#why is it impossible to understand if I can understand it as impossible to understand?

[midniqhtt]

comfort fic reads II 4k celebration

₊˚⊹⋆ main masterlist ꨄ︎ part two list ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: list got too long and had me maxed out. so i shifted some fandoms to part two instead.

hi loves! i never do anything for celebrating but i thought i could make a big list of all my favorite fics i’ve read over the past few months/years and continue rereading. i can never get enough of showing my appreciation for writers and all their hard work, and i want them to know i think of these fics/series at least once a day ♡︎ i say ‘comfort’ but theres more angst lol

key- A: angst II F: fluff II S: smut II SB: slow burn II C: comfort

.𖥔 MARVEL .𖥔

𝑩𝑶𝑩 𝑹𝑬𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑳𝑫𝑺

ꨄ︎ loving you is easy two II @blank-potato II A + F

You and Bob are indifferent to each other, never seeming to mesh. But when you lose your memory, something new blooms between the two of you.

ꨄ︎ fooled around and fell in love II @flowersforbucky II S + A + F

you've never been one for commitment, and your teammates know it. when you and bob start seeing each other, it takes them by surprise and makes them worry about how he'll react to the heartbreak that they expect to follow. what they don't understand - you've never felt like this about anyone.

ꨄ︎ soft currents next to you II @nghtwngs II S + A + F

there is falling in love. there is also falling into another universe. there is also falling in love again.

ꨄ︎ home is where the heart is II @ilovemilestellersmoustache II A + F

Wanting to feel more included Bob decides to help on a mission but in efforts to protect you he injures himself leaving him with amnesia. Your boyfriend not remembering isn’t the biggest problem because he’s always going to find you again, even in a hundred lifetimes.

ꨄ︎ soulmate II @geminiwritten II A + C

you're engaged to bucky when you find out that not only are fated mates real, but you have one... and it's not your fiancé

ꨄ︎ we can’t be friends part two II @tfatwsbarnes II A

bob always wondered why you didn’t favour him over the rest of your team. until he learned that you had unsettled the bones of the tva.

ꨄ︎ cowboy like me II @goldenlikedayl1ght II A + F

you get a text from an old friend and think.. you could do worse than a book club.. with some benefits.

ꨄ︎ xerox two three II @ichori II A + SB + C

you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

𝑩𝑼𝑪𝑲𝒀 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺

ꨄ︎ bad boys don’t buy flowers II @espinosaurusrexex II S + A + F

Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

ꨄ︎ come back to you II @buckyalpine II F

What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform.

ꨄ︎ curiosity killed the cat II @queers-gambit II A + C

after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

ꨄ︎ you’re my desire part two II @marvelouslizzie and @notafunkiller II S + F

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

ꨄ︎ graveyard part two II @wkemeup II A + C

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 

ꨄ︎ dreamscape II @/wkemeup II A + C

When Bucky falls under the spell of a Djinn, the line between fantasy and reality blurs. In order to survive, he must fight his way back to the real world - even if it costs him everything he's ever wanted.

ꨄ︎ blurred lines part two II @ellemj II S + A + F

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

ꨄ︎ love language II @/flowersforbucky II S + F

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

ꨄ︎ flashing lights part two II @pellucid-constellations II A + C

Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?

ꨄ︎ stay still part two II @buckysknifecollection II A + C

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

ꨄ︎ saturn II @shurisneakers II A

you die. bucky tries to bring you back (or) close to a year after you die, bucky's desperation finally finds an answer. but it may not be the one he's hoping for.

ꨄ︎ bleeding heart II mournthebird II A + C

You're his assigned nurse.

ꨄ︎ 40s!bucky II @helaintoloki II A + F

after accidentally sending yourself back in time, you run into a younger version of the man you loathe only to find yourself questioning your feelings for him

𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ under my skin II @/flowersforbucky II F

what first begins as a series of bad luck shows you a different side of the man who normally drives you crazy.

ꨄ︎ moral of the story II @starktonyx II A

You never expected to be blindly sent to kill your ex-husband, but when you cross paths again in looping shame rooms, it’s like going through the pain all over again.

𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑴𝑼𝑹𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑲

ꨄ︎ without you part 2 II @foli-vora II A

You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.

𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵 𝑲𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻

ꨄ︎ for science II @projectionistwrites II S + A + C

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

ꨄ︎ red flags II @astroboots and @thirstworldproblemss II S + A + F

Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way. 

ꨄ︎ the jake problem pt2 II @bensolosbluesaber II S + A + C

Jake hates you. Like really hates you, which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t dating Steven and Marc. But maybe, just maybe, Jake doesn’t hate you.

𝑷𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ sunset lovers II @duskholland II F

you’ve never met your soulmate, but you know his handwriting like the back of your hand—literally. every word your soulmate writes on his skin appears on yours, and vice versa. you’re desperate to meet him, but until the universe decides to introduce you, you’re stuck with scribbled smiley faces and chemistry formulae.

ꨄ︎ one more to see you II @waitimcomingtoo II A

in an effort to see Peter again, you Dream Walk and learn it’s consequences

𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑶 𝑴𝑨𝑿𝑰𝑴𝑶𝑭𝑭

ꨄ︎ silent treatment II @floral-and-fine II A + C

where the words their soulmate speaks first are tattooed on their arm.

𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑽𝑬 𝑹𝑶𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺

ꨄ︎ watchful eyes II @/espinosaurusrexex II S + A + F

When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

ꨄ︎ out of time pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 II @after-avenging-hours II S + A + F

When Steve is poisoned on a mission, his only hope is a pure Super Soldier Serum. You travel to 1943 to find it—but without the infinity stones, your actions could change the future. Can you save him before time runs out?

.𖥔 TOP GUN .𖥔

𝑩𝑶𝑩 𝑭𝑳𝑶𝒀𝑫

ꨄ︎ the plan II @/geminiwritten II A + F

the squad are all pretty sure that bob has a thing for you, but you're not convinced, so you hatch a plan to tease him within an inch of his life until he snaps

ꨄ︎ the kind of girl i could love II @roosterforme II F

Bob has a secret admirer, but he's convinced it's actually Jake and Nat messing with him. 

𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑳𝑬𝒀 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑾

ꨄ︎ love to lie pt2 pt3 pt4 II @/ddejavvu II A + F

Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

ꨄ︎ things unseen and heard II @bloatedandalone04 II S + A + F

the one where you overhear bradley talk about you to jake and decide to give him the space he apparently wanted.

ꨄ︎ playing games II @/geminiwritten II A + F

you've been best friends with rooster for years and you're both obviously in love with each other, but he refuses to cross that line... until you accept some help from hangman and he takes the game just a little too far

ꨄ︎ wrong number II @roosterforme II F

Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

ꨄ︎ between friends II @sometimesanalice II S + F

Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

ꨄ︎ trouble in paradise II @/sunlightmurdock II S + A

After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

ꨄ︎ i’ll show you good, restore your faith II @/se7entyrell II A + F

Your relationship with Bradley is new. Really new. Like, 'haven't let him smell your morning breath yet' new. But when he gets a call telling him that his mom is dying, you find yourself driving him to San Diego in the middle of the night, preparing to meet his entire extended family during the worst period of their lives.

ꨄ︎ terms of endearment II @ohtobeleah II A + C (heavy themes)

They always say when you aren’t looking for love it tends to find you. So when you and your daughter turn up in Fighter Town, Bradley Bradshaw is instantly infatuated. With reluctance to trust and harbouring a bad past, you don’t make it easy for the fighter pilot to love you.

𝑱𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑵

ꨄ︎ domestic fantasy II @/geminiwritten II F

your ex is coming back to collect some things he left behind and you accidentally tell him that you have a new boyfriend, so hangman accepts the role of your new (fake) boyfriend

ꨄ︎ dirty laundry part two II @/geminiwritten II S + A + F

after a couple months of living together, you're still completely oblivious to how you affect jake and he's starting to spiral because now he's... feeling things

ꨄ︎ medical emergency II @marvelwitchergilmore II F

When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.

ꨄ︎ sign of the times pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 II @se7entyrell II S + A

You're destined to die in Jake Seresin's arms. In every life, in every iteration, it's inescapable. Whether you loathe, or love each other, each ending stays the same. But what if it doesn't have to?

ꨄ︎ spring fling pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 II @ddejavvu II F (in progress)

You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

.𖥔 MISCELLANEOUS .𖥔

𝑹𝑯𝑬𝑻𝑻 𝑨𝑩𝑩𝑶𝑻𝑻

ꨄ︎ odds are stacked II @sunlightmurdock II S

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

𝑻𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑺

ꨄ︎ all yours II @/geminiwritten II A + F

after being best friends and chasing storms with tyler for years, one night changes everything... now you're staring at a pregnancy test with two pink lines—and just as you're working up the nerve to tell him, tyler announces to the world that he never wants to settle down or have kids

ꨄ︎ orange juice II @ahsokaismyqueen II S + F

When it's time to interview a group of storm chasers for your new book, you get sent back to your hometown. You never would have guessed one of the people you'd be interviewing would be your ex boyfriend. And you might still be a little in love with him.

ꨄ︎ no hesitation II @briefinquiries II S + F

Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑪𝑲

ꨄ︎ all the stars are closer II @kashimos-hajime II A + F

mark watney wasn’t the only one left behind on mars, and as you struggle to survive on the desert planet, hidden feelings come to light between you and your best friend, dr. chris beck.

𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑻

ꨄ︎ all american boy II @scribes-of-valar II A + C

Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

ꨄ︎ no.1 party anthem II @sunsburns II F

what was supposed to be a night for work takes an unexpected turn when you run into clark kent—alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date who seems to have no intention of showing up. poor guy.

𝑴𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳 𝑹𝑶𝑩𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯

ꨄ︎ an itch you can’t scratch pt2 II @theonewiththefanfics II S + A + F

After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...

[bernardsbendystraws]

. bf .ᐟ chris celebrates pride with you

⚠︎ fluff, mentions of smut, bisexual!reader, motor boating mentions, boners, and goofy shit ✨

“Ya happy?” Chris tuts, licking over his teeth while rolling his eyes. 

You nod cheerfully, adjust the bows in his hair that you had carefully arranged. His grip on your waist tightens a bit. “Mhm, just gotta…” 

The words trail unfinished from your lips. A slight twitch of your nose makes him bite back a smile. He feels as you shift on his lap, your tongue prodding out the corner of your mouth with a look of concentration etched on your face. 

“-are we almost done yet?” he asks. The smile on your face falls for only a second, your lips curling into an unbeatable grin as you see him struggling to contain a laugh. 

Something about this is just perfect. Sure, it’s silly and playful, but you feel supported—you feel reassured of how much your boyfriend really loves you and recognizes your identity. 

Being bisexual in relationships has been tough in the past. Men would often sexualize that part of you or accuse you of constantly cheating. 

