#And that I was told off for ''lack of good faith'' for not accepting that something wasn't transmisogyny

[translesbiantheo]

Kinda wild to experience so directly the tropes of transmisogynist ostracisation.

[lesbiansforboromir]

In a BoromirLives fanfic, Faramir must be forced to confront this line of his in particular; Whether he erred or no, of this I am sure: he died well, achieving some good thing. His face was more beautiful even than in life. It's vital to me that this is addressed. Because in Tolkien beauty is holy, they are intertwined inextricably, the holy will be beautiful.

Boromir did not live a beautiful holy life according to most, his life is not spoken of with uncomplicated worth by any but Denethor, Eomer, Theoden and Pippin (all either 'simple' or outwardly rebellious against god). But he did die a beautiful holy death, it is what most people praise him for and in Faramir's mystical dream where he sees Boromir's dead body floating down the river, this is his reaction. Boromir's corpse was more beautiful than his living body, because in death he was 'redeemed' and served his purpose in the great holy plan. He 'died well'.

This is horrifying right? It horrifies me when I read it. And I think it so concisely reveals how Faramir and many others viewed Boromir. I am essentially here to argue that this is all about piety, once again, yes I'm a one track record.

Gandalf, when hearing of Boromir's death from Aragorn, declares; It was a sore trial for such a man: a warrior, and a lord of men. Galadriel told me that he was in peril. But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir’s sake.

Now, what is Gandalf saying here? Boromir did not escape, he died. Does he mean he escaped corruption? Well, no, since apparently this 'escape' had something to do with Merry and Pippin and Boromir shook off the pull of the Ring long before he was sent to find them. What role did Merry and Pippin play in this 'escape'? Well, Boromir died for them, he had too, there was no other way out of that ambush. So by process of elimination the only thing the 'young hobbits' did that was 'for Boromir's sake' was... to be there so he could die for them, right?

And remember, his death did not actually save them or really help in any way, the hobbits are still taken and the Uruk-hai's downfall has nothing to do with Boromir. In fact Aragorn squandered any time Boromir might have given him to catch up to the Uruk-hai by spending hours on his funeral. So, the death alone is what is being called 'good' here, what is beautiful. Boromir dies and that is beautiful and something to be glad for, according to Gandalf and Faramir.

But why do they think this? Faramir has his 'alas for Boromir, whom I too loved' and Gandalf laments 'poor Boromir', so they have at least some pity for him. What was 'good' to them about Boromir dying? Well we all know this one don't we, it's the accepted narrative of it all, Boromir 'redeemed' himself with this deed. He tried to take the Ring, and for this crime he needed redemption that he gained through vainly giving up his life to try and save Merry and Pippin.

But, in fact, Boromir himself has a slightly different way of phrasing it. Boromir says, of his own death; ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ [-] ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’

He paid for it. To Boromir, in this cosmic exchange, he chose wrongly and paid for the offence with his death. This wasn't redemption, it was spiritual commerce, crime and punishment. Which is a perspective that once again demonstrates Boromir's enduring lack of 'faith' or spirituality. The powers of the west and Eru may exist, but they exist to him as forces of nature, some fact of the world we all must just live with, not something that fills him with hope or brings him nobility or meaning or a 'higher purpose'. Boromir does not want to be closer to divinity, he does not want to be beautiful or noble, he wants his people to be safe.

But of course, this is entirely opposite to Faramir's perspective, and if not downright heretical then at least unfaithful. So, when alive, Boromir cannot achieve 'beauty' in Faramir's mind, because he is unfaithful. It is only when he is dead, when 'fate' draws him into this spiritually good 'end' that sees him give up his life for a holy quest, when Boromir's life is no longer defined by him but by his death, that he can be beautiful.

And bringing this all the way back around, there are two ways you could do this in a boromirlives fic. Either, Boromir comes back but he does not look like he did in Faramir's dream. He did not pay, he is still alive to define who he is and Faramir finds himself slowly drawn into this terrible psychological horror as he realises he misses his brother's death more than he missed his actual brother.

Or Faramir needs to be confronted with a brother who looks dead to him. Boromir has come back and to Faramir's eyes he looks exactly as he did in the dream, but now this corpse moves and speaks and can no longer be confined to one perfect conceptual moment. And this also horrifies him. It is for authors to decide if this is just an aspect of Faramir's perspective, or if Boromir actually 'came back wrong' as it were, he did pay but somehow he came back anyway.

[marzipanandminutiae]

god I need to stop reading the notes on that "you don't owe anybody your downtime post that goes downhill in the notes

I got a bit hyperbolic in the tags but I still feel like my point was valid: you cannot just shoot down good-faith attempts at compromise between conflicting mental illness with "sorry I don't have the energy to do that :) :) :)" and then keep telling the person on the other side that they need to work on their issues. it cannot be all give on one side and all take on the other

for clarity, the original post said "people can't always respond right away and that's okay!" (which I agree with!). but then someone in the notes was like "could you maybe tell me if you don't feel up to talking when I reach out to you?" and OP and a few other people were like "so, no, because if I had the energy to do that, I'd have the energy to conduct a conversation. sorry! anyway work more on your own stuff thanks!"

and this pissed me off because like. people with mental issues that can make us annoying/clingy/insecure about people's love or friendship? we never seem to get grace. we are ALWAYS the ones being told that we need to be better- which we definitely do! I'm not arguing that! -amidst all the posts telling you that you don't owe your friends anything ever and if someone ever gets annoyed or concerned by a lack of a response, that's on them. nobody EVER seems to get told "well, maybe work on being able to say 'hey, not feeling up to it; talk later!'"

and obviously there are degrees of this. getting worried and spam texting after two hours with no reply to a non-time-sensitive message is an issue; getting annoyed when someone ignores you for months is understandable. not texting someone back immediately is fine; not texting them back ever and then expecting them to still be there for you is not. but I feel like both extremes are issues to be worked on, and only one gets negative attention here on Tumblr

seriously you don't want to know where I started with all this. it was Bad. passive-aggressive, "manipulating people without realizing I was doing anything wrong" Bad. I have worked on it and continue to work on it. I used to tie myself in knots when I saw that little green dot and they didn't message back right away, or if they hadn't messaged first in a while. and subsequently take that out on my loved ones, intentionally or not. it wasn't fun for me, it certainly wasn't fun for them, and I've struggled to get out of that place and not go back there

but. I and people with similar abandonment/insecurity issues can't do it all. it's not meeting halfway when only one side is expected to move

and to see a post being like "well some people are just never going to listen to reason and I have to ~let myself accept that~ UwU" when all I said was "we can't be the only ones trying, and it's not fair that we're often expected to be" is just. hnnnng

I need to go aggressively cut plastic bits off gold braid trim

[lime-bucket]

Different person, but the anon Lilith it's right: Lilith was a monster.

And in the different versions of all this, there is one where they are not... dense, that they could also have followed.

When Cain and Abel happened, Adam and Eve were separated for 120 years. During those 120 years, consensually, Adam and Lilith were together.

The problem, in general, of Vivzie is that she does not specify what part of Christianity she wants to criticize (for obvious reasons, for lack of balls even, she will not tell Judaism nor Islam a single criticism, that is why we cannot even say that she criticizes the Abrhamic religions) and not knowing what she is criticizing, what is left is nothing.

For example, if she really wants to criticize Christianity, Lilith would not exist. Because she is not in the canon, she is Mesopotamian.

She only becomes "Adam's wife" when a satirical book is written in medieval times. And, in Zoharism, it is when Naamah, Adam's third wife, appears.

And in the Kabbalah, the fourth and fifth wives of Adam appear: Agrat bat Mahlat and Eisheth Zenunim.

Something that people always repeat, is not to look further, and this is a problem already in general with some texts or generational.

For example, one of my college papers was about how the new versions of Medusa were only based on a specific event of something that is not even canonical.

The original Medusa, she appears in Hesiod's Theogony, and there we are only told whose daughter and sister she was, that she slept with Poseidon and that Perseus cut off her head. It never even goes into who Perseus is.

Then comes Pseudo-Apolodorus, he writes that Medusa was the only human, he puts lore to Perseus, but, the change he makes is that after Poseidon lost against Athena for Athens, he goes and seduces Medusa, and she accepts. That is why Athena punishes her.

However, the most popular version is Ovid's version, the rape. It's funny that it's the most popular one, since Ovid wrote The Metamorphoses while in exile and wanting to throw shit at the Roman gods. The guy succeeded.

The new versions even punish not Poseidon, but Perseus, since they ignored the fact that Perseus is also coerced to cut off his head. Technically they are two victims facing each other. The new versions want to put Athena as someone who "protects" Medusa and that Perseus is the bad guy.

And so the thing is deformed: another example is the Odyssey.

Odysseus' journey is only divided into 2 books: The Odyssey and the Telemachia. People were making their fanfic around those two books.

From there there is supposed to be a third book, of what children with Circe and Calypso and so on.

Also, another problem is the translations and interpretations of a single text.

Usually when studying texts, the question is not "Where does it say that?" but also "Which version are you getting?" or "Who is saying it?" because it changes the meaning.

And, in cases like the Bible, there is no original text, since we have the translation, of the translation, of the translation, of the translation, of the translation, of the translation, of the copy, of the copy and these in turn have the same process of translation and copying.

It is not for nothing that the first known bible was in Greek.

The world of texts is not simply to stay and read, to know about the author, or to interpret what he wants to say.

As Gadamer said in one of his books on hermeneutics: It is a game.

It is a game between the author, the context of the time, the text, and the context of the reader.

And while sometimes you don't need to go on this whole journey to create something new, you can dissect the parts you want to criticize.

I said it once before: The best critiques of the Christian religion, is not towards its faith or values but how people interpret them or use them to their convenience and selfishness.

Vivzie makes good concepts, not good stories. And it's not the same thing. Because good stories require trial and error, constructive and destructive criticism, what works and what doesn't, and knowing how to discern which is which.

So yes, the real problem with HH and HB (and Zoophobia) is that their creator is the male version of:

- Thomas Astruc

- Butch Hartman

But, above all, and unpicking ancient Internet history, Andrew Dobson better known as Tom Preston.

Sorry if I got sidetracked or if it was too long, I like to talk about these topics and sometimes I go off the deep end.

Thanks for reading.

THIS THIS THIS.

truly is frustrating all the characters u mentioned have complicated & long version & yet modern writers cant seem to weave them a new interpretaion that doesnt go beyond surface level

I knew it fron the start HH wont be worthy as a "criticism of religion" cuz it makes no clear attempt to distinguish what religion it want to portray.obvs its not set in a hebrew or islamic universe so surely its christian..?

Funny u mentioned how viv has good concept,esp in case of hazbin hotel cuz the show keeps screaming at u "REDEMPTION??POSSIBLE FR SINNERS??" "PPL CAN GO TO HEAVEN??WHEN THEY IN HELL?" As if that idea was never seen before meanwhile my muslim self was just like yeah ig.. :/

[melrosing]

Do you have any thoughts on the Azor Ahai prophecy?

sorry this took a while, I haven't really written much about this in the past so I don't have the relevant shit to hand in the same way. but my thoughts under the cut; conscious this is a contentious issue, so whilst I'm happy to chat about it, pls be normal if engaging.

I think it’s Jon. That doesn’t really get me excited or make me feel anything tbh, I guess because Jon is my least favourite major POV and the Azor Ahai prophecy isn’t one that interests me a whole lot. But I think the only real candidates for Azor Ahai are Jon and Dany, and based on both narrative structure and evidence within the story, I feel fairly confident it’s Jon.

Ofc, the argument for Dany being AA is strong and I think that’s the point. She ticks all the boxes, indeed more than Jon currently does, and the birth of her dragons is pretty much the most fantastic event in the story. She’ll surely have a huge role in ending the Long Night too, so Dany really does fit the bill.

But imo the structure of the story, and of their own personal arcs, favours Jon. I’ll quickly go through why I don’t think it favours Dany.

First off, rules of three: I think it was GRRM’s editor who told us that he likes rules of three in his writing. He makes you think one thing is true, then appears to provide the true solution, before the real answer emerges later on and completely throws you. There are lots of examples of GRRM using this technique in ASOIAF, but let’s go for another example that directly concerns Jon himself: the question of who his mother is.

The first answer we get is a basic one: Ned got Jon on a sex worker, and that’s that. We already know that’s near certainly not the case, because consciously or subconsciously we know that’s not how stories work. Second answer, Jon was born of an affair between Ned and Ashara. This idea is more interesting, has more supporting evidence, and we come across other characters who claim it’s true, like Edric. But still, I think a lot of people (even if they didn’t know R+L=J) would think that still doesn’t feel like the end of it. The closure has come too soon, and it doesn’t have the surprise factor that we know it’s supposed to have. It’s just clean.

Then of course the true answer is one that we still haven’t learnt yet: Ned isn’t even Jon’s father, and his mother is Lyanna, and Jon is the ‘true heir to the 7K’ etc etc etc. I think we’re all extremely used to this information now, but apart from the overwhelming evidence, we accept it because narratively it makes sense. This is the secret third thing, where everything clicks into place in a surprising way and has massive implications for the rest of the story. Rule of three. 

I think the same applies to Azor Ahai. First, we’re told it’s Stannis. He ticks most of the boxes, albeit in a really haphazard way, but we know it’s not Stannis because we know how stories work. Then we’re presented with Dany as the answer. This seems to add up really well: she ticks the boxes far more literally - smoke, salt, bleeding star - and characters like Aemon are convinced it’s Dany.

But I think we run into the same problem here as we do with Ashara. The closure’s come too soon, everything fits too neatly, and honestly it lacks the surprise factor. Dany may be a surprise Azor Ahai to the rest of her world, but she isn’t to the reader: we’ve seen what she’s capable of, and if we were told that Dany is going to save the world, most good faith readers would be like ‘well yeah if anyone’s gonna do it’. And so ironically, that’s how you start to get the feeling it isn’t Dany. It sounds painfully self-contradictory, yeah, but it’s the same as it works with Ashara. Consciously or subconsciously, we know how stories work.

So Jon is the third answer. Jon is intended as the surprise, where he didn’t even seem like a contender, is really just some guy. Except he isn’t. To make sense of this, you really have to forget how obvious R+L=J seems to all of us now, bc time and again GRRM has said he didn’t intend it as obvious, and actually seems a bit frustrated how many people had worked it out - even before the show got to make the reveal. 

Pasting at this juncture the key details of the prophecy:

When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. DAVOS III, ASOS

So Jon is descended from Jaehaerys II and Shaera, as the Ghost of High Heart said TPTWP would be. He is indeed a prince, even if he doesn’t know it. When Melisandre looked for Stannis as TPTWP in the flames, she saw ‘snow’. Jon’s story is the one that most directly concerns the fight against TLN; Dany currently has the potential for the most impact, yes, but at the moment she has absolutely no idea what’s going on beyond the wall, and it’s Jon trying to unite the 7K against the Others. This makes him the strongest thematic fit for the hero who will ultimately end TLN.

Then we have the fact that there are two major things about Jon’s story that have to mean something. 1: Jon is the ‘true heir’ to the 7K, the one no one saw coming, that everyone thought was a nobody. Jon was born of the union between Rhaegar and Lyanna that only a dead man and Howland fucking Reed (likely a man with his own knowledge about the TLN, the Children and the Others) know about. Jon was the child Rhaegar somehow knew he had to have (the ethics of that aside…), that made him realise the prophecy wasn’t about him but someone else. Within the story of ASOIAF, this is seismic. It’s no good to say that Jon’s true heritage is nothing more than a political subplot, that’s not how stories work and it’s certainly not how GRRM writes.

And 2: Jon is going to be fucking resurrected. No, he’s not the first character to come back - Beric and Catelyn both got there before him. But if there’s one thing we can be sure of, Jon is coming back for a reason. We saw how ridiculous it is in the show for Jon to just come back to life and get on with everything like normal. Everyone was asking well why the fuck did he need to die in the first place then. To give him an excuse to leave the Night’s Watch? lol. Nah Jon is going to be reborn for a specific reason. Cannot emphasise enough that it is not GRRM’s style to kill Jon for nothing more than dramatic effect.

And who is going to rebirth him? Melisandre. What is the significance of Melisandre? Fucking everything. Melisandre has not been placed at the Wall to get the prophecy wrong AGAIN. She has been placed at the Wall because that is where the answer is. If Jon is the POV most focused on the TLN and the Others, Melisandre is the POV most focused on the AA prophecy. She is the one trying desperately to solve it, and whose revelation we are awaiting because once again, that’s how stories work: we know that Melisandre is wrong right now, so we anticipate the moment she will be right.

So Melisandre seeing ‘snow’ in her flames means something. Melisandre’s weird connection to Jon means something. Melisandre being the one who, seemingly without knowing it, has been preparing Jon for rebirth since about halfway through ADWD - means something also. R’hllorism and its weird connection to the AA prophecy means something. Melisandre and Ghost both having red eyes, with all the rest in mind, also seems to mean something.

Her eyes were two red stars, shining in the dark. At her throat, her ruby gleamed, a third eye glowing brighter than the others. Jon had seen Ghost's eyes blazing red the same way, when they caught the light just right. JON VI, ADWD

And right there’s the fact that Melisandre is the ‘red star of the prophecy’. Everyone thinks it’s the red comet, which we see identified in the ACOK prologue as the ‘bleeding star’ named in the AA prophecy. You know who’s also introduced in that chapter. Fuckin Melisandre. Melisandre and the ruby she wears are alternately described as ‘red’ and ‘star’ - sometimes both together:

Melisandre's ruby glowed like a red star at her throat. DAVOS VI, ASOS

So here’s Melisandre, red as hell, explaining the prophecy. Notice how much she herself seems to embody the imagery of the prophecy - red, flames, blood, burning, etc.

Melisandre was robed all in scarlet satin and blood velvet, her eyes as red as the great ruby that glistened at her throat as if it too were afire. "In ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." DAVOS I, ACOK

So we come to the ‘bleeding/red star’ aspect of the prophecy. Smoke and salt are easy enough to come by, but a star is a more specific requirement. As is a birth (or rebirth). Dany seemed to tick these boxes with the smoke of the pyre, the great salt sea, the birth of her dragons/her figurative rebirth, and the red comet. 

