#fuck you if you want certain medications. fuck you if they’re rare or new or ontario just hates what’s wrong with you

[limewatt]

jesus fucking christ learning anything about american healthcare makes me so sad and angry. what a fundamental failure to provide a vital service to a populace.

[procrastinatorproject]

Bed Rest (Seven) for the WIP ask game, please. Also, if you want to talk about the other Bed Rest fics, too.

Seven's installment literally consist of only this handful of sentences so far:

“I understand that your xB physiology renders you much more resilient than humans, and I’m willing to give you a lot of leeway, but I draw the line at exposure to hard vacuum. You’re coming to sickbay with me right now.” Seven arched her eyebrow and drew a rasping breath. “Deactivate —” “No,” Emil said calmly. “You’re on medical lockout from all computer systems and will remain so until I give you a clean bill of health. Now, will you come downstairs voluntarily? Or will I have to ask Ms Musiker to drag you?”

I do like it quite a bit :D But haven't managed to do all the writing that needs to go around it yet.

As for the other Bed Rest fics... When I started writing them, it was just Soji, then I had an idea for Raffi, then Ian, Rios... and eventually, it settled in my brain as "one day, this series will have a story of Emil telling people to lie the fuck down already for every major and a whole lot of minor characters from Star Trek: La Sirena" 😅

We'll see how far I get. The one I wrote for Picard doesn't actually fit the description as well as I'd like it to, and I should probably just post it as a short slice of life standalone (it's basically done and I find it pretty funny, if I say so myself).

And the Agnes WIP that is still technically labelled "bed rest" also veered into a different direction (much more emotional angst and post-Borg-trauma, less the sickfic vibe I'm going for with the rest of the series). So I might turn that into a standalone at some point, though it would involve having to acknowledge season 2 happenings, even in a strongly altered form...

BUT! A while ago, @regionalpancake pointed out that probably a bunch of OC stories in my "never to be pulished" folder would only need very minor rewrites to work for Agnes (and for readers who haven't spent the last four years in my brain and thus don't know the reams and reams of intricate worldbuilding that underly the Private Stories). And I think that assessment is very accurate for the fic currently titled "Check up", which also has some holo bits in it that I just... adore so much! And want to share with the world! Like...

Emil nodded. “Your fever has gone up in the last few hours.” Her eyes went wide. “I thought the meds would help with that?” The EMH tilted his head and his expression turned slightly admonishing. “They are helping. They’re supporting your body’s immune system in fighting off the virus. Which inevitably involves a certain level of fever.” He lowered his scanner and frowned. “Honestly, you’re nearly as bad as the captain with his impatience. Healing takes time. The human body isn’t a machine where you can replace a broken part and everything just runs smoothly again straight away.” “Well now.” Over at the table, Ian leaned back in his chair and tucked his hands under his arms. “A repair is rarely done with a simple replacement. There’s always adjustments that need to happen afterwards and usually a lot of recalibration to —” “Yes, thank you Ian,” Emil said curtly without turning around, “I was speaking metaphorically.” “I’m just saying that if you want the repair done properly, you can’t just shove a new part in place and call it a day. There are a lot of protocols and follow-ups that need to happen.” “Actually, that makes the metaphor better, don’t you think?” Enoch mused. “Even with a machine, repairs take time and don’t lead to instantaneous improvement.” Ian leaned towards the ENH. “Yes, but he said the human body wasn’t like a machine, so he got the metaphor exactly backwards.” Emil rolled his eyes as the two holograms at the table started to argue over whether an accidentally good metaphor was still good if it was deployed incorrectly. Behind them, Emmet was leisurely swapping cards from his hand for better ones from the discard pile.

So that one is probably gonna be Agnes's installment (eventually).

Beyond that, who knows? There are still a few crew members (organic, cybernetic, and holographic) that need to have a moment with their snarky ship's physician! And one of these days, I will finally get over myself and edit the two paragraphs that have thus far kept me from posting Rios's part of the series 😅

I really enjoy the bed rest stories, though. I will never get enough of Emil being an exasperated, snarky, but ultimately really kind and competent doctor! And since there aren't as many stories of that out there in the wild as I'd like, I guess I'll just have to keep writing them myself XD

---

(I'm still very happy to answer questions or post snippets of the many things in my WIP folder :D Here's the original list of titles if you want to see what's available!

[percontaion-points]

Firstlife prologue & chapter 1

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Bonus Chapters

TROIKA 

From: A_P_5/23.43.2 

To: L_N_3/19.1.1 

Subject: Tenley Lockwood

I don’t know what’s happening. This is literally how the book starts: with several emails between two characters. I had to scroll through all of them (one email per page) simply to make sure that this wasn’t going to be the entire fucking book. It’s not. Chapter 1 starts after this. 

With all due respect, I’d rather fish out my internal organs with a coat hanger than stay here.

I don’t know what’s happening, but big mood. 

Your mother’s name and where to find her.

Bonus chapter/Prologue/Whatever the hell is going on here summary: So as I mentioned, we opened on a bunch of emails. The first set is between somebody named Archer Prince and his boss, General Levi Nanne. Archer has been tasked to convince the main character, Tenley Lockwood, to join their side. Archer thinks that this is a load of garbage, and complains about it. General Nanne is like “SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP!”

The second set is between Killian Flynn and HIS boss, Madame Pearl Bennett. It’s the same thing, but Killian 100% wants to woo Tenley over basically with seduction. He’s also way less chill about the entire thing, and is certain that Tenley would simply become “another cog in the machine”. He also wants to rip off Archer’s arms and beat Archer with his own arms. Pearl isn’t amused by Killian’s plan, and tells him to beat Archer in his own free time. 

All of this would probably be interesting… IF THE READERS KNEW WHAT THE GODDAMNED HELL WAS GOING ON. 

Chapter 1

I’ve been locked inside the Prynne Asylum—where happiness comes to die —for three hundred and seventy-eight days.

I’m suddenly having really violent flashbacks to the Shatter Me series. Opening on a girl locked in an asylum telling us how long she’s been in there? Check. 

Also, the reviews warn me that despite the fact that there’s a war going on, neither side knows why they’re fighting. Which also checks out with the Shatter Me parallels. 

I hope that these are the only parallels, but… The fates are usually never that kind to me. 

There are no windows in the building. At least, none that I’ve found. And I’ve never been allowed outside. None of the inmates have.

[...]

Last night I was caned just because. 

I see that we’re opening strong on some torture porn. 

Maybe because my name is Tenley—Ten to my friends. 

I thought that the review with the gif of “Listen up 5s, a 10 is talking” was a joke. No. It is 100% not a joke at all. This is literally her goddamned name. 

Dr. Vans, the head of the asylum, likes to taunt us.

Judging by everything told to us in literally two pages, I’m going to go ahead and say it: I don’t believe that man has ever gone to medical school. 

Something we’re never given? Razors. I keep my legs and underarms smooth with threads I’ve pulled from old uniforms.

Ah yes. Because when I’m being imprisoned and my human rights stripped, the number one thing on my mind is: are my armpits baby smooth?

The author could have written literally anything, and she gave us this dumpster fire of a line. 

“I’m Bow, your new best friend.”

I can’t even pretend to be surprised that the great mind that gave us Ten as a name is also giving us Bow. 

Yes, Bo is a name. But when you add in the w, it turns it from a human name into an adorable accessory for a little girl. 

She cups her breasts in a mimic of me and beams. “Boobs are awesome, yeah? Literal fun-bags. I don’t know what you girls are always complaining about.”

 “Don’t you mean us girls?” Her hands fall away from her fun-bags. 

“Dude. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the equipment and getting a little some-some of my own goods and services. Seriously. I’m so hot even I want a piece of me.”

If this is Killian or Archer, I’m honestly laughing so hard over either of them being put into a girl’s body. Love triangle? Forget love triangles. Give me more of whatever the hell this is. 

A rare few people, like me, have no idea which side to back. We see merits to both sets of beliefs. We also see downsides. 

We are called the Unsigned. 

For us, there are rumors of a third spirit realm, the place we’ll end up after Firstdeath. My parents used to tell me horror stories about it, stories whispered in the dark of night. The Realm of Many Ends, where nightmares come to life.

Side one: War

Side two: War

Yeah. I’m still in chapter one, and I can understand why people are like “You both suck. There should be a third option.”

I know that this is supposed to be a heaven/hell comparison, but I’m honestly seeing a lot of political parallels in this. 

I cast Bow a humorless smile. “Welcome to Prynne.”

Chapter 1 summary: Now that we’re in the actual story and not whatever the fuck was in the beginning… We’re given some measure of explanation. 

Basically, this is a world where life comes in two stages. The titular firstlife, where you’re born, and age. And then you die, and you begin your second life. However, before you die, people want you to sign an unbreakable contract with blood that you’ll join one of two factions: Myriad (aka heaven) or Troika (aka hell). There is supposed to be a third option that’s somehow worse than the two of those. But if you ask me (and our main character, apparently), being whipped for all eternity because you refused to pick heaven or hell sounds better than being forced to fight in a war that you 100% don’t support. And dying for the second and final time sooner rather than later. Because of that war. 

Anyway, so there’s a lot of torture porn in this chapter. I’m really over it, because you know that MC is going to leave soon, simply so that the actual story can start. She gets a new roommate, a girl named Bow. But I’m pretty sure that it’s Killian. She/He’s nuttier than squirrel poo, and knows way too much about life in the asylum for Ten’s comfort. 

As the girls leave their room for breakfast, they get at it with another inmate, Sloan. 

[erimeows]

Dreaming Of You

Rough, grey lips on his, large servos resting on his hips, and ruby red optics trained on his sky blue ones seemed to haunt Optimus’s dreams more and more.