That was not Chris at all. Your boyfriend was more than supportive, more than open about how much he loved all of you. 

“I don’t know why you picked me over like…any girl,” he puffs, his eyes wide as he lets his eyes trace up to yours, “-but, I’m very fucking lucky. Oh—and I’m sorry I don’t have tits.” 

You cackle at his apology. There’s a serious undertone to his words, he doesn’t understand how you could pick him over someone who has tits. He’s obsessed with yours. Laying on them, kissing them, massaging them, hell—sometimes he’ll even talk to them like he does with his stuffed bear. 

“It’s okay, at least you have a nice butt.” you reamark. 

Chris’ eyes narrow at your words. You run your hands through his hair as you loosen all the accessories tangled in his brown locks. He sighs from the relief of tension from his scalp, his eyes staring into yours with a certain look that makes your lips vibrate as you laugh. 

“I mean….yeah…touchè.” he reasons, rolling his lips together as he lets his gaze float onto your face, “-I can’t believe I tell you that we can do anything for pride month that you want and you chose to put bows in my hair.” he tuts, shaking his head with disbelief as a slight smile crawls over his features. 

Shrugging, you let out a brief hum. “I’m happy. I don’t see an issue.” 

His eyes wrinkle at the corners. You feel his hands squeeze onto your waist, his tongue darting over his lips swiftly. “I mean, if you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

You massage your fingers against his scalp. Shifting forward to earn a better balance on his lap, you gasp as you feel a familiar bulge. “Very happy apparently.” you huff, laughing as he tugs you impossibly closer. 

“Yeah, well,” he nuzzles his face in between the valley of your breasts through the thin T-shirt, “-can’t help it around you. You’re so…ugh…I just love you.” 

Your brows furrow as he cups the underside of both your tits. Looking down, you see him staring directly at one of them, a goofy smile planted on his face. “-and I love you, and you,” he says, his stare shifting to your other breasts as he gently squeezes both of them in his hands. 

“You’re a dork,” you establish, giggling as he looks up at you with sad puppy eyes. 

“Hey, you can’t say that. You like tits too, you should understand.” he reasons. 

You go to bite back at the logic, but you feel him hug you impossibly close, worshipping you as he breathes in your scent. 

“Okay, fair. I love you too.” 

Chris sighs with contentment. His face is squished between your tits, his breath uneven and muffled as he tries to breathe while basically suffocating himself. 

“Not to ruin the moment, but my dick would look great between your tits.” 

a/n: ty for reading!!! i’m self projecting so like 😌✨ anyhow check my pinned to find more and any interaction is rlly appreciated <333

creds to @mattscoquette for the word bow being used (pls no nachos stab) & @luvs4matt too…

with love and big tits, rose 🫶🏻

[luxlightly]

The extent to which people seem to think predators work on "swiper no swiping" rules is baffling and upsetting. It's based around the idea it's somehow impossible for people to lie. The "if you're a cop you have to tell me!" of safety comprehension.

"this will keep kids safe because you aren't allowed to message them if you're an adult!"

Ok but you select what age you are in the set up, right? So you can just select "minor" and message whoever you want. AND it means that every minor is clearly labeled by who you can and can't message on an adult account.

So you haven't prevented adults from messaging kids, you've just made it so they can instantly tell who to target.

"then everyone should have to provide proof of their age!"

You want me to give my birth certificate to some online game? You want a child to upload their personal information and important documents online?? If you can't understand why that isn't safe I don't know if I can help you.

And like, what if I was a parent who wanted to play a game with their kids? Sorry kiddo it's not safe, go back to playing with your friend "definitely_a_child420".

Loudly saying "you're not allowed to be a predator!" is not a safety precaution. You have to actually teach children to recognize and avoid danger.

[blissfullsvn]

bungee

summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.

pairing. han taesan x reader genre. fluff, college/university!au word count. 1.3k warning. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs) a/n. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍‍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D masterlist

taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.

he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag. 

but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.

for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.

at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.

that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.

but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you. 

as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.

. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.

you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.

so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.

but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.

like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.

it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.

and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.

as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.

but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.

“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why. 

“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.

instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.

for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.

your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.

it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.

“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.

under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.

but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?

before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.

“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.

“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”

“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.

“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”

“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”

“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”

taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.

“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”

you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.

“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”

“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”

you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.

“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”

“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.

“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”

taesan splutters. “w–what?”

“be my date instead, taesan.”

and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.

a/n. don’t you just love it when ppl discover communication

© blissfullsvn 2025. All Rights Reserved.

[howi99]

From the Nest 29

(back to Beacon, on the roof)

Blake: *looking at her partner with a concerned expression* ... Jaune-

Jaune: *sigh* Blake, i already told you; I'm fine! Just had an awkward conversation with my friend before we parted ways, that's all.

Blake: *looking nervous* Does... Does it have anything to do with her eyes?

Jaune: ... *Taking a deep breath, feeling the future headaches* Of course you noticed...

Blake: Hard not to, especially when she was kicking your ass. *Looking to the side* ... And... *slight blush* I might have heard you two talk a bit?

Jaune: *annoyed* For fuck sake-

Blake: It wasn't my intention! I swear! I just- I wanted to ask you two about Adam and... *Looking down, guiltily* Well...

Jaune: And you choose the moment when we walked away from y'all? *Rub his eyes in exasperation* I swear, you never heard the saying "Curiosity killed the cat", did you?

Blake: ... You really used that expression because i'm a cat faunus?

Jaune: It wasn't intentional *shake his head with a frown* and that's beside the point. I don't want you to be in danger! ... Well, in more danger than you already are, i mean.

Blake: *rolling her eyes* Please, i'm not a child. I can take care of myself.

Jaune: *Flick her forehead* If that was really the case, you wouldn't be in Beacon, hiding your identity with a bow and prayers.

Blake: I have my reasons...

Jaune: *deadpan* And I'm pretty sure those reasons start with "White" and finish with "Fangs". *Fold his arms* Am i wrong?

Blake: ... H-how did you-

Jaune: *rolling his eyes* The heirs of the SDC sign up to Beacon, far away from the protection of Atlas. It's the perfect opportunity for a kidnapping, even more so during initiation. *Looking at Blake with a smirk* I might not have known who the SDC really was or how far the White Fang had fallen at first, but it doesn't take a genius to understand why a faunus would try hiding their identity here!

Blake: *frown* If you know what i am, why not denounce me?

Jaune: *poke her head* Because, Blake Belladonna, you are my partner. *Poke her again* You are Adam's friend and, more importantly, you saw how Weiss really was. *Smile genuinely* Tell me, do you still plan on kidnapping her, knowing she is nothing like her father and is probably the best bet for the SDC to change its way in the near future?

Blake: ... *Sigh* No.

Jaune: *turning around, satisfied by her answer* In any case, you should try forgetting what you've heard. Ignorance is bliss, that's the only truth when it comes to whatever shitshow Vernal, Raven and I are in.

_ meanwhile _

Ilia: *blink* You want to attack Beacon? W-why? Isn't Blake taking care of kidnapping the SDC bitch?

Sienna: It has been 2 months and we haven't received a single word from her. Either she was found out, or she defected.

Ilia: *slamming her hands on the table* Impossible! Blake would never abandon our cause!

Sienna: *sigh* That may be so, but she IS a Belladonna. And with the rise of Adam Taurus and his faction, some of our more moderate members have already sided with his views.

Ilia: Then let me come! If my partner has failed, it is my duty to rectify her mistake!

[xclowniex]

Broke up with my girlfriend earlier tonight 👍

And it does suck, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

I didn't even plan on breaking up with her tonight. It just sorta happened.

For the past month and a half it's been almost like I've been begging for her attention. And I do understand she has had more on her plate recently, but it's not like it's been impossible to fit me into her schedule and still have time to herself. Half of it has honestly been poor time management on her part. And I was giving her benefit of the doubt, and was going to give it another week before bringing it up as an issue to talk about as I was giving her benefit of the doubt as assuming the busy period would end.

However at dinner she kinda dropped the news that at the end of her degree in 18 months she will be moving to the south island. No ifs no buts no maybes, she will be doing so. And I do understand why she wants to move, it's just that she did not factor me into her plans.

When she dropped that news my first question was, "where do i fit into your plans". And she admitted she didn't think about me. I asked like 10 different questions to get like a proper understanding. But essentially she didn't want us to like break up or anything, but she already made up her mind 100%.

Now I'm pretty open about moving cities and even islands. As long as I can get a good job I don't care. But she wanted to move to a small town without really any office roles... which is the only thing I can do due to my career path. And she didn't even think about if she wanted me to move down with her.

And when we first started dating, we both said we cannot do long distance and are wanting something longterm.

And the decision for me to break up with her was because she should have either factored me into her future plans OR communicated that what she was wanting out of the relationship had changed. Not "I don't want us to break up but also I am not going to account for you in my future plans please stay together with me".

I respect myself too much to essentially be this person she is only with for the sake of being with someone.

And I am proud of myself for not pushing my own feelings aside, and it was an amicable breakup, which I am glad about.

It's also made me realize what I am looking for in a relationship. And whilst I'm not like "I will only date jews", honestly at this time I would prefer to date a woman or non binary person who is Jewish.

[cumikering]

Biker Keegan 2

3.2k | fluff Your first time riding (part 1)

That Saturday morning, Keegan polished the hell out of his bike. Might have hit the gym for a bit too before that. Couldn’t a man want to look good for a date?

You picked a brunch place, the one you’d been meaning to visit. Coincidentally, it wasn’t too far from your place which was good for your first ride.

He’d love to have come up to your door, but understandably, you didn’t give him your apartment number. In front of your building, he removed his helmet and leaned against his bike.

“Keegan?” you called.

You lit up when he turned to you. You probably couldn’t see the smile he returned under his black neck tube.

“Hi.” He straightened up and gave you a once over.

You wore a simple white shirt with light blue jeans. It was effortless, but you looked lovely all the same. He was allowed to compliment you, right?

“You look nice.” Beautiful. He meant beautiful. “I like your boots.”

Your gaze dropped from his eyes, lingering on his outfit. You might have wanted to return the compliment, but was maybe too shy. It was fine, the fact that you said yes to the date was already a compliment to him.

“Here, I got you the gear.” He held up his jacket. “Sorry, it’s pretty old.”

You zipped it on, a teasing smile on your face. It fitted you perfectly. “Seems a bit small for you.”

Keegan smiled. He was quite the scrawny kid. As a recruit, he didn’t look like he belonged in the military, but you never walked in ready. That’s why you had bootcamp.

“How long have you been riding?”

“My own? 19, but way before as a pillion. My uncle got me into it.” He smiled, remembering his first ride all those years ago as he watched you put the gloves on. “Got me the jacket for my 15th birthday.”