But I think the bleeding/red star is more likely Melisandre and/or her rubies. How either end up bleeding I can’t say, but it’s not hard to imagine. Does Melisandre destroy her ruby to revive Jon, or use her own blood? Maybe she has to die to do it, leaving Jon none the fucking wiser when he awakens what her reason for reviving him even was. That would be fitting: I think Jon won't understand his own significance for some time yet.

Either way, we have our star: Melisandre has been looking everywhere for one, never knowing it was she herself. This is actually a great beat for Mel’s story - for all the times she’s appeared all knowing, she was missing the woods for the trees, and her own significance in it all. It’s tragic, too, because that revelation is perhaps also one of her own demise.

(sidenote: I also think it's more fitting [and more likely] that the decision to burn Shireen and indeed the idea to do it is Stannis' own. in desperation, he attempts to fulfil what he recalls of Melisandre's methods, but butchers everything in doing so.)

Next we need smoke and salt, and as mentioned, those are straightforward. We’ve been told the Wall has plenty of salt lol, and light a few candles and you’ve got smoke - not to mention Melisandre loves a bit of fire, so figures there will be smoke involved in Jon’s rebirth either way. So salt and smoke both sound like pretty standard ingredients for a resurrection, I don’t think it’s much worth elaborating.

Then what’s left? ‘A birth/rebirth a day after a long summer’, check, we’re told again and again through ADWD that we’re on the brink of winter. ‘When the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world’, check again - Jon is right there on the scene. 

The flaming sword comes after the rebirth, but it’s a given that Jon will wield one - it’s right there in his dreams:

Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. ADWD, JON XII

(another sidenote: look, a song of ice and fire. I’m aware that GRRM has previously stated that Dany’s fire and the battle against the others are the titular ice and fire, because he’s sure not going to say ‘by the way it’s also Jon’ when he hasn’t revealed anything about Jon yet. But we know that Rhaegar anticipates a child who embodies ‘the song of ice and fire’, and you cannot associate Dany with ice. Dany IS fire.)

I think Jon probably already has Lightbringer, and it’s Longclaw - we see that Ghost is tied in with the red of it all, and who is atop the sword but Ghost. Valyrian steel obviously also has some fantastical role still to play, and it’s notable that Jaime envisions he and Brienne also wielding flaming Valyrian swords (their flames are blue, of course, and Jaime doesn’t know in the dream that the blades are Valyrian, but the point stands that there’s some connection between flaming swords and Valyrian steel going on, and that that all ties to TLN).

So all that’s really left is to wake dragons from stone. This is one where I can’t really guess what it’ll mean - my best guess is that Jon will find dragonsteel at Dragonstone, because even if he did somehow hatch further dragons they’d be damn babies for the duration of the Long Night, but really this part could point to something we can’t yet guess at, so whatever.

And finally, there’s Jon’s heritage. The Targaryens are tied to the wielding of fire, to Valyrian steel, and to dragons. The Starks are tied to winter, to the Wall, to the old gods and the North. Jon’s heritage is representative of the two forces that need to unite to overcome the Others. 

I don’t want to get into how exactly Jon ties into the mythos of the Night King and what undead Jon might look like, because whilst there’s plenty in there that no doubt ALSO supports the prophecy, I freely admit I just haven’t looked into it all that much bc it’s not a passion point for me, so I'm not going to seriously try. But we do have this part from Benerro's prophecy:

death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her [referring to Dany as TPTWP] cause shall be reborn... ADWD, TYRION VI

You can make this really figurative to get it to work for Dany, but it would make a lot more sense for Jon. He'll rise from the dead (death itself will bend the knee) and 'all those who die fighting in [TPTWP's] cause shall be reborn' - hey just like the Others are. Is Jon somehow going to have his own army of the undead? Possibly.

So, cumulatively:

Jon will unite ice and fire, armoured in ice and wielding a flaming sword

Jon’s Stark and Targaryen heritage are figuratively significant

Rhaegar foresaw the significance of Jon. Rhaegar has been wrong in a lot in all senses of the word, but I think he’s going to be right on this point - on ONE fucking point

Jon will be reborn a day after winter comes

Jon will be reborn beneath a bleeding red star

Plenty of scope for salt and smoke to be involved

Jon will wield a flaming red sword

Jon will be on the ground as darkness approaches and lead the charge against it

Jon will make death bend the knee

Jon may lead an army of the 'reborn'

Melisandre is the POV with the greatest fixation on the Azor Ahai prophecy, and Melisandre is beginning to realise the significance of Jon + will be responsible for bringing him back

Jon is the Secret Third Thing

etc etc 

And finally, bc I’ve seen many, many heated arguments over this, I want to establish some things myself before signing off:

I am engaging in good faith here. I have come to these conclusions through reading the books and considering all sides, and think this is a very legitimate reading of the text

This resolution to the prophecy is not something I am invested in. Jon hardly makes my top 20 characters in ASOIAF, and Azor Ahai is not a prophecy I crave an answer for. I’m a lot more interested the southern storylines (in case you couldn't tell)

Dany, meanwhile, is a character I like about five times as much as I like Jon. I’ve not reached the conclusion I have because I think she’s not capable of being AA (currently, I think she’s a whole lot more capable than Jon). I’m only judging based on where I think the story and evidence gestures

I agree that there’s potentially problematic subtext in introducing Dany, a young girl who subverts the typical ‘chosen boy’ narrative by fighting every adversity to be a hero for the ages, [edit - forgot the other half of the sentence orz] only to say actually nah it was special boy Jon all along. It’s difficult to say exactly how egregious I’m going to find it when that comes to be because I don’t have the material to judge, but I fully understand why people find the idea of Jon Snow as AA such a deeply frustrating idea, and I may well share in that frustration when it comes to it

Again: I’m engaging in good faith, so if you want to discuss, please afford me the same. We are discussing a fantasy series

[4dkellysworld]

Hii hope you're doing well, if you're okay with it, I'd like to ask for some advice?

So, I've been trying to manifest something for a long time. But.. I haven't seen it. At all. It's been a really long time, like months. Normally I just brush it off and remind myself it means nothing, and imagination determines my reality, but after awhile.. it gets demotivating yk. It's been a long while, my self concept is pretty good, but I think it's slowly eroding because I haven't seen my manifestations yet. Thoughts?

Well, I have no idea what you've actually been thinking/doing/being to 'manifest' so you haven't given me much to work with. Also I am not a manifesting blog lol though I am changing my views on this, after all we are all creators of our own realities; we can either create consciously or unconsciously and self-mastery is all about taking responsibility for all our creations after all (this isn't an invite for more manifesting questions though, there's so many resources on this already lol). You might want to look into @aphroditeapprenticee-archive. A quick look at the asks shows me this one might be helpful to you, the others might be too. This reddit post might be helpful too.

Some other possible reasons:

You never accepted it as a reality/certainty and see it only as a fantasy or daydream

You told yourself you've accepted it as reality when you haven't actually. You can't lie to yourself

You're too fixated on checking if it's there or not, which just reaffirms the reality where you need to check [therefore it is not] >> you lack faith in what you have decided on

[An extension of above point] You keep changing your mind on whether you have it or not. Or you are also entertaining and identifying with thoughts that are opposite (Put another way, in LOA terms, "The old self has to die so the new self can live. Bury the old and live only as the new". Keep choosing the same thing)

You have resistance in the form of one or more: attachments, attachments to outcomes or expectations, fears, desires (you can't desire what you already have) etc which prevents you from accepting your "desired reality" as truth

The following excerpts may be helpful.

I've linked a video below which might be helpful to you, it's not geared on methods and talks more on the importance of faith and being conscious of what thoughts/beliefs you entertain. Very spiritually-geared as opposed to being outcome-focused (their titles are rather clickbaity but the content is alright actually).

Navigating this landscape of thought requires a conscious effort to cultivate a garden of positive life affirming beliefs. Imagine your mind as fertile soil and each thought a seed. What kind of garden are you tending, are the seeds of doubt, fear and negativity finding too much purchase or are you diligently planting and nurturing seeds of hope, love and abundance? The mastery of thought is not an overnight achievement but a lifelong journey of choosing moment by moment which seeds to water and which to weed out. This deliberate act of selection empowers individuals to shape their destinies guided by the unwavering belief in the secret power woven into the fabric of their being.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

sorry before I go to bed I’m thinking bout the different ways Evangelion portrays csa.

asuka's (metaphorical) rape is done by a stranger. someone she doesn’t know. a literal monster. as someone who’s always prided herself on being able to fight, being able to always win, this shatters asuka, who feels such a thing makes her weak. she responds to her trauma by regressing, playing video games at her friends house and speaking to her like a young child, before shutting down entirely to the point of attempted suicide. she’s later sexually abused by shinji, taking his own trauma out on her, and while we don’t see as much of how that effects her, we see the tragedy of the cycles of abuse play out.

shinji's sexual abuse is done by a friend. he doesn’t realise it’s wrong, and misato thinks she’s helping, because he’s a boy and boys like that right? but misato not realising the harm of her actions do not make her any less harmful. there’s a lot of complicated feelings and emotions there, and it very much deals heavily with the complexities of abuse- not all abusers realise what they’re doing. not all abusers even have sexual intent (misato absolutely doesn’t see shinji in a romantic light at all, she's not attracted to him). not all victims hate their abusers, and not all victims fully realise how inappropriate their abusers actions are. yet, the abuse still has impacts- as seen with shinji's complete lack of sexual boundaries, to the point of assaulting asuka for a desperate sense of control. he recognises that it’s awful- it’s something familiar to him to a degree- but as a severely traumatised child, he lashes out and inflicts his own pain on others. which is not acceptable, obviously, but it’s tragic, and shows how abuse makes people worse.

and as for rei, she's abused by her own father. the signs are there, but they don't entirely click at first, and neither do they click to the adults who should be looking out for her. the sexual abuse she faces is overlooked even when it’s right under everyone’s noses. and when someone does put the dots together, they blame her for it. rei's abuse, like a lot of familial abuse, is either ignored or something she’s considered at fault for, despite being sheltered and groomed all her life, and, y’know, fourteen. rei's arc also focuses heavily on her conflicted feelings about her abuser, but in a different way to shinji. she, at first, idolises gendo. she's been groomed her whole life, and is incredibly isolated. what happens is normal to her, she doesn’t see it as wrong because she’s never been told it’s wrong. the idea of not having faith in gendo is alien to her. but as time goes on, she realises what happens isn’t special, it isn’t okay. by the time she dies and another version of her takes her place (the rei's share a soul, so they’re the same person even if rei iii can’t remember everything) she’s quietly furious at the idea of being a doll, and realises she can be more. when her abuser touches her, she literally tears off his hand. and she attains agency! that’s the final part of her storyline. she has agency, for the first time in her life. and she might have chose to listen to shinji on what to do, but she chose for the first time, it’s a massive step and honestly it really struck me as a beautiful ending to her character arc.

idk man. i just like how this mecha anime interrogates a sensitive subject from multiple angles and has genuinely suprisingly good depictions of even abuse that’s not recognised as abuse by most still. it’s nice! it’s refreshing. honestly, they committed to exploring abuse and never trying to apologise for it, and it’s fucking great. i'm personally not a csa victim, but i did go through sexual trauma at around the same ages of these characters, and i found myself relating a lot to their arcs around this due to that even if our experiences are pretty different. i felt aspects of how i dealt with things, especially in rei and shinji but to a degree asuka as well, and it made me feel more confident in myself. if shinji ikari can choose to live, so can I :)

[janetbrown711]

If I Fail You

Zhu Li Na is four months old when the cracks in the universe return, so it looks like it's time for baby's first Collect-A-Thon to Save the Universe! Surely nothing will go wrong!!! (Season 5 Rewrite adding in freenoodles fan kid Zhu Li Na + diving deeper into the mentality/mental health of certain characters)

Chapter 1: Watching Him Fade Away

Pigsy notices his son is starting to crack, but it's hard caring for a monkey-demi-god-kinda-regular-god and a four-month-old. But nevertheless, Pigsy tries.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Ao3 Link

Doodles !!!

MK was a very, very good big brother. 

He was over at Pigsy and Tang’s as frequently as Sandy, always helping out and playing and cuddling and changing and cleaning and taking care of the little piglet as much as possible whenever he wasn’t training with Monkey King. 

Pigsy hadn’t minded the extra help at first. It was nice to have his son and daughter bond and who was he to refuse an extra pair of hands when he was this tired all the time? Plus, Tang had to go to work, and so the help was certainly needed at times. 

But something was… off with his son. Of course, something had been off for months now, but whatever it was it was clearly getting far worse as he was gaining circles under his eyes so dark they were supposed to be reserved for new parents. He was also adamantly in denial of the whole thing, as any time Pigsy tried talking to him about sleep or stress, he jumped right up and suddenly remembered a task he had procrastinated and dashed off. 

A part of Pigsy worried MK had been lying about accepting all this change– that he didn’t like his room being taken, or that he even didn’t like Li Na. Another part of him told him that was ridiculous, as MK seemed genuinely happy to help her whenever he could. Another, deeper part of him wondered if MK had been like this for months, but Pigsy just hadn’t noticed, too busy dealing with the pregnancy and NICU. A more optimistic part said maybe the couch wasn’t as comfortable to sleep on as it used to be, and he should encourage the kid to go back to sleeping at his place. 

But that could easily make him feel worse, right? Pigsy worked to make sure MK knew he still had a place in his home, he didn't want the kid to think he suddenly flipped a switch on him. He needed to know he could still rely on Pigsy, even if he was a lot busier these days. 

It didn't help that no matter what progress Pigsy felt he made, it felt like he was back at level zero every time MK returned from training. 

He needed to think up a plan, and quick– or else risk MK losing his mind. 

Of course, it was hard to plan with a four-month-old in constant need of attention, but you know. 

“If the problem is a lack of sleep, bringing MK back to his own place and away from a screaming baby would certainly be for the best,” Sandy suggested, finishing buttoning up Li Na's onesie after a change. 

“Yeah, I know, I know– but I don't want ‘im thinking I'm shoving him out, you know? I want ‘im to know he can always come to me for help,” Pigsy sighed, folding some of her laundry. 

“Have a little faith in the kid; he knows you love him, he's said so himself.” Sandy picked Li Na up, though she cooed and reached away to Pigsy. 

“I–... I dunno… he's real sleep deprived– you know how thoughts can get,” Pigsy scratched his neck. 

“Then remind him,” Sandy gave a soft smile. “Tell him you're concerned and be honest about why.” 

Pigsy looked away. “Eh… me and honesty don't really get along well, what with sayin’ I wasn't the kid's dad to his face and all for twenty years…”

“Are you sure that was honesty and not insecurity?” Sandy raised an eyebrow as Li Na began to whine. 

Pigsy sighed, taking his daughter back in his arms. She immediately cooed happily, which made the elder pig demon chuckle a little. “I guess you might be right… but still, I just– I'm not good at this. Not really.” 

“I don't know, Li Na seems to think you're doing just fine.” Sandy winked, making Pigsy roll his eyes and blush slightly. 

His friend laughed. “Just trust your instincts, Pigsy. You've always been good when you listen to your heart.” 

Pigsy snorted, but didn't have a good rebuttal. Especially because Li Na did seem plenty happy, reaching for the buttons on Pigsy's shirt with glee. 

The thought occurred to Pigsy that maybe Sandy ought to be the one to talk to MK since he was so good at it. Before he could suggest it though, there was a massive woosh throughout the apartment announcing MK's arrival from training.

“You want me to head out for some groceries?” Sandy offered, but Pigsy shook his head. 

“I think it'll be good if just the two– er, three– of us head out for a bit,” Pigsy suggested. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Pigsy.” Sandy smiled at him all bright and corny, which made him roll his eyes again as he exited the nursery. 

Not to his surprise, Pigsy found MK in the kitchen wiping down the countertops with extreme vigor, acting like each little crumb and blotch was the Lady Bone Demon and needed to be wiped off this plane of existence asap. It might have been funny if it weren't for the stress and exhaustion weighing in his eyes. 

“Hey, kid. You– uh… feeling okay?” Pigsy asked. 

“Pigsy–! Hi! How're you doing?” MK shot up from the counter with a forced grin. 

“I asked you first.” Pigsy raised an eyebrow, shifting Li Na to an upright position so her head was against his shoulder. 

“O-oh! Right! Yeah, I'm all good man! Never felt better!” His son gave an even bigger smile and thumbs up for emphasis. 

Pigsy frowned. “Kid, when was the last time you slept?” 

“Bah, sleep is for the weak.” MK tried to wave off. “How's Li Na? When's the last time she slept?” 

Pigsy gave an unamused look. “Kid, I know what you're trying to do and it ain't gonna work.”

“What? Being helpful? I'm hurt.” MK put his hand over his chest dramatically, before scrubbing the counters again. 

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “Li Na is fine, MK. It's you I'm worried about.”

“I told you, I'm fine! Never felt better!” His son insisted, tossing out the cleaning wipe. 

Pigsy growled in frustration, causing the piglet in his arms to whine, sensing his distress. 

“Oh–! Hey, I can take her if she's not feeling okay! Or I can get her formula started or her diaper changed or–”

“MK, she doesn't need any of that–” Pigsy took a breath to try and calm himself while rubbing Li Na's back. “Just tell me what's wrong… please.”

MK's smile faltered. “A-are you sure you don't need anything? I can clean up around here or wash the van o-or even cook dinner, if you need.” 

Pigsy sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, before remembering his idea from earlier. “You know what? Let's go check on the restaurant. See how it's holding up.”

That worked to snap MK out of his spiral, as he froze and tilted his head. “Really? Why? You're not gonna open it for another four months.” 

Pigsy shrugged. “Fresh air'll do us good. Plus, I wanna make a proper meal on a proper stove, and I think my old cookbook is still over there.” 

“Oh– Okay! I can get the ca–” 

“I'll get the carrier and bag. You can take Li Na,” Pigsy decided instead. 