Maybe it was some weird manifestation of the new stress that had come to his life since Megatron had been rebuilt, or maybe it was just the deep, dark desires he had for the affection he’d been craving for so many light years finally taking over his processor and giving themselves away to him in the form of Megatron of all mechs.

Either way, he hated it; the dreams. They were too risque and too much about a Decepticon he should’ve absolutely despised for him to confide in any of his teammates about it, but they were too incessant to get rid of, so he was simply... Stuck.

Optimus was sure that he was dying inside when he jolted awake on the living room couch, sitting straight up as his optics shot open. This dream had been particularly bad; something blurry about him and Megatron sharing a berth, him tangled up in the warlord’s arms and falling asleep against his chest.

Weirdly enough, he found himself craving that.

Due to the sheer everything happening on planet earth, he had been so stressed that he hadn’t been able to recharge properly, and all he wanted was another bot to lull him to sleep, maybe cuddle with him a bit and sing to him or tell him a story, but he didn’t have anyone like that, humans were too small and hard to socialize with, and his team was off limits since they were technically subordinates.

He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep on the couch until he woke up there, clearly panicked until his optics landed on Bumblebee, who was staring at him with a concerned look etched into his face plates.

Optimus knew that, considering the dream he just had, he probably looked like he’d seen a ghost- though that probably would’ve been better than what actually happened. Falling asleep on the couch had most definitely been a result of his exhaustion, because all he remembered was that one second, he was sitting on the couch to calm down, and the next, he was asleep.

”Optimus? Bossbot? Prime? You good?” Bumblebee asked, getting up and in Optimus’s face. The red and blue bot could only stand up and shake his head.

”Uh... Yeah. Definitely... Just don’t think I’ll be recharging for a while-” After realizing what he said, he quickly cut himself off with a sharp sigh before continuing again. “Never mind. I’m going on a walk.”

With that, Optimus left, ignoring any of the stares he got from his teammates as he walked outside the base, and walked, and walked. He didn’t even think about where he was going, simply listening to his instincts and allowing them to guide him. 

The walk had been intended to clear his head, but as he reached a weirdly familiar looking forest, he realized that his thoughts were only growing more and more convoluted, spark pounding against his chest plates.

Oh, shit. He was right by the Decepticon base.

Why would his processor- no, his spark, he could feel it- lead him here of all places? What the hell was wrong with him? He was almost certain that his exhaustion was making him go crazy.

Right when he thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, he heard a deep, smooth, baritone voice in his audials that made them twitch.

“Autobot... How did you find me?” When Optimus turned around, Megatron was just... There. Sitting on the grass, back against a tree, arms crossed over his chest and one leg crossed over the other in front of him. “Why are you not fighting me?”

That was a good question. Megatron was just staring at him, too, clearly waiting, ruby burning into sky blue, almost as if the Decepticon was challenging him with his optics, a smirk on his kissable lips. Optimus knew he should’ve either ran or tried to apprehend Megatron right there, but he found that he couldn’t even move.

Their relationship was weird. Even though they were sworn enemies, all Optimus could do during battle was stare at him, and Megatron did the same in return- it was almost as if there was some sort of draw that they had to each other, but as hard as he tried to resist it, it wouldn’t go away, and he was sick of resisting it.

“Megatron.”

“I feel as if I should be concerned,” Megatron mumbled, sitting up again and quirking an optical ridge. “You aren’t fighting me, but I also don’t feel inclined to attack you, and you seem exhausted... Do you need to recharge? I’ll be surprised if you don’t drop to the ground any nanoklik now.”

“Mhm,” Was all Optimus could give in response, able to feel himself grow increasingly drowsy with each second that passed. Megatron’s voice only made it worse, and before he even realized what he was doing, Optimus found himself laying on the ground next to Megatron and laying his head over the warlord’s warm thighs, optics fluttering shut.

It was wrong, and he was sure it would come to bite him in the ass, but it was also exactly what he needed. 

“What the hell... Alright. This is fine, I suppose, we can do this and then pretend it never happened... Just for a little while,” Megatron sighed and rested a servo on Optimus’s helm, gently petting one of the Autobot’s audials, and though it was a touch far more intimate than it should’ve been, he couldn’t help how his engines purred at the affection he’d been craving from another since he arrived on earth. “I could even tell you a story. Once upon a time, on a planet far away, there was a strong, powerful warlord with a cold spark, but that all changes when...”

And, as Optimus fell into recharge, he found that the last thing he heard was Megatron’s voice in his audials, lulling him to sleep- just like he needed.

When Optimus Prime woke up, he was no longer laying on the ground of the forest with his head rested across the expanse of Megatron’s thick thighs, but on the berth in Ratchet’s med bay, the team medic hovering around him, optics raking up and down his chassis.

All he could remember was sleeping on Megatron, but if he was in the med bay-

Optics wide, the Prime looked at himself up and down. No bandages, no wounds, no pain anywhere... Actually, he felt perfectly fine minus the lingering sleepiness, so why was he here?

“Prime, what happened?” Ratchet demanded, sitting down at the stool next to the med berth and scrutinizing Optimus carefully.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You stormed off base and everyone was concerned when you didn’t come back after a few hours, so we split into teams and came looking for you. I found you in that forest near the Decepticon base a day later, sleeping on Megatron of all mechs,” A day. He’d slept for an entire day, and his teammates had caught him... He could only hope and pray that they didn’t realize exactly what was going on with him. “So what happened? Did he incapacitate you or did you do it... Willingly? You were out for a while.”

“I uh... I don’t know how to describe it,” Optimus murmured, not wanting to admit that it was fully optional and that he’d given in to his newfound desire to have Megatron, if only for a little bit. “I was just so tired when I left. I don’t know... Don’t remember anything too clearly, I probably stayed in recharge for so long because I was exhausted. Actually, I still feel pretty tired, but is everyone okay? Did anything else happen?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Megatron left as soon as he saw us, the cowardly dolt... It was weird though, that he didn’t kidnap you or try to attack any of us- you were asleep, and it was just me and Sari, so he could’ve overpowered us if he played his cards right. Maybe he was in a rush to get somewhere else.”

“Makes sense.”

And no, it didn’t make sense- nothing Megatron had done during the course of that made sense; not him being so kind to Optimus, letting him sleep on his lap, telling him a berthtime story, and sparing his teammates- all of it was weird and fucked up, and he found that he almost missed when things were simpler, when Megatron was nothing but a blown up body and a half-working helm in Isaac Sumdac’s basement-lab.

“I doubt that it’s anything serious, but I have a couple questions for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” Optimus tried to act calm, but his face plates were burning red and his vents were producing nervous crackles that were loud enough for both he and Ratchet to hear.

“Have you had any odd dreams recently during your recharges? Since Megatron got his body rebuilt, I mean.”

“Uh... Yeah,” The blue and red bot trailed off, gulping.

How did Ratchet know? Was he that obvious?

“Tell me about them.”

“I’d rather not-”

“Trust me, it’s important that I know these things. Medic’s honor, I won’t disclose what you’re about to tell me to anyone.”

“I have a lot of dreams about Megatron,” Optimus confessed with a sigh. Surprisingly, Ratchet looked like he was almost expecting that answer, nodding. “Mostly just meeting him in that forest or a berth, sleeping... Sometimes we talk and do other more unmentionable things.”

“I wonder...” The medic paused with a hum and tapped his digits against the med berth.

“Just what are you thinking, Ratchet?”

“It’s incredibly rare, but occasionally, when two Cybertronians who have a lot of chemistry encounter each other, they develop what’s known as a spark pull. It’s nothing like a spark bond- not even close, but it just means that the two are uniquely bound to each other in a way until they either bond or have a falling out that kills their chemistry. It’s like the soulmate concept that Sari and some of the other humans talk about in their romantic stories.”

“So... What does that mean? Am I going to be okay? Is there anything I can do to get rid of it?” Optimus asked, tilting his head. He was a bit panicked, as this was a whole new thing that he didn’t know how to handle, but at least there was a somewhat scientific explanation for his feelings instead of them just existing. 

“There’s no need to worry about it, Prime, you’re perfectly healthy minus the lack of rest you get- which you need to work on, by the way- but you’ll be fine. Unless you bond with Megatron- you better not- there’s no getting rid of it, considering that the two of you should already hate each other.”

“I, um... Symptoms? Are there any aside from what I already know?”

“There hasn’t been a lot of research done on it since bonding is generally looked down upon in Autobot City where all of our medical studies get funded on Cybertron, but from what I’ve seen and heard... You’ll intuitively be able to ‘feel’ where Megatron is when he’s in close proximity, have a desire to go near and look at him whenever possible, have dreams about him like you’ve already been experiencing, and going through a sort of physical and mental ‘weakness’ when he’s around- from what you’ve described, your weakness is just allowing yourself to be vulnerable and relaxed around him, which is actually quite common... Shame you can’t allow yourself to do that with who he is, but it is what it is.”

It was a lot to take in all at once, but Optimus found that he handled it surprisingly well as he stood up from the med berth and stretched his joints.

“Anything else I should know?” 

There was something new lighting his spark; a pounding, circuit-wrenching want that began to consume him. Now that he knew where his feelings were stemming from, he couldn’t help but want to interact with Megatron again, just to see if the older mech was feeling what he was feeling, and to see if he knew what was going on between the two of them as well.

His instinct was telling him to go back to the forest.

“No, that about covers it, so you’re free to go whenever... But Prime?”

“Yeah?” The blue and red bot looked at Ratchet, who was staring right into his spark, it seemed.

“Don’t go after him when you leave. I know you want to.”

“...Okay.”