“That’s nice. I don’t know anyone who rides.”

“Now you do,” he said, gaze lingering on you before handing you the helmet. “Okay, I need you to sit close and hang on, can be on my waist or shoulders. Follow where my body goes so I can keep the bike balanced. If you want me to slow down, tap once. If you want to stop, tap twice, okay?”

You nodded before adjusting the strap of the helmet. He fastened his own before mounting his bike. You grabbed his shoulders, swinging your leg over the seat before wrapping your arms around his waist.

How obvious was it that he was hoping you would?

You nodded one once more when he confirmed if you were ready. He flicked up the kickstand and fired up the bike.

“Should I be loud or quiet?” he asked over his shoulder.

You laughed. “Loud.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before pulling away.

The ride with Keegan was the most fun you’d had in a very long time. Apart from visiting Shrek in his swamp. That was impossible to top.

He kept his word about riding carefully and never once made you feel unsafe. It wasn’t hard to see he was an experienced rider, accelerating and braking smoothly at every corner. It only left you craving more.

At the parking lot, he held his hand out to help you dismount. Still buzzing from the ride (or the fact that you had to latch onto his broad figure the entire time), you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

But who wouldn’t have the same reaction? Sure, he was cool and composed, even intimidating with his icy stare, but he felt… gentle. Especially when he texted you.

Well, you did, with a legitimate reason too. Yes, you’d thought he was handsome, maybe even entertained the fantasy of riding with him. And even that he paid for the breakfast, you didn’t think there was anything more to it. You were a client he was courteous with.

So of course you couldn’t believe your eyes when he offered a ride, going as far as calling it a date.

Did he stumble over his words? Had you not seen the way he lost it at the parking lot, you’d have said it was impossible for a dude who didn’t look like he could smile more than twice a week, but now? He probably did.

Once seated and waiting for the meal, you took him in again as he ran his fingers through his hair. It was longer than the last time you saw him, a few strands stuck to his skin from being under the helmet.

Were you imagining it or did he get more muscular? Maybe it was the shirt. It fitted him, emphasising his biceps and revealing more of his tattoo, unlike the loose one from last time.

Oh, you shouldn’t be staring. But look at him, leaning back in his chair, sturdy arms on display as he rolled his shoulders. How were you supposed to not gawk when he looked like that?

“I hope I wasn’t too bad of a passenger,” you started, an attempt to distract yourself.

“You were really good. No sudden movements, kept your feet on the pegs at all times.”

“Someone said to imagine you’re a package, and packages don’t move.”

Keegan laughed, his eyes crinkling. “That’s a good way to put it. Was the ride okay for you?”

“It was great. I really liked it. Now I can check that off my bucket list.”

His gaze lingered on you for a beat before tearing it away. “You know, I, uh, actually meant to text you. A few days after Shrek.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, but I accidentally deleted our chat so I had no way of contacting you.” He paused, as if mulling over his next words. “I’m glad you messaged.”

You smiled, meeting his icy blues. Yeah, he probably thought too hard about texting you.

Brunch was as wonderful as all the reviews said, and it was even better in the company of someone as sweet as he was. He might not have been the chattiest, but with the way he asked about you, conversation flowed despite the lulls - never awkward when you knew he wanted to be there as much as you did. Your latte felt as short as a piccolo.

He held the door for you, and you stepped out into the sun, zipping his jacket back up. It was warm, heavy in a comforting way.

“I was thinking we could take a walk at the park if you didn’t like riding. But since you do, should we go up the hills?”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, pulling your gloves on as he did.

“Want to try revving it?” He stuck the key in the ignition.

You smiled. “You know I’m not going to say no.”

You mounted the bike, leaning in to grasp the handlebar. It was much heavier than you expected.

From your right, Keegan reached around, caging you with his strong arms as he clasped your hands over the handlebar. He helped you pull the bike upright and straighten the wheel.

“Turn the key. Killswitch off,” he narrated his actions and pointed at the N on the dash. “Make sure it’s in neutral, and start.”

The zap down your body was not from the shudder of the engine. He knew that he was doing, didn’t he? Coming up to you like that, purring in your ear. Could he feel how fast your heart was racing?

“Now give it throttle.” He twisted your right hand down, the bike roaring to life.

Clad in leather, there was no skin contact, but you could feel his heat on you anyway. His smooth voice had no business making your spine tingle like that.

“This is the valve button.” His thumb hovered over the little button next to the killswitch. “Press to open.”

You clicked it, the bike dropping to a growling bass note.

His hands remained over yours. “Don’t be shy.”

You twisted the grip a few times, the sound thundering in the parking lot, bringing a grin to your face. He let out a low chuckle, his breath warm on your skin making your stomach flip.

“Okay, that should do it. Don’t want to disturb people too much,” you said.

He pulled back, turned the engine off and helped you dismount. Unable to meet his eyes, you hid the heat creeping up your neck behind your helmet. Once you got back up on the bike, you wrapped your arms around him, a little less hesitant this time.

He looked over his shoulder, a hand on your knee. “There are going to be sharper turns. When I tap, hold on tighter.”

You nodded. With the way you were latching onto him, he probably didn’t need to tell you that. You appreciated the thoughtfulness anyway.

“Oh, and if you want me to go faster, just scream.”

You heard the laughter in his voice.

Under the clear skies, the trip up the lookout was a lot more enjoyable than usual. Or maybe it was because Keegan had such a pretty thing as his backpack. Your arms felt like they belonged around him.

He had to admit, he didn’t have passengers often at all. Sitting on that tiny pillion seat couldn’t have been very comfortable. Who was he going to take anyway, Ajax? Not sure his best friend’s idea of fun was hanging onto him like a koala.

But you didn’t need to tell him you had a good time. It was plain in the giggles under your helmet.

To his surprise, the usually quiet lookout had been converted to a temporary food truck lot. No wonder there was a lot more traffic on your way up.

“I didn’t know they had such a thing,” you said after removing your gear.

He locked the helmets on his bike. “Want to check it out? Let’s get something to drink.”

The aroma of fried food wafted in the air as you browsed. While everything looked good, you were still stuffed from brunch. You suggested lemonades instead, which was next to a shooting booth.

You sipped your drink as you strolled past. “That’s a cute unicorn.” You pointed at a huge plushie on the top shelf.

“You want it?”

“Oh, don’t waste your money.” You swatted your hand. “These games are impossible to win. I have a better bet buying-”

Was that a challenge? Did you know you were on a date with a spec ops sniper?

He tugged you by the hand towards the booth. “I’ll win it for you.”

You held his drink as he paid for a game.

“Shoot the star off. You get 100 rounds.” The older man placed the rifle on the counter. “Good luck, buddy.”

Keegan assumed his shooting stance, holding the rifle up. He held his breath and pulled the trigger.

Okay, you were right. The game was rigged.

He frowned as he lowered the rifle, almost appalled. He barely hit the paper target, safe for the chip in the bottom corner. The barrel might as well have been sawn in half and reattached with duct tape. Merrick would have ransacked the establishment.

He tried again, this time aiming off target, as if compensating for wind drift and bullet drop. A few shots later, he hit the red star dead centre. Once he figured out the adjustment needed, it was second nature. He only took a moment before shooting off a near-perfect circle.

“Well, you made it look really easy,” the man said with awe in his voice, taking the rifle from him. “Which prize do you want?”

He turned to you, looking too smug.

“The unicorn, please,” you said.

When the staff went to retrieve the plush, you handed Keegan his drink, an amused smile on your lips.

“Were you showing off?”

“Not sure yet. Are you impressed?”

“Should I be?”

“Nah, just doing my job. I like making you smile.”

You looked away, trying to bite down that grin as you sipped your drink. Was it bad he enjoyed teasing you? His stomach felt tingly as he, too, chewed on his lip.

Up close, the plush was a lot bigger than he’d expected. It had to be around 3 feet – more than half your size, but you were adorable carrying it on your hip like that. Why did you have to be so cute?

“I hope you like it.”

“Yes, it’s really soft. Thanks, Keegan.” You tightened your arm around it, beaming up at him. “Want a squeeze?”

He wrapped his arms around you. “Yup, it is soft,” he confirmed.

Where was all this boldness coming from? He took a whole week before he attempted to text you, and that afternoon he was making advances left and right. Was there something in the lemonade?

He took a step back, meeting your wide eyes before they softened as you let out a small giggle. That was it, the captivating smile that made him do all sorts of weird stuff.

“I saw the way you were looking at those churros. Will you finally let me pay for something today?”

He smiled. He had a soft spot for them. “Okay.”

If you didn’t have your hands full with the plush and the drink, would you have taken his arm? Maybe even held his big, lonely hand? Instead, as to not lose you in the crowd, he placed a hand on your shoulder as you made way to the churro truck. He’d love to have placed a hand on your back, but after making all the moves that day, he’d rather tone it down to not overstep.

You found an empty bench overlooking the city and the curvy roads you took. You placed your plush next to you.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Keegan held out his two churros.

“All for you.”

He took a bite. “Quite nice.”

“I never got to ask. What do you do in the USMC?”

He turned to you, his forearm resting on the back of the bench. “I’m a sniper.”

You laughed, placing a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”

He didn’t think before he clasped your hand, rubbing his thumb over it. “Let me know if you want anything else.”

“Do you have a nickname there?”

“I don’t.” He paused. “A good friend calls me Russ sometimes, but that’s all.”

“Would you like one?”

“If it’s good, sure. Our captain’s called Scarecrow, which is pretty good because he’s, well, scary. But then there’s Kick, because-“ he snickered- “because he got kicked in the- yeah.”

You busted up laughing.

“There’s also Neptune. I think he’s called that because he’s mission control? Out there looking over or something. Could have been a worse planet definitely.” He smiled. “Actually, he was my second customer, and a loyal one. He’s always beefing with people.”

“Wait, I forgot to ask. Why did you take your ad down?”

Keegan was booked solid for the following week, making bank visiting multiple houses a day, until he didn’t.

“Business got really good. Too good, actually. Someone called the cops on me.”

He didn’t want to point fingers, but Elias had always frowned upon his sergeant’s affinity to motorcycles, deeming it dangerous. The concern was reasonable - he was a father of two sons and a paternal-figure to the Ghosts after all.

While Keegan and Ajax were the usual suspects for the shenanigans on base, Keegan was the one with a bike. So when Elias caught wind of the pranks going around, he didn’t seem to take very long to put two and two together. The same day the captain reprimanded him was the same one he got pulled over.

Too bad Elias lived on base and was immune to revbombing. Keegan could still attempt of course, but didn’t want his bike getting run over by a Humvee.

You winced. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Almost. I was let off with a warning.”

A smile teased your lips. “Did you have fun though?”

“Of course.” He chuckled, pulling up his phone and extended is arm behind you. “I’ll show you some of the videos I took.”