MK seemed confused again, but accepted the now smiling infant into his arms. “Hey kiddo, you having fun?” he asked, scrunching his nose. “We're gonna go to the restaurant soon. That's where you were born! It's also my favorite place on earth, so it'll be super fun.” 

Pigsy chuckled, shaking his head before going back into the nursery to get the same well-loved carrier he had used years and years and years before with MK. 

“So..? How's it going so far?” Sandy asked, startling the pig who had forgotten he was there. 

“We're gonna go for a walk, get some fresh air… though if you wanna take over, be my guest,” Pigsy half-joked. 

Sandy gave him a pitiful smile. “You got this, Pigsy. Just open up a little bit and you'll be golden.” 

The chef rolled his eyes. “Yeah, just text Tang where we are so he doesn't think we're being kidnapped or somethin’.” He snorted before  finding the diaper bag and throwing a few things in.

He had to dig a bit through the closet before he found his old baby carrier, with a well-worn scrapbook sitting right underneath. 

The chef couldn't help but smile a little as he picked it up and started flipping through. At the time he'd thought it was corny, that he wasn't MK's dad so there wasn't a point. However, his grandmother (and eventually Tang) insisted it was just to preserve good memories, and Pigsy couldn't have been more grateful. 

His heart ached with happiness and joy as he saw old photos of MK's chubby face, with fistfuls of noodles and a face covered in sauce. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen that face, so full of joy and nativity. No past, no future, just in the present focused on gorging himself on noodles. 

“Found something?” Sandy asked, peeking over Pigsy's shoulder. 

“Just an old scrapbook,” Pigsy chuckled before shutting it carefully. 

“Oh? I thought you weren't the ‘nostalgic type’.” Sandy grinned cheekily, quoting Pigsy from twenty five years ago. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Pigsy huffed and stood up, pausing when he realized he was still holding the book in his hands. 

…He wasn't exactly sure why, but he slipped it into the diaper bag too. 

“Text me if you end up needing anything,” Sandy said, not commenting on Pigsy's impulse decision. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep while you can,” Pigsy gave his friend a short crooked smile. 

Sandy laughed. “I sleep plenty fine on my boat, Pigsy.”

“With all those cats? Sure.” The chef retorted. “I should be back in an hour or so.”

“I'll hold the fort down. Have fun.” Sandy gave a salute, making Pigsy huff in amusement before heading back out to the living room, where MK was bouncing Li Na in a mix of exhaustion and worry. 

“C'mon, Li Na, it's okay, h-he'll be back soon, it's okay, you're okay, you're– Pigsy! She started whining and I-I think I'm messing it up, she won't–”

“Hey, hey, it's okay, kid, it's okay.” Pigsy immediately set the carrier and diaper bag on the couch, rushing to his son's side and placing a hand on his back. “You're okay, kid, just relax.”

“No, she wants you, she doesn't want me, I-I'm all messed up– take her back, please.” MK's resolve was starting to crack. 

“Hey, MK, it's okay, you're okay, just take a breath for me, alright?” Pigsy placed a calm and firm hand on his chest, taking a slow breath MK eventually copied. 

“Th-thanks, Pigsy.” MK sniffled, trying to bounce the still squirming piglet. 

Pigsy's chest ached with worry for both of them, but he shook it off for a moment. “I'm gonna get the carrier on, and then we'll go for a walk, alright?” 

“Yeah, that’s good.” MK nodded, small tears forming in his eyes.

Pigsy bit his cheek, but knew the best thing would be to just move on for now. And so, he quickly got the baby carrier on, putting it into front-inward carry mode, and placed Li Na inside, who relaxed as soon as her chest was against his. 

MK just stood there, watching at first before looking at the ground with his hands in his hoodie. His eyes were shining with tears, and his head was slowly sinking further and further down. 

It was something MK did a lot as a kid, especially on days he wanted nothing more than to just disappear. It made Pigsy want to cry, but the chef toughed it out. 

“C'mon, let's get some air.” He gave a mostly-not-forced smile and patted his son's shoulder. 

The boy nodded, clearly swallowing his tears before he suddenly moved, picking up the diaper bag and opening the door. 

“Dads-ies first.” MK cracked a mostly-forced smile that made Pigsy's heart twinge. 

“Thanks, kiddo.” He patted his arm again, and the three of them headed out into the night. 

The chef instantly felt more relaxed the second the late evening air hit his face, but he could tell it made MK more than a little anxious. Pigsy nudged the kid before taking a deep breath, implying for him to do the same. MK did, his shoulders loosening a little, but his eyes stayed glued to the ground. 

“You know– it’s– uh… it’s hard to believe it’s been four months, you know? Since she was born,” Pigsy tried lightening the mood. 

“Y-yeah! Man, time does fly, doesn’t it?” MK gave a weak laugh, one hand briefly leaving his pocket to scratch his neck before going right back. 

“Oh yeah. Sometimes I can hardly believe you’re in your twenties and not still goin’ to school,” Pigsy snorted. 

MK laughed a little less at that. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.” 

Pigsy winced as they stopped at a crosswalk. “It’s… hard to imagine one day Li Na’ll be in her twenties, all grown up and probably helping you fight whatever monster’s attacking the city that week.” 

“I thought you don’t want her fighting?” MK raised a somewhat playful eyebrow. 

“MK, I’m still not jazzed about you fighting,” Pigsy chuckled. “But… if that’s how it’s gonna be, that’s how it’s gonna be.” 

MK looked forward. “Right. Because ‘destiny’ and all that.” 

“What? No–ugh, I’m putting a household ban on that word.” Pigsy shook his head. “I mean because– I– you know– with the whole–” 

“Light’s green,” MK interrupted and immediately started walking again. 

Pigsy sighed, making Li Na shift so the chef put a hand on her tiny head. “I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight, don’t I kiddo?” he asked in a low voice, to which Li Na just cooed tiredly. The chef chuckled and gave her a soft pat before walking again. 

Just listen to your heart, Pigsy, just like Sandy said to. Sure, you’ve screwed this up before just about a million times, but Sandy is usually right about these things anyways so– just– try. For MK. 

“So– um… you feeling hungry at all?” Pigsy ventured, deciding to steer clear of the d-word. 

“Eh, not really.” MK half shrugged. 

Pigsy eyed MK for a moment, looking him up and down and checking for his usual hunger ticks. “Let me rephrase that; when was the last time you ate?” 

“Pigsy, I’m okay, really, I just–” MK tried to lie, but seemed to remember he’d already been caught earlier. “Training was just hard today.” 

Pigsy’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?” 

“No! Not like that, I don’t mean it like that– I just– you know–! The more powerful I-I get the more he works me, which is good! Monkey King isn’t bad, it’s all just– it’s fine, I’m fine, let’s just go back home.” MK almost turned around, but Pigsy grabbed his arm. 

“Kid, I know I’ve been… a little hard on him in the past, but I know he’s helpin’ you in ways I can’t, so it’s okay,” The chef gave a weak smile. It seemed to help the kid genuinely relax a bit, making the chef’s smile grow. “Besides, he did help save your sister’s life, so I know he ain’t all ‘irresponsibility’.” 

MK let out a genuine laugh. “Of course him saving your life doesn’t count for anything.” 

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he’s saved me too, I guess, whatever.” 

“And he’s saved mine,” MK pointed out with a smug grin. 

“Eh, I’d say at this point the score of ‘saved your life’ versus ‘actively put it in danger’ is about even,” Pigsy pushed back playfully, and his son let out another laugh. 

“Yeah, whatever,” The kid shook his head with a chuckle, and all that laughter made Li Na let out laughs of her own. 

“Well, look who’s deciding to join all the fun,” Pigsy teased her a little. “What do you think? You like that Monkey King guy?” 

Li Na laughed again, making her brother grin. “You know, I think that counts as a ‘yes’.” 

“Bah, she’s four months old, what does she know?” Pigsy waved off. 

“Nah, I think she’s got it just right.” MK winked and booped her snout, making her scrunch up her nose and smile big, which MK copied, just as they came to another crosswalk that was thankfully green, and then it was “restaurant, sweet restaurant”. 

“Look, Li Na! It’s the best restaurant in all of China,” MK grinned as he fished out the keys from the bag, meanwhile, Pigsy soaked in the quiet warm feeling of seeing his third biggest pride and joy in person again after four months away. Of course, it also brought back memories of the absolute pain and terror he felt when last there, but there was also plenty of joy and love, so Pigsy was doing just fine. 

As was MK, evidently, as he lifted the security shield and flicked the lights on with delight before zipping to punch in the alarm code at a pace physically impossible for the old chef. Instead, Pigsy took his time letting all the memories soak in (though was certainly thankful all of the… “mess” had been cleaned shortly after going to the hospital). 

“Ahhh, it’s good to be back Pigsy.” MK came out from the back with a grin. “So, what’re we going to make? We gonna go for the longest noodle record again? Ooo– wait! What about the thickest noodle?! You haven’t done that yet, have you?” MK’s more manic energy came out yet again. 

“Woah kiddo, let’s settle down a bit first, alright?” Pigsy said lightheartedly. 

“Ahhh, c’mon! It’s why we came here! Revisit some memories, get cooking, and have a totally cool and awesome time for Li Na’s first visit– er… I guess first ‘return’ to the restaurant since she was born here.” MK tapped his chin. 

“Right, yeah, that’s true, but– I mean– there’s also– you know–” Pigsy hesitated again, cursing himself for stumbling over his words again. 

MK tilted his head. “You feeling okay, Pigsy?” 

“Are you?” Pigsy immediately snarked back, though immediately wished he hadn’t (the cursing in his head growing louder). 

MK’s eyes glanced around the restaurant as he slowly made his way to the bar and sat on a stool before picking at the grout. “I-I mean– I’m okay, if that’s what you’re asking. I-I just–...” 

Pigsy blinked, surprised his screw-up wasn’t backfiring. Scared he’d find a way to ruin it though, he quietly and carefully approached the bar, giving MK an analytic up and down. 

MK glanced his way, noticing the look and shrinking down. “I… I can’t sleep. Every time I do, I-I just– I-I–” The kid suddenly froze, eyes glazed over with a distant look of shame and terror before he desperately tried shaking it away. 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay– stay with me, kiddo,” Pigsy tried his best to soothe, placing a free hand on MK’s shoulder and squeezing it tight. He could feel MK wanting to resist, but Pigsy held on tight, and eventually his son leaned into his shoulder. 

“I-I’m so tired, Dad. I just wanna sleep, but– I-I have to keep working– I have to keep training, I have to.” MK sniffled. 

“MK, it’s okay to take breaks sometimes,” Pigsy urged, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving them a squeeze. 

MK shook his head. “E-even if I didn’t need to, I still can’t– it just doesn’t stop…” 

Pigsy nodded slowly, not entirely surprised he was finally displaying symptoms of PTSD, or whatever Sandy called it– dammit, it really should be Sandy instead of him– why did Pigsy think he could do this on his own? Always so stupid–

No. If MK needed help getting to sleep, Pigsy knew how to get him to sleep– just use the same trick from when he was a kid. And who knows? Maybe with some luck, Pigsy could get a meaningful lesson in there too. 

He could do this. He just needed to listen to his gut. 

“I’m sorry sleep’s skipping out on you, kid,” the chef started, giving him another squeeze. “But since we’re all up and here, why don’t we give Li Na her first cooking lesson?” 

A light sparked in MK’s eyes. “Really? You want me to help?” 

“‘Course I do. You’ve run this place on your own a few times already, and she needs to know all the tips and tricks.” Pigsy winked, going behind the bar. “Although the dish we’re making tonight ain’t on the menu.” 

“Huh? Why?” MK tilted his head and followed. 

Pigsy shrugged. “Consider it a ‘double lesson’.” 

“Ooo! Like a noodle master and his proteges,” MK grinned again.

“Sure,” Pigsy snorted, finding his old cook book and flipping to the particular Lanzhou Beef Noodle Soup recipe he had in mind. 

“You sure Li Na’s gonna be able to stay awake for the whole lesson though? She’s already looking so sleepy to me,” MK cooed over the somewhat droopy-looking infant. 

Pigsy chuckled, patting her head again. “She’ll be just fine; us Zhu’s can practically cook in our sleep.” 

“I made instant ramen once in my sleep, does that count?” MK joked. 

As much as Pigsy hated that garbage, he nodded sagely. “No doubt about it.” 

That seemed to strike MK, as his joking smile twisted in surprise, before he shook himself out of it. 

“R-right– well, um– I’ll get started on the dough,” MK forced a more casual smile before zipping off to the back again. 

Pigsy bit his cheek, looking down at Li Na and silently wondering if that all was a good sign or not. The infant just blinked and smiled back tiredly. 

“You know, you’re a lot like your brother when he was a kid,” Pigsy smiled tiredly and kissed her forehead. She cooed a tired response before nuzzling her face into Pigsy's chest. 

Shortly after she did, MK came out from the back with all the stuff needed to make the noodles piled high in his arms. He managed to set it down just fine though; probably due to the kid’s super strength. 

“Alright, I’ll get started on the dough if you get started on the chicken and beef?” Pigsy proposed. 

“On it.” MK grinned, and Pigsy hummed happily as the two of them got to work. 

Pigsy immediately started talking Li Na through the process of making noodles, despite her immediately falling asleep at the likely familiar sounds of sizzling meat and boiling pots. MK of course chimed in whenever he could, whether with a joke or with how he liked to do it versus how Pigsy did it. A part of Pigsy wondered if the kid knew his sister was asleep, but even if he didn’t, Pigsy wouldn’t dare say a word. After all, he was having fun, and that plus the sleep he’d get tonight would make him start feeling better in no time. Not completely fixed, of course, but better. And MK needed better. 

It was dark out by the time they were wrapping everything up, and while MK was babbling about this one customer he had to serve, Li Na was starting to stir once again. Pigsy immediately started to sway as he stirred to try and keep her wake-up calm so MK wouldn’t worry, but babies are babies and soon enough a cry broke out. 

“Seriously! A whole avocado! Who doe– Li Na–!” MK dropped everything to run to his dad’s side. “Is she okay? What’s wrong?” 

“She’s okay, she’s okay, she just woke up from her little bed time nap, didn’t you?” Pigsy tried assuring the both of them, but Li Na must’ve been tired of the carrier as she started wriggling in frustration. 

“Okay, okay, I hear you kiddo, just hold on a sec, okay?” Pigsy told her before looking at MK. “How’s about you do the finishing touches and I get her settled, alright?” 

“O-Okay, yeah, I-I can manage.” MK chewed his cheek but tried to smile. 

“Everything’s under control. Don't worry, MK.” Pigsy placed a hand on his arm again and gave it a squeeze. 

“Right, yeah. On it, boss.” MK nodded to himself and went to the pot, giving Pigsy enough confidence to make his way to the bar where he finally freed his agitated piglet from her prison. 

“There you go, it's okay, you're okay,” Pigsy shushed, carefully holding her in one arm and setting the carrier down with the other. 

Li Na still continued to fuss though, threatening to wail as she kicked and failed her arms. Pigsy bit his cheek, trying to rock her but she kept trying to push him away. 

“Kid, it's okay, I'm just trying to help you, just let me help you,” Pigsy pleaded with her, trying to bring her back to his chest but that only made her angrier as the wailing began. 

Pigsy winced, trying to rock her instead, but that wasn't working either. She just kept crying and crying and crying, her face turning bright red and scrunched up. He tried digging through the diaper bag for something to help, but with how much squirming she was doing it was hard to be efficient with one arm. 

“C'mon, it's okay, you're okay,” the chef whispered, desperate to not stress MK out even more than he already was. 

God, this was such a mess. Sandy would've had it all figured out by now– he could read Li Na like a book, and he could help MK actually talk about his feelings. All Pigsy could do was bury his own feelings deep down and hope his kids didn't do the same. No wonder MK was like this, Pigsy was an exhausted mess too– he couldn't help anyone like this– he–

“Here, I got her formula for you.” MK suddenly appeared in front of Pigsy with a bottle in hand, startling the chef who needed a moment to comprehend. 

“I– uh– thank you,” Pigsy took it with hesitation, unsure if it would work. However, the second the bottle reached the infant's lips she started chugging away. 

Pigsy cursed himself internally for not even considering that could be the issue. 

“Thanks, kid. How'd you know?” Pigsy asked tiredly. 

MK shrugged. “She had that kinda clicky sound when she cried, and she only does that when she's hungry. I think it's because her tongue is in position for the bottle or something, I dunno.”

“Oh, yeah, I– uh– I guess she does,” Pigsy looked at her, shame weighing heavy in his chest. 

“A-anyways– um– soups on,” MK gave a big nervous smile.

“Right, yeah. Back to our cooking lesson,” Pigsy forced a weak one back. 

Taking a breath to ground himself, Pigsy got up and started making his way back to the counter. “You see, Li Na, the thing about good food is when you make it just right– the flavor, the feelin’– it all just comes rushing back to you,” Pigsy couldn't help but smile a little, thinking back to the last time he held MK in his arms in this very kitchen. If you do it just right, Li Na, it's more than ‘just food’, you know what I'm saying?” Pigsy looked at MK too. 

“Right! Yeah, Li Na, follow the recipe and it'll all be good,” MK patted his sister's head. 

“Oh– well– no, I, um–” Pigsy glanced at the noodle dish, when he realized MK– if he was following the directions to a tee as he claimed– missed an ingredient, and did a taste test to confirm. 

“Hmm… it's missin’ somethin’.... but what?” He teased his son a little, and panic quickly entered his eyes. 

“Wh-what?! But I followed the recipe perfectly, right?” MK went to flip through the cookbook before Pigsy rolled his eyes and let him have his own taste. 

Thankfully, that snapped MK out of fight-or-flight as he tasted it for a second before it must've clicked in his mind. He instantly stood upright and reached for the soy sauce. 

“Ahhh,” Pigsy winked encouragingly. “See kid, it's not always about following the recipe like it's written; sometimes you gotta feel it.” The chef smiled softly at the piglet as MK got bowls down and poured servings for the two of them. “And when you do, it becomes more than just food: it's home.”