Only, that’s exactly what Optimus did. The second he was out of the med bay, he was sneaking out through one of the hallway windows and running as if his life depended on it, passing through the busy city scenery of Detroit until he reached the more rural area that the forest was located in. He was staring at the ground as he ran so fast that his engines were revving with the force it took to keep him going, but he got so consumed in where his spark was telling him to go that  he bumped into someone-

“Be more careful, you insolent f-...” Megatron’s voice flooded his audials the second that the older mech’s arms were wrapped around his small body to catch him, pulling him against a hard, broad chest. Optimus looked up at the warlord, optics going wide and face burning bright red. Oh, it’s just you, little Autobot... How did you find me again?”

Megatron’s question was filled with confusion, those ruby red optics slightly squinted and full of uncertainty.

“I, uh... Do you know what spark pulls are?” Optimus stammered and earned a groan from the Decepticon in return.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were, but no one else is here and that nap last time was the best recharge I’ve had in lightyears. Do you mind?”

“...I suppose not,” Megatron sighed and let go of Optimus, then moved to lay down on the grass and stare up at the clouds. Optimus, albeit a bit awkwardly, laid down next to the mech, resting his helm on his chest- right over the purple, glaring Decepticon symbol that he should’ve detested, but instead found himself cuddling into.

“Why don’t you finish that story you started the other day?”

“A-Alright, but only because I’m feeling quite generous today. As I’d been saying last time, once upon a time, on a planet far away, there was a strong, powerful warlord with a cold spark, but that all changes when he meets a kind, passionate warrior from an opposing faction. At first, the two are against each other, but the warlord quickly realizes that something about the warrior has caught his interest, and before he knows it, he’s falling in love...”

Before Optimus could pipe up and ask any questions, he was falling into a peaceful recharge yet again, dreams of Megatron already plaguing his processor.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Intrinsic: Jameson in Therapy

Prompt from Anon:  If you're still taking prompts... "Have you tried NOT doing that?"

CW: Noncon survivor discussing future consensual spice, Jameson’s masochism, frank references to noncon and pet whump, brief internal victim-blaming, world-building detail about WRU

Dr. Berger tucks a bit of graying hair behind one ear, smiling slightly at Jameson from her place in the soft armchair she uses during appointments. “Well,” She says, thoughtful, “have you tried not doing that?”

He looks up at her from where he sits curled up on the long sofa, knees to his chest, picking absently at loose threads across the knee of his baggy blue jeans. As always, she is careful not to let her eyes move to the places where hair is slowly growing back in over bald spots where the straps of a leather muzzle had rubbed, careful not to look at the scars he wears on every inch of exposed skin - she’d made the mistake of being caught looking, however briefly, and had discovered that the newest of her clients was deeply insecure about the visible evidence of his captivity.

She’d apologized, but it had taken time to develop enough trust to come back from her initial mistake. She would not jeopardize that now, after they’ve made so much progress and she’s begun to see a shift in how he talks about and relates to his new life, his world.

He even told her the name he chose for himself, and that he’s been telling the others in the house, one by one. Accepting that it won’t be taken from him like his original name was - that it belongs to him, and is his to share or not. 

She would never, ever admit it, but... Jameson is one of her favorite clients to work with. He’s working so hard, every week that they meet he trusts more and more that the path he’s on is one that will move him forward. 

“What?” 

His voice is slightly rough - someone who has screamed enough to have permanent vocal chord damage, she thinks. She makes a note to speak to Jake Stanton about having a physician check on the potential for nodes or other issues that might pop up later. She’s not a medical doctor, but… well. She’s had a lot of clients with vocal chord damage in the sixteen years she’s been working in the pet lib movement, and you start to pick up on the little signs and symptoms they don’t necessarily declare out loud.

“My question is really just me being a little facetious, I won’t lie, but I do want to talk through the spirit of the question. When you mention feeling guilty that you are having a physical response to your housemate, that you are attracted to them and have been struggling with... well. I’d like to really dig in to where that guilt comes from. Now, I am aware that adjustment houses tend to discourage relationships between household members during their time in residence to cut down on the chance for conflict, but that’s not where your guilt lies, is it?”

He goes back to picking at the hole slowly wearing through his jeans. Dr. Berger waits, giving him the silence and time he needs to think his way through the question and the possible answers. After a long time, he says softly, “No. It’s not. I don’t give a fuck if Stanton wants me to hold somebody’s stupid hand or not.”

She has to force her smile not to widen, wondering if Jameson is aware of just how like Jakob Stanton he really is. No wonder they don’t always get along. “Okay. So can you talk to me about just what you sense of guilt, this worry you feel, is rooted in?” 

She watches with some small surprise as the angry, defiant recovering Box Boy who has spoken frankly and openly to her about being maimed, injured, treated as an object, referred to as an animal... blushes.

“I want-... It’s not the, um, the response. That I hate.” He won’t look at her now, and he’s one who loves to stare her down whenever he thinks she’ll be shocked or disgusted by what he has to tell her. But this… this, he’s ashamed or embarrassed to say. “They’re fucking gorgeous, that’s... anybody would like them. It’s… it’s what I want from them that... scares me.”

“You are accustomed to a certain level of unwanted physical attention, it’s not at all uncommon in Romantic rescues to continue to feel sexual attraction and desire after freedom-”

“No. It’s. It’s not that I-... I know that’s normal. It’s… I want…” He shifts, uneasily. “I want… I want Allyn to hurt me.”

The last sentence is whispered. It’s not sharing a thought, it’s confessing what he feels is some kind of sin he is committing or intending to commit. Dr. Berger sometimes feels like a priest in a confessional booth, although she’s never been one to suggest atonement - no, fear of oneself is where the core of most of her clients’ pain lies, in her experience. Instead, she works on reconstructing the impulse or fear from its foundations, breaking apart the horror of its weight and reconfiguring it so it’s easier to understand. 

To take control of, to direct.

She helps them to own themselves, not to fear the prospect but to see in it freedom they have always deserved. 

Fear is the absolute last thing any of her clients should ever have to feel again. They have been taught to devalue and debase themselves, to fear what their bodies can be made to do. If she does nothing else, Dr. Berger hopes she is able to help them be just a little less afraid of the bodies they live in.

“You want your housemate to hurt you?” She asks, gently. “Do you mean in the sense of a serious injury, or…”

“No. Um. No, I fucking… I think about them, um. Hurting-... like… like they used to do. Biting me, or... or scratching... I th-think sometimes about Allyn h-holding a... never mind. Just. Hurting me. I’m-... made to be hurt.”

“You are made only to be yourself,” Dr. Berger reminds him, her voice low and without any hint of judgement. “We’ve talked about your captors before and how you were held. You believe that you were made into a masochist as part of your training, and so you’re frightened that your mind is thinking about your housemate in ways similar to how you were once forced to think about your captors.”

His nose wrinkles - he’s more dismissive than most of the language she uses, and early on delighted in insisting on using words like owner, handler, master. Things he thought might shock her. But Dr. Berger has heard nearly everything she thinks there might be to hear, by now. She only smiles slightly at his expression, jotting quickly down on her notepad a few notations. 

Finally, he offers hesitantly, “I-I guess. Allyn is… good. They’re soft, and nice, and they’d never-... but I want them to. And it’s-... it would make-... them be like Robert, or… wouldn’t it? It’d be… treating them like… I don’t ever want to be what I was again, so why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about it?” 

He is so rarely vulnerable. Dr. Berger doesn’t take for granted the gift he gives her by letting her see past the wall of anger and derision he has built to keep himself safe. In many ways, he reminds her of when she saw Jake Stanton after his own brush with WRU’s handlers and their methods. Bristling, defensive, and with wounds that cannot be bandaged. They instead need to be exposed to the light.

“Intrusive thoughts that contain elements of your captivity are absolutely normal. You are still in the early stages of making progress, and progress is never linear, Jameson. There is no starting line, no ribbon at the end of the race. There is only moving forward, bit by bit, even if sometimes we move back.”

“You mean I move back,” He says, sullen now. “You don’t do shit. You’re already fine.”

“Mmmn, that’s not… quite accurate. I actually see someone myself, you know.” Dr. Berger smiles at his obvious, visible surprise. “My mentor once told me he never trusted a provider of therapy who did not themselves seek it out. I have my own progress to work towards, just as you have yours.”

“Problems are probably real fucking different, though.”

“Well, that’s true.” She allows herself a warm laugh - and is rewarded when he doesn’t bristle or assume mockery like he used to, but relaxes and even gives her a very small smile in return. “But I would advise you not to compare yourself to others. Your situation, while not unique in some ways, is still unique to you. You’ve been through a kind of horror that no one else has - even if others have experienced some similarities, the traumatic events they experienced will never be entirely like yours.”

He nods.

“But-” She holds up one finger “That doesn’t mean we can’t use what we know as a framework, a foundation you can build your own way on. Think of an ancient Roman road paved into a highway in modern Italy, for instance. The foundation was there, a path laid by people who came through before. But you can take what you need and use it to find your own way. I know that you’re scared of your thoughts, I know that you are frightened of wanting to find gratification or satisfaction in pain because you think it means a return to how you were treated before, or that you are inherently changed in damaging ways by your captivity, but…”

When she trails off, he leans slightly forward “But?”

She chooses her words carefully. “Jameson, would you be willing to consider something that may make you a little uncomfortable?”

He looks at her, depths of feelings in his brown eyes, and slowly nods. “Why not? I’m already fucking uncomfortable. All the time.”

His thin shoulders under the oversized band shirt he wears make angles under the fabric as he shrugs, although in the time she’s been seeing them those sharp edges have already begun to round out, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones are softening.

She’s seen it over and over again, the physical changes reflecting the rebuilding of an entire life. It never ceases to amaze her, how hard each and every one of them works. 