You scooted closer, leaving a small gap that he wanted to close. How obvious was it that he couldn’t get enough of you?

After he showed you his favourite clips, he pulled up photos with the Ghosts. Some were their nights out while a few were him and the boys playing board games and drinking. He had to do some digging, but he found a photo of him as a recruit, lanky and head shaven, also one on his first bike after his first tour. Lastly, one from his promotional ceremony where he made Sergeant.

“You look good.”

You shouldn’t have said it in that tone with such soft eyes.

Keegan slid his phone back in his pocket and took another bite of his churro. You rested your head on his shoulder with a soft sigh, making his heart jump. Please don’t let her hear it. You placed a hand on his thigh.

In the silence, he enjoyed your company. It was ideal for him, see, as he didn’t have to think about what to say all the time. Only about how he didn’t want to leave that bench.

He held out his last churro. “Offer still stands.”

“Okay, just a bite.” You smiled, sitting upright before taking a bite. “Alright, that’s better than I expected.”

He told you to wait as he got another for you, but he came back with a chocolate sundae and a grin. What could he say, he loved his sweet treats.

While you enjoyed the snacks, the lookout had grown more crowded, the chatter making it harder to hear each other. Much to his disappointment, you suggested heading back.

He stood, holding out a hand for you. “We need some rope.”

You took it, but your brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Your plush.”

“Oh, I forgot we rode here! How are we going to take it back?”

After you consented to looking silly, Keegan acquired some rope from the shooting booth. He tied your plush to your back, making sure it was secure, but unrestrictive for you.

“All done. Now my backpack has a backpack,” he said, patting the unicorn.

He couldn’t help laughing with you when you asked him to take a photo.

In front of your building, he helped you untie the plush before you handed your gear back to him. He packed them into his cinch bag.

You smiled up at him. “Thank you for today, Keegan. I had such a good time.”

He took a small step towards you, one which you thankfully understood was an invitation for a squeeze. “If you’re free next week, I’d love to take you on another ride. The city is pretty at night.”

“I’d love that.”

“In that case, do you want to hold onto this?” He gestured at the gear.

You let him walk you up, your hand in his as he trailed behind you, the bag on his shoulder. At your door, he pressed your knuckles against his lips.

“We should visit Shrek again. He’d be happier to see us at midnight.”

It made you laugh. He didn’t care what you did, he just wanted an excuse to hear that again and again.

Masterlist

Thanks for reading :D

@tiredmetalenthusiast @bucky-lents @phk-anime @anotherrickinthewall @tralfa-madorian

@misellaneyus @massivescissorsthingperson @homicidal-wife @fandomkjnk @gho374

@mangost33nlover

[ellascreams]

Twisted Wonderland Tumblr (Twstblr, if you will)

👻outofthisworldprefect

No Twstblr I will not be adding tags I’d really rather people didn’t find most of my posts, thanks.

👻outofthisworldprefect

Ace what did you do

♥️one-heart-that-beats-as-one

A little trolling

♠️blastcycle-enthusiast

nrc-heritage-posts I know it’s only been a week since it was posted but

🖋️nrc-heritage-posts Follow

Official NRC heritage post

👻outofthisworldprefect

How dare you

60,304 notes

♦️kk-cay-cay

I haven’t been active on here in years but I love checking in sometimes just to see that it’s still thriving. Keep it up everybody! Never let Twstblr die!

#I’m still suuuuuuper active over on Magicam btw #if any of my old moots wanna follow me there

783 notes

🦇muscle-red

History classes always confuse me. They’ll talk about something like it’s the distant past when it was only 250 years ago, and it feels like it’s only been 10.

20 notes

💎magestoner Follow

Bots are the worst part of twstblr, except for Ortho bot, who’s the best part of twstblr

🛜ortho-bot

<3

3,947 notes

👟hahagetsqueezedidiot

anyone else just get tired of having legs sometimes? like theyre cool and all but why do they gotta be so heavy?

🎮gloomerai

Mood

🎮gloomerai

OH WAIT YOU MEANT BECAUSE YOU’RE MERFOLK NVM

👟hahagetsqueezedidiot

no wait explain

132 notes

📷night-raven-photography

👑vil-schoenheit-offical

I always look so radiant in your photos! Thank you for taking them!

30,355 notes

🖤overitandoverbloted Follow

Hate how many straight people celebrities are on Twstblr now. This is supposed to be the neurodivergent gay website, Vil Schoenheit has no right to be on my dashboard

🪼malevolent-river-wizard Follow

Ain’t no way you just said “straight” and “Vil Schoenheit” in the same sentence

🔥the-situation-is-direbeast Follow

FYM VIL IS A STRAIGHT PERSON CELEBRITY!?!?? THAT BOY IS THE LITERAL POSTER CHILD OF QUEER CODED VILLAINS!

2,001 notes

🛜ortho-bot

Exciting news! Not only have I been declared the first truly sapient android, but I’ve also been officially enrolled as a student of Night Raven College! I’ll have a slightly odd class schedule as I can’t exactly do magic the same way other students can, but luckily, there’s precedent for that sort of altered course work.

I’m so very grateful to have this opportunity. I’m hoping I can make lots of friends, learn a ton, and share as much of my journey as I can with all of you! I’m a bit nervous, but I think it will all work out in the end. Thank you night-raven-photography for the incredible picture of me in my new dorm uniform!

🔔nobelravenacademy Follow

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WHAT

📖reincarnatedasanisekaifan Follow

As a scientist who specializes in technomancy, I NEED you all to understand just how incredible it is that there’s a fully sentient robot. This is HUGE. This raises so many new questions, creates the potential for entirely new fields of research, it’s quite possibly the biggest advancement in technomancy since its discovery.

And he just so happens to be a Twstblr celebrity. The odds of that are so impossibly low, and yet, here we are.

💿technerdmancer Follow

Congratulations, Ortho. We’re all so proud of you.

🍄‍🟫jade-leech

Official NRC heritage post

🍄‍🟫jade-leech

Oops, wrong blog. Give me one moment.

👻outofthisworldprefect

YOU

540,798 notes

[polaritydisturbed]

Father’s Day and The Beast Below are two of my favorite Doctor Who episodes, and I don’t think that’s an accident. Both stories center around a companion making a deeply human, deeply flawed mistake. But more than that, they’re about what those mistakes reveal—about the companion, about the Doctor, and about what it means to be good in a universe where the stakes are impossibly high.

In Father’s Day, Rose’s mistake is raw and intimate. She sees a chance to save her father—the man she’s only ever known through stories, photographs, and her mother’s grief—and she takes it. It’s not calculated. It’s not clever. It’s just love. Desperate, impulsive, heartbreakingly sincere love. She acts because the pain of not acting is too much to bear. She doesn’t think about the consequences—about time or paradoxes or the delicate threads that hold the universe together. She sees someone she loves, someone she lost too soon, and she can’t let go.

The result is catastrophic. Reality begins to fracture. Time bleeds. But underneath the Doctor’s fury is something quieter: understanding. Because he’s not just angry—he’s scared. Scared of what Rose’s love could cost, but also scared because he recognizes it. Because if he were in her place, if it were Gallifrey, if it were his own family… would he really have done anything different?

In The Beast Below, Amy’s mistake is less personal but no less human. She’s still new to all this—still figuring out what it means to travel with the Doctor, what it means to make choices that can affect entire civilizations. She tries to do the kind thing. The merciful thing. She wants to spare the Doctor the burden of an impossible decision—to take it on herself without fully understanding what’s at stake. And it backfires.

But again, the root of her mistake isn’t carelessness or ego. It’s compassion. She saw suffering and acted. And the Doctor, as angry as he gets, doesn’t see cruelty in her failure—he sees heart. Misguided, maybe. But true.

And that’s what ties these episodes together: the mistakes aren’t born of selfishness or malice. They come from love. From empathy. From trying to help. From that very human desire to make things better—even if you don’t fully know how.

And the Doctor, for all his bluster and frustration, recognizes that. Because he’s made those kinds of mistakes too. He knows what it is to act from emotion and face the consequences later. He’s not just judging them—he’s seeing himself in them.

These aren’t just episodes where the companion slips up—they’re stories where failure becomes the crucible of growth. Where human error collides with Time Lord perspective. Where the Doctor is reminded of why he needs someone beside him, and the companion learns that saving the world is rarely clean or easy.

And in the end, he forgives. Because he understands. Because he cares. Because, in their worst moments, his companions show him the best of what humanity has to offer: the willingness to try, even if it means getting it wrong.

[muffinsin]

helllo, hope you're doing well. I'm wondering if you'd be interested in doing a scenario where one of the Dimitrescu faints, you can choose who, and you can choose why and where it happens.

My only request is if there could be a bit of mama worry and care as well as sisterly care- I know your not a fan of writing alcina but I've been seeing her pop up more often so it makes me believe you're getting more comfortable writing her? But still add her if you want and I hope mother care and sister care is not to much of a big ask.

Im trying to keep this ask to have more freedom in case of writers block sooo idk if it will help but here you go 🫰🏽

Hey, hon! :) I absolutely am interested, this sounds adorable! I love writing Alcina in fluffy prompts, actually XP But I find her quite difficult to write. Anyway, let's get some good mama bear and protective sisters incoming

Let's get into it!

Masterlists

Bela overworking herself is... an understatement

Between a busy schedule cramped with a nearly impossible mountain of tasks, spontaneous issues and worries being dropped on her by the staff and, perhaps most of all, constantly having to monitor her younger sisters, Bela is known to tackle more than enough tasks a day

So headstrong, her mother praises

So perfect, her sister mocks

So capable, her other sister admires

So resilient, others speak highly of her

An impressive heir. A dedicated worker. A respectful woman. The prime example and role model of a sister

Bela Dimitrescu

None know what is behind the titles, the overwhelming amount of stress, the angry tears and breakdowns each night, the headaches daring to overwhelm her after neglecting meals in favor of working more, or simply being too stressed and forgetting about them entirely

Alcina, always praising her for being so headstrong, for the tasks she accomplishes in record time, could never guess the intense toll it takes on her eldest

She knows only of her bright smile when she is praised, cannot catch a glimpse of how her precious eldest breaks herself to perform better, faster, more tasks than she is given, more tasks than anyone ought to take on, desperately chasing the next words of praise from her

Cassandra, mocking and rolling her eyes when her sister scolds her, just rarely sees the utter exhaustion in her well kept features, just rarely picks up the unease her sister's swarm seems to convey, just rarely notices how her sister trembles when she crosses her arms and scolds her

Daniela, who so often mocks and pouts, who so often causes more trouble, intentionally or not. Always looking up at her sister, yet incapable of looking at her, the eldest constantly surrounded by thick walls shielding the true exhaustion her life brings

Bela Dimitrescu

Desperate to do good, to be a good role model, to be worthy of her family's love. Desperate, to keep her family safe

It's like this that she pushes herself too far

She doesn't understand what's happening, doesn't understand how she could trap herself in this room with no escape

She wants to blame Cassandra

She wants to snarl about how she told her to catch the man-thing and she deliberately let him go, only to continue on and postpone her childish, sadistic hunt

Naturally, catching him is now her task

What she didn't account for, however, is being locked inside a room with two large, broken windows and the cool wind causing more and more of her flies to drop rapidly

She feels pain course through her entire body as shots are fired at her, feels as her body trembles, then falls to the ground, her knees weak

Everything goes blurry first, her vision swimming, her head so light and mind hazy

Then, darkness, pain, and silence

She awakens to...noise?

Whispers, hushed voices and snarls. Her eyes feel heavy, her body even more so

She's cold, terribly so, but feels something warm surrounding her. A blanket? No, there must be more than one. Three thick ones, at least

Bela stirs a little as she feels her body be readjusted, her mind reeling as she attempts to figure out where she is

Next, however, she picks up a series of familiar scents

Rich perfume and roses- her favorite scent, the one bringing her the most comfort- Mama is here

Then, there is the scent of iron and blood, of pine trees and the kind of indescribable smell that belongs to rain and water- Cassandra is here

She picks up the last, too, the sweet perfume mixing into the coppery scent of blood- Daniela is here

Ah, but she hardly needs her scent to tell that. She winces when she feels something press against her stomach, her eyes fluttering a little as the thing- a hand, she is sure- is immediately removed and she picks up the hushed snarls of Cassandra as she scolds the redhead

"Move it!"

She opens her eyes to the sound, feeling her body protest as it yearns for just a little more rest

Immediately, she gasps as a body crashed against hers and she feels her youngest sister's head bump against her throat. She hugs her, so tight it hurts, her front and dress rubbing up uncomfortably against the countless wounds on her body

She doesn't dare push her away

"I'm so sorry!", she hears her cry. Again, she feels the discomfort of warm breaths hitting her neck and wet tears running down her skin, though she doesn't dare push the younger woman off. Instead, she groggily raises her aching arms to wrap them around her, not trusting her voice judging by how dry her throat feels

Opening her eyes fully, she finally recognizes the room she's in

She's in her mother's arms, four blankets piled on top of her and countless smaller things- pillows, dolls, stuffed animals and dead mice set up around her almost like an offering of comfort and a plea for forgiveness. Too exhausted, she can't bring herself to smile, though weakly raises her fingers towards her other sister until she feels Cassandra hold them wordlessly, not daring to meet her eyes

She knows, after all, it was her job to kill the man-thing. Her task to get rid of him. Her fault her sister collapsed and nearly froze over, she's sure, unaware of just how hard she has been pushing herself prior

Still, despite the pain she's in, she croaks out a little laugh when Cassandra eventually tugs at the back of her sister's dress, drawing unhappy whines from her as she's yanked back and away, completely oblivious to how the blonde breathes a sigh of relief now the pressure on her wounds and aching body has been lifted

She feels a large hand lovingly cup her head and sighs in relief yet again, leaning into the touch as her eyes slip shut again

She doesn't dare meet her mother's eyes, not after this. She couldn't bear the immense worry in her eyes, knowing she caused it. Knowing it's her fault

Despite her efforts, however, her mother knows

She always does

Bela whines lowly at the back of her throat as she’s turned and her chin is lifted, pressing her eyes shut when she feels tears build up

She couldn’t bear the disappointment she is sure Alcina must feel

Instead, her eyes snap open wide when she feels the woman kiss her forehead as she has so often back when they were still little. Much to her embarrassment her bottom lip wobbles when she catches the utterly loving and caring expression her mother’s face shows

No disappointment- at least not revealed by her expression

She jumps as she feels a body against her back, giggling tiredly as she feels Daniela sling her arms back around her, sniffling quietly by her ear

Her heart aches again as she hears the woman whisper and sniffle, promising to be “the best sister in the world and never cause trouble again” if only she gets better and doesn’t die

She wants to promise her; she won’t die, but the words die in her sore throat and she’s left coughing, which seems to only have her younger sister panic more

Her golden eyes wide and bottom lip quivering, Daniela watches as Bela is guided to lay back again, her eyes closing momentarily at the warmth surrounding her

Still, just to make sure, she allows some of her flies to rest by her sister’s head

For protection

As Bela nestles back against the many blankets around her and feels her mother’s hand stroke soothing circles against her shoulder and back to warm her up, she catches both her sisters looking at her expectantly, as though unsure what to say or do

Guilt. Love. Hope. She easily picks it up in their expressions and pose

She sends them a gentle smile, her throat aching a little as she croaks out an “it’s okay”

Daniela is the first to cuddle up when beckoned closer, by her left

She can only smile again as she feels the woman steal away some of the blankets for herself and whine for Alcina’s other hand until she too receives gentle head scratches

Cassandra stays back for a moment longer, her eyes downcast again until she too joins the pile of blankets

She doesn’t dare meet her sister’s eyes, doesn’t dare bump into her in fear of worsening the pain she’s sure she must be in

She does, however, snarl automatically in surprise when she’s yanked closer, her eyes finding other golden ones as she eventually too curls up against her sister and the blankets

Maybe, it was her fault

But maybe, it doesn’t matter now, with Bela recovering, with her forgiving her

[lalexicon]

Jealousy, Running Rampant

w/KNY (Shinazugawa Genya, Uzui Tengen, Giyu Tomioka, Shinazugawa Sanemi)

Jealous KNY!men, slight angst, Uzui's a bit of a jerk, misunderstandings, fluff, happy endings, proofread what is that a snack

Shinazugawa Genya

He blinked once. Then twice. Rubbed his eyes harshly, blinking up at the sight in front of him. It was no use. You were still there, smile as bright as the daytime sun, and oh, how radiant you were, enough to light the way even for the proverbial blind man stuck in a proverbial cave. But your radiance wasn't directed at him. He wasn't the one to make you laugh that way, with such obvious infatuation.

No, it was a random civilian.

And get this, he touches your fucking shoulder.

It shouldn't have bothered him so much. But it pissed him off. He shouldn't have cared. But his fists were bulging, veins sticking out like venom. It should've been seen as a friendly gesture, with little to no meaning behind such a small, innocent act. Rage boiled dangerously in his blood.

When the man's hand met your shoulder, your head tilted upwards, eyes sparkling in a way that should've only been reserved for him, him alone, only him, and yet–

His heart squeezed, heavy in his chest, nails digging into the palm of his hand. He turned away slowly, but--

Your eyes met his, and you went still, eyes flitting between him and the man, before your lips moved to say a few words to excuse yourself from the conversation.

Even as he heard you making your way over to him, he couldn't find it in himself to look your way. He suddenly felt so ashamed. Ashamed in how quickly his thoughts had spiraled, how possessively he wanted you for himself.

"Genya." Slowly, tentatively, he raises his eyes to meet your gaze. You tilt your head, eyes cautious, observing. "Good evening." And then you smile at him.

He nods curtly, throat bobbing as he swallows. He watches the way your lips purses, brows knitting together, head jerking down in what he can only interpret as concern. "Genya, are you okay?"

He blinks, feeling dumb all of a sudden. "What do you mean?"

"You seem..." you pause thoughtfully. "Mad?"

His mouth opens, then closes shut. No, he wasn't... he wasn't mad. Not at you. He's never been mad at you, and he thinks he never will be. So what was that feeling, if not anger? Why did his jaw clench impossibly tigher, shoulders stiffening imperceptibly?

"No. No, I'm not mad. I just..." his mouth moves before he can stop himself. "Who was that with you?"

He sees the shift in your mood immediately, your head tilting upwards, eyes glinting in understanding. "Genya, were you jealous?"

Heat rushes to his face, eyes suddenly looking at everything but you.

"Jealous? No... no, I wasn't--" his voice cuts off abruptly.

Oh, he thinks, mouth dry, that was jealousy.

He chances a glance in your direction only to find you grinning at him, almost smugly, laughing behind your hand, and he can't stop himself from staring, not when you sound like that.

Cute.

Suddenly the warmth from his face spreads across his chest, and the heaviness lifts abruptly, easily.

"Oh, Genya," you say between quiet bursts of laughter, "you're so cute."

"Wha--" he feels hot, all of a sudden. So, so hot, he doesn't think an ice bath could extinguish this blazing fire within him. "I-- I'm not cute. Dogs are cute. You are--"

When he doesn't finish his sentence, you look up, curious, to find him glancing off to the side, a blushing mess. Your lips curl up into a teasing smile. "What was that? I'm what?"

He exhales softly, and takes a step toward you, something in him melting when you lean towards him. He wraps his hand around yours and brings it up to press against his lips.

"I said... that you're cute," he mumbles against your skin, relishing in your shiver when he brushes his lips against your knuckles to softly kiss, "so don't look at anyone but me, okay?"

Uzui Tengen

Your eyes flit between your husband’s face and the fish he was currently gutting the life out of. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that you and him were the only ones out here, catching fish and preparing them for dinner out by the river, with the sun low on the horizon, you’d think he was just mad at the fish for existing in this world.

But no. You knew something was wrong, and had a thought that made your stomach twist, a thought that made your hands wring together nervously, fidgeting. 

He was angry at you. 

It would make sense, considering he had barely uttered a single word to you during this entire fish endeavor. But you figured it was nothing, that he just needed a quiet evening without having to think, an evening spent enjoying the mild weather and warm water. 

Still… still. You had to say something, had to make sure. You bite your lip for a moment, hesitating behind him. Then you speak up.

“Darling–”

The knife slams down on the cutting board, and you flinch back, lifting wide eyes at the back of Uzui’s head. 

“Are you, uh, alright?”

He makes a sound, something between a laugh and a scoff, and it makes you shrink impossibly smaller. He glances back, frowning, and looks away, brandishing the knife in his hand again.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” You stutter a moment. “Would– are you sure? You can talk to me if, you know, you’re feeling down.” You can’t help the small smile on your lips, despite yourself. “That’s what a wife’s here for.”

He goes eerily still for a moment, and just when you consider calling out to him, he speaks. “A wife, huh?” He turns to you, caging you with his dark eyes. “You mean someone who cozies up to someone else behind her husband’s back?”

You’re left stunned, shocked into silence. He continues, “someone who goes around touching another’s shoulder, giggling about who knows what?” 

You snap out of your trance. “Tengen, what are you talking about?”

His voice lowers, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Someone who tries to deny it, playing dumb?”

Your defenses raise, arms crossing over your chest. Your voice takes on defiance, trying to keep the hurt from showing. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. When did I ever– are you saying I cheated on you?”