“Oughhhh, it's so good,” MK laughed, tiredly picking the bowl up like he was talking to it. “Wish Li Na could try some, man, it's delicious.”

Pigsy chuckled, noticing Li Na was done with her bottle and quickly moved to start burping her, towel already on his shoulder. “Can't say I'm surprised. When I found– er– when you–... when you were a kid, this was your favorite.” He smiled tiredly at the memory, thinking back to the scrapbook. “I don't know when you stopped likin’ it so much, but–... but it always helped you sleep, so I figured–” 

A soft thud of MK resting his head against the bar, next to his bowl, made the chef chuckle. “Still works.” 

MK mumbled something in his sleep, and Pigsy rubbed a hand across his back until a small smile crept on his son's face. 

“Now for the hard part.” He cringed, thinking how he'd now have to carry both of his kids up the stairs to MK's room. 

Welp. He had no one but himself to blame, so may as well get to it. 

Pigsy worked quickly and efficiently, making sure Li Na was 100% satisfied and ready to go back in the carrier before he set it to “backpack mode” and placed her in. After that, he mentally prepared himself for how much his back was going to hurt in the morning, before scooping up his sleeping son and throwing him over his shoulder, trying his best to make sure no part of him was hitting Li Na. 

Immediately, Pigsy knew this was a stupid idea and that he should just text Sandy or Tang to come over to help. Instead, Pigsy stubbornly trudged up the stairs and into MK's apartment before all but dropping him onto the bed, before he too practically collapsed and sat. 

“You know… that… was a lot easier when you were little, kiddo.” Pigsy snorted. 

MK didn't respond in the slightest, those noodles really knocking the living daylights out of him. It was good to finally see him relax and hopefully, with time, the dark circles around his eyes could disappear. 

“Sorry I had to kinda trick you into sleeping, kiddo, but it's for your own good. You need to take care of yourself before you try and take care of me and your sister,” Pigsy chuckled a little as he heard Li Na coo behind him. 

“Oh yeah, your brother's a real hard worker, missy. He needs his rest so we can't be staying long,” he told the infant, though wasn't really motivated to move. 

He watched as MK's chest slowly raised and fell, over and over and over again in a rhythm that finally made Pigsy's own tense shoulders relax. He chuckled to himself as he instinctively reached and brushed his son's hair out of his eyes.

“I don't know how I ended up with you, but… I'm so glad I did,” he whispered. “I love you, son. Get some rest.”

Pigsy sat there for a while, softly stroking his son’s face and humming a lullaby out of habit. It seemed to help his son relax even more, a smile creeping on his resting face, making Pigsy feel like his heart could burst with pride and love. However, the chef knew he couldn’t stay forever, and so after finishing the song, he stood and turned off MK’s lights and left him to do as he was told.

Once outside, he let out a heavy, exhausted breath before going back to the restaurant where he took off the carrier and rearranged it to be front-facing once more. 

“You have fun with your cooking lesson, kiddo?” Pigsy asked, adjusting the straps. 

Li Na had no response, of course. Instead, she just watched her dad with big, curious eyes as he started gathering up all the baby supplies. 

“Glad you liked it cuz there's plenty more where that came from,” he teased and slung the bag over his shoulder before he looked at all the bowls and food still out. 

“Looks like we're coming back tomorrow anyways because I do not have the energy to clean all this up.” He snorted, which Li Na tried to copy. 

Pigsy chuckled. “Nice one, kid. Now let's get you home.” 

Li Na again attempted to snort, which Pigsy took as tired acceptance, so the two of them left the restaurant and headed homeward. 

.o0o. 

Despite Li Na waking up every two to three hours for food and changing, Pigsy actually felt somewhat at peace knowing his son was finally getting some rest. On top of that, Sandy was finally taking a day off as well, working on a “personal project” since it was Saturday. Tang didn't have work too, meaning he was home and relaxing as well. The only one not relaxing was Li Na, but she was still getting the hang of the “existing” thing, so it was fine. Besides, she was getting good at sleeping (much better than the previous three months), so he was relieved and proud nonetheless. 

“You know, call me crazy, but I feel like we're actually starting to get the hang of this whole ‘baby parenting’ thing,” Tang joked, lifting Li Na in the air while he sat on the couch, making her squeal in delight. 

“Compared to how we handled MK? Definitely,” Pigsy agreed as he repacked the diaper bag so they could go back and clean the restaurant.

“Oh, c'mon hon, that's not fair– he snuck up on us,” Tang pointed out, putting Li Naback down. 

“Literally,” the chef snarked. 

Tang rolled his eyes. “I don't know, I don't think we were terrible or anything– he's still alive, isn't he?” 

“By a miracle.” Pigsy shook his head. “I still remember the beach incident.”

“Hey! That wasn't my fault! And in my defense, he's probably literally made of stone! And it's not like he was drowning or anything, I just–” The scholar got all red and flustered, making his daughter giggle. “You mock my pain, Li-Li.”

“Clever girl,” Pigsy smirked as his husband shot a dirty look. 

“Well, if she's going to be like that then she doesn't get any more upies.” Tang stuck his nose up and Li Na's face fell. 

“Tang…” Pigsy cautioned, noticing her face already beginning to twist and redden for a cry. 

Tang looked back and noticed too, before immediately correcting his error and lifting her back into the air. “It's a good thing I'm not though, because you're such a cutie! Yes you are! Yes you are!” he said, lowering to kiss her cheek before raising her again and again. 

Pigsy smirked and shook his head. “You're such a sap.”

“You are too! Yes he is, yes he is!” Tang fought back without stopping his little game. 

The chef rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I'm all packed, we good to go now?” 

“You know, I don't understand the purpose of taking MK all the way to the restaurant when you could've just made him food here,” Tang quipped, standing up and cradling his daughter, who was slightly less upset than before that their game had ended (though she did reach up at him with excited arms). 

“It was for the lesson! Plus, kid needed to sleep in his own bed so he wouldn't be woken up by Li Na for once,” Pigsy pointed out, getting the carrier ready for Tang. 

“You just wanted to check up on the place again, didn't you?” Tang raised a playful eyebrow. 

“And if I did?” Pigsy dared his husband to question him as he handed the carrier off

Tang chuckled, kissing Pigsy's cheek as they swapped Li Na. “Big sap.” 

“Oy,” Pigsy rolled his eyes yet again, bouncing Li Na a little as he did. “Can't a man have some peace in his own home?” 

“I think even you should know by now the answer to that is ‘no’,” Tang snarked, clicking all the buckles. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get a move on.” Pigsy placed her in the carrier with her chest against Tang's, and this time Tang kissed him on the lips. 

“Maybe you can whip me up a bowl of noodles while we're there too, hm?” he teased, his fingers tracing up Pigsy's shoulders flirtatiously. 

“Freeloader,” Pigsy scoffed. 

“My darling husband.” Tang batted his eyelashes. 

“Yeah, yeah, let's try and get going before sundown,” Pigsy stopped the banter before they got too carried away, and so the couple (+ baby) headed downtown. 

Of course, the walk wasn’t long since it was just the three blocks, but “somehow” Tang’s ankles were already hurting, so he “rested” by the bar and played with Li Na while Pigsy started cleaning on his own. 

“You know, I’m kinda surprised you’ve been handling the whole ‘stay at home dad’ thing so well so far– I really thought by now you’d be itching to just open this place again– or at least be writhing with envy at the fact that Golden Hog’s open right now,” Tang pointed out, eyeing the window of the rival restaurant across the street. 

“It’s nice to know you have confidence in me,” Pigsy huffed, scrubbing off some sauce from a bowl. 

“Oh, come on– I’m allowed to make comments based on years of observation and learning now, aren’t I? Besides, it’s a compliment. You’re doing well,” Tang gave a small smile. 

Pigsy just hummed a little, continuing his work. 

“Then again, when you get to spend almost all day every day with this lil’ cutie, I can see why,” Tang scrunched his nose and took Li Na out of the carrier to cradle and bounce her. 

“Yep, she’s my favorite little freeloader,” the chef teased, setting the dish on the drying rack. 

Tang gasped in offense. “I’m wounded, Pigsy. You’ve wounded me.” 

“Take it up with the baby, I’m sure she’d love to hear why you’re better than her.” Pigsy waved off, grabbing some more pots and spoons to clean. 

“...Am I at least your favorite big freeloader?” Tang asked cautiously. 

Pigsy laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Wow. You did it. You wounded me again,” Tang sighed dramatically, which made Li Na laugh and reach at his scarf with excitement. “How can you live with yourself?” 

“Knowing that this is payback for all of the many, many noodles I've cooked over the years,” Pigsy gave his husband a wink. 

Tang stuttered to think of a comeback, but didn't manage to get one out before there was a loud squealing of tires outside and someone burst through the bamboo flap. 

“Heyo my favorite-set-of-dads and niece-y! How's it hanging?” Mei grinned wide as she took off her motorcycle helmet. 

“Mei! It's so good to see you,” Tang practically jumped to hug her with one arm. 

“Yeah! What're you guys even doing here though? Aren't you staying closed for another two months?” Mei looked to the chef. 

“I'm cleaning up from an impromptu late night meal I made last night for MK,” Pigsy explained casually. 

“Oh, sick! He doing okay?” she asked, pulling up a stool next to where Tang sat again. 

Pigsy's shoulders tensed a little before he shrugged. “He's resting now.” 

“Oh, that's good. I noticed him being wayyyy more active on my late-night streams than he normally does. That's good.” Her eyes wandered back to the little four-month-old. “Omg–! Is this Li Na's first outing? That's so cool! I gotta take a photo!” 

Pigsy paused. “Ah– well– actually she was with me last night–” 

“Shushhushhushhushshhhh–  I'm taking photos.” Mei grinned, taking out her phone and snapping picture after picture of Li Na looking at her with her head tilted in confusion and curiosity. 

Pigsy couldn't help but laugh and shake his head, putting the last few dishes on the drying rack before taking out one of his bigger pots and boiling water yet again. 

Mei perked up. “Ooo, you cooking for Li Na too? That's so cute!” 

“Nah, this is just to satisfy the freeloader, since Li Na's too young,” Pigsy sighed dramatically. 

“Ah, right, can't make her sick in the tum-tum, got it.” Mei nodded wisely. “Though– uh– can that be for two freeloaders?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. 

“You people are gonna be the death of me.” Pigsy shook his head as if he wasn't already planning to. 

“Teehee,” Mei giggled, making Li Na giggle too. “Ough, she's just too cute! How do you people get anything done around her?!” Mei booped her snout. 

“Lots of practice,” Tang laughed, offering to let Mei hold her, which she immediately accepted. 

“Well, call me untrained because all I wanna do is play with this cutie patootie, yes I do, yes I do,” Mei grinned wide as she tickled Li Na with one hand, filling the restaurant with piglet squeals. 

Pigsy couldn't help but smile as the restaurant came to life with cooking, chatter, and laughter as Tang and Mei caught up while keeping the piglet entertained. He could actually relax when it was like this, when he knew exactly where all his loved ones were and that they were safe and happy. He loved feeling like he could provide for them– that he could watch over and protect them. It was something of a scarce feeling these days, so Pigsy would soak it up while he could. 

Pigsy was about half way through cooking a massive pot of zha jiang noodle soup, when there was a massive truck that parked just outside. At first, Pigsy worried that the delivery company forgot the restaurant was closed, but one glance outside revealed it was just Sandy with his new pet project. 

“OMG! Sandy! And Mo!!!!! Hi Mo!!!!!” Mei ran out the door and waved, piglet still in arm and squinting and squirming at the sudden sunlight. 

“Mei, don't run off with her,” Pigsy cautioned, not taking his eyes off of the bamboo he was slicing. 

Thankfully, she heeded the warning, as Sandy came to them instead of vice versa. 

“Wow! Nice surprise seeing you all here.” Sandy smiled big, Mo perched on his shoulder. “What's the occasion?” 

“Clean up turned late lunch hangout,” Pigsy explained, adding the vegetables to the pot. 

“And here I thought maybe you'd actually take a day to relax,” Sandy teased. 

Mei laughed, sitting back down on her stool. “This is Piggy we're talking about– he wouldn't know relaxation if it hit him in the head.”

Pigsy scoffed, but let the insults come. He didn't feel like explaining the nuances of his hobby, and was perfectly content knowing they were having a good time trying to roast him anyway– or at least Mei was. Sandy and Tang moreso just laughed along. As for Li Na, she reached and grasped at Mei's jacket while oinking here and there before she started to grow tired. 

By the time soup was up, Pigsy recognized she was on the verge of getting cranky, and so ordered Tang to take her before serving up everyone's meals. 

“Wow, Pigsy, are you psychic or something? How'd you know to make enough for Sandy too?” Mei asked before eating a spoonful. 

Pigsy shrugged. “I always make more than enough because I know a certain freeloader is gonna ask for more.” He shot Tang a dramatic look, to which his husband grinned. “Besides, I wanted to make enough for MK too in case he heard all the noise and decided to come down.”

“Oh yeah, he must be real conked out right now, huh?” Mei spat out bits of sauce. 

“Must be.” Pigsy shrugged and handed her a napkin. “I should probably check on him soon.”

“Ah, MK's fine, Pigsy. He's just a very sleep-deprived adult. If he's resting, I say let him,” Tang waved off. 

“Yeah, yeah, you're right, I'm just being paranoid,” Pigsy let out a tired sigh. “I think I'm in need of some sleep too.”

Sandy smiled at him pitifully. “I can help out at night too, you know.” 

“Bah, you got your trucks and boats to work on,” Pigsy waved off and Mei immediately snickered. 

“That's our Pigsy, ladies and gentlemen,” She clapped with a shit-eating grin. 

“I can and will charge you for that bowl, Miss Dragon Heiress.” Pigsy squinted at her. 

Mei squinted right back but said nothing, eating more. 

Pigsy ate in smug satisfaction. 

The “late lunch” ended up lasting hours, the gang all laughing and talking and taking care of Li Na and feeling normal together. Pigsy hadn't realized just how isolated and disconnected he felt being locked up in his apartment all day every day, but now that he was here it was like a breath of fresh air. If Pigsy could find a way to capture the moment in a bottle for him to access whenever, he would. 

However, the longer it went on, the more… off Pigsy felt. Despite Sandy and Tang's assurances, he couldn't help but worry why MK hadn't wandered his way down yet. It was true MK had slept an entire 24 hours before, but something deep in Pigsy's gut told him something wasn't right. He tried to ignore it, especially whenever Li Na needed him, but it continued to nag at the back of his mind even as the conversation went outside to Sandy's new truck. 

“OMG!!! It looks just like Mo! That's so cute, Sandy!” Mei admired the headlights and grill. 

“My little guy does so much for me, it's the least I can do for him,” Sandy smiled softly, giving the cat a nice scratch on the chin. 

Pigsy thought it was corny, but knew not to say anything. Instead, he kept on wiping down the counter near the outdoor bar, where Tang was eating his third bowl and wearing Li Na in the carrier. 

“Omg-!! Is that a little kitty cat-patterned car seat?! That's so cute! We gotta get Li Na in it!” Mei beamed excitedly into the vehicle's windows. 

Pigsy looked at the time. “Maybe later kiddo, we gotta start wrapping up soon.” 

“Awww, I don't wanna go home. Home is lame and I want more delicious noodlessss,” Mei whined. 

“I have some leftovers if you want em,” Pigsy offered, and Mei immediately grinned. 

“Man, Dadsy, you're the best,” She gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. He responded with his own tired one that made Tang chuckle. 

“You sure Li Na's our first daughter?” Tang smirked. 

“Yeah, shut up.” Pigsy scrubbed harder to avoid the stupid look on his stupid husband's stupid face. 

“You know, I got a feeling that this baby is built to last.” Sandy patted his handy work, andthat sense of unease in Pigsy went into complete overdrive right before a sword fell from the sky and right onto Sandy's truck before three louder crashes destroyed the carrier. 

As if almost triggering a heart attack from the sheer volume and damage alone weren't enough, Pigsy could make out the familiar groans of pain from MK, making his heart sink into his stomach. 

“MK?! What– are you okay?! What just happened?! Pigsy exclaimed, rushing out of the restaurant. 

“Aha– we have to go.” MK hopped up just fine, though had a look of extreme panic on his face. 

“Does that have anything to do with the fact that the ominous cracks are back in the sky?” Tang questioned, pointing up. 

Oh god…

“It's okay! We got a plan!” Sun Wukong smiled and patted MK's back like it was no big deal (as per usual). 

“Oh, do we, huh? We don’t even know if these magical pillar healing stones are real,” Macaque bit back, filling Pigsy with rage towards the Monkey King for the millionth time, especially when he realized all the noise had woken Li Na from her nap and she was starting to wail. Tang was handling it, of course, but it still was enough to make the elder pig demon growl. 

“W-what if going after the stones is just another tricky plan by tricky plan demon– like this is exactly what they want? Wh–... what if we really just are chaos..?” MK paced with anxiety, and Pigsy wanted nothing more than to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him that whatever he was talking about, it was okay and they'd be fine. 

However, Wukong beat him to it. “Listen bud, the only thing I know for sure is I don't trust anyone who isn't standing right here, right now.” He looked around the street, making Pigsy feel slightly bad for getting so angry at him.

Slightly. 

“If those stones are important,” Wukong continued, “then the safest place for them to be is with us.” 

“Uh… what?” Pigsy finally got the chance to ask just as a bunch of sigils appeared in the sky. 

“It feels like we're still missing something important here,” Tang pointed out, looking at the sky while he tried patting Li Na's back to soothe her. 

“Oh– Yeah! We're– uh– sorta on the run from the celestial realm,” MK confessed, scratching his neck. 

“I'm sorry– what?!” Pigsy exclaimed. 

“I-I can explain, but we really gotta get going,” MK urged. 

“What?! But what about Li Na? She's only four months old!” Tang added, the parents sharing a worried look. 

“Yeah, well too bad, she's an accomplice now, so let’s get a move on,” MK urged, and terror settled in its usual spot in Pigsy's stomach. Just then, celestial soldiers teleported down all around them in pillars of light, armed and ready for battle. 

“Yep–! Go now, people! Now, now!” MK laughed nervously, grabbing Mei's arm as he looked for an exit. 

“Yeah, you probably shouldn't have messed up Sandy's fancy-schmancy new truck,” Mei pointed to the wreckage, which MK seemed to just now notice. 

“Oh-! A truck! Yes, I can make one,” MK quickly decided, twirling his staff around before he hit the ground. It caused a blast that thankfully pushed away the celestial armies while also making the remains of the truck turn into a proper and overcomplicated getaway vehicle. 

“Okay-! Everybody in!” MK called, looking around as the soldiers readied to fight again. 

Pigsy froze momentarily, unsure of who to help or how, when Tang grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the truck, his other hand covering Li Na's head. 

Right– yes, Li Na was here– Li Na was in danger– MK could handle himself, but Li Na was just a baby– he'd be okay, MK would be okay, Li Na would not, not if he froze– not if he–

“Pigsy, come on,” Tang urged at the open door and Pigsy snapped out of his spiral to quickly shuffle inside, taking Li Na out of the carrier and into the car seat MK had thankfully thought to include just as Wukong let out a painful cry somehow louder than Li Na's. 

“What on earth is going on around here?” Pigsy muttered, digging through the diaper bag for Li Na's blanket while Tang tried patting her chest to keep her calm. 

“If the sky cracks are back, it can't be anything good.” Sandy gave his friend a somewhat grim look through the rear-view mirror. 

“Great, okay, good, just great.” Tang’s eyes started twitching. “And here I thought maybe everything was okay for once and that we were having a good time but nope! No peace in this family, no siree, we’re monster magnets and we’re never going to know peace a day in our lives until we die and–” His rant was interrupted by Wukong and MK suddenly falling into the truck from a shadow portal.

The second they were in, Sandy shifted the vehicle into gear and floored it on out of there, MK sticking his head out of the window to look back at whatever fight was still happening with Macaque. 

“H-He’ll make it out of there, right?” He looked at Wukong, whose eyes were distant with shock. “He always gets away… right?” 

The king didn’t seem capable of answering. 

“I’m sure he’ll be okay, kid. Macaque’s a tough one,” Pigsy tried to comfort, though was distracted by Li Na still wailing. 

“R-right, yeah, he’ll–...” MK again glanced at his mentor, before just falling back into his seat and hanging his head back. 

The kid somehow looked even more exhausted than before. 

Pigsy finally found the quilt Sandy made for Li Na and gave it to her, stroking her cheek gently twice to maximize her comfort. After a bit of that, she was able to stop her shrieking, which was only a slight relief to all other passengers as now the car had a tense atmosphere of uncertainty and pain no one knew how to address. 

Pigsy wasn’t surprised when Tang suddenly held his hand, and he gave it the strongest squeeze he could before reaching and placing a hand on MK’s shoulder, squeezing it too. 

“We’ll figure this out, kid, I promise.” Pigsy forced a weak, but hopefully encouraging smile. 

MK sniffled and put a hand over Pigsy’s. “God, I hope so.” 

“Hey now, there’s nothin’ we can’t figure out as a team, alright? We got this,” the chef insisted, trying to sway both MK and himself as he did. 

“Right… right, yeah, we got this… together?” MK smiled. 

Pigsy nodded. “Together.” 

[fantasyinvader]

You know, it makes sense that people don't trust Rhea or the Church… at first. The game does make them seem shady as hell at the beginning, and we're even told to be wary of Rhea. But when you take into consideration Verdant Wind, how Claude says that it's important to get to know people rather than cling to faulty first impressions, it really should be telling the player something there. That despite those initial impressions, you're the one leading the Church right now trying to save Rhea from a tyrant. Claude is realizing the Church and Rhea don't have to be his enemies, and when you look at Seteth's solo ending (minus the translation making him sound intolerant before) he works towards Claude's ideal regardless of route. Meanwhile, Claude is also figuring out how the Agarthans tried to feed him information to turn him against Rhea.

His power of friendship speech, him being willing to reach out to the Church in friendship, is the climax of his character growth. Rather than trying to use people like pieces on a chess board, he's willing to work legitimately with others. He finds out the truth about Rhea, and in his S support reveals that he views people relying on her (as they will with Byleth) as a good thing whereas before he believed that people could only rely on themselves. He learns that Rhea was one of the few survivors of her people being wiped out, having to hide the truth and even glorify the allies of the one who did it. He saw her as an outsider herself. Claude is also the one to point out that Rhea had people from not just from the countries at Fodlan but people from other countries, including having a woman from Dagda as one of her knights, at Garreg Mach as well as how the Church doesn't actually preach isolationism.

Claude's arc realizes he was wrong. That as an outsider, he came in and started making assumptions based on a lack of knowledge or being fed misleading information by the bad guys. Just like the player can be if they pick the Black Eagles class. It's why Byleth's flag, a symbol linking the route to Buddhism, is also present in Verdant Wind as it's the only route where Claude ultimately realized people were trying to manipulate him, so he didn't allow their narrative to guide his actions. It's CLAUDE'S enlightenment, as he wasn't tempted from the proper course of action. If he believes so strongly that people of other faiths should be accepted, he should be trying to help the Church against those attempting to wipe them out. And this path results in Claude not just fighting the person that the Agarthans used to commit genocide. Can't be any more "fuck racism" than that.

But instead of accepting all that, we have people who want Claude to kill Rhea, still believing that she's the cause of racism in Fodlan despite how Claude realizes that isn't the case. They want Claude to side with the person who flat out told him she can't leave Fodlan in his hands because he's not from Fodlan despite the translation making it sound like they hold the same beliefs (at least, until Claude grows out of them as part of his character arc). They like the version of Claude that says he could never be friends with Dimitri, despite Dimitri working to help the people of Duscur, and pisses off Sylvain when Sylvain would otherwise have worked to fix the issues with Streng. Instead of the Claude who knew the Empire wouldn't accept taking an L against the Alliance and returned with Almyran forces to stop another attempt by the Agarthans to take over, they want the Claude who seems confused people would be upset at him invading their countries and killing their families.

Verdant Wind, really, puts the Church into it's proper context. It looks suspect, it acts shady, but if you actually take the time and pay attention to the world… they're not the bad guys you were expecting them to be. No, they're the group the actual bad guys, the ones behind Fodlan's problems, wants to take out.

But instead, people don't want that story and insist Claude's delusional idiot self from Hopes is who he really is. Really, it's kinda telling how people reject his story because they don't want to change their mind in the face of the game's reveals. They can't accept the message of a game written for middle-schoolers.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl: pt 3

If you're new to this series, check out part 1 here, and part 2 here! Also, if you like my writing, check out what else I've written! Enjoy :))

Dane sulked the whole way home, eyes downcast, feet dragging. His gelato melted in his hands, long after I had finished mine, and I watched him in awkward silence. It did neither of us any good to push him, I had realised. Dane would open up to me when Dane wished to do so.

His hand engulfed mine, a steady pressure against my palm. “Katherine,” he said finally, whence we approached his family home, “Are we in danger?”

My initial instinct was to laugh at his innocence, but the look on his face stopped me. There was a quiet fear beneath his skin, on his crumpled brows and tense body, a fear that belied his youth. I sighed and rested my head against his arm, stroking him like I would a kitten. “It will be alright,” I told him, in tones softer than I was used to. “Whilst I am around, they won't lay a finger on you.”

Dane bit his lip and unlocked the door. “Come in,” he told me absentmindedly, and I followed him into his home. “It's just…” He looked away, hunched ever so slightly into himself.

“You're frightened,” I finished for him, and smoothed a lock of his hair back. 

“No!” He yanked himself away from me. “I'm not scared, alright? Just- You know-” He stuttered and trailed off again. 

Young men and their insecurity, always needing to seem strong and brave. “Denying your emotions isn't gonna help anyone,” I told him flatly. “And if you weren't scared, you're more of a fool than I'd thought.”

Dane looked away. “There’s so many of them and only two of us,” he whispered, slumping onto the couch. “How can we fight them all?”

I settled next to him, smiling slightly. “We all die someday,” I offered. “And the worst they can do to you is kill you.”

He shot me a glare, and whined, “That's not helpful!”

With a shrug, I threw my hand around his shoulder. He was always so warm, like resting on the stones of the riverbank beneath the sun. “But it is, Dane. Don't fear Death. I’ve met him before, and he's a rather decent lad. Just like you,” I told him, squishing his cheeks. “Besides, I've been telling you about the dangers this whole time. Why fret now?”

“I'd never seen someone… Like that, you know? She wasn't human, and she knew you. Besides, she had those vibes! It was like she was a cryptid or something,” he told me, eyes wide with passion.

“That's because she is,” I replied. “Or something close enough to it. You were lucky she didn't notice you, you know? You're doing a damn good job at keeping up appearances, kiddo.” A better job than me, I thought bitterly. So much for being a perfectly normal schoolgirl.

Dane beamed at the praise. “I was practising every day, just like you told me to!” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Wait- Does that mean I passed the test?”

I considered it. He'd done well, that was for sure. I'd seen precious few youths who picked up subtlety and discretion quite as fast as him. Nonetheless, he was lacking in all other areas. His discipline faltered at every corner. He was atrocious at fighting. There was not a scrap of wisdom hammered into his brain.

Mrs C.'s ominous grin loomed in the back of my mind. With my and Dane's association, it would only be a matter of time before she picked him as her next target. When that time came, I would hardly be in a position to protect him, without shedding what precious little cover I still maintained.

“It will be difficult,” I warned him. “And it will hurt.”

With all the panache of immaturity, he jerked his head up and down. “I know,” he told me. “And I'll do it! Come on, you said I did well, didn't I?”

Damn that guileless faith on his face. I did not deserve it, did not deserve to hold this boy's fate in my hands, did not deserve his trust and affection. And I could not accept his blood on my skin, were he not ready for the attack that would eventually come. 

“Alright,” I said softly. “Get ready. We do this at midnight.”

(Look at me using my brand new taglist for the first time!!)

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@ramitola, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

The One That Got Away: Part. One

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry this one took a while to get going. I was stuck for a while, trying to get it going. But here it is! I hope eveyone is having a blessed morning!

Characters: (Past) Mob Lloyd Hansen x Reader, (Now) Mob Ari Levinson x Reader, Mob Lloyd Hansen x Maria Cantoni (OC)

Before I shut up, I just wanted to thank these beautiful ladies and for helping me beta this chapter! @adulting-sucks @hollybee8917 and @princessofdarkwinter​ 

Love you guys!

Also, the only warning in her is SMUT! 

Two Years Later

Lloyd Hansen lay in his study after a long day of work dealing with the many clubs he owned. His wife had called him and texted asking when he would come home. He usually gives her a vague answer or doesn’t reply at all, and he hopes she takes the hint, which she does.

He felt terrible for not giving her the attention she craved, but he married her on his father’s orders. She was a lovely pretty lady that every man would want to marry, a train to housewife by her family. But she lacked something that he couldn’t pinpoint. Intimacy was non-existent; the only time that id with her was on their wedding night when both families made sure to have people guarding outside to make sure it happened. She had tried many times after, but Lloyd always made excuses to avoid it. 

The day you left him two years ago broke him completely. He knew he broke the promise he had made you, the promise of the world, and always be yours forever, and here he is now with another woman he called wife that is not you.

Maria Cantoni was her name, the daughter of his late father’s best friend. It was written and agreed upon that they would get married when they reached their age. In the beginning, Lloyd didn’t like her, and she didn’t like him. It went on for years till one day, things changed, and she began to have a different personality from him. During that time, he met you, and his life was changed.

But of course, here he was now, husband to Maria. There were times he had tried to be a faithful husband and, of course, tried to accept his fate. He occasionally comes home with flowers or some small gift for her. If he remembers a good morning and good night kiss. But it never settled with him because he always hoped it would be you.

His thought shifted and was now filled with you. God, he missed you. You could handle his short temper, impulsive nature, anger problems, etc. You had your way of controlling him, and he liked it cause you kept him grounded. Of course, the argument would get heated, and you both would never give in but he always would be the one that gives in at the end and of course, the angry makeup sex was the best. 

He heard a knock interrupting his thoughts. Anger came on when the door opened, only to see his wife, Maria.

“Lloyd, you’re home-“

“I thought I told you no one is allowed in here!” Lloyd yelled, getting up from the couch.

“I’m sorry, but you haven’t replied to my calls-“

“Get out!” Lloyd yelled. Maria’s eyes started to water, but he didn’t care for some reason.

“DIDN’T I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?! GET OUT NOW!” Lloyd yelled once more. Maria slammed the door and ran; Lloyd felt no remorse for making her cry.

 **

Beep

Beep

Your alarm went off. You moaned, rolling over onto your back. Rubbing your eyes, you felt a pair of warm solid arms against you. You smiled and turned to face him, his thick beard, long dark brown hair, and blue eyes. He smiled, and your heart melted.

“Morning, beautiful.” His rich baritone came. You placed your hand on his cheek and reached over to place a morning kiss on his plump and very kissable lips. Pulling away, Ari placed his forehead against yours.

You lay in the arms of your best friend. Since Lloyd had broken your heart, you never thought you’d find someone else. You didn’t know that you would be here in this place OR that you and your best friend decided to explore more than just friendship. 

Ari had been there for you. He told you that he would be there for you since you unexpectedly showed up at his house. What you didn’t expect was to fall for him. 

One night, you found Ari in the backyard after putting little Penny to bed; one thing led to another, and here you were. The only difference, though, is that you now wore a ring. A ring that was not from the man you thought it would be from. When Ari asked you about your life with Lloyd one night, you told him that you had moved on and that it was the past. That allowed Ari to fill the cracks Lloyd had left.

Before anything could happen, your phone rang, and you sighed. You reach over to see a message. You clicked on it, and you sat up immediately.

“It’s from Carrie, the nurse at Mass Gen Children's Hospital,” you said. Ari sat up and raised his eyebrow.

“Is everything all right?” Ari asked as you continued reading the message.

“We need to head to the hospital as soon as possible. She’s heading into chemo and crying,” you said, throwing your phone back onto the bed as you got up.

“Y/N-“

“I knew I should have stayed, but Carrie told-“

“Y/N, Penny is in good hands; mark my word,” Ari said, knowing how powerful he was.

You paused and turned around to see Ari getting out of bed in only his jammie pants. As much as you loved that Ari was built like a Greek God, you had to get to the hospital.  Ari looked at you and laughed as he walked past you into the bathroom.

“The bathroom is open!” Ari yelled.

You bit your bottom lip and went inside, closing the door behind you. You saw something that always made your ovaries explode: your man, walking into your rather large shower, built muscle, and his ass screaming for you to squeeze it; his tattoos always made you drool.

He placed his large, strong hands against your cheeks as his thumbs rubbed against your soft skin. You began to undress and walked into the steamy shower. You closed the door behind you and were immediately thrown against the cold tiles.

“God, I love you so much,” Ari said, crushing his lips against yours. You moaned against his mouth as his tongue forced its way into yours as your hands traveled down his delicious torso to his hardening cock. You wrapped your tiny hands around his thick length and began to stroke him.

Ari pulled his kiss away from your lips as he traveled down your neck and hit your spot. You let out a small, light moan as he sucked your skin on your favorite spot. He went down to your breasts as he took one nipple in his mouth, the other groped with his free hand. His tongue swirled around your hardening nub, causing you to scream in pleasure as he bit down, making your head go back.

You let go of his cock as you looked up at Ari, his piercing blue eyes filled with lust. Licking your lips, you kneeled before him, his cock strained in front of you. You started at the bottom of his shaft and licked your way up to his spongy head. You swallowed him whole as Ari let out a primal growl, his hands wrapped around your head. You sucked, slurped, and went in deep, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck baby-“ Ari moaned as he leaned his head back. You pulled away, and Ari helped you back onto your feet. He kissed you once more and then turned you around, your hands on the wall, as he spread your legs apart. His fingers brushed against your spine, making you shiver. He held his heavy cock in his hands and ran it against your dripping pussy. You let out a loud hiss as he entered you, his length stretching you as he filled your hole. His hands gripped your shoulders as he began to thrust into you, enjoying the warmth of the shower as you both rode out your endings. 

**

You arrived at the hospital alone as your driver pulled up, sad that Ari had to be in the office, but he would meet you later. You got out as Sammy followed you, along with Curtis, as you walked into the Oncology Department of  Mass Gen Children’s Hospital. You had her favorite Pooh Bear and her favorite blankie in your hands. Waving to the staff, you paused for a second in front of the last door before you opened it. You saw her nurse Carrie, reading to her while she sat on her bed. Carrie looked up and smiled, causing your daughter to turn, her big bright smile coming through.

“Mama!” she said with joy, despite all that had happened to her. You felt your heart break but put on a brave face for your little girl.

“Hi, Penny Bear!” you said as you walked towards her, her Pooh Bear in front of you. Her hazel eyes glowed, and she clapped her hands.

“Poo Bear!” she said happily as you bent down and kissed her forehead.

“Were there any changes today before I came?” you asked, sitting next to Penny, who laid her head next to you. You hoped that it was good news today, but by the look on Carrie’s face, it wasn’t good.

“Unfortunately, it hasn’t changed, but we are still looking for a donor for her,” Carrie said.

“And I’m grateful for that,” you said sadly as Carrie got up and placed her hand on top of hers.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything,” she said as she made her way out the door. Once the door closed, you looked down at your daughter, thoughts of Lloyd in your mind. It had been years since you’d last thought about him. You’d moved on, but your daughter had his blood; sometimes, you were tempted to call him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to make that call.

He broke your heart and promises, and nothing can patch that wound up. Even when you love another man, you know that scar is still there.

He was married to another woman, but you couldn’t contact him because you were now tied to Ari, and the Hansen Family and Levinson Families were enemies

[idabbleincrazy]

You're Welcome ~ A Missing Scenes Fic

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: E

Pairing: Spangel, mentions of Cangel & Spuffy

Characters: Spike, Angel, Cordelia

Word Count: 7107

Warnings: Missing scene fic 5x12, angst, minor fluff, grief, emotional hurt/comfort, canon character death, blood drinking, Sire/Childe dynamics, smut, oral, intimate sex, anal fingering, anal, coming untouched, coming on command, solace

Summary: Spike helps Angel through his grief. Angel gives them a kind of comfort they both have needed for a long time.

A/N: I actually started this fic over two years ago, about the same time I'd started Destiny, and I am soo sorry it's taken so long to get this one finished! I may have lost the thread somewhere along the line, but I think it still works. Also, think of this as my 'except that one...' fic, as to me, Spike referring to him and Angel being intimate would be more than just regular sex, and specifically post-soul.

*Edit: forgot to mention a huge thanx to @leatafandom for giving major parts of this a beta read!

Squares Filled: "Could you stay a bit longer?" for @fandombingo , Leap of Faith for @anyfandomfluffbingo

Become a Patron Tip Jar Help me save for dental surgery

“You guys go on ahead to the bar, I’ll wait for Captain Forehead and the Cheerleader and we’ll catch up.” 

Spike headed back through the parking garage and made his way upstairs to fetch the pair of stragglers. Angel was still staring at the spot where Cordelia had been standing before the phone rang when Spike walked through the office doors. 

“Angel, Cord, are you two comin’ or-”

Spike stilled when he saw Angel standing in the middle of the otherwise empty room, looking around for Cordelia.

“Girlie off takin’ a powder? Angel?” Spike finally noticed the pained look on Angel’s and the tears in his eyes. He took a breath and the taste of grief hit him like a punch to the gut. “Angel, what...what happened? Where’s Cordelia?”

“She’s dead, Spike.” Angel’s voice was a faint whisper and Spike dashed forward quickly over to him as his legs buckled. Spike caught him around the middle just before his knees hit the carpet, shouldering his way under Angel’s arm and leading him over to the couch by the window. “She never even actually woke up, not really. She told me it was her gift from the Powers, to have one last day with us, to set us, set me, back on track. She’s gone, Will.”

“Cor, we’ve got to stop fallin’ for breakable little humans. No good ever comes of it, does it?” Spike kept his hold on Angel and Angel let his head fall to his shoulder, slumping against him with a sound somewhere between a huff of amused agreement and a sob. With the lack of space between them, Spike could smell her scent clinging to him, trailing from his breath. It smelt of love, of longing and peace. They’d kissed, and she’d poured every bit of herself into it, let it wrap around Angel like a veil. Spike couldn’t help but envy her for that. Being able to give herself to his Sire like that, in a way he knew Angel would never accept from him. He shook it off, knowing precisely the acute type of pain he was feeling. “I’m sorry, luv. She was a special bird, that one. Even before the Powers set their sights on ‘er. Brave as they come, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah. And so strong. God, the things she lived through, and she never gave up. Just always kept fighting, no matter what the Powers put her through. She deserved more than just twenty-three years in this world...” 

Spike could smell the renewed tang of tears as Angel spoke and he couldn’t help but to reach a hand around to card his fingers through strands of gel-stiffened hair. It’s what he did, wasn’t it? What he was. Cold comfort to soften the pain. Always that. Dru, Dawn, the Scoobies, Buffy, Anya...always turned to him when the loss was at its freshest. Needed the cold of his arms, his lips, his body, to chase away the white-hot flare of grief. Only to leave him there, chilled beyond the bone, once the tears dried. Except Dawn, of course. The Li’l Bit, at least, had seen him as more than just a shoulder to soak up all that salt. Had come to him as a friend, to hang out and watch whatever was on T.V., or just talk about the goings-on of the day. Before the reason for the soul, anyway. After, Buffy had come close to it, he was no longer her pillow to scream all her rage into then, had even held him back that last night, the closest they had come to being equal. More than he had ever dared to ask for, to even hope of receiving from her. 

His thoughts ran their course as he listened to the soft sobs of his Grandsire, felt the wet of his tears spread through the fabric of his shirt, and just held him. He could tell the worst of it was being held back, the demon warring with the soul for its weakness at such emotion. Knew how Angelus was in there, rattling the bars and spitting venom. Had spat venom at himself for crying that night and so many nights after, all one hundred and forty-seven of them. Couldn’t stand to see Angel struggle against the pain like this.

“‘S alright, Liam. It’s alright to grieve for her, Sire, no matter that the demon says otherwise. It’s not weak to cry for the loss of love.” Spike held him closer, his own eyes stinging in sympathy for Angel’s pain. He felt a hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt, and his dead heart clenched in sorrow. “Shh, Angel, it’s okay. Just let it out.”

And he did, then. A wail of misery, the likes of which Spike hadn’t heard since a similar sound had been torn from his own throat nearly three years ago. High-pitched and keening, like an injured animal, the pained sound filled the air, bounced off the walls of the office and back to them. Spike clenched his eyes shut at the sheer rage he felt lying beneath the layers of it, and clutched Angel even closer, one hand rubbing slowly along his arm as his Grandsire howled out his despair into the hollow of his throat. 

How long they stayed like this, Angel’s face buried in his shirt, tears soaking into the thin cotton, Spike couldn’t say. He felt tears roll down his own cheeks as the minutes ticked by, the evidence of Angel’s pain tearing at his heart in a way he hadn't realized he was still capable of feeling for the elder vampire after what they’d gone through the past few months. 

Eventually, Angel’s sobs died away, but the brunette made no move to pull away. Instead, he merely turned his head slightly, so that his nose brushed along the curve of Spike's throat. Spike stiffened as Angel nuzzled into his neck. Great, here he was again, an empty vessel for the ones he loved to pour their pain and grief into, needed only for the night and then shunned and shoved away in the morning; Drusilla had needed him at night but wailed for Angelus throughout the day, Buffy had taken him into her body in the dark shadows of Sunnydale but cried out for Angel when morning came, and now the one he could never be, the one he’d had to pretend he didn’t need just as much as they did, was holding onto him like a lifeline, needing him to save him from drowning. If only Spike could believe he wouldn’t cast him back out into the churning waters when the storm had settled. 

Frost had once written, 'home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in', so if that were true, shouldn't the reverse also be expected? How could you turn away your home, your true home, the one place, where, wrapped up in its solid comfort, you always felt safe? Angel was his home, his foundation, no matter how much he wished otherwise, and he couldn't find it in him to leave his Sire adrift like this.

As Spike felt tear-wet lips press against his skin, he let himself give into the innate desire that would always be the reaction to the touch of the elder vampire, turning his head to briefly capture Angel's mouth in a fleeting, gentle, kiss. Breaking away before Angel could deepen it, he stood up, pulling the brunette with him. 

“C’mon, pet, let’s get you upstairs, yeah?” 

Angel allowed himself to be trundled into the elevator, burying his face into Spike’s shoulder as the car rose up to the penthouse, fingers grasping tight at his shirt, Spike’s arms around him the only thing keeping him from collapsing into a nearly-catatonic heap on the floor. When the doors opened, Spike began maneuvering the bulky vampire towards the master bedroom, only for Angel to stop him and tug him down the hall towards the guest room. The room he knew would no longer smell like them, but her. With a sigh, he allowed himself to be led into the bedroom, unsurprised when the brunette let out a fresh sob in the doorway at the scent of the seer. 

Spike held his breath, unwilling, just yet, to inhale the flowery, sweet scent that would have taken the place of the smell of the blood and cum that had previously been spilled here. The too-recent memory of him writhing in Angel’s lap as they brought themselves to completion flashed through his mind, and he shook his head ruefully. And here they were again. About to go through with another bad idea. He knew what Angel would want of him, in his grief, and he didn’t have the willpower to deny him. Christ, he was beginning to feel like a fucking ping-pong ball. 

He helped Angel over to the bed and turned back towards the door, Angel's voice a desperate whisper behind him.

"Don't, please."

"Just gettin' you a whiskey, pet, tha's all." 

Spike walked back through the apartment, so very tempted to flee. He’d be well within his right, after all. Last time, Angel had denied him his presence when he’d all but begged him to stay a little longer. But he just couldn’t, for whatever reason. He couldn’t walk away from his Grandsire and leave him alone with his misery, not if there was a way he could help to alleviate it. Shrugging away any thoughts of running, he poured a couple large glasses of whiskey and headed back to Angel. 

“We…we need to call the others, let them know.” As Angel spoke, his hands were shaky as he searched his pockets for his phone. Spike crossed over to him, taking the cell from him and replacing it with one of the glasses of amber liquid. 

“Let ‘em have their victory for a few hours, yeah? There’ll be time enough for tellin’ tomorrow.”

Angel nodded silently in agreement as Spike set the phone on the nightstand. Gulping down his whiskey in two swallows, he watched as Angel sipped slowly at his own. Once Angel’s glass was empty, he took it from him and placed them both on the table beside the cellphone. 

“‘S the weekend, can have a proper Irish wake for your bird tomorrow, if you want.”

“Yeah…that would be nice.” Spike winced at the flatness of Angel’s voice.

Angel stared down at his feet, his shoulders slumped against the weight of his anguish. Spike was surprised he hadn’t yet tried to restart what they’d put on pause downstairs. Maybe he’d figured wrong.

“You sleepin’ here tonight, then, pet, or you wanna head to your room?” 

Angel didn’t answer, just turned his head to look at Spike, the pain he felt etched across his face.

“Here, then, I reckon.” Spike answered for him, slipping from the bed to kneel on the carpet. He took Angel’s shoes off and set them aside. Straightening up, he pulled Angel to standing, leaving him there to sway unsteadily as he pulled down the covers. Turning back to the larger vampire, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his arms. His eyes lingered over the reddened flesh that was still healing from where the slimy little fake had pierced his heart, and he felt a rush of relief that the imp had not been fighting his Sire with stakes in hand. He unbuckled and removed his belt, but made no move to undo his slacks, stepping back to give Angel room. “C’mon, Peaches, into bed with ya.”

Angel came to himself enough to crawl under the sheets and grabbed Spike's wrist as he made to pull the covers up around him.

"Could you stay a bit longer? Please. I know I have no right to ask you, after…last time. I just don't - I don't want to be alone."

Spike looked down at Angel's pleading face and simply nodded. Kicking off his boots, and pulling off his duster, he turned off the lamp and climbed into the bed in the space Angel created for him. Immediately, Angel pulled himself against Spike, his arm wrapping around the slim waist and clutching him close. He let the brunette bury his face in his shoulder as the salt-tang of tears hit his nose, his hands soothing through his hair and over his back as Angel cried out the fresh wave of grief.

“‘S okay, luv, let it out. ‘M here, Angel, I'm right here. "

This new bout of tears was quieter and shorter than the first, petering out to small sniffles after just a minute or so. 

"I'm sorry."

“Sorry for what? Soakin’ my shirt? Don’t be, mate, trust me, I blubbered worse over Buffy. Sure you did, too.”

Angel sniffed again and lifted his head from Spike’s shoulder, looking at him in the dim light emanating from the hallway. 

“No. I’m sorry for not staying last time, when you asked me to. And for all the other shit I’ve put you through since you got your body back.” Angel sat up on his knees, wiping a hand across his tearstained face, and Spike scooted back to sit up against the headboard, eyebrows scrunched in confusion at the unexpected turn in Angel’s thoughts. “I’ve been an ass, I know, fuck, I’ve practically been acting like Angelus with you…on his better days, anyways. Pushing you away, only to turn around and pull you right back. Hell, I practically handed you over to Lindsey on a silver platter, made it so easy for him to get to you. I just wanted to keep you safe from the Senior Partners, make them think I really hated you, so they’d leave you alone. I never would have thought Lindsey would be dumb enough to come back here and try some dipshit stunt like this.”

Spike stared at Angel, his eyes wide at the sudden confession. This was certainly the last thing he had expected from the brunette, at least without an extremely loud argument and not a small amount of pain to instigate it. He hadn’t thought Angel would have admitted to his recent behavior all on his own, and now that it was all laid out like this, after having the big lunk crying his eyes out on his shoulder, it just didn’t matter. It wasn’t something he wanted to deal with, at least not right now. Besides, Angel's yo-yo treatment of him was far from the top of his list of worries…more pressing was the matter of whether his apartment was still just that, his apartment, now that Doyle - Lindsey - was gone. He didn't even know what name the lease was under. God, what a pathetic vampire he'd become, worrying about such human things as lease agreements. He was becoming…domesticated, and wasn't that a scary thought?

And anyway, just hearing Angel apologize seemed to go a long way to undoing some of the damage. The hurt was nothing new between them anyway. They’d only spent a couple lifetimes at it, after all. Blinking, he shook himself out of his scattered, bouncing thoughts, reached up, and wound his hand around Angel’s neck and pulled him down into a soft kiss.

“Don’t think I’ve ever ‘eard you string together that many words ‘less you were yellin’ ‘em.” Spike’s voice was thick with unchecked emotion as he whispered against Angel’s lips. “Look, mate, I’ve plenty of yellin’ I wanna do, an’ probably more than a few punches to throw, but not tonight. Let it go, yeah? Least for now. What’s done is done. Your heart’s hurtin’ for Cordelia, my ego’s bruised thanks to that shrimpy git, we don’t need to deal with more than that tonight.”

Angel nodded his acceptance and agreement and recaptured Spike’s mouth, deepening the kiss, letting himself get lost in it as his tongue delved between parted lips. Spike slid back down on the bed, his head resting on the pillows as Angel explored his mouth, the gentleness of the kiss taking him by surprise. Last time, after the incident, their kisses had been feral, bloody and brutal as they let loose all the built up need that their fight had only served to bring to a head. This one, though, held none of that brutality, no snarls of hunger and dominance, no fangs piercing into soft flesh as they devoured each other. But, underneath the tenderness, Spike could sense Angel’s growing desperation as his tongue stroked inside his mouth; desperation and longing. His cock hardened unsurprisingly fast at the evidence of Angel’s yearning that belied the quiet softness of his kiss, his hips arching up to brush his denim-clad erection against the matching length tenting Angel’s slacks, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths at the contact.

Breaking the kiss with a low growl, Angel began mouthing a trail down Spike’s throat, hands tugging at the thin cotton of his shirt as he nuzzled into the dip of his collarbone.

“Off,” Angel growled as he pulled away, eyes dark as he stared down at the blonde.

Spike groaned at the husky order, quickly shedding his tee shirt and pulling Angel back down to his newly bared chest. Angel snuffled at the hollow of his throat, a quiet keen vibrating against Spike’s skin as Angel pushed his nose into his clavicle, as if trying to push through, bury himself there.

“I still smell her.”

Well, duh. Spike rolled his eyes and bit back the automatic, heartless response. 

“Be hard not to, luv; she was laying here not that long ago.”

“No, not the sheets.” Angel nuzzled into him again, blunt teeth scraping over the skin of his throat as he whimpered. “Here. I can still smell her here. God.” 

Understanding clicked in Spike’s muddled mind and he hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to shove the brunette away or hold him closer. Of course, it wasn’t about him. Always about the girl, only the names change. 

Angel licked over Spike’s skin again, heedless of the blonde’s inner pouting. He knew he shouldn’t be practically pleading for Spike to allow him to bite, knew that drinking from him would only complicate things between them way beyond the tangled mess it already was. But, he just couldn’t help it. Cordelia’s scent lingered under the thin, pale skin, mingling with that of his Childe and calling to him more powerfully than either ever had separately. 

“Please”, he asked in a rough whisper, hoping for concession, praying for denial. 

Damned yo-yo string's gonna break one of these nights. 

Spike closed his eyes in resignation, and nodded once, turning his head to the side to bare his throat to Angel’s access. And, if he was perfectly honest, he was quite surprised that Angel had actually asked, rather than just tearing into his flesh and taking what he wanted. Hell, the scent of the ex-cheerleader that lingered on the sheets mingling with that of both of their own hesitant arousals was making it hard for him to keep his own demon from snarling and snapping. 

“Do it.”

He heard the crunch and shift of bone as Angel let the demon to the fore, and gasped softly at the needle-sting of fangs as they slid smoothly into his flesh. Surprise washed over him again at Angel’s unexpected care of the matter, how gently he bit into him. He let out a low groan at the slow pull of blood from his veins, only now realizing just how much he’d missed this, the feeling of blissful pleasure that came from family feeding from you. He’d seen that feeling etched on Angel’s face when he’d fed from him to speed his healing after the Dana incident, and he had to hand it to the brunette for holding back from returning the favor. Already he wanted nothing more than to twist Angel’s head to the side and complete the connection, tear into that thick neck and gulp down the rich blood that screamed of family, belonging. 

As Angel slowly sipped at Spike’s blood, a low keen sounding at the back of his throat at the taste of Cordelia and Spike and Aurelius, family, belonging, he let his hand trail over the bare flesh of the slim body beneath him, stroking softly down his neck, over his chest, and down, further still, along the concave of his stomach, fingers stroking across the pale skin just at the edge of his jeans. He could taste Spike’s need threading through every mouthful, and his own arousal surged higher, his cock painfully hard against the zipper of his slacks. 

This beautiful creature beneath him was offering him comfort, despite the pain he’d been causing them both over the past few months. Despite all the emotional whiplash, his boy was still here, providing him with a vessel to absorb his grief, allowing him to mourn in their way, the only one who would understand just what kind of solace was required. 

Swallowing a final mouthful, he let out a groan of gratitude around the fangs embedded in the smooth, cool flesh. He retracted his fangs from Spike's throat, laving his tongue over the torn skin until it began to heal. Once the last trace of blood was licked away, Angel continued his interrupted path, trailing his mouth over the pale skin of the muscular chest beneath him. He felt Spike tense slightly as he flicked his tongue over a pink nipple, sensed the blonde's hesitancy at taking it further, and a jolt of realization struck him.

"You're not her, Spike. That's not what this is. The blood was, but not this. I thought it was, too, but it's not." Still nuzzling his face against Spike's torso, he slid his hand down to cup him through his jeans, squeezing the hard length just enough to drag a soft hiss of pleasure through gritted teeth. "This is about us, Will, we both need this."

Spike let out a groan of capitulation, his heart wanting to believe Angel's words. His head warred with him though, still unable to accept that Angel wasn't imagining soft warmth where he was only hard and cold. Her life under his hands instead of his dead flesh.

Angel knew Spike wasn't completely mollified by his words, despite the slackening of his previously tense state, knew his boy was still reluctant to take his words at face value. Yes, he was still acutely feeling the loss of Cordelia, but it hadn’t been grief that had driven him to try to initiate things down in his office. Well, not just grief. He was tired of keeping Spike at arms length, tired of the longing, the loneliness. Pushing him away hadn't kept him safe like he'd intended. Pushing him away had instead left him vulnerable to Lindsey's slick lies, ready to believe anyone who offered him a glimmer of hope that he belonged somewhere. 

Guilt struck him as he realized Cordelia's death had merely given him the ready excuse to let himself give in to the always present need to lose himself in the blonde. The man in him would always love Cordy, would always regret the missed chances she represented, but both soul and demon had always yearned for the hard, cool body beneath him; it was the one thing they’d always agreed on. 

Pushing Cordelia to the back of his mind, he focused on the half-naked blonde lying prone under him, determined to put proof to his words. Spike’s eyes were heavy-lidded and dark with undeniable desire despite the wariness that still showed through. Angel's hand still encircled his hard cock, and he watched the younger vampire as he stroked down the length of the shaft, his own cock twitching as Spike bit into his bottom lip to stifle a groan. 

"Let me hear you, Spike, don't hold back. Wanna hear what I do to you, boy, all those sweet, filthy sounds you make." 

Spike let out a soft moan as Angel nipped at the edges of his abdomen, giving into the delusion the brunette was presenting him with, letting himself believe the lie even though he knew he was setting himself up for fresh pain when it was over and Angel kicked him out again. 

"That's it, my beautiful boy." 

Angel swirled his tongue briefly into the dip of Spike's navel, his hand still working the denim-covered erection, and mouthed lower still. Twice they'd come together in the past few months, and both times he'd denied himself the full pleasure of this intoxicating creature. He knew it wasn't wise to give in this time, either, but couldn't find the strength to hold steadfast to the restraint he'd managed before. Couldn't resist the need to taste again what he'd never forgotten, to see desire and pleasure etched into the marble features that haunted so many of his dreams. 

Letting himself enjoy this as much as he wanted Spike to, Angel teased his tongue along the expanse of skin just above his hips, licking at the cool flesh until a quiet plea was whimpered out through reluctant lips. The plea was louder the second time as he pulled away to undo the jeans that separated him from his goal.

Legs lifted without thought as hands tugged the fabric down and away, returning to that pale, sculpted flesh after soft woolen slacks landed atop the rough denim on the floor. Cursing the lack of moonlight in the windowless room, Angel made the most of vampire senses and two decades of memory as he gazed upon the naked figure sprawled beneath him. His eyes honed in on the one part he had avoided spending much focus on during their previous encounters, fresh arousal rushing through him as he took in the sight of the long cock that curved up toward a hard, flat (still too thin) stomach. 

Leaning down, Angel did what he had barely restrained himself from doing that first night and flicked his tongue over the weeping head that poked out of the quickly retracting foreskin, eyes fluttering closed at the salty taste of Spike's pre-come, so similar to the blood he had drawn from the blonde, but distinctly singular in its flavor. There was no Cordelia Chase here, no Aurelius; the slightly musky, earthy tang on his tongue spoke solely of William, a flavor he had not forgotten in the century plus since he had last savored it. 

Spike gasped aloud at the feel of Angel's tongue caressing over the tip of his aching cock, shocked by the act. As Angel groaned softly in response and closed his lips over his throbbing length, he felt the scale tipping closer towards the belief that this truly was about them, about their needs, and not about the grief of a dead cheerleader and love lost before it had the chance to blossom. Yo-yo thread fraying thinner, dangerously closer to snapping, and Spike's sanity with it. 

Angel slid his lips down the shaft, taking the substantial length into his mouth until his nose brushed the wiry curls surrounding its base. Swallowing around the girth, and relishing the moan he drew forth, he inhaled the uniquely masculine scent of the blonde's sex, memories flitting through his mind of times when that scent would fill their rooms for days, lingering in his nostrils even as they'd reluctantly separated from each other long enough to slake another kind of hunger. 

"Oh, God, Angel…" Spike couldn't stop himself from thrusting up into his mouth, it had been so long since he'd experienced its talent, and even back then, it had happened so far and few between, given only when Angelus had felt generous enough or when William had managed to make him particularly proud. "Too good, pet, gonna make me come too soon." 

Angel groaned, aroused further by the realization he could still bring Spike to the brink so quickly. Not wanting things to be over with too early himself, he reluctantly released Spike's cock and climbed off the bed. 

"Angel?" 

"Gotta find something…the only thing to use in here is her lotion…I-I can't…it's too-"

"I understand."

As Angel went off to find a suitable lubricant, Spike let out a soft sigh of relief, touched by the lengths Angel was going to to keep him and Cordelia separate in this. It gave him a smidgen of hope; not as much as doing this in the master bed might have, but some. And that would have to be enough for now. Even if, in the back of his mind, he knew that sooner rather than later, Angel would go back to his initial stance of keeping at a distance in the foolish hopes of shielding him from the Senior Partners radar; his Grandsire was a slow learner, after all.  

Angel returned in short order, naked now, bottle of lube in hand. He hurried back onto the bed, stopping Spike when he made to turn over. If he was going to give in, then he was going to do this the way he had wanted to in the first place. 

"Don't. I want to see you this time." 

Spike laid back down and Angel settled back between his legs, guilt renewed by the vulnerable look on his face. At least he wouldn't have to worry about finding perfect happiness, there was too much despair clouding the moment. Slicking his fingers, Angel began preparing Spike with more care than he had the last time, not wanting pain, at least, physical pain, to be a part of their coupling tonight. 

As he felt Spike relax beneath his ministrations, he eased a second finger in beside the first, scissoring them slowly until his Childe moaned in need, trying to buck down on the slippery digits.

"Please, Sire. Harder."

Angel groaned at the wanton, husky plea, thrusting his fingers into the loosening passage at a slightly faster pace, but still maintaining the force behind them, unwilling to let the blonde escape the nature of this moment behind a wall of pain. 

"That's not what you need, little one. And it's not what I want."

Spike groaned, turning his face away from Angel's intense gaze, reluctantly giving himself over to his Grandsire's determination to convince him this was different. He felt the thread draw taut, snapping under the tension, leaving him falling from an impossible height with no way of knowing if Angel would be there to catch him, or if he would end up splattered across the pavement like a bug on a windshield. He had hoped for at least a modicum of rough treatment to keep his mind focused, a sting of pain to ground him and keep him fettered to his belief that Angel was treating this the way he had the last time. Without that distraction, with Angel being so gentle, so like the good times they'd had before everything went wrong, he couldn't deny his heart, no matter what doubtful thoughts nagged at the back of his mind. He could only let himself dive headlong into what was being offered, and hope it wouldn't leave him devastated.

Angel wanted Spike to look at him, wanted him to stop hiding away, but knew he couldn't press the issue, not when he'd caused the doubts in the first place. Instead, he let his actions say what he never could, his fingers stretching Spike open little by little, a third digit slipping in only when there was more than enough give. Ignoring his own cock's throbbing need to sink into the willing body beneath him, he sought out Spike's prostate, working the nub teasingly until the younger vampire wrenched his head back towards him, a cry of pleasure falling from his lips as their eyes finally met in the near dark. 

"Please, Angel...need you now."

Angel nodded and eased his fingers out, deftly slicking up his aching erection before shuffling forward, notching the head of his cock at the rim of Spike's clenching hole. As he pressed slowly into him, he grabbed Spike's hands in his, raising them to lay entwined on either side of his head. He stretched himself out to hover over the blonde as he bottomed out, his head dipping down to smother Spike's broken moan with a deep kiss.

Spike's eyes rolled back at the feel of the slick slide of Angel's cock as it filled him, his grip on the brunette's hands tightening as he felt himself stretch to accommodate the steely girth. Giving up on holding back, he threw himself into the kiss that fell upon his lips, his legs lifting to wrap around Angel's waist as their tongues grazed across each other's, his heels digging into the older vampire's taut backside, urging him deeper, pulling their bodies closer together.

Angel felt the moment his doubtful Childe stopped resisting what he was trying to show him, and he couldn't hold back the groan of relief. Releasing one of Spike's hands, he cupped the side of his face, continuing the passionate kiss as he started thrusting slowly within him. 

Spike soon began squirming under Angel's teasing pace, his free hand sliding under Angel's arm to clutch at his back, nails digging into the shoulder blade where he knew the tattoo rested. He wanted to break the kiss, turn his head away again; not to hide again, but to offer his throat to Angel once more, and to free his mouth to voice his keens of desire to the silence of the room, but Angel was keeping him nearly immobilized in his all encompassing embrace, swallowing down the sounds of need and returning them like an echo. 

He could feel the tip of Angel's cock brushing against his prostate on every instroke, his own aching length trapped and leaking between them, and he felt his orgasm drawing inexorably closer. Finally, Angel released his mouth, the brunette's lips trailing along his jaw as he fought to catch a breath he didn't need. 

"Angel, fuck, please…" Angel's teeth grazed over his throat where he had previously bitten, and his words caught in his throat, his cock pulsing out a steady stream of pre-come to pool in the hollow of his heaving abdomen. "Bloody hell! Bite me, luv, please; bite me or fuck me harder, something…I'm so close, jus' let me come!"

"Not stopping you, William, just feel it, and let go." Angel nuzzled into the curve of Spike's neck and raised his head, staring down at the blonde. "Look at me, little one, wanna see you." 

Angel kept his pace steady, unerringly striking against the nub of flesh he knew was driving Spike towards climax. His own release loomed within reach, the sight of the blonde writhing beneath him, the feel of Spike's cock rubbing against his stomach with each thrust, of his tight hole clenching around him, pushing him closer to the edge with every passing second. He still wanted Spike to finish first, this time, not as a show of dominance, but in order to see the face that haunted his dreams contorted in pleasure. Angel dropped the bulk of his weight down on Spike, pinning his hips to the bed and providing extra pressure against his cock as his pelvis ground against it with each thrust.

"Come for me, Will, I'm right behind you. So tight. Jesus, so perfect. Come for me."

Spike scored his nails down Angel's back, exacting pain if he wouldn't be allowed to feel it, and the soft hiss and faint scent of fresh blood drove him over the precipice he teetered on. His cock pulsed between them, tepid seed surging hard and fast from the prolonged need to come. He arched up into the miniscule space between, lifting his head to smother his howl of release into the curve of Angel's throat. It was all too much, the slow, gentle lovemaking, Angel's insistence that this was about more than grief; he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle whatever came next. 

"Oh, fuck, Spike!" Angel groaned out and thrust deeply once more, letting his orgasm wash over him as Spike clung to him. Spike may have buried his face in his shoulder, but not before Angel had caught a glimpse of the intense pleasure that had rippled across his features. It was a sight he had regretted missing out on the few times they'd come together like this since Spike's re-corporealization, and he knew he'd been right in his assumption that he wasn't the only one who'd needed it this way. 

As they both came down from their climaxes, Angel rubbed his cheek against the side of Spike's head, allowing him his privacy as he came back to himself. His spent cock slowly softened and he let out a soft grunt of regret as it slid out of the tight sheath of flesh surrounding it, Spike's responding groan making him clutch the blonde closer, finally releasing his hand to encircle his waist. He maneuvered them both onto their sides and let Spike remain wrapped around him, just as he used to after their more rigorous bouts of lovemaking had left William too worn out to do much more than snuggle in closer. Like back then, Angel began murmuring soothingly, the past so painfully present as he held the slighter vampire close.

Spike hated this. The waiting. Waiting to see if Angel would push him away again. He wanted to run away, scramble out of Angel's soft embrace, snatch his clothes off the floor and hightail it out of there before his Grandsire had the chance to break him. He wanted to. But he couldn't find the will to move; not with Angel's arms still wrapped around him, the soft susurration of his voice in his ear bringing him back a hundred years. They had never been like this; not once, since the curse that took Angel away. This was the first time in a century that he and Angel had not just fucked, but been truly intimate with each other. He only hoped it wouldn't be the last. 

Finally needing to face whatever repercussions came from his giving in, Spike disentangled himself from Angel, rolling away to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. As he made to stand, Angel's hand caught at his wrist, stilling him. He didn't have the strength to turn and face him, nor to pull away.

"Will you stay?"

Spike's shoulders slumped in relief and he fought to keep the welling of emotions out of his voice as he responded with a bravado he didn't quite feel.

"Yeah, alright. Prob'ly don't have a flat to go back to anyways, right?"

Angel gave a shaky laugh and Spike let himself be tugged back down to the mattress, settling into the curve of his body as he pulled the comforter up over them. Angel draped his arm over Spike's hip and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Sleep, William. I'll have Gunn take care of it in the morning."

Barely two hours after his eyes drooped shut, Spike awoke to Angel's screams. Blurry eyed and muzzy from sleep, he merely soothed his hand along the vampire's arm as the screaming turned to sobs. As Angel calmed, he whispered softly to him, nothing in particular, just quiet words of comfort; things he'd have wanted to hear when he had been in his place, those three years ago.

When the brunette had finally settled, he pulled Angel into his arms and wrapped the covers back over them as Angel burrowed his head into the curve of his neck, his lips pressed softly against the spot he had so recently fed from. 

As Spike began to drift off again, he felt a presence in the room, not human, but not dangerous, either. He lifted his head enough to crane around to look at the doorway, but found nothing there. Shrugging it off as just his weary emotions projecting outwardly, he settled back down in the bed, letting sleep find him as Angel unconsciously clutched him closer.

Cordelia hovered by the bed, a small smile on her face as she reached down to brush a stray lock of hair from Angel's forehead. 

"Salty goodness, indeed. You'd think, having already seen you two getting groiny almost constantly for nearly twenty years way back in ye olden days, not to mention the dozen or so times within the last century, I'd be over how unbelievably hot that is. And, actually, pretty beautiful. I swear, if I ever get another reprieve from all this celestial hoo-hah, you know, time off for good behavior", she cast a glance heavenward pointedly, "I'm definitely gonna see about getting in on that action.

And you, mister,” Cordelia turned her gaze to the slighter vampire, “you better not screw up this chance you were given. We pulled a lot of strings making sure the world’s sleaziest lawyer was able to find the right spells to retrieve the amulet, and you with it. Hilarious that he actually thought he was slick enough to have done it without a little divine intervention.”

Spike shifted restlessly in his sleep and she smoothed her hand along his cheek until he calmed, her smile turning sad.

"I'm counting on you, bleach-boy, don't let me down or I will find a way to smite you. Angel cares about you more than you realize, take it from someone with inside information. He's gonna need you by his side for what's coming. And, yeah, he's going to piss you off royally, and the big buffoon’s gonna keep trying to push you away, thinking he needs to keep you safely away from all this, but, just give him the benefit of the doubt, huh? Our boy has a big task ahead of him, and you're a huge part of it, for whatever reason. You are a Champion, Spike, you've got a chance to make a real difference now, don't waste it, either of you. Take care of our boy, Blondie."

Leaning over the two sleeping vampires, Cordelia pressed a whisper of a kiss to their cheeks, sighing softly as Angel relaxed further into Spike's comforting embrace. Straightening up, she cast them one last wistful glance and faded away, her heart heavy with the pain she knew was coming to them, but hopeful for their future beyond it. The Powers had brought Angel his biggest ally, whether he would admit it or not, she'd given him her gift, gotten him back on his path, and now, she could only hope for the best, the rest was up to them.

****

All Things Spike: @leatafandom

[theweredrifter]

FULL NAME: Gabriel Fitzgerald • AGE: 30 • DATE OF BIRTH: 11/22/93 • PLACE OF BIRTH: Perth, Australia • GENDER: Male • SEXUAL ORIENTATION: homosexual • OCCUPATION: homeless drifter, verse dependent • ETHNICITY: Australian/Canadian

FACE CLAIM: Dacre Montgomery • HAIR COLOUR: dirty blonde/brunette • EYE COLOUR: Blue | Deep gold (when influenced) • HEIGHT: 5'10 (1.78 m) • TATTOOS AND SCARRING: N/A • DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: light eyes, warm to fair toned skin, and injuries as a beast, are transferred to the human form.

ALLERGIES: wolfsbane, heavily scented products applied to skin • SLEEPING HABITS: inconsistent due to stress • EATING HABITS: meat-based, scavenger, verse dependent • MENS HEALTH: circumcised • ADDICTIONS: cigarettes, but is mostly verse dependent • ALCOHOL USAGE: recovering alcoholic, verse dependent • PRESCRIPTION MEDICATION: N/A • DIAGNOSED ILLNESS: OCD, anxiety, and most recently depression

POSITIVE TRAITS: physically and verbally affectionate, understands the importance of rest, will try most things once, adventurous, spontaneous, very goofy, acts of service, very sociable once he gets to know you, compassionate, considerate, romantic, thoughtful, intuitive, accepting regardless of race, nationality or orientation, food motivated

NEGATIVE TRAITS: can become possessive, doesn't like to share, can be self serving, impulsive, masked crippling anxiety, can be naive at times, chaotic good, poor self image, perfectionist, risk taker, can express bouts of su*cidal thoughts, and depressive episodes, copes with a lot of jokes and a inflated sense of self (or through addictions), lacking in self confidence and struggles with his own identity. Selective hearing.

FEARS: never returning to a point of normalcy, never gaining control of his beast, unable to control or stop the human flesh cravings, of being alone emotionally and in a literal community sense, being unable to be around people for prolonged periods on the off chance a random trigger will make him shift and harm an innocent, the inability to have a stable life, not knowing the future, and that his beast will completely consume him. • QUIRKS: Will sometimes bark instead of curse, be it at people, a situation or an object, will make faces in the mirror if no one is home or he thinks no one is around, very particular about his appearance and his home

FAVOURITE FILMS: Alien Vs Predator, The Matrix, Bill and Ted adventures, The Mummy, Die Hard, Big Daddy

FAVOURITE TELEVISION SHOW: Fraiser, The Walking Dead, Golden Girls, history documentaries, conspiracy theories, Mission Impossible, Sherlock Holmes (BBC edition), The Squid game

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff

THEME SONG: Fade to Black - Metallica or The Animal I have Become - Three Days Grace

Prior to his infection, Gabriel led a very normal life and was a caring, compassionate individual. His pursuit within the beauty industry landed him a promising modeling agency. However, this required him to take a leap of faith and leave home to another another part of the country away from Perth. To his dismay, he doesn't understand the culture and struggles to make connections with the given barrier. On the upside, he's been told he has a calming, nurturing disposition. He says he's naturally that way thanks his mom for how she and his father raised him. During an outing with a fellow of the community in early Feb, Gabriel was bit by a bat on the forearm while enjoying holiday festivities with company during a leisurely stroll down a bago vineyard maze. Unsure if he was bit at all, he thought nothing of the unusual contact other than the bat mistaking his waving limbs for food or an unseen obstacle. Continuing about his life and career as usual, he started to get sick in the following weeks and got progressively worse. Thinking it was the flu or a very intense cold, treatment wasn't sought until the infection had spread too far and Gabriel was finding it hard to function, let alone drive.

By the time he'd received medical attention, it was too late. The infection of rabies not only spread, but was reacting strangely to his 'hybrid' chromosomes. For observational purposes, Gabriel was held in a CDC captive containment before the sickness took him and altered the state of mind, and corrupted the very fibers of his DNA. Safe from harm and safe from harming others or infecting them, the newly cursed Were was told the bad news of what happened when he finally woke up. Footage of his change frightened him, and for awhile he contemplated how he'd cope with this new illness. He was reassured by medical professionals and other staff who study his disease that it is possible to live a normal life. Continuing to receive a lot of therapy, he returned to the community as if nothing happened.. though he carries less of his joy to be inclusive out of fear of his new condition and will recluse more often than not.

In the confines of his apartment, trying to cope with the new feelings and cravings of a werewolf without putting himself or others in harms way- it dawns on him what of his lover? Feeling a false sense of safety to go to them, he is met with a horrific scene of blood and body parts, or half-consumed ones scattered around the apartment- and the smell. The suppressed memories resurface to the forefront of the conscious mind, an unknown trigger- he'd changed, and ate the one he loved. Overcome with grief, he withdrew deeper into himself, rather than outreach to the help he was offered by the smaller secret association branched from the CDC for people of his condition. Now with the police on the lookout for him after it was a confirmed werewolf attack, he struggles with his own demons while running from being captured..

Want more? Check out the story development tag!

[offsidekineticist]

There is a very good chance that I edit/repost this at some point when I can bring myself to revise this, but right now I'm just kind of done with this chapter even if it's not properly done, if that makes any sense. For now, here's Part Seven of the (Completely Platonic!) Breakup Arc. Enjoy Qweck being maybe too much of a badass.

CW: violence, gore, head squishing, discussion of torture.

Not Perfect Yet

You've never told Theo, because you know it would upset him, but you are no stranger to pain. You are a servant of Irori, representing him and his teachings to your flock. You cannot be moved by something so simple as pain. Pain is an essential part of the path to perfection, so you had to learn to accept it rather than run from it. And, as your teacher once told you, it is impossible to practice accepting pain without experiencing pain.

You struggled with this lesson–with learning to accept pain. You welcomed pain, provoked it, even, because you took pride in being able to endure it. But that is not the way of Irori. The way of Irori is to accept your pain without judgment. Your pain does not make you strong, it does not make you weak, it simply is. That was a difficult lesson for you, but one you learned in time. And so when you are led into the sparse chamber at the end of the corridor, you enter without fear. 

Your captors do not restrain you, which seems wildly incompetent. Perhaps for most prisoners merely removing their weapons is enough, but you are a cleric of Irori. Your body is your weapon and your faith your armor. Do they expect you to politely sit still for them while they attempt to torture you into submission? While your fath–while Theo sits in the dark, raving about a letter?

"I will not ask you again: what is your name, cleric of Irori?"

You've only remained compliant as long as you have because you needed to center yourself. You realized this interrogator was likely the person that put Theo into the state he's in, and you wanted to avoid acting out of anger or malice. You are quickly realizing, however, that if you are to act, you must do so now, even as unbalanced as you are.

Very well. An indiscretion now and then is permissible–you are not perfect yet.

"We're done here," you say, standing up and turning your back on her. Ordinarily you wouldn't be so careless, but you're angry. You want her to feel insulted and disdained. You want her to know she is nothing to you, not even a physical threat.

"Is that so? Tormentum damnum!"

You feel the spell squeezing at your innards, but you know this spell–the creation of a sadistic blood lord of Geb–and you know how to resist. You hold your breath, refusing to let your lungs compress, and the feeling passes. You turn back around and cock an eyebrow, leveling your most unimpressed expression at the interrogator.

"I'm sorry. Was that supposed to do something?"

You see her mouth tighten before saying another incantation–one you don't recognize–and spectral chains wrap around your neck and pull you off your feet. You crash through the table, landing on your stomach on the floor. You can't breathe, but that does not overly concern you. You've trained your body to go without air for periods of time that would kill most creatures. So instead of clutching at your throat as the torturer might have expected, you act. She reaches for you, only to find herself grasping at air as you roll out of the way, once, twice, thrice…until you are out of reach and can stand up.

The signifer's lip curls in frustration. She takes a whip from her belt, waving it in the air with a crack. "You only prolong the inevitable."

You would have congratulated her on recognizing the essential function of a healer, but you’re still unable to breathe. She laughs.

“Oh, you are angry, aren’t you, Cleric of Irori? About what I did to your little friend?” Her whip bites your face, and you curse your lack of discipline for allowing her taunting to distract you. “How my magic pierced his mind and body for days on end?” You jump back to avoid another lash. “How I split his fingers to make him sing?”

She is much taller than you. You need to gain extra height if you are to take her. You fix your eyes on the wall behind her. Yes, that should work.

“How he bled for me as my lash sliced his flesh?” she continues, raising her arm to crack her whip again. That is your moment. You bolt forward, over the ruins of the table, under her arm, and up the wall. You can only manage two steps up, but it is enough. With your third step you vault off the wall, twisting to face the signifer. You clutch your left fist in your right hand and raise them both above your head before swinging downward. The signifer turns just in time to see your fists drive into her face.

The signifer stumbles to the side, knocked off-balance. The force on your throat dissipates, and you gasp for breath as you land on the ground facing the door. The signifer braces herself against the wall to your right and laughs. “Oh, yes, I’ve struck a nerve, haven’t I, cleric of Irori?” She spits out a glob of blood and a pointed tooth. “Who are you to Theoven Derenge, I wonder? One of his nearest and dearest? Or perhaps–” she stops, and then her lips stretch into a bloody grin. “Oh, I am a fool, aren’t I, cleric of Irori? You are one of his sacred allies, aren’t you?”

It’s like someone has dumped a basin of cold water over your head. “Sacred allies” is how you referred to the Sacred Order of Archivists in your communications with various resistance leaders–before the Order of the Rack wiped the order out, that is. If the Rack knows that term, either your allies have been compromised, or–

Please, you didn't write that letter!

One of your letters was intercepted. The Rack found one of your letters, and they traced it back to Brastlewark (even though you haven’t lived there in years), and they found Theo and took him because they thought he wrote the letter, and he knew they were looking for you–the sketch you use as your signature is a reference to a nickname he gave you–

All this time he’s been here, tortured in the dark, knowing all the while that he had the means to make it stop–and instead he told them nothing. He held his silence and let them torture him to the point of incoherence to protect you.

The signifer misinterprets your wide eyes and horrified expression as confirmation of her guess. Her smile broadens as she pushes herself off the wall and steps towards you. “Of course the church of Irori would be involved. You hate the Godclaw as much as the Iomedaeans do, don’t you?”

And now your mind moves very quickly, and you realize a number of things at once. Firstly, that the signifer believes your resistance activities were performed as part of your clerical duties. Secondly, should this signifer’s theory be accepted by the hierarchy of the Order of the Rack, the Church of Irori will be brutally persecuted, perhaps even driven out of Cheliax entirely. And therefore, thirdly, you cannot allow this signifer to make her case to her superiors that Theo’s “sacred allies” are the Church of Irori.

She must die here, not for vengeance’s sake, but for the safety of your brethren. Your duty demands nothing less.

(And if you enjoy that duty, well, as you’ve already said, you are not perfect yet)

A sense of calm passes over you. Your heart and your duty are aligned. You may not walk your path with the grace of Irori, but you know nonetheless that your path is still the path of duty–the path to perfection. Whatever you feel about what you do next, whatever else might have motivated you to perform the same act, you know that you are doing your duty.

“Think how much more we must hate the Rack,” you say, “when your purpose is to commit anathema against our god.” And you charge her.

Theo loves all of the events at the Gnomish Fighting League, but his absolute favorite is an event called Titan Wrestling. You get the impression this is the category he would have chosen had thr league not rejected him for being too small.

“So there are two tricks with Titan wrestling,” Theo says as the fighters–a gnome and a cyclops–take their places in the ring. “Those tricks are momentum and resilience. Gnomes aren’t heavy–not compared to a cyclops, anyway–but that doesn’t mean we can’t build momentum. We just build momentum by going fast.”

You run at full spead and tuck your head down and hold your arms out to either side. Your arms slam into the signifer’s knees and then keep going. Her feet thrown out from under her, the signifer falls again, this time face planting onto the ground. You hit the wall with your shoulder and ignore the pain as you bounce off and leap over the signifer’s body, elbow out. You land on her back as she is trying to force herself up on her hands and knees. She collapses under your weight. Your elbow drives into the back of her head. Her face hits the floor again.

“What’s the second trick?” you ask, dipping your pretzel into a cup of cheese sauce. “Resilience? So just…being ok when you get stomped on?”

“Not exactly. A cyclops isn’t used to getting knocked down. He’s going to be slow to get up–a lot slower than you are. Knock him down again, he’ll be even slower. And you do it again and again, until you can knock him down faster than he can get up.”

The signifer tries to roll away from you. You reach forward with both hands and grab the sides of the signifer’s mask and pull back. Her back arches as she desperately tries to pull your hands away, but your hands are strong, and she has to reach back with an awkward angle. You pull harder and harder. She tries to hit your hands to get you to let go, but again, she can’t get a good angle. And now, holding her head still in your hands, you kick your foot into her back.

There’s a crack and a scream. Her legs, previously kicking in a vain attempt to hurt you, stop. Her arms start flailing weakly. You let go of her mask and let her face fall to the floor again. You stand up and push her onto her back with your foot.

“You are about to die. Do you want to know why?” you ask. Your question is met with mask’s blank stare. “You are about to die because, unlike you, I train to fight people who fight back.”

You look ahead at the door as you stomp on her mask. You hear the cracking of bone and the splattering of blood and the squishing of brain matter. You do not look. You do not need to look. She only needs to die. You do not need to watch her die. Doing so would be to indulge the part of yourself that craves vengeance for what she did to your f–to Theo.

You find a ring of keys on her belt, and you take it for yourself. Hopefully you won’t have to try all of them before finding the one that fits Theo’s cell.

And Giliys’s. Because you can’t leave him behind. Apparently.

You move towards the door and stop. You return to the body and take the mask off the corpse. Pieces of brain and flesh and bone are stuck to the mask, but that’s fine. You don’t want it to wear, and you don’t want it to keep (the Rack would hunt you to the ends of the earth if you stole one of their signifers’ precious masks). You only want it as proof–so Theo will know she can't hurt him anymore.

You leave the interrogation room. You walk straight to Theo’s cell and drop the signifer’s mask on the floor in front of the door. You can barely see Theo in the dark, but you can tell he’s staring at the mask.

“How?” he asks, voice crackling from thirst.

“I am a cleric of Irori. My body is my weapon and my faith is my armor," you say imperiously as you fumble with the keys. And then, with a slight smirk, "also, I knocked her down faster than she could get back up.”

His face is too shadowed to say for sure, but you think you hear a smile in his next words.

“That’s my girl,” he says, and if that fills you with unearned pride, well.

You’re still not perfect yet.

[leatherbookmark]

The ask wasn't bait I promise. It's only that some truly weird people exist online and I couldn't really make discern from your tags whether or not you're on of them?

...this sounds almost charming so okay, i'll bite. if i get in trouble, my blocking finger is nimble and well-trained.

so anon is referring to my taggies on this post when they ask,

and the thing abt my tags is that they're a joke. i am sarcastically parroting the main argument some (many.) people have against "incest" and "incest supporters". namely: incest is gross.

you may notice the distinct lack of a specifying word. "irl incest" or "fictional incest"? to antis, there's no difference. same goes for rape, abuse, pedophilia, whatever else is there. if you read or, gasp!, write about them in any context other than "it's gross, horrible and the worst" -- or god forbid, in the context of "it's fascinating" or (!!!!) "it's hot" -- it's no different from you being okay with committing these acts in real life, or at least approving of people who commit them.

about the word "gross"... antis/fandom police/feelings yakuza have a disappointingly poor vocabulary when it comes to explaining why the things they're so vehemently opposed to are bad. i mean, if you ask them about siken's win/cests, first of all you'll get a lecture about how traumatic incestuous abuse is for its victims, and it definitely is, but it has nothing to do with two fictional brothers consensually and fictionally fucking. zero points, failing grade, come again in two weeks. second of all, they'll tell you it's gross. and disgusting. in case you didn't hear: GROSS. and DISGUSTING.

and it's not just incest. it's pedophilia, rape, abuse, harassment, racist, sexist or homophobic behaviours... even things that aren't wrong per se, but could be if only you looked at them through the lens of worst interpretation possible Also Are Gross. why would an adult want to be friends with a child? that's borderline pedophilia. gross.

they just don't have other arguments, "gross" is their first and strongest*. yuck factor, baby! if you told them they're 2mm to the left from conservatives who foam at the mouth at the mere thought of those disgusting gays and transes and their gross gender ideology that they use to groom children left and right, next thing they'll be marrying animals! teaching preschoolers about consent?! yeah, sure! they're teaching kids to masturbate! -- they'd be furious. it's not true! they're normal, not like those freaks! but it's the same mechanism. the exact fucking same mechanism, this thing is weird and unsettling and i don't understand it, gross, disgusting, wrong bad evil we must fight and eradicate it! or just tell people to kill themselves if we're terminally online twitter youth thinking that incest is commonly accepted as a kink (=already an oxymoron, as kink is not commonly accepted).

*maybe aside from "but if young and impressionable children see this, they'll think it's okay!" which. if the young and impressionable children have porny fanfiction as their one and only source of knowledge about the world... i'd say encountering said porn is the least of their problems.

and in case it wasn't clear -- fictional weird porn is not harming anyone. harassing people who ~get off~ to said weird porn and telling them to kill themselves is.

so am i one of those Truly Weird People Existing Online? idk, anon, that's for you to decide. as for me, it's almost 5am and i'm replying to this ask in good faith instead of writing my rps porn fanfic. might as well just stay up the night now. 😔

[visd3stele]

i have only watched the first two episodes, but i have to write this down before i forget it

SPOILERS AHEAD

i'm so upset you people made it seem so much worse!! i'm talking about ATLA live action show, of course. all i saw about it is criticism, harsh, angry criticism. which is valid, to each their own, but it's not that bad!! it's actually quite good. for people who haven't seen the original it should be gold. their new fav fantasy series.

yeah, the plot is moving FAST. faster than it should and thus eliminates so many things. like, getting to see Aang's backstory so soon, whitout showing how happy he was before finding out he's the avatar and how the other kids pushed him away once the news got out, gyatso being told to stay away too being the final drop, causing him to leave and despise being the avatar. in the show he just fears the responsability. which is in tune with his character. it's valid. it's just far less complex and complicated.

Aang's still childish and likes to play and goof around, he just accepts his role faster. fear of hurting others, a very important characterization of him that appears in the original show as well, plays a huge role still, he just becomes responsible and stops running from who he is faster.

Katara and Sokka are really well written. Sokka's sexism isn't out and open, it's not obvious and it's watered down a lot, but it exists. harder to catch on, easy to brush away, but it's there. and Katara is motherly, the only thing i was upset about was her not mentioning her mother. it was made up for with the flashbacks, but still.

Zukko didn't mention his honor once!! whyyy??? i mean, i know it's a running joke in the fandom, but all humor aside, it plays an important part in his character. throughout the series he learns how to be an actual honorable person, he learns he's the only one who can give himself this value, he can't receive it from – or have it taken away by – Ozai. other than that, though, he's a really good Zukko. he has the entitled prince patience – or lack of it more likely. he has the anger, the need to succeed driving him over his limits. he's rude with those he sees beneath him. i have faith his growth will be well handled.

SUKI!!! other than the fact she has an immediate crush on Sokka, she's also good. her and Sokka still train, she still beats him and shows him how to fight better. he still tries to show off in her face and is ashamed to lose to a girl. he's ashamed to ask for her help. but he comes around real quick. it's two seasons worth of character development and relationship development crammed in one episode. but they have to do that to catch your attention. the average public has lost their patience to watch a slowly developing, complex character arc. and they don't want the show to be cancelled.

Uncle Iroh is on par with who he is in the original. nothing to comment here.

there are major chances, like Aang channeling Kyoshi and entering the spirit realm so early in his journey. but the channeling other avatars in their temples is an interesting addition in my opinion. i personally like it and am ready to see more of it.

Katara is learning a bit fast, but she still can't fight Zuko on her own, so they didn't, thankfully, make her a prodigy mary sue. it's fine by me. she still has to work to achieve her powers and it actually reminds me of how fast she learns when she has a teacher, so they did rush her, but the struggle is still there.

they leave so many things unadressed because they don't have time to write them in, but they do touch the important main events. so i'll take it.

the costumes are SPLENDID!!

all in all, i like it. it's nostalgic and i can see my childhood show come to life. nothing could replace it, but it's a beautiful addition.