place? Now, Komaeda wished he’d never met him. Doing what he needed to do wasn’t supposed to be this hard. 

If Komaeda really wanted his plan to be flawless, he should take Hinata out with him. If he wanted, he could’ve figured out a way to do it. It wouldn’t have been hard. For some reason, despite not trusting him at all, Hinata listened to him. He could use that to his advantage. When it came to the class trial, Hinata was the only one who could stop him. Reserve course, talentless Hinata. Would he be able to understand him the way he’d need to to figure him out? And if he did, would he have the guts to sentence them all? 

Could Hinata understand him that deeply? What would it mean if he did? 

But how could he then say that he’d properly conquered despair if he took away their strongest weapon? How could he claim it to be a fair and unequivocal win? It needed to be a complete sweep, all in one, if he ever wanted to be properly acknowledged as Ultimate Hope. Everything he’d dreamed of, all in the palm of his hands. He wouldn’t spare a single expense to make it right. 

It was a bullshit excuse. The truth was that Komaeda knew he wasn’t strong enough to kill Hinata directly. No amount of twisting his beliefs could hide that. As usual, Hinata, unimportant, unremarkable Hinata, broke through everything he’d spent his life believing in and ruined it all. So now, here he was at the finish line and all he wanted to do was stay with Hinata just a little longer. Even if it was in silence. Even if Hinata hated him. 

Komaeda had always wanted what he couldn’t have, now was no different. 

“I’m sorry.”    

For a second, he didn’t even believe the words were his. But Hinata still didn’t move, a still and unfocused blur at the corner of his vision. He screwed his eyes shut. He thought he should take it back. But he didn’t want to. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure what he was sorry for. Even so, the words came spewing out of some deepening hole in his chest like they could somehow patch it up.

“If you knew, you would understand. It wasn’t about the Reserve Course. Not all of it. If you only knew-” Komaeda shook his head. He dragged his hands through his hair. The silence echoed. Not a sound on the beach other than his own haggard breathing, “You won’t even acknowledge me? Have you finally decided that I’m no good at all? All this and you finally understand.” Komaeda laughed, a weak thing that made his begging all the more pitiful, “Funny, this is all I ever thought I deserved, yet having you completely ignore me is more crushing than anything else I’ve gone through. Isn’t that just silly?

“I don’t know why you mean so much to me, Hinata. If I knew I could try to stop. You shouldn’t mean anything to me at all. You’re nothing. You’re worse than nothing.” He dug his nails into his scalp, overwhelmed with shame at all he’d ever said and all he never could,

Komaeda had never heard a silence like this. If he couldn’t hear himself, he’d worry he’d gone deaf. The red sky darkened. The shadows of the palm trees stretched. 

“Please, can we go back to how it was?” his voice was a cracked whisper through his grit-toothed smile, “I know it’s pathetic to ask, but could you look at me like that again? Like you did before. Like you could learn to care for me. You were the first one who ever did.” 

If he hadn’t dropped his arms at the moment he did, he would’ve missed him. Even in the dead silence of the beach, Komaeda hadn’t heard him get up. All this time spent ignoring him and trying to push him away and all it got him was watching his back as he left. Once more he bared his heart, and once more Hinata dropped it on the floor and left him to pick it up by himself. Before he could accept it. Now, the image of Hinata’s back filled him with a frantic and furious desperation. Hinata didn’t get to walk away from him anymore. He’d lost that privilege before they’d even met. 

He pushed to his feet, his boots slipping in the sand, and chased after him. 

“Don’t ignore me!” he reached out to grab him and

His hand passed through Hinata’s arm. He stumbled forwards, still carrying momentum he’d thought he’d have given away. He looked at his hand, like it could help him comprehend what had just happened. Had he missed? Had his co-ordination deteriorated that far while he wasn’t paying attention? 

Hinata was walking away, further down the beach, through a snow that fell in slow, fuzzy streams. 

The more he stared, the more the snow obscured him, until it was less like snow and more like static. Komaeda hesitated, then ran, ran until he caught up with him, then past him. He turned around and faced him dead on, with shoulders square and feet planted solid- until he faltered.

Hinata didn’t stop walking at his slow and even pace. Hinata walked as if he wasn’t there. Until they were face to face, until he was close enough for Komaeda to wince at the impact he knew was coming. 

Until Hinata passed through him completely. He shivered through Komaeda with a buzzing feeling, like pins and needles tip to toe, until he came out the other side. Now, all Komaeda stared at was the snow as it fell on this dark and shadowy beach with a red ocean so dark it was nearly black. But all of that hadn’t made him falter. In fact, he’d hardly been able to process any of it until after it had happened, because Komaeda had been too stuck on the fact that when he’d finally faced Hinata there was nothing there to see, because Hinata had no face. 

He clutched his chest. Anxiety rushing him so strongly he felt lightheaded. His short breaths quickened, he tried everything he’d practised to slow it. But even breaths seconds deep didn’t touch him at all. He could feel it filling his lungs, chest expanding so wide it hurt, but still he choked, chest hot and tight like he was holding his breath. The air was thick and close and hot . Hotter and hotter. The sun was gone but he was sweating, and the heat was only building, until it was like fog and he could taste it on his tongue, until the thick and empty air he tried to suck in was hot too. A panic attack had never felt like this before. 

He scratched at his throat, some desperate and childish thought telling him that if he could open it he could breathe. He collapsed to the ground, legs shaking, too weak to hold him upright. He clutched at the sand as he tried to cough, tried anything, not even conscious of what his body was doing, everything he was scattering as his brain reverted back to basics, powered only by the thought of survival.

But that felt wrong. Even as he choked, part of him fought the animal in his brain that was thrashing to survive, like this was right, like this was supposed to happen. 

Then he saw his hand. He watched it, dull with something close to fascination, as the hand clutching the sand began to split. A fissure, a hole, that started small in the centre then peeled open, slow enough he could hear it, skin and muscle parting with wet, ripping sound. As he lifted his hand it trembled, shaking so hard he had to let go of his throat to grab his wrist. He turned it over, the wound was worse in his palm, blood running out of the gaping wound, his palm too shallow to hold so much blood. It dripped from his hand, staining the sand black in fat globs. 

Not just his hand, his thighs. Rips blooming open short and sharp yet so deep. Komaeda felt it in his underdeveloped quads, ripping in places that shouldn't rip. An awareness of his body he’d never known before and now he wished he could forget. Still, he couldn’t breathe, not even to scream, his fear constricted inside him. Still his lungs burned as they begged to. 

A force in his stomach like a punch threw him to his side. When he hit the ground, something inside him clicked. The hollow hole in his gut, the one he’d soothed like a wound his whole life, was no longer an overused metaphor. A plunging emptiness tore through him and his blood rushed to fill it. He gagged and choked, the punch winding him and taking the last of his breath with him, and he remembered it all. He tried to laugh; he didn’t have the air for it. He finally remembered he was dead. 

Then he could deal with the pain. Then, the blood and the gore and the ripping and the spaces in his body that were so completely wrong seemed somehow holy to him. For what better reason to suffer so hard and for so long? What better reason to die than hope?  Now, he would be transformed. Maybe they wouldn’t get it at first, but Komaeda knew in the future they’d look back at his sacrifice and feel grateful for him, for being the only one who could, and the only one who did. A culmination of his suffering, and now he would have meaning. 

Why didn’t it feel good? 

Lying here, he could see the edge of the beach where he knew the pavement was. Despite the heat he felt cold. A coldness inside him that made him feel sick. An empty pit that gaped wider that was so much worse than the gutted space under his ribcage that pissed his blood out onto the sand. 

All this work and effort and meaning, and all he wanted to do was be in bed. Not the bed in his cottage, not the bed in his home back in Japan. He wanted his mother’s bed, tucked in tight like all those times he’d gotten sick when he was young. 

He was going to die alone. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was selfish to wish someone was here. The greatest suffering he knew bestowed upon him so that this death could bring a hope even greater. 

There was movement. Through the static of the snow he could see it. A person approaching the beach. A person on the threshold. 

“ Hinata ?” he tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Between its straining, his heart still managed to flutter. A feeling inside him, a scratching and clawing more desperate than his innate drive to live, nearly gave him enough strength to stand. He pushed himself up.

Hinata stopped at the edge of the beach. Komaeda reached out towards him. The static grew heavier. 

“ Hi-na -” he wheezed, only the vowels sounding. 

Hinata backed away, hesitated, then turned and ran away. 

Komaeda stared at the space as long as his body could keep him upright. It only gave him a few more seconds. He lay on his side, curling against the pain in his stomach, a pain he felt was ripping him both ways, quartering him as he choked on a full chest of dead air. He watched the space at the edge of the beach like maybe something would change. Like Hinata would come back and sit with him, his head in his lap, a hand in his hair. The phantom fire didn’t die and did nothing to warm the cold spreading from his chest despite how it burned his skin. He watched the path through the fuzzing static snow until he couldn’t anymore, until his want to breathe took over everything else. Until all he wanted again was for it all to end and for it all to finally mean something.  He’d never wanted to die alone, but he supposed that in the end this all was his own fault. 

Komaeda had always wanted what he couldn’t have. 

[cabbagekid09]

Ok: I must confess something. I am a Pillow fan. I know, kill me, shoot me, set me on fire, but I just wanna go on here and say something.

I wanna talk about APOY's video on Pillow, and how I think his and others' perceptions of her are taking her character in the wrong way.

The argument is trying to defend why she kills people, saying that it's because of her "research"!

But what if Pillow was just a character who liked killing people? In the argument, it says that after she found out that the theory was wrong in TPOT 10, she stopped. But she still did it later in the episode with Bomby.

This isn't trying to say that the theory is wrong, that's a whole other can of worms, more so I feel like you don't have to prove that the killing was for good, couldn't it just have been because she likes killing?

And I know, this makes it sound even worse that I like her character, but think about it. She's just a chaotic little killer and is pretty entertaining to watch go around and cause chaos.

If you don't like watching that, I get it. That's a valid reason to not like the character. But if you like characters like Bill Cipher or any good villain, then you'll probably like Pillow. And if you don't, you might be looking at her in the wrong way.

I think TPOT 16 and TPOT 2 are definitely her highlight episodes. I will admit she goes too far in TPOT 9, but I do agree that she did misinterpret the challenge in that episode.

So, that's my little yapfest about Pillow. I just wanted to get this out of my system, and explain what I thought about APOY's theory and why I like her as a character. I might turn this into a video, but I'm not sure yet.

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #312

1. I’m looking for this fanfic. I don’t remember much about it but it was a very short one that I read years ago. Here are the two thing I remember: 1. Aziraphale and Crowley cuddling on either a couch or a tiny bed in the bookshop that can barely accommodate both of them but Crowley doesn’t mind. 2. Aziraphale keeps promising Crowley that he’s going to get a better (or bigger) bed but he keeps procrastinating. 3. The fic ends with a line that ends with the sentiment "Aziraphale could be slow, but he always kept his word". I think it may be explicit or mature but I’m not 100% sure. I’ll be forever grateful if we can find it 😭 - anon

2. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Crowley and God are siblings and Crowley had his own "test garden" dimension in heaven where he created things like dragons and unicorns and stuff and his true form is actually a dragon, and he has his own army in heaven that still answers to him only and there is another war between the archangels on one side and God and Crowley on the other with Aziraphale as Crowleys soul mate. And I'm pretty sure it was a "Crowley was Raphael" story. And I'm pretty sure God and Crowley were a single entity before the beginning in this fic. And I can't find it anymore - @zanylawyerdeanbakery

3. Hello, so happy to have just found you! What a wonderful service you're providing, thank you! I'm looking for a specific fic, (it might've still been a WIP?), but I feel fairly certain it has disappeared/ been taken down. I hope you can prove me wrong! Rated E, human Sex Workers fic, both Aziraphale and Crowley work at a brothel each with their own assigned room they work in. They fall for each other, but the employer doesn't allow coworkers to date. The one chapter I vividly remember that sets this apart from similar fics was that a client books a threesome, and wants those two. I think the client asks to watch A&C undress each other (though that tidbit might be from a different one, not positive). Ultimately, they have the client on all 4's between them, I think Crowley is giving him anal from behind, client is giving oral to Aziraphale. Meanwhile A & C are making major eyes at each other and it's like a sex-by-proxy thing happening. After the client leaves the room, they're in dressing gowns, and they finally give in to their overwhelming attraction and kiss each other. For a very very long time (because kissing isn't allowed w/ clients and they both find it's the thing they crave the most). (This part I might be confusing with another fic, but they might also be neighbors? And they each have teenage kids. I think Adam is Crowley's little brother or adopted kid, and Pepper is Aziraphale's sister's kid who he lives with, something like that. The kids' friendship gives A&C some plausible deniability to hang out.) If you're able to find it, I'll be so grateful! (My AO3 search skills leave much to be desired!) Whether you find it or not, or answer this or not, I hope you all have a very lovely day! <3 - @laudaddysmitten

4. Hi! Im looking for a fic I read in 2023(?), I don't remember much but i know: It's set during season 2. Beelzebub is more honest with Crowley when asking about Gabriel. It's in Crowleys POV and basically a more in-depth fic about Crowleys and Aziraphales reaction to ineffable bureaucracy/boxfly. I feel like I'm going insane trying to find this, so thank you in advance! :)) - @bru1sed-apple

5. Hellooo! First I want to thank everyone here for this account, seriously, it's a blessing! Secondly, I've been looking for a fic I read, probably about a year ago but I can't seem to find it but I also don't remember a whole lot about it. It's similar to (I'd rather be) in the palm of your hand, which I read around the same time. All I remember is that Crowley made webcam videos, but I'm pretty sure that this one was a human AU because what I remember from the entire thing is that after the video was filmed, Crowley went on to take some pictures for later when everything was "still fresh" and he didn't have to fake it with coconut oil. I know that's really not a lot of information but that's all I can remember for some reason. Thank you so much in advance! - @flerken-is-not-a-cat

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[bluerasbunny]

alright, since the last one went swimmingly,

as always, i'll draw the result once the poll is over!