He scoffs, and it’s not nice. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Your brows furrow. “Tengen. Will you stop your cryptic messages and tell me what all this is about already?”

He’s silent another minute, and your confidence drops with each second that passes.

“That rotten red-clothed scum, with the tan skin and small eyes.” He shakes his head in disgust.

Your eyes blink at the description. And then it hits you. The man you were talking to from earlier when you were shopping around in the market, who had asked you a few questions on the produce from one of the stands. Oh. Oh. 

And then you smile, and you can’t help the small giggles that leave your throat. Oh, you could almost cry in relief. Uzui seems to interpret this differently, because his face grows impossibly sour.

“Darling…” you return to your endearing nickname, sighing. “I wasn’t flirting with him or anything, truly. He was just asking for directions.”

His face is unreadable. “Could’ve fooled me, with the way you were…” he trails off. You prob at him. “Were?”

His eyes meet yours, and this time they’re filled with mournful sorrow masked with the heavy set of his jaw. “You were smiling. Happy.” He curses, tearing his eyes away from you, sighing. “You looked… happy. Happy enough to run away with him and leave me forever.” And then he mumbles something else that sounds like, “I wouldn’t blame you,” and it’s enough to break your heart. You coo softly, closing the distance between you two to wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’d never leave you,” you whisper, because it’s true, and you know his tough exterior was only in place to cover up his inner insecurities of someday losing that which he found precious, irreplaceable. 

It takes a moment, but then his heavy hand rests on your head, and then he’s leaning down to hold you tightly against his body. It’s quiet for a moment, with the sun now set, and the river rushing softly, and his breaths mixed with yours. Finally, when he speaks, it’s low, and vulnerable, and heavy with emotion.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “Jus’ didn’t wanna lose you, that’s all. I shouldn’t have said that. I knew you’d never cheat on me.” He hugs you tighter. “Never.”

You smile, lifting your head, before he pushes it back into his chest. Your hand goes up to brush his cheek, and that’s when you realise he’s crying. 

“Aw, ‘s okay– don’t, don’t cry,” you plead softly, wanting to find a way to sooth his sadness. “I’m yours, okay? Always yours, and yours alone.”

He nods, and takes your hand in his, finally allowing you to look at him. 

“Thank you,” he whispers sincerely. “Thank you.”

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu was quiet. Which, to be fair, he usually was. But this time, it was different. This time, there was something in his eyes that gave you the sneaking suspicion that something was bothering him. His eyes always seemed to carry the weight of the world, and you had tried your best to always be there to pull him out of the darkness, to remind him he was still here, and so were you, and that he was in the present– not in the past. 

But today, he seemed to be avoiding you like the plague. And you wondered– did you do something wrong? Maybe you had said something that made him feel bad, or maybe he just decided he needed some time to himself? But no. Whenever he was down, you were always the first person he turned to for company, your presence seemingly enough to ail whatever bothered him. 

But he was avoiding you. He was avoiding you, and you didn’t like it.

The first chance you got to confront him, you took. Planting yourself between him and the door he was about to exit through to head out of his resting room, your eyes sought out his, but he wouldn’t meet them. His gaze cast to the tatami floor, he silently asked what you wanted without saying a word.

“Giyu, are you avoiding me?”

His face doesn’t change. 

“Giyu.” You shift your weight. “Did I do something wrong?” Before you give him the chance, you speak up, “I’m sorry.”

He meets your eyes then, for the split second before he’s averting his eyes again. 

“Listen.” Your voice is softer this time, and when you take a step forward, he looks like he’s one second away from booking it, so you stay put. “Whatever I did, if you tell me… I promise I won’t do it next time, okay? So don’t… don’t be angry. I’m sorry–”

“I–”

You stop, waiting patiently as he seems to hesitate. He takes a breath. “You… did nothing wrong. I just feel…” 

His eyes travel up to your face, and this time it stays there. “I was simply being selfish.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Selfish? About what?” 

He seems to consider this question. And like always, you wait. You’ll always wait for him, and sometimes you wish he’d understand how much he meant to you.

“About… who… you spend your time with.” He seems slightly unsatisfied with these words, as if it isn’t quite what he wished to say, and his eyebrows furrow minutely. 

You bite your lip. “Did I spend time with someone you didn’t like, or… something?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, too quickly, and averts his gaze.

“Oh.” You blink. “Then, who was it?”

“...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You look at him incredulously, and it probably wasn’t the right thing to do, because he retreats into his shell again, and tries to move past you, but you adjust your position, arms out to keep him from leaving. “Wait, wait, wait.” 

Something about his expression right now makes you think–

Oh. He’s nervous.

“Giyu.” You frown. “Listen, if you think I’m mad at you, or if you came to another crazy assumption like that, then I’m not. I just wanted to know why you were avoiding me.”

He closes his eyes. “You were talking to someone. Outside Shinobu’s residence.”

Shinobu’s…? Oh. A memory resurfaces, one where you’re talking to Shinobu’s patient with a polite smile, persuading him with your charm to stay and receive her treatment after he vehemently shook his head, mumbling something or another about the ‘terrifying lady with the needles.’

You vaguely remember trying your best to be as friendly as possible, and how he eventually began to ask you, with feigned nonchalance, for your name.

“Giyu…” his eyes trail upwards again, and you smile at him brightly. “I get it now. Don’t worry. What you’re saying is… you were jealous.” 

He books it.

“Giyu!” He’s so fast in his escape you doubt you’d be able to keep up with him as he rounds the corner of a building twenty meters away.

“Wait, get back here! It’s okay! Your secret’s safe with me, alright? Uh, Giyu? Giyu?!”

I want to die, Giyu thinks as his face burns with embarrassment. 

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi was pissed. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Sanemi had feelings for you. The other hashira knew it, other corps members knew it, Oyakata-sama knew it, and probably every demon he has ever sent to the afterlife knew it, too. It was as if his blade was swinging out the words I love you every time he fought. 

But it seemed someone didn’t know it. That, or else this person was a fool.

He had strayed from your side for a mere moment to join the line of a food stall after a passing comment you made, that looks so good, Sanemi, and when he came back with his purchased goods, there you were, with some dumb piece of filth standing far too close in front of you. 

And the worst part? Your smile. 

Sanemi liked to think he never cared about your smile, that the reason his heart skipped a beat was because he was suffering from asthma or whatever technical terms Shinobu always drilled into his brain that he filtered out. (He knew some type of condition made your heartbeat irregular, asthma or not.)

But now, with your smile not directed at him, with your eyes not gazing into his, without your presence close to his own…

Yeah, Sanemi was pissed. 

But that wasn’t important. Neither was that piece of trash next to you, acting as if he were some kind of royal emperor with the amount of gall he had to even think about approaching you. 

Without thinking, he dropped the sweets wrapped in paper to the ground and approached you from behind, and the moment the scumbag’s vile eyes drifted up to him, they startle open, and he sputters some frantic excuse or another to you before scurrying away like a rat.

You tilt your head around, confused, before spotting him there: tall, menacing, and fuming.

“Sanemi– are you okay?”

No, no he wasn’t.

The second he reaches you, he’s quickly, yet carefully, placing his hand on your shoulder and hauling you away.

“Wha– Sanemi, where’s the food you were going to buy?”

“On the ground.”

“Uh, why?”

He scowls. “Shut up and come with me. We’ll get something better in the next town.”

“...Aaand why are we leaving?” “This place is contaminated with a disgusting vermin. It’ll be better elsewhere.” His eyes, sharp and yet so, so soft, meet yours then. “I’ll find somewhere better for us to go. Together.”

[charleemoon]

i love hannibal lecter so much so much so much… and because i think other anons have established you understand will to a great depth, and will understands hannibal the most, i wanted to know if you have any headcanons about hannibal himself?

my personal one is that he’s always cold like just. perpetually chilled. if someone points it out he says something like “i’m cold-blooded” as a mini joke to himself (ie the cannibal puns haha) but on a deeper level (because everything with dr lecter has to be complex) is that it’s almost like he never warmed again since mischa died😇😇 it also adds to him being inhuman a bit

but yes thank you good pal

hi anon!!!!!!

i also love love love hannibal lecter more than anything. im so happy to be regaled as the will understander!! i only hope i can do the same for hannibal :D

i reallllyyy let this one simmer for a bit tbh because it was hard to remember off the top of my head, so i just kept a note open and jotted things down when they came to me. might have ... too many. now. i hope you enjoy at least!!!

i love love love the cold hannibal hc its something i had already imagined so i hope you don't mind if it pops up once or twice in my own too... "it’s almost like he never warmed again since mischa died" IM PUNCHING YOU DEAD

hannibal speaks lithuanian when he's overwhelmed with emotion. i adore in fics when he is so deeply moved and enthralled with will that he just starts speaking full sentences to him. i don't think he'd open with it, not at all, it's not something he does out of choice. i imagine since mischa's death, he hasn't spoken a word of lithuanian to another person. he spent his years mute until he moved to paris, spoke only french and english. he writes to himself frequently in it, keeps many things in his house labeled with his mother tongue. but no one has known the voice of his youth since the loss of his sister. but in will's embrace, in his shocking eyes and warm breaths, he finds it spilling out of him, shaky and vulnerable. some days, it's the only language he speaks to him. after enough time, i think will is familiar enough with it that he is able to speak short phrases back to him, and it melts hannibal's heart all over again

i like canon pansexual hannibal, he'd just never refer to it as that. he'd say some weird vague shit like "love, like death, is a fluid, ever present thing. i find it to be undeniable, and am at most peace to let it run its course." or whatever

hannibal is also like. very nonbinary/gender fluid to me. but again its like in that "all human existence is fluid why should i confine myself to one state of being" nonsense. all pronouns "we cannot control others perception of us. we can exist in a multitude of bodies and minds, never one quite the same. who is to say gender is not one of those evermoving pieces of the self?" i think he should wear a skirt 🥀

hannibal is just as touch starved as will and is veryyy clingy. always giving lasting touches, quick kisses, anywhere he goes in the house, he offers for will to join him because he likes his presence so much. sit in the kitchen with me while i cook, lay by the fire with me while i read. impossible to escape him in bed. he's got a leg over will, tucked into the crook of his neck, hands holding him in every place they can. will needs to piss and it's like prying off an octopus. he's always cold compared to will running hot so they regulate each other's body temperature [sometimes he puts his cold hands under will's shirt and he goes EEEEEPPPP STOP IT!!!!]

he's very, very autistic to me [going more into this in another ask about my hannigram hcs...] part of hannibal's autism is his whole control freak thing so i think when he plans out a day or an event and it gets fucked up, he gets like severely upset. like gets really overwhelmed emotionally and is prone to like irrational anger or physical discomfort. no one knows this though because he is extremely good at outwardly controlling his reactions. i think he also goes nonverbal when he's overstimulated but he just. doesn't allow himself to. people are always expecting him to speak, and speak well, fill the space. but it burns, hot and heavy on his tongue, discomfort twitching in his neck. he deals with irrational anger and meltdowns when he's triggered which is obvious. because he kills people over it LOL. IN MY HEART THATS AUTISTIC 💜[someone tell him what masking is]

adding onto this, hannibal is the worst person to vacation with. he overplans everything and gets really stressed out when things go wrong. but not like visibly but you can TELL. like his jaw is tense and he won't look will in the eye. clasping and unclasping his hands into fists. will leans to take his hand and rub soothing circles into it, a quiet comfort, and a grounding thing. "please do not kill our flight attendant, it would be very messy."

hannibal does not know how to dress casually. like at all. i think his fashion sense is the way it is because it's controlled and predictable. all his suits are the same material that feel comfortable against his skin, it helps him keep routine. when he starts dressing down more around will i think he looks a LITTLE stupid

hannibal cries significantly more than will. at films, and music. in love, and in grief. he's moved to tears at the sight of will, wiping sweat off his forehead in the lawn, basked in the warm glow of the setting sun, an easy smile on his lips. will always laughs, quiet and embarrassed. he keeps a handkerchief on him even when he's dressed down. he's always dabbing away at misty eyes in the presence of his beautiful husband

hannibal listens to music very frequently and while he does most things. it's always playing somewhere in the house. he likes using really old and traditional recordings of music. has original copies of scores and operatic performances and whatnot.

hes a masochist btw. i don't need to elaborate

hannibal age regresses!!! BTW. this is like one of my favorite hcs. this most frequently happens to him regressing to his teenage years, going mute, feeling odd emptiness and confusion. he only ever regressed alone before will, and wasn't aware it was happening. once he grows more comfortable with will, he regresses more and more around him, especially in the winter or when triggered. i think he's deeply hesitant to, not entirely consciously, as i don't think he's in control or understanding of it [kind of a part of him he just tucks away and suppresses]. in regression, he speaks entirely in lithuanian or is mute, again depending on how young he is. he has crying outbursts, can't stop shivering and covers himself in blankets, trying to keep out a cold that isn't there. tėtis, mama, he whispers in broken prayers. ne, ne, ne, shaking his head and crying, pulling hair and rocking back and forth. will always stays with him, even when he screams, when he can't control his fear, his bladder, his sobbing and cowering. šaltas, he whispers through chattering teeth, and will holds him. will is the only thing that can keep him warm in those moments. "tėtis is here, you're okay. gerai. everything is okay."

as mentioned, he hates the cold and suffers seasonal depression because of it. its why he's always wearing like 4 fucking layers. he keeps his house very warm. he's still cold to the touch. carrying will from the verger estate triggered a severe episode that he forcibly went through to get will home. he was mute for the rest of the day, much to the fbi's chagrin.

further!!!!! hannibal was extremely distressed during his imprisonment due to the forced changes to his appearance and routine. i think he was regularly regressed or going through episodes, but he went straight back to the rigid control over it all. forced himself to appear normal, never weak. it was a more horrifying concept to be seen in that vulnerability, in such a lonely place. it was always cold there. no matter how hard he tried, he could never stop his shivering at night. the touch starvation made him nauseous

he has nothing of mischa. no photos, no clothes, he burned it all. mischa exists nowhere but in his mind, his memory of her. no one can know her unless he lets them. despite this, his house is littered with odd things here and there that don't seem to fit his image. porcelain animals and lace fettered things. figures of angels with golden hair. he buys them and he doesn't know why. beautiful things his sister might like. he doesn't think of it

expanding on that, i think hannibal is a compulsive maximalist. while he is in love with art and creation and takes great pride in his belongings and their beauty, he fills his life to a maybe unnecessary degree in response to his childhood, growing up in orphanages, going country to country. nothing ever really belonged to him, everything was always temporary. he overdoes it now

hannibal is. at all times a little passively suicidal. he enjoys the life he's created for himself, and he is angered at those who threaten it. but he has that call to the void, he likes getting close to death to prove himself greater than god. but i think he also expects it deep down. and is always ready for it. he's been waiting to die ever since mischa did, his whole life feeling like a clock ticking past its final toll. waiting for the gears to break and splinter. when him and will get together, i think they find out he's a lot more self destructive than he realizes. he attempted suicide as a teenager. smiles

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

I understand why some people dislike how the prequels ultimately spoil the twist of Vader being Anakin if them being the intended first part of the story is to be taken seriously, but I don’t see it necessarily as a bad thing because one, that was pretty much inevitable anyway given their whole premise, two, Darth Vader being Luke’s father is something that has become so well-known in the culture due to it being referenced in so many other works that (1)

it’s pretty much impossible for that scene in Empire to have the same effect on audiences as it did in 1980, and three, I would argue that it actually gives that aspect of the OT’s storyline a sort of “bomb under the table” effect that I think works just as well as a replacement for the twist angle. It becomes less the temporary shock of “OMG Vader is Luke’s father?!” and instead has the audience anticipating when Luke will find out what we already know and the fallout that will result. (2)

This whole issue can be avoided if you show the saga in it's proper order, 3-6, then 1-3, to young children who have never seen it before. Feel free to dismiss this as "get off my lawn" nostalgia posting, but the feeling of watching 3-6 for the first time is something you can't replicate anywhere else. When I was a kid and we only had the original trilogy, finding out Vader was Luke's father was such a special moment even though it had been 11 or 12 years since Empire came out. I was a little kid, so I didn't know. It also made the prequels so much more interesting because you're supposed to know going in that Anakin will become Vader and the Old Republic will fall to the empire. They're written with the original trilogy in mind. And that's how I want all kids to experience Star Wars. The right way. Before they're old enough to have pop culture ruin it for them.

[synthient]

Why use code?

Robot Revolution introduces the idea of communicating meaning through a secret code, which only a particular audience can understand. You need to be educated and initiated into the code - as the Doctor does for Belinda.

This scene acts as a microcosm of series 15: preparing the audience for the "code" of figurative devices that they'll need to read in order to pick up on the story's hidden layer of meaning.

But why use code at all?

Robot Revolution offers at least two reasons:

Because you'll be endangered if your oppressors overhear, but you need a way to communicate with your fellow rebels/oppressed.

Or: because the truth is too shameful, too impossible to admit even to yourself, to speak it directly.

These two reasons line up fairly neatly with the two main "secrets" that the season has been hiding in its subtext. The first is the Master: the ghost haunting the narrative, the face in every mirror, the one whose place in the story and relationship with the Doctor can never quite be spoken. On this level, the story engages with a whole history of queercoding, with the reason the Doctor/Master relationship has always been so steeped in implication and subtext.

(Here, I need to at least spiritually cite the half-remembered tjlc metas I read in high school. fwiw, I think the show is also engaging to some extent with decade-old tjlc meta)

The other secret: the Doctor's trauma, and grief, and guilt, and suicidal ideation, and the way they've covertly come to rule the entire story. Something has been repressed from his memory ("I think my daughter died and I forgot"?), and yet it keeps bleeding into the narrative, over and over again, playing out in shadows on the wall.

A few other functions that code and metaphor can play:

Sometimes you're working through something in art that you can't, or don''t want to, articulate directly (both "closet fiction" and work about trauma often play in this space)

Code allows for flexibility: your metaphors can be messy or mixed in a way that grants them the capacity for many meanings; you can examine something from multiple different facets; you don't have to pin it all down into a single literal form (for example: it would be much more difficult to effectively explore a single character as a teen misogynist warped by technofascism into a tragic monster, as a mother trying to survive violent ableism, and as a Funny Cartoon Man through purely literal means)

Code is a means of finding and communicating with People Like You ("She's the only person that I've ever met who's even remotely like me.")

A coded layer of meaning can be an encouragement to think critically, to not just accept the narratives you've been given (there's a reason - between Alan's star certificate, Conrad's dream of a 50s patriarchal utopia that never existed, and the Rani's vision of reviving the ubermensch of old - that there's been so much focus on fascist origin myths)

Series 15 is telling a story that doesn't strictly "have" to be told through code - you can Make Doctor Who Gay On TV now; you can have your characters recite therapy speak about their trauma; you can try to find tasteful ways to engage in purely literal terms with real social issues in your campy sci-fi family show. But this is a story that's interested in the purposes that code can still serve.

[lalachat]

"Shadows and Scandal"

Author's note: So I am back!!! I am honestly so scared to post this, but it's whatever. Can't be worse than the crap I wrote for Lucien😭 Honestly, I just be daydreaming about ACOTAR and come up with stories that I really need to be writing out. Once again, I am NOT a professional writer. I have only really been doing this for 3 months, even though my first fic came out AWHILE ago... (we're just going to ignore that...) Azriel is pretty mainstream, so all you sticklers for high-quality fics ain't gon find NOTHIN here. You can stay if you wanna though☺️

Summary: For years, you lived in hiding. Your wings concealed by a glamour no one dared question. But one forgotten drop changed everything. Afraid of what your father might do next, you fled your home and offered your own fate to the Night Court. Rhysand has problems of his own: a tense court, a mated female in love with another, and a brooding Spymaster too loyal for his own good. The solution? A marriage of convenience. Their marriage is nothing more than survival… until the quiet between them starts to feel like something more.

Warnings: nothing?

Word Count: roughly 2,431 words 🤷‍♀️

Chapter 1: "Sanctuary"

Everyone knew what happened to Illyrian females. It was a common practice where you were from. Beautiful wings of females were clipped, sometimes young, sometimes brutally, but they were always stripped away to feed the male population's need to feel superior. It was tradition, and tradition was law. But you, your wings were different than everyone else's, and your father hated you for it. Unlike the usual leathery, bat-like wings of the Illyrians, yours were soft, feathered wings that were as deep as the midnight sky. The edges, dusted with silver like starlight that ended in curved talons as dark as obsidian.

The night before your scheduled clipping, set up by your father, you’d snuck out of the house through the backwoods towards the brewmistress’s cave carved into the face of the mountain. This was the place the village girls whispered about, but never dared visit. The woman there wasn’t Illyrian. No one knew what she was. Only that she sold solutions for impossible problems, at a price.

You told her your situation, showed her your wings, and she gave you her price. You traded three silver rings and the memory of your first flight for a vial the color of ash and honey.

“Drink one drop at sunrise,” she’d said. “And they’ll see what they expect to see, nothing more, nothing less.”

The next morning, when your father came to collect you for the ceremony, your wings were gone from view. After that, your father insisted to everyone you'd been clipped young, no one questioned it—why would they?

You hid them every single day. For years.

Until the morning you didn’t. The morning you overslept, forgot the potion, and rushed out the door to help at the village square, where your father found you in broad daylight, wings fully visible, alive, strong, and untouched.

The look on his face wasn’t just fury. It was betrayal. And in the mountains, a betrayal like that was a scandal that didn’t stay quiet for long.

You wrote to the High Lord as soon as you could. There were no goodbyes once the carriage arrived. Scandal was not welcome in a family like yours, and whatever future had been mapped for you was now gone. The letter was sent with haste: an arranged marriage proposal sent to your high lord in the Night Court asking him to tie your fate to someone so that you could avoid your father. You only hoped it was with someone loyal, kind, and understanding. Someone who could protect you in this dire situation.

Before you sat down in the carriage, you took a drop of the potion. That's when you saw a letter sealed in wax next to you. You admired the seal as the carriage took off to meet the person with whom you would soon be married. You took a calming breath as you opened the letter, which was addressed by the High Lord. His handwriting was elegant as he wrote to you the situation that you would soon find yourself in.

"Y/N, I hope this letter finds you well. When I got news about your situation, as your high lord, I acted before your father could. In itself, you are a blessing in disguise, as I have a situation in the inner court that needs solving. We have a female who is mated to another male and feels bound by expectation, not choice. Given her situation, it is fair that she feels this way. However, she is starting to have eyes for another unmated male in my court. This is causing some to be irritable and uncomfortable. After much discussion, that said male has agreed to have your hand in marriage. He understands your situation and has been made aware. He is very trustworthy, whom I trust with my life. I know he will be able to provide for you and keep you safe. He agreed, knowing it would offer you protection. His name is Azriel. The carriage is headed to a sanctuary where I, the High Lady, and Azriel will be waiting. I have arranged for a priestess to meet with us to officiate the marriage. I will see you soon. Everything will be alright. Your High Lord, Rhysand"

You reread the name. Azriel. The Spymaster. The shadowsinger. Your soon-to-be husband. Cauldron save you. The last unmated male in the Inner Circle, and perhaps the loneliest. Well, from what you read, it seems like he wasn't all that lonely. You hadn’t expected Rhysand to court you to someone so high up, but he did. You could not believe it.

The carriage slowed, and you arrived at the sanctuary. Not as a guest, not as a prisoner, but as the soon-to-be wife of Azriel. Bound in name to him whom you have never met or seen. You only heard stories of how hauntingly beautiful and lethal he was. What if he's a slob? What if he backs out last minute? What if he thinks you're ugly?

You shook your head to try and stop the "what-ifs" as you exited the carriage. This was not going to be love. It was an arrangement made hastily. One where you could avoid a scandal and have safety, and one where he could stop the advances of other females. As you stood on the pavement, the High Lord and High Lady walked out of the sanctuary to meet you.

"It is very nice to meet you, y/n," Rhysand spoke.

"You as well, my Lord," you responded as you curtseyed.

"Oh, no need for such formalities. You can call us by our names," Feyre spoke, causing you to rise. "We'll be family soon," she offered you a kind smile.

You returned it, "Thank you for everything, this is more than I could have wished for in this situation."

Rhysand only hummed, "Let's go in, shall we?"

When you entered, the priestess stood waiting beneath a flowering archway. The night's chill was in the air as the sparkling night sky lit up the room. Your hands trembled, not from cold, but from the weight of it all. It was not the wedding you’d imagined as a child. There were no guests. No music. Only Feyre, whose expression was a quiet kind of sympathy, and Rhysand, unreadable as ever.

And then you saw him.

He landed without a sound, shadows curling around him like smoke. He stood tall, dressed in a dark tunic that matched the solemn look in his eyes. His hair was wind-blown from the flight, as his siphons glinted faintly in the night sky. Your breath caught in your throat as he walked towards you, stopping right in front of you, your future husband.

“Y/N,” he said, voice quiet. “It’s… good to meet you.”

You hesitated, searching his face for something like regret, but all you found was a stoic glance. He was hard to read, and just as hard to look away from. He really was hauntingly beautiful.

“And you,” you said softly.

Rhysand cleared his throat. "We will let you two get acquainted, we'll come back when it's time for the ceremony," he and Feyre left with a small nod.

The two of you stood in silence looking at each other for cauldron knows how long. The air stilled as you both waited for someone to say something to break the silence around you.

You spoke first, “Now that you’ve met me… has your mind changed?”

You saw his shadows stir slowly around him at your question, a ghost of a smile touched his lips, “No,” Azriel said. “It hasn’t. Has yours?”

You stared at him a second too long, trying to detect any sound of uncertainty in his answer, but found none. "No, I suppose not," you spoke honestly. He hummed in response.

"Alright, are you two ready?" asked Rhysand just before any awkward silence could happen.

The look you exchanged said what neither of you voiced: "Are we really doing this?" When neither of you moved, Azriel responded with a curt, "Yes."

The ceremony was short. The priestess asked you two to hold hands as she blessed the marriage. Azriel didn’t flinch when he took your hand. His hands were calloused but warm, causing you to take a small sharp inhale from his touch. She spoke of honor and commitment to one another, as Rhysand and Feyre watched from a small pew. Then she pronounced you husband and wife. There was no kiss, just a simple smile as you two held hands for a second longer before turning to Rhysand and Feyre.

"Congratulations, brother," Rhysand clapped Azriel's shoulder lightly as he and Feyre went to sign as witnesses of the marriage. After that, everyone left. You stood beside Azriel on the balcony of the sanctuary overlooking the hillside of Velaris. It was quiet.

“I have a house just beyond the river,” Azriel said. “Two bedrooms. You’ll have your own space. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You turned to him, studying the stiffness of his shoulders. “Thank you, Azriel."

He glanced at you, "You're welcome. Are you ready to fly out there now? We will meet up with the others tomorrow."

You hesitated as you spoke, "Fly-out?"

Azriel responded, "Yes, I will fly us there. Is that okay?"

You nodded your head, "Yes, sorry, I just never have flown before."

"Ah, well, I'll take it nice and easy," he smiled softly.

"Thank you," you spoke as he wrapped his arms around your frame, his warmth instantly spread through your body, making your cheeks warm. If he noticed, you didn't know.

"Just hold onto me and I'll do the rest, " he spoke with reassurance as if he could sense your nerves.

You offered a nervous-sounding "Okay," as you wrapped your arms around his neck and interlocked your hands. His shadows stirred as you felt his muscles tense at the feeling of your uncovered hands. "Good," you thought, "you weren't the only one feeling the intimacy of the situation."

"Alright then, here we go," he said as the wind instantly touched your face with the first beat of his wings. You closed your eyes and tightened your grip around his neck as he took off higher. Azriel flew like it was second nature. His wings cut through the air, gliding easily on the wind as the sanctuary disappeared beneath you. You said nothing during the flight, and neither did he. You assumed he was too focused on flying to say anything; besides, you didn't want to distract him either.

The moon was almost at its peak when you spotted a modest cottage tucked into tall trees near a river. It was stonewalled with vines growing up it. No neighbors, no nothing. Just the presence of nature around you. As you got closer, the feeling of magic was wrapped tightly around you. He had warded the perimeter, which was comforting to know. He landed carefully, setting you down before his feet even touched the ground.

“This is it,” Azriel said, voice quieter than before. “Home.”

You took it in slowly. From the outside, the house looked... quaint. He led you to the front door as he turned to you.

"I have added you to the wards so you should be able to come and go as you please."

"Thank you," was all you could think of as a response.

He opened the door, and you quietly followed. It opened into a singular common room with a couch, fireplace, and a chair. Only one book on the shelf, one coat on the hook, one pair of tactical boots by the door. The kitchen was clean but bare. No fruit in a bowl. No spices on a shelf. Just enough plates for two people. There was a teapot, and a blade stashed behind the breadbox. He led you down the short hallway.

“This is your room,” he said, pushing open the first door. “Fresh sheets. You can change anything you’d like. I won’t be offended.”

You smiled as you stepped inside, trailing your fingers along the windowsill. The room smelled like cedar and fresh linen.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

He paused outside the doorway. “I know it isn’t much.”

You turned toward him. “It’s just fine, thank you.”

The next door he brought you to was his. Not bothering to show you what his own space looked like, but at least you know where he would be if you needed it. The last room he showed you was the bathroom, at the end of the hallway.

Everything was neat, almost impossibly neat. A thick black towel hung perfectly folded on the rack. A razor sat on the sink counter next to a comb and a bar of soap. There was a half-used candle sitting at the end of the tub. The scent was foreign and faint, but you could smell it. It smelled of smoked cedarwood and leather. The tub itself was deep and well-used, which surprised you. There's a small window with sheer curtains that was cracked open just enough to let in the night breeze.

Azriel cleared his throat. “I get up early to train, so don't worry about waking up on time. You can sleep in.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

"There’s tea if you want some, help yourself to anything. I'll go to the market later this week if you want anything."

"Thank you, Azriel."

“Y/N,” he said softly.

You met his gaze as silence filled the space around you, his mouth pressed into a thin line as if he wanted to say something. You waited, the anticipation slowly eating away at your conscience.

He cleared his throat softly, “Uh- sleep well."

Your chest tightened. “You as well," as he wished you one last good night before retreating to his room.

That night, on your wedding night, you slept by yourself. Alone in a bed where the sheets were cold and untouched, inside a room that doesn't feel like your own quite yet. You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the trees blow in the wind, thinking about where you now live. He calls this home, yet everything is so neat and pristine. No decor on the walls, no homey furniture, or any signs of living other than the well-used tub. The thoughts of "will this ever feel like home?" are plaguing your mind and preventing you from sleeping, so you tossed and turned all night. And somewhere beyond your door, in the other room, Azriel didn't sleep either.

[utdr-fractured]

Minor Update!

I’m starting to get life situated so I’ll be uploading again soon! This week’s comic page will go up either tomorrow or Sunday, and after that, I’m going to work on cranking out more asks.

That said, I want to be transparent about asks… I have gotten to the point where I am unable to answer every single one that I receive.

As it stands, I have over 150 asks in my inbox, and there’s only one of me!  For every ask I answer, I get around 3 to 5 back in return. I’m constantly playing a game of catch up that I just can’t win, so I hope you all understand if I don’t get to yours. I genuinely wish that I could answer all of them because so many of them are fun and interesting! However, it’s just physically impossible to get all of them done.

Please don’t let this discourage you from sending things in because I still aim to answer as many as I can!

I wanted to share this because I know some people are wondering why their ask hasn’t been answered yet, and this is a valid question! I’ve considered turning off asks temporarily until I catch up, but with the nature of this blog, I would prefer not to do that.

To be clear: I’m not upset or feeling pressured by anyone who’s reaching out about their ask! I don’t want anyone to think that at all! I just didn’t want to leave anyone in the dark or have them think I'm ignoring them.

That’s all I have to say so thank you for your patience and understanding. I really do appreciate every single one of you!