“Okay. This may be hard to hear at first but I think it will help you.”

Eventually he nods. “Yeah,” He half-rasps. “Yeah, okay. Just say it. Everything… everything else you’ve said has helped. Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, what I would like you to consider… perhaps what you see as an enforced flaw, a crack that was put into you, a danger you present to your housemate due to your conditioning and mistreatment… it might be in fact an intrinsic part of your sexual expression, and simply an aspect of your attraction to them, and the wish you stated to me to perhaps escalate your current relationship.”

He swallows. The color drains from his face, except for two spots of bright red high along his cheekbones. “What?” His lips barely move. 

“Jameson…” Her tone dips, reassuring and soothing. “I know what you were told. I know you were likely given a series of half-truths and whole lies designed to engender dependence and teach you to loathe yourself and therefore disconnect from your body. But… that body? It’s very real, and it’s entirely yours. I think that we need to look into the possibility that you already had certain tendencies that were exploited and twisted. Those tendencies are not inherently unhealthy or damaging if you learn to pursue them in a safe environment.”

He blinks, once, twice, his eyes glittering. 

She’s made a misstep and she knows it immediately, clear as the tears Jameson never allows to fall. She didn’t time it quite right. They should have spent more time working up to it…

“Are you saying I’m just-... like this?”

“Not the way you are suggesting,” Dr. Berger says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t express myself clearly enough. Please let me elaborate a little.”

“I fucking hope you d-didn’t mean that I’m-... that I’m just fucked up,” He says, looking away from her, down at the floor. She pretends she doesn’t see one hand go up to curve around the side of his neck, recreating some of the weight of the collar they are so often taught to rely on for a sense of safety.

“I absolutely did not mean that. One thing WRU excels at - one of the reasons they have been so successful - is that they utilize very effective techniques that encourage a sense of complicity and responsibility in the people they abuse and violate. I’m going to hazard a guess that you were told that you chose what happened to you.”

“I signed up for this,” Jameson whispers automatically, rote and robotic, without hesitation. At least, Dr. Berger thinks, she’s been doing this job long enough that hearing that no longer gets to her like it used to. “I wanted to be some rich asshole’s-”

“Yes. That. One way I think they are able to convince so many individuals so thoroughly isn’t only because of the standard methods of sleep and nutritional deprivation, the repetition, memorizing, the mistreatment… no, I think one thing WRU does is find in each of its victims a core truth they can exploit and cause you to fear in yourself, making you more vulnerable to the idea that this company is somehow saving or helping you by ‘making use’ of it. They find your weak point and use it to shatter you, but what WRU never realizes is that the very weakness they exploit is also often the same piece of you we can recover, that we can reclaim. In your case… Jameson, have you ever heard of consensual masochism?”

He’s hooked, she thinks, on this line of logic. On the lifeline she’s thrown him, something to grab onto. A way to begin to believe, in some small way, that he isn’t ruined. They all think they’ve been ruined, by the time she meets them.

None of them is.

“No, I-I haven’t. Does this mean… there are people like me who aren’t, you know, fucktoys-”

“Recovering Romantics,” She corrects, gently. “And yes. Masochism is a not-uncommon mode of expression that many people engage in consensually in the context of healthy sexual expression.”

He swallows, hard. She watches his throat move. Sees the look in his eyes, the minute changes in his expression. The hand pushing against the side of his neck slowly drops. She can see the gears turning within him, a shifting point of view maybe. She can see what he doesn’t want to speak out loud.

There’s another silence. This one is more comfortable, and as always she gives him all the time he needs. 

“How-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, blinking rapidly again. His knees slowly uncurl and his feet, clad in old hand-me-down sneakers, find their way to flat on the floor. Without his ever-present scowl, he looks years younger. Terrified.

Hopeful.

“How can I-... how do I-...” He takes a deep breath. “If it’s just… part of me… how do I make it safe?”

-

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump

[spencers-renaissance]

storm-darkened or starry bright

Summary: Spencer contracts HIV. It all falls apart after that.

Tags: angst, illness, hurt!spencer, hurt/comfort, worried derek, depression, mutual pining, getting together, angst w a happy ending

TW: vomit, implied/referenced sex and addiction, disordered thinking, depression as a result of medical diagnosis

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

(I've tagged my usual moreid taglist in this fic, but I won't be offended at all if this is too heavy for you!)

Title from "Where All My Books Go" - W.B. Yeats.

Originally inspired by J_Ballinger's Swift, Fierce & Obscene which is just a brilliant piece of art.

you said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud — richard siken, litany in which certain things are crossed out

It starts with the flu.

He calls into work sick and he makes himself comfortable in bed, preparing to ride it out. It is the middle of January after all, and their last case saw them in Ann Arbor, shivering their way through each crime scene and a police station with abysmal heating.

His lymph nodes are swollen, and he’s running a moderate fever — 102 the last time he checked — and the cough he’s had for a couple of days is definitely getting nastier, but he uses the time to catch up on the documentaries he’s had stored on his DVR for the past couple of months. He tries to see it as a positive: he never gets time to rest like this. Warm soup, chamomile tea, and some Nyquil should be the end of it.

He makes the most of it. He gets better. He goes back to work, and life goes on.

“It’s not like you to get sick, Reid.”

Emily doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s about as innocuous as a comment can possibly be, but something about it makes his heart stop for a second. Because the thing is, she’s right. The last time he was actually sick was the anthrax poisoning three years ago, which can hardly be blamed on his body itself. He hasn’t been sick with a virus since he was a child — certainly not anything more than a mild winter cold.

His world turns upside down in the middle of a Tuesday, a couple of them gathered around Derek’s desk laughing about nothing in particular, the easy camaraderie of a close-knit team without a time-sensitive case on their minds.

Three and a half weeks ago: a night heady with alcohol in a gay bar in downtown DC, a charged encounter with a man just Spencer’s type, a whispered invitation back to his place, not making it past the bathroom…

He pales, suddenly feeling violently ill at the prospect of what’s happened, how badly he’s fucked up this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” Emily asks, suddenly noticing his appearance. “You look really pale… maybe you’re not ready to be back at work yet.”

Forcing himself out of his stupor, he manages to open his mouth without vomiting. “I don’t feel so good,” he says, and even to him his voice sounds weak and distant. Blood roars in his ears, and all he can think is what that blood could very well be tainted with.

Far away voices discuss something he doesn’t pay attention to before Derek’s placing his hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into the discussion. “I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Emily isn’t standing at the desk anymore, but he doesn’t think to look around for her, just locks eyes with Derek: noticing his brows knit deeply in concern, worry clouding his dark, striking eyes.

He lets himself be led down to the garage. Later, he won’t remember any of the winding car journey home, Derek’s worried sideways glances, his attempts at making conversation, tucking him into bed, his hesitancy to leave and go back to work. He’ll just remember the weight of his realisation, the sinking acknowledgement of what this means.

What it makes him.

⭐️

The next day, he wakes up ravenously hungry. He doesn’t remember anything after the dreaded realisation, but he remembers that he came to it only minutes after eating lunch: meaning he’s gone over eighteen hours without food. Somehow, he manages to pick himself out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He finishes it all and doesn’t taste a single bite.

He texts the group chat Penelope had made for the whole team last year, ignoring the dozens of anxious messages from his team already filling his phone. Won’t be in.

Almost on auto-pilot, he gets dressed, picks up his phone, wallet, and keys, and walks to his nearest metro station. He counts four stops, gets out of the carriage and walks up the stairs onto the street, weaving through exactly three streets until he finds himself staring at the sign for his Urgent Care clinic.

Words — not ashes, as some small part of him anticipates — manage to spill from his lips as he tells the doctor everything from the unprotected sex he vaguely recalls having on the night of Saturday the 12th of March to his brief flu-like symptoms to his sickly realisation yesterday. Vaguely, he thinks there’s some sort of sick humour in being able to recall exactly what day he had sex, but not the details of the sex itself. Alcohol and dilaudid are the only things that have ever been able to interfere with his memory.

He obediently opens his mouth for a saliva swab, lets the nurse prick his finger and collect a drop of his blood. He wonders if she knows what they’re testing him for. He wonders if she thinks he’s as dirty as he feels, if she’ll violently scrub her hands after smiling politely at him, if she’ll roll her eyes when she talks to the other nurses, lamenting his stupidity.

The sounds of the waiting room melt into the background as he waits for the test to be conducted, and judging by the tone of the nurse who gets his attention when it’s time to return to the doctor’s office, it’s not her first attempt.

He mutters a distracted apology as he gets up from his seat, but she just smiles sympathetically. It shouldn’t get his back up in the way it does.

“I’m afraid you have tested positive for the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, Dr Reid,” she tells him, her voice gentle but straight-forward. He’s at least glad she doesn’t try and soften the blow. It’s not a blow that deserves to be softened. “I know this is a shock, but—”

“It’s not a shock.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s not a shock,” he repeats insistently; impatiently. “I knew it was coming. It’s my own fault.”

“Playing blame games isn’t going to help anybody here, Dr Reid,” she says firmly, meeting his eye. “Whether you were expecting it or not, this would knock anyone off-kilter, and I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that.”

She waits for his reluctant nod before continuing. “The good news is that we’ve caught it early enough to contain the infection. Your CD4 levels are very good, and you do not meet AIDS criteria. I’ve referred you to Dr Frederiks at George Washington University Hospital. He’s an expert in Infectious Disease and specialises in HIV/AIDS treatment. He can see you tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

He arrives back at his apartment almost $300 out of pocket, having gained nothing but a positive HIV diagnosis. The FBI has brilliant healthcare insurance but Spencer ticked the ‘no’ box on the insurance form. He can’t risk anybody knowing about this.

He texts Hotch and tells him he has a doctor’s appointment in the morning and will let him know whether he’ll make it in for the afternoon. Then he lays on the sofa, and cries.

⭐️

“HIV is a chronic illness,” the doctor explains at four minutes past ten the next morning, “a latent infection. Not a death sentence. Medications have come leaps and bounds in the last ten years, and the regimes aren’t anywhere near as rigorous as they used to be. With your CD4 levels this good, your life really won’t be much different than it was a few weeks ago.”

Spencer’s never had much interest in medicine — after all, there’s a reason he’s not that kind of doctor — but he knows this much. He doesn’t tell the doctor that he’s wasting his time explaining the basics of the disease, just stares blankly at the point in between his eyes, staring at the small crease in his skin, the way it moves as he speaks.

“It’s likely that you’ll die of something else, Dr Reid, decades in the future. When managed correctly, HIV is rarely deadly.”

This seems irrelevant: it doesn’t matter to Spencer what he dies of. Whether his immune system gives in or he’s shot in the line of duty or drops dead in the street from an aneurysm he doesn’t see coming, he’ll be dead.

He still doesn’t say anything.

“For the first six months of infection, the risk of transmission to sexual partners is high,” he continues, unfazed by Spencer’s lack of response. “Are you in a relationship?”

“No.” It’s the first word he’s spoken since he entered this office. His voice breaks. He can’t have the person he wants: this feels like the nail in the coffin of a relationship dead on arrival.

A look of sympathy crosses Dr Frederik’s face. “In any casual encounters you may engage in, you’ll need to be extra careful. Do you have the contact details of the person you contracted this from?”

His voice is steadier this time. “No.”

“Do you have any suspicion that you were deliberately infected by them?”

“No,” he answers, because he doesn’t, but it occurs to him that he’ll never actually know. He doesn’t remember if they used a condom; if he even wanted to use one. (All he remembers is his muscles and the way he pretended he was Derek, the amused look on the other man’s face when he whispered his name like a prayer.)

“That’s fine,” the doctor smiles encouragingly. It feels patronising. “We’re going to start with a triple combination of medications: tenofovir and emtricitabine combined with dolutegravir. HIV is an adaptable virus and easily becomes resistant, so it’s best to attack it hard and fast as early as possible to give you your best chances at an undetectable viral load in the next year. Which, I might add, Dr Reid, is a completely reasonable goal. At that stage, you will not be all that infectious. You’ll have bloods drawn before you leave to estimate your baseline kidney and liver function as well as overall health. In three months, you’ll have another test, and in six months, we’ll assess how well the drugs are working for you.”

Spencer nods, his eyes not leaving the crease between Dr Frederik’s eyebrows.

“Make those appointments with my secretary on your way out, and contact me if you have any concerns.” He pushes a brown paper envelope across the desk. “Inside you’ll find a copy of your positive test result, your prescriptions, and a number of leaflets on the condition as a whole.”

He squashes the urge to push the envelope back across the desk and nods again.

“Pick up the medication before the end of today and start them either tonight or in the morning,” he advises, before standing up from behind the desk and walking towards the door.

Spencer follows obediently, nodding once more and forcing a grimace onto his face, before walking down the hallway towards the secretary, another stranger he has to share his secret with. Swallowing down the urge to either scream or vomit, he fiddles with the envelope in his hands and bites the bullet.

⭐️

He tells Hotch that he won’t be in that day, and he goes home and forces himself to get it together. He showers first, the hot water washing the grime of the last few days down the drain, but he can’t do anything about the lingering layer of shame clinging to his skin. For the first time since the realisation, he forces himself to look in the mirror. A thin, pallid man with bags under his eyes and the look of someone harbouring a secret looks back at him.

His hair has grown out a little in the last few months, actual curls visible around his face (memories flash across his mind of breathy gasps; a hand buried in his hair, pulling ever-so-gently but they’re gone before they’re even remotely tangible), and he lost a little bit of weight he couldn’t afford to lose during his symptomatic period.

But, as frustrating as it is, it’s not what he sees. Not really. He sees Spencer Reid, possessor of five degrees, soon to become six, expert analyst in the FBI, the man who listens to jazz when he studies and watches documentaries for fun and solves crossword puzzles on the metro.

Something inside him shifts as he’s reminded of his humanity in that moment. It’s the most okay he’s felt in the last forty-eight hours.

He’ll take it.

He goes back to work the next day with little fanfare, getting warm smiles and ‘glad you’re feeling better’s from the team before they’re plunged headfirst into a new case, as it so often goes. They fly to Vermont, and part of him is glad for the distraction: no more talking about his illness, no more self-pity — he’s forced to try and bridge the gap between Dr Spencer Reid, Before and Dr Spencer Reid, HIV Positive as quickly and seamlessly as possible.

He does what he’s good at: offers relevant, detailed facts, profiles the victims and the unsub, cites studies that help them get to the bottom of the case, and for a moment he allows himself to forget about the virus coursing through his blood and the feeling of shame he can’t quite shake no matter how clean he scrubs his skin.

They get to the hotel late that evening and Spencer takes his second dose of medication, individually popping each tablet from it’s sheet into his hand. The pharmacist he spoke to yesterday told him that from his next medication order they can put all three tablets into a blister packet for him, but for now he’s stuck punching through three different plastic packets every night. Derek asks him to join them at the bar for a drink, but Spencer turns him down. He’s barely been able to look him in the eye.

If, in some rare and far flung universe, Derek did want to date Spencer, he wouldn’t want to date HIV positive, ex-addict, reckless and unsafe Spencer.

He wouldn’t want to date a man so heartbroken and lovesick that he got black-out drunk and slept with someone — most likely without a condom — just because he bared a passing resemblance to Derek. Contracting the Human Immunodeficiency Virus in the process.

No.

Spencer spends the evening staring into the mirror instead, desperately trying to find the man he was four days ago under the burden of broken suffering he seems to have picked up along with the diagnosis, the positive test, the sympathetic doctors.

When he hears the others come up past midnight and pile into their hotel rooms, laughing and chattering among themselves, Spencer still hasn’t looked away.

The use of the case as a distraction only works until 11am the next day. He’d had trouble falling asleep, and he’s powering through the day fuelled by black coffee and raw determination alone, but those motivators — as effective as they can be — can’t stop his legs from shaking as he stares at the geo-profile, searching for what they’re missing.

It sucks, but he’s glad for the warning the shaking gives him. He finds a chair and sits down, which is likely the only thing that stops him from collapsing when black dots swim in his vision and he’s suddenly vomiting down his front.

“Reid!” Hotch cries, running from the other end of the police station to where he’s sitting, panic clear on his face. They’re the only two from their unit currently in the station, but Hotch quickly locates an officer and turns to him. “Call an ambulance.”

“No,” Spencer manages to protest, although it only makes him want to be sick again, “‘m fine, promise.”

“What’s going on? I thought the flu had passed? Healthy people don’t spontaneously vomit and almost pass out, Reid.”

Somehow, his addled brain manages to concoct a decent enough lie. “Keep thinking I’m better,” he mumbles, leaning forward to put his head between his legs as Hotch places a hand on his back, “and then I’m not.”

“You’re sure this is just the flu?” Hotch asks, concerned but at least appearing to believe him.

“Certain,” Spencer lies.

Hotch nods once before shaking his head at the officer on standby with a phone to call an ambulance. “Well, you can’t work the case like this,” he sighs. “We need to get you back to the hotel, okay? You can rest there. God, Reid, what did the doctor say?”

“Bad case of the flu. Gave me some strong Tamiflu and told me I’d be fine in a couple days.” He gasps the words out in between intense waves of nausea, clasping his hands together in an iron grip.

He absolutely can’t let Hotch catch on. In the nine years he’s worked at the FBI, he’s managed to conceal his sexuality below layers upon layers of closeting, and he’s not about to be forced out now. It started as a purely protectionist strategy — law enforcement in the early 2000s didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation when it came to tolerance — but then he just felt forced too deep, felt the web of lies spun too tightly around him to even begin to unpick them.

Terror seizes his heart at the idea of his team knowing who he really is: not because he expects homophobia or backlash, but because he’s not sure he’s ready to live that openly yet. He’s never been good with change, and this is no exception.

It doesn’t help that the whole team is all too aware of his past addiction. He dreads the thought of them thinking he’s using again and, worse, so irresponsibly that he managed to contract HIV.

Hotch gets a rookie officer to drive him back to the hotel, and she keeps sending him nervous glances, most likely worried he’ll stink up her immaculately kept squad car with his spontaneous vomiting. Both he and the car make the journey unscathed, although he knows he probably looks as green as he feels as he drags himself up the stairs — could there possibly be a worse time for an out of order elevator? — and somehow manages to make it to the bed before he collapses.

Unfortunately, his restful slumber doesn’t last long. He’s woken up not half an hour later with the intense need to be sick again, and he races to the toilet, where he spends the next two hours: intermittently slumped over it, being sick into it, and lying on the cold tiles next to it.

It feels like a punishment. If Spencer was a religious man he’d be certain God was smiting him for his sins, but instead he’s left instead pondering karma or fate or some other theory he doesn’t really buy into either. Logically, he knows it’s just a combination of guilt and regret — he made a mistake, he’s suffering the consequences; there’s no fate or religion or karma involved — but his delirious, out of sorts mind struggles to hold on to that.

Reason doesn’t make the nausea any less crippling, after all.

Eventually, he must manage to pass out on the bathroom floor, because he’s being shaken awake by a pair of gentle hands, and when he finally opens his eyes, it’s dark outside.

“Spence?”

Shit. Derek.

His eyes fly open and he fights to sit up, to make himself more presentable. The smell of vomit lingers in the air and he remembers that he didn’t even put the toilet seat down, let alone flush it. (At least he thought to change out of his vomit-covered shirt. Thank God for small mercies.) He blushes, and thinks he must look a pretty picture of red and green as he finally meets Derek’s eyes.

“God, Spence, how bad is this flu?” he asks worriedly, smoothing his hair with the palm of his hand. Despite himself, Spencer finds himself pressing back into the touch, relishing any contact he can get.

Then it hits him: he’s dirty. He can’t contaminate Derek like this.

“You should leave,” he asserts hurriedly as he pulls away, hating that desperation is so obvious in his voice. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve cleaned everything up, and I used gloves. I’ve been in contact with you the last couple of days, so if you were going to get me sick you would’ve already. I just want to be here for you.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed so tightly they hurt. He wants nothing more than to fold himself into Derek’s arms, let himself be comforted by the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But he can’t. There are so many reasons that he can’t.

“No,” he says, not opening his eyes, resenting the tear that slips out and spills down his cheek. “You can’t. I’m… I’m not safe to be around.”

He doesn’t really mean to say it, but it escapes anyway, and he opens his eyes just in time to see the confusion cross Derek’s face. “Not safe to…? Spencer, what—”

“I just… I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek says softly, bringing a hand to his hair again, and he knows that HIV isn’t transmitted through sweat or vomit but he’s dirty, and Derek is so so good, he can’t be responsible for tainting him. Derek doesn’t relent, though, not even when Spencer pulls away from his touch and shrinks in on himself, leaning against the toilet. “You need to allow yourself to be comforted. You need to let me help, Spencer.”

Suddenly, he feels incredibly tired: the energy seeping out of his body, and he’s boneless against the toilet, absent even of the effort to hold himself upright.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He puts his arms around Spencer’s rolled up body and lifts him, holding him close to his chest as he carries him from the bathroom to the bed.

Spencer doesn’t just let him, he curls into his embrace, clinging to the material of his t-shirt like it’s his only grip on reality.

(Later, he’ll blame the fever, but deep down he knows that just once, he wanted to play pretend, and just once, he didn’t have the energy to stop himself.)

⭐️

The side effects take weeks to finally leave, his body having a hard time adjusting to not only a deadly virus in his bloodstream, but some of the strongest drugs on the market inhibiting his natural enzyme production. Eventually, though, he’s back at work properly, selling a story about a simultaneous gastro-intestinal virus making the flu exponentially worse.

He’s not really sure everyone believes him, but nobody questions it out loud, so he avoids everyone’s eyes and takes it as a win.

Nobody gets close enough to try, anyway. He pushes everyone away, holds them at arm's length no matter how much they kick and scream and claw their way closer to him. It surprises him how persistent Derek is, and for a moment he feels a sad flutter of hope in his stomach and he’s forced to stamp it down: Derek sees him as a brother, a friend, a colleague, not a potential romantic partner.

And it would be irrelevant, even if he did. Derek wouldn’t want him as any of those things if he knew what he was hiding. Ever since his lapse in judgement on the case in Vermont, he’s refused to spend any time alone with Derek, and he hates the hurt he sees in his eyes, hates that he can’t scream at him that this is for his own good. But he can’t know. Because Spencer is still ruled by his relentless selfish desires, and he can’t let Derek go, no matter how hard he tries to.

Kept at arm’s length at least means he’s still touching his shoulders.

He muddles through the next few months on his own, returning to his quiet apartment every night and eating a sad, lonely dinner on his sad, lonely sofa before punching his way through a blister pack, taking his tablets, and going to sleep. He turns down drinks invitations, declines phone calls, ignores text messages. He pretends he isn’t home when there are knocks at his door.

He takes showers that are too hot and cries on the metro, scrubs his fingernails and his face, and when he got a shallow knife wound on a case last month, wouldn’t let a single member of the team near him. Whispering his status, shame-faced, to the attending EMT.

This is it, he thinks one night, as he opens the microwave and takes out the mac-and-cheese ready meal he’d bought on the way home that night. He doesn’t even like mac-and-cheese. It was just the only thing left in the store at 8.30pm. This is my life now. Standing in my kitchen at 9.15pm, not being able to remember the last time I was actually happy.

(He does remember, really. It was Sunday the 13th of March, 9.37am: Derek had ruffled his hair and joked with him as they waited alone in the conference room to find out what was so urgent they were being called into work on the weekend for. Spencer could still feel the aftermath of his Saturday night tryst, and pretended for a brief few minutes that that encounter was with Derek, and those jokes were actually flirting. But then the case took over, then the flu symptoms, and then. Well.)

Before he can carry the mac-and-cheese into the living room, though, there’s a knock at the door. Everyone had mostly given up on turning up unannounced, so it catches him off-guard, and something in him, some vain flicker of hope, or maybe a masochistic desire to hurt even more, propels him forward until he’s opening it and coming face to face with Derek Morgan.

“Spencer,” he says urgently, and panic immediately grips Spencer as he wonders what could be so wrong that he’d need to show up out of the blue, but Derek must see it on his face. “Nothing’s happened, don’t worry, I just… I need to speak to you.”

A knot of something that Spencer can’t quite place tightens in his stomach as he stares at the myriad of emotions playing across Derek’s face, but he steps aside to let him in anyway. He closes the door behind them and feels a flash of embarrassment at the state of his apartment. It’s completely clean — his already rigorous attitude towards germ and cleanliness have only intensified in the last few months as paranoia plagued his mind relentlessly — but it’s barren of any joy, and it couldn’t be more obvious.

The furniture is drab and Spencer’s packed away all the photos and trinkets that used to litter the entire place because they just made him too sad to look at. The only life that remains is his books, and the sheet he’d hung to cover them up in a fit of rage a couple of weeks ago still hangs there limply. He hadn’t wanted to see his books: didn’t want the temptation of touching them and tainting them. What if he got a papercut on one of the pages and his virus-ridden blood spilled across the words he treasures so dearly?

He watches as Derek surveys the place with a sad expression on his face, before recollecting himself and turning back to Spencer.

“I know you’ve been pulling away from us, Spence,” he says, almost breathless as he takes a seat on the sofa. Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his body, so he settles on remaining where he is: stock still facing the couch, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. “We’ve watched you become a shell of who you used to be, and we’re all worried about you—”

“I don’t—”

“No, just let me speak. Everyone is worried, and I am too, but… I’m also… I’m hurt, Spencer. You’re pushing me away, turning me down every time I try to get close to you, and it’s painful because you’re my friend. You’re my best friend, and you mean the world to me.”

I wouldn’t if you knew my secret, he thinks miserably, but he doesn’t say anything.

“More than anything, though, it hurts… because I’m in love with you.”

Spencer stares. He’s hallucinating, he has to be.

“And I know — well, I don’t know because we’ve never talked about it — but I know you’re probably straight and even if you were interested in guys, too, who’s to say you’d be in love with me back? But I had to tell you because our relationship is heading south anyway, plummeting straight for the ground, and I figured it couldn’t hurt, I just… say something? Please?”

He doesn’t mean to say it.

“I’m HIV positive.”

It’s Derek’s turn to stare. Spencer can’t meet his eyes, and suddenly feeling like he needs to Get Out, he rushes to the kitchen and picks up his rapidly cooling mac-and-cheese. He gets a fork out and faces the countertop, away from Derek, as he starts to shovel unsatisfying bites into his not-hungry stomach.

It can’t even be a full minute later that he hears footsteps behind him. “You have AIDS?”

He sets the mac-and-cheese back on the counter. “No,” he answers, not turning around. “I tested positive for HIV; I don’t meet AIDS criteria. My CD4 levels are apparently very good, and the medication I’m taking is proving effective in controlling and managing the virus. I don’t have side effects anymore, and I don’t feel any different than I did before I contracted it.”

There’s a beat of silence. “And this is why you’ve been pulling away from us?”

Spencer hesitates before nodding shamefully, his eyes burning a hole in his dinner. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone, and I—” He’s cut off by a heaving sob. It catches him by surprise, but suddenly he’s choking on emotion: everything he’s been through, everything he’s been dealing with alone for so long a burden he no longer knows how to carry.

“Oh, baby,” Derek breathes, rushing forward and turning Spencer until his face is pressed into his neck and their arms are wrapped around one another. The nickname only furthers his emotion, falling apart completely in such a way that makes him unsure he’ll ever be put back together again. “I’m so sorry.”

He lets Spencer cry it out until his sobs recede and his tears slow, and he feels confident enough to pull away and meet Derek’s eye properly again. It feels like a reconnection; a reconciliation of sorts, and his breath catches at the emotion on his face. He’d expected a meddle of sympathy and disgust, but all he finds is compassion and love, tinged by a sadness Spencer supposes probably comes from watching the man you’ve just professed to love fall apart like that.

Oh wait. Derek just told him—

“You love me?” His voice comes out quieter and shyer than he’d hoped, and not nearly as incredulous as he’d intended, but Derek softens anyway.

“Yes,” he says emphatically. “So much. And if you think you telling me this is going to change how I feel even a bit, then you’re dead wrong, Spencer.”

It’s suddenly too much to think that everything he’d feared happening for the last few months was wrong, and he’s gasping for breath again, sinking to the ground to bury his face in his hands.

“Spence?” Derek asks worriedly, following him to the floor. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No… please, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, ground himself in the reality that’s unfolding before him, no matter how different it might look than that of his anticipation. “You know, the man. Um, the man I… contracted this from. I slept with him because he looked like you.”

He looks up and meets Derek’s eyes again, searching for anything in them to confirm that he was thinking all the thoughts Spencer feared and coming up empty. “I was so heartsick that I got blind-drunk and slept with a complete stranger because it was the closest to you I ever thought I’d get and then I was just so scared of what everyone would say when I found out. I know logically that HIV doesn’t make someone dangerous or unclean, but I just couldn’t shake this feeling of shame, you know? I was constantly panicked that I’d pass it to one of you. Besides, I’m not even out to the team, and I know the implications of a disease like this: gay or an IV drugs user — I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I was both. I’m clean, and I’ve stayed clean, I just…”

“Hey, I get it,” Derek says gently, reaching out a hand and cupping Spencer’s cheek gently. “I think if I was in the same boat I probably would’ve reacted in exactly the same way. You can’t be blamed for bowing to a social stigma this heavy, Spence. I’m just sorry I didn’t realise what was going on sooner. And even sorrier, for that matter, that I didn’t tell you I was in love with you before this even had a chance to happen.”

Spencer smiles a little at that. “Hey, I didn’t tell you either. I don’t blame you at all. Neither of us were out and confessing something like that is no small feat.”

“I suppose so.”

Spencer shifts a little in his position on the floor, the raging storm of emotion that he’s been drowning under for the past four and a half months quieting for the very first time. He breathes deeply for a few seconds before working up the courage to ask the question he really wants the answer to. “I know you said that this doesn’t change the way you feel—”

“And it doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods, because suddenly he gets that. He isn’t sure what took so long. “But does it make you not want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Spencer, no.” Derek’s voice is urgent as he makes intense eye contact with him, raising a gentle finger to his chin. “It doesn’t change a single. thing. I don’t know much about HIV, I’ll admit, but I do know that these days you can get to a point where it doesn’t transmit to partners. And we can be really safe about it. I’ll do all the research to make you comfortable, but Spencer, even if it did mean that we could never have sex, I’d still want you. I want you so badly, pretty boy.”

He can hardly believe his ears. “Really?”

“Really.” He swipes his thumb across his cheek, catching a falling tear. “I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with you, Spencer. I have been for years. You can ask, Penelope: she’s been putting up with my pining like a saint, but I’m not sure she could’ve taken it much longer.”

“I’ve been in love with you for years, too.” Another tear falls as the prospect of what’s about to happen really sinks in.

“Can I?” Derek murmurs, as he inches closer ever so slowly.

“Please,” Spencer whispers, barely finishing the word before their lips are colliding and a flurry of butterflies break out in his stomach as his chest glows with the warmth of a kiss he’s long been aching for. Derek’s hands find his waist, his jaw, his cheek, his hair, exploring his body ever so softly as he kisses him with the same inquisitive gentleness, managing to take him apart with just his lips and his hands.

“God,” he whispers as he finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s as he struggles to hide his wide grin. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of that. I’m gonna be like a teenage girl tonight, running my fingers across my lips as I remember every minute of it.”

Spencer giggles at that. “Well you can rest easy in the knowledge that I’ll be doing the same.” He pulls away slightly and looks down for a second before looking back up into Derek’s earnest gaze. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“I’ll kiss you like that every day for as long as you’ll have me.” He doesn’t hesitate to lean back in, connecting their lips again as they melt into one another’s touches, and it makes Spencer laugh later that the most intimate and passionate encounter of his life so far happened on the kitchen floor.

They pull apart as soon as it heats up a little bit, and pain flashes across both of their expressions at the thought of why.

“There’s this thing called PrEP,” Spencer says, still a little ashamed of his situation, that Derek has to be protected against him before they can take this any further. “It’s medication that you take before and after sex with a HIV positive person that blocks the virus from entering your bloodstream if you were to somehow contract it. And we can wear condoms. And once I reach an undetectable viral load, it means the virus is untransmittable, and you won’t contract it even if we’re unprotected.”

Derek blinks. “Wow, that’s… that’s better than I thought.”

“Really? You’re still okay with all this?”

He softens. “Pretty boy, I am so okay with all this, and I’m sorry that you spent so long thinking otherwise. We have time to figure all this out, but what matters is that right now, I have you next to me, and we love each other. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, and leans forward to kiss Derek chastely. “I do.”

“Now, how about we bin that disgusting mac-and-cheese and order some Chinese?” he suggests, matching Spencer’s smile. “We could eat it in bed and watch one of those documentaries you’re always talking about.”

Spencer laughs fondly. “You want our first date to be eating takeaway and watching a science documentary in bed?”

“Well it sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty perfect to me, too,” Spencer whispers, the happiness in his chest feeling warm and inviting, begging him to bask in the moment for as long as he can.

They’ll work out the specifics later — they’ll get Derek started on PrEP and attend Spencer’s appointments to measure his viral load, they’ll have important and serious conversations about the risks to both of them, they’ll work out what their relationship means for work, how they’ll begin to repair the damage the last few months have done to Spencer’s mental health — but right now, none of that matters.

All that does is: the buffet of Chinese food Derek lays out on a blanket on Spencer’s bed, the documentary about bees playing on the TV, and the thrilled little glances thrown each other’s way, the stolen kisses and casual touches, the love palpable in the air around them. And later, when the food is eaten, and the documentary is playing the credits: Spencer’s tired head resting on Derek’s loving chest, and the syncing of their heartbeats as they fall asleep to the sound of each other.

This shouldn't have to be said but please do not use fanfiction as sex education and PLEASE practice safe sex. As far as I know, all the information included in this fic is correct, but I have no personal experience with HIV/AIDS, and this is very much written from an outsider's perspective - albeit a thoroughly researched one.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

[silentfcknhill]

FAVORITE SHOWS IN POSTERS

Well, we’re back for another installment of this tagged meme, this time for TV shows! I also stole this from/was indirectly tagged by @jcmorrigan. My taste in shows also differs a bit from my taste in movies, as I tend to like a lot of comedy shows with not as many horror ones. I’m not into shows as much as movies overall, but there are some that I am very passionate about so I picked twenty again. So, here we go for part 2, in order:

1. Avatar: The Last Airbender/The Legend Of Korra (2005-2014)

I'm including these as one show since they take place in the same universe and tell a continuation of the same overall plot. Altogether this is probably the best piece of media to ever exist, including movies. It has so many great characters and villains especially and some of the most epic sequences, charming humor and heartwarming moments ever. I've never met a person who didn't like these shows, even people who normally don't like cartoons. My dad, who is biased against animation? He loved it. My mother? She loved it, watched it with her multiple times. My grandmother? Loved it. My ex-boyfriend? Loved it. My best friend? Loved it. I dare anyone not to, and I'm so glad it's making a resurgence since it's on Netflix for a new generation to enjoy.

2. Black Butler (2008-2014)

I never was big into anime growing up and only really started watching anime when I was like 16 and above, but this is one of the exceptions because holy shit is it ever dark and epic. I'm not sure I'd really recommend it for kids, it's more of a teens and young adults kind of anime and that's probably why it's so good, because it isn't afraid to explore dark and mature topics and do it with all of the intensity and gravitas required to do said topics justice. It has lots of great characters, and the story of demons who make deals with children who have a dark side is fun to watch play out.

3. Seinfeld (1989-1998)

My dad was a huge fan of this show so I watched it growing up since I was a toddler and it became a classic for me. I've watched thw hole show through at least 8 times, and I'll never stop because it never gets old or boring. It's also my only comfort show when I'm having a panic attack because of one time a few years ago when I was having a drug-induced psychosis episode and watching it calmed me down, so now it's like the opposite of a trigger and whenever I'm having an episode or something I watch it to bring me back to reality. For that reason it's more than a show to me, it's a medical treatment and I'm forever grateful to it.

4. The Good Place (2016-2020)

The big four shows made my Michael Schur all made it on this post (The Good Place, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Office and Parks And Recreation), either in the main list of the honorable mentions, but this is my personal favorite of the four. It's so funny, quirky, relatable and basically tailor-made to suit my interests. Not only is it an entertaining and wholesome show, but I think watching it helped me come to terms with a lot of things like mortality, ethics, philosophy, religion and my relationships with other people. It gets  alot of different viewpoints across and if you're a very analytical and philosophical person like me you'll probably enjoy seeing it all play out. Not to mention, every single character is 'favorite character' material. It's rare you find a show with no filler characters in the main cast, but I genuinely can't choose who is best.

5. Brooklyn Nine-Nine (2013-?)

Another of Michael Schur's shows, this one is just barely under The Good Place and to be honest it was tough to pick my favorite between the two because they're both equally funny. I know it's kind of controversial right now because of the whole law enforcement thing, but I actually think they do a good job of handling social issues in the show and remaining respectful of real-life systemic problems. As for the characters, this is another one of those shows where every single character is gold and I think that tends to be a trend among Schur's shows in general. He produces damn good comedy, and damn good characters. I can't wait to see what they bring next.

6. Rick And Morty (2013-?)

This is unfortunately one of those cases of 'great show, horrible fandom' and for that reason I don't get involved in the fandom even though I love the show. It's a shame because it really is a great show, so funny and, again, such good characters. I think it's a lot more accessible than the fandom likes to claim, so I'm hoping more people will give it a chance and not get put off by the intellectual elitism of the fandom because it does have some of the most entertaining and batshit crazy episodes ever, poking fun of some of the staples of science fiction in media while also poking fun of itself the whole time. Unlike the fandom, the show doesn't take itself seriously and that's enjoyable nowadays.

7. Orange Is The New Black (2013-2019)

While this show is a comedy, it is also a lot of other things and it's probably made me ugly-cry just as many times as it's made me laugh. Well, maybe not as often, but those few scenes (if you've watched the show then you know the ones I'm talking about) made me hysterically sob hard enough to be worth like fifty minor sads. But I didn't even mind because the show is just that good, and it makes you /feel/ something in a real way. Probably because of just how real it gets in terms of telling stories that happen all the time in the real world, sometimes with inevitably tragic endings. But these things do happen every day, and it's important to shine a light on that. It's not just representation for LGBTQ+ but also for POC, the neurodiverse, the poor, and many more. Give it a watch to broaden your perspective!

8. Big Mouth (2017-?)

This is probably the grossest show I've ever seen but by god is it ever funny. Maybe it's because I have an immature sense of humor or something, but I love this show. It definitely won't be everyone's cup of tea and I don't recommend you watch this show with anyone else around because it will get awkward. I think part of its appeal to me is that everyone I talk to who likes it considers it so relatable to their lives growing up but for someone like me who grew up on the autism and asexual spectrum and who was physically an early-bloomer by years, nothing about this show is relatable to me in any way so it makes it all the more crazy and bizarre watching how the people around me must have experienced things. Did y'all really have these experiences with puberty in middle school???

9. Dexter (2006-2013)

I recently heard that this show is coming back for a reboot soon and I'm so excited because this is my absolute favorite drama/thriller show, as evidenced by the fact that it's the highest one on the list so far that isn't a comedy. I love the idea of having a protagonist who is sort of a villain (or at least morally dubious), and the idea of a serial killer who only kills bad people is particularly satisfying for some reason. Maybe because he's the vigilante we all deserve and want in this unjust and evil world of modern times? Idk but the very premise of this show set it up for big things and aside from the ending I think it delivered consistently.

10. Once Upon A Time (2011-2018)

This show took us on some journeys, and you can't deny that. Sure, maybe it didn't always finish what it started and didn't always end in the most satisfying way, but part of its charm is that you didn't care because the experience was just so much fun. They took characters and stories that have been told to death and somehow managed to put a unique and unexpected twist on them, and that alone is admirable. Good twists, good villains, and pretty much every cliffhanger known to man will keep you hooked on binge-watching every episode.

11. RuPaul's Drag Race (2009-?)

A bit different than the other entries on my list in that it's not fiction but a reality competition show, but I couldn't leave Drag Race out because it's just so fucking iconic and perfect. Even when you disagree with the judges or can't stand a certain contestant you'll still be having a good time. It's got the personalities you love to love, the ones you love to hate, and the comedy that's completely meme-able. I mean just how much has this show contributed to pop culture and the internet? More than most of us, henny. I've watched every single season, even the international ones and all of the spinoffs. This show will probably be on for another thirty years when Ru is throwing shade from a hospital bed and I'll still be watching.

12. House (2004-2012)

Some people hate on this show, and I don't get it. I love House. Yes, he's an ass. That's the point. He's supposed to be unlikeable, and that's why I like him. Maybe because I always love the rude, sarcastic, misanthropic jerkass-genius characters for some reason. And I also love procedural shows, so it's a win-win. I also work in the healthcare field so it appeals to me for that reason too, because obviously the whole premise is outlandish which is what makes it funny. Of course it's not realistic for a hospital, so just enjoy the absurdity and don't get too hung up on the details of medical accuracy and professional ethics and you'll be fine.

13. The Office (2005-2013)

The third of Michael Schur's show and the last one that made the main list (sorry Parks And Rec, I love you too but there was just so many good shows to choose from and I saw you last so the nostalgia isn't as strong!) I don't think I need to hype this show up any, it's already a classic and you can't even turn around online without getting hit in the face by a dozen Office memes. You'll have to pry this show and it's relatable characters (especially Michael Scott) from my cold, dead hands.

14. All Hail King Julien/The Penguins Of Madagascar (2008-2017)

Like Avatar/Korra, I also consider this as one show for the sake of this list because it also takes place in the same universe (Madagascar, specifically) and I just couldn't choose one over the other because they're both so perfect. They're funny and I love all the characters (it cut out the weaker links of the Madagascar film series and just focuses on expanding the standout side-characters like King Julien and the penguins). It also delved into some lore, particularly the first show, and even though I didn't also agree with the directions it took (you may have seen me get salty about the ending because I cared too much), I can't deny how much I love it.

15. Bones (2005-2017)

One of the other scarce non-comedy shows on this list, it still has it's funny moments. It's also, like House, another procedural show that involves some medical stuff, but this time on a more scientific and forensic level which is even more interesting. It's nice to see a lead female with Asperger's, too. There's a lot of cop/law enforcement shows where they try to solve crimes, but this one is the best, and I'm saying that as a fan of CSI as well. Don't fight me on this, I'm right. Oh yes, it's corny, it's campy, it's cheesy, but I love every minute of it. Don't watch if you have a weak stomach though.

16. The Simpsons (1989-?)

We all grew up with this show, don't lie. It's been around longer than most people on tumblr have even been alive. Should it have ended seasons ago? Hell yes. But that doesn't take away what the first like 20 or so seasons gave us (there's a lot of argument about when the show jumped the shark, for me it wasn't until much later than the popular consensus). The characters are amazing, but the secret to the show's longevity is that they always return to status quo and there's comfort and nostalgia in that. Bart will still be in 4th grade when you're out there pushing 90. This show is persistent. This show is eternal. This show will outlive us all.

17. Ash Vs. Evil Dead (2015-2018)

Sorely underrated. This show is hilarious, gruesome and campy as hell and I love it. I don't think you necessarily have to watch the Evil Dead movies beforehand in order to get the plot of the show, although it would probably help. In my opinion this show ended way too soon and I'm hoping someday we'll get a comeback because Ash is the reluctant, self-absorbed hero we all need and it's 2020 so at this point there really might actually be a demon-zombie apocalypse and who's gonna save us then if not for the impulsive womanizer with a chainsaw for a hand?

18. Malcolm In The Middle (2000-2006)

Another show I grew up with, I don't think it gets as much credit as it deserves. It has some damn funny episodes and great characters, and it did a lot of the popular sitcom tropes before they were 'cool'. Some other great sitcoms, The Middle in particular, took a lot of influence from this show and it helped pave the way for the future of sitcoms at a time when they were about to make a comeback. If you want a good show about the real experiences of growing up, this is a much more accurate representation of the highs and lows of being an awkward tween from a dysfunctional home.

19. A Series Of Unfortunate Events (2017-2019)

Unlike most people I actually liked the movie version from the early 2000's, and I read the books growing up so I was excited when I saw there was a live action television adaptation of it on Netflix because I felt like they cancelled the movie franchise too soon. I was interested to see how new actors would handle the roles, and I was not disappointed. I wouldn't say I liked either portrayal of the characters better or worse, they both added their own twist to it and this show is a great and loyal adaptation to the books, probably because the author was so heavily involved. He knew just when to stick to the books and when to improve upon what he had done with the benefit of hindsight. This show is basically the books, but remastered.

20. Winx Club (2004-?)

Sort of an odd one out on this list, but I really love this show even as an adult and it may surprise you to learn it is still going on and the most recent season came out last year. They take big breaks sometimes in between seasons, but it's still going strong and in multiple countries. The only thing I don't like about watching this show is all the different and inconsistent dubs since the original show is Italian and each dub only goes for a couple seasons so by the time you get used to one set of voices/names for the characters oyu have to abruptly switch to another, but it's still worth it for the beautiful animation and cool characters (especially the villains!)

Honorable Mentions: 

13 Reasons Why, America's Next Top Model, American Horror Story, Arrested Development, Bates Motel, Battlestar Galactica, Black Mirror, Care Bears, Chernobyl, Courage The Cowardly Dog, Criminal, CSI, Duck Dodgers, Goosebumps, Kenny Vs. Spenny, Kim Possible, Kingdom Hospital, Lazytown, Lost, Making A Murderer, Mayday, Mindhunter, Modern Family, Monster High, Obsession: Dark Desires, Parks And Recreation, Prison Break, Project Runway, Queer As Folk, Queer Eye, Salem, Schitt's Creek, SCTV, Spongebob Squarepants, The Emperor's New School, The Good Doctor, The Haunting Of Hill House/Bly Manor, The Middle, The Pretender, The Walking Dead, The X-Files, Through The Wormhole, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, Unsolved Mysteries, Yugioh

Tagging: @bullet-farmer​ and anyone else who wants to!

[pain-in-the-butler]

it’s late, I’m bored, time for Hunger Games Simulator Kuroshit Edition Episode 2

Day 1 Cornucopia highlights

Sebastian’s just like “aight time to clean”

it’s gonna take more than that to help you now, bud

they might be too pure for this

rip grandpa

Will also said “fuck it, cleaning time”

Agni brings out the right hand of god for bread, Randall gets the broken nose he’s deserved for a while now (he did win the last Hunger Games, to everyone’s disappointment)

O!Ciel hoping to hibernate it out

TERRIBLE NEWS EVERYONE, OUR GIRL IS DEAD ALREADY

Phipps, Macmillan, Finny, Lizzie, Soma, Abberline, Undertaker, Edward, Bard, Ronald, Othello, Mey-Rin, and Grey all got away from the cornucopia safely. Some of them got weapons, but the game doesn’t record what weapons people have and what they don’t, so whatever people picked up doesn’t really matter

Day 1 highlights

HARCOURT CAME TO FUCKIN PLAY YA’LL

gdi Randall, we just lost three of four girls in one fell swoop, I hope you bleed out from your broken nose and die

Ronald says we aren’t allowed to have nice things

Other highlights:

Day 1 Arena Event: Borders Close In

Edward punishes Agni for his bread crimes

Hunger Games simulator is actually just a rare pairs simulator

pretty upset that Harcourt died so soon, it’s always kind of funny when he gets the chance to become a cold-blooded killer

and there goes our last lady (though now that I think about it, I should probably sub in Lao and Ran-Mao)

Day 1 and we’ve already lost Lizzie, Mey-Rin, Bard, Tanaka, Soma, Agni, Sieglinde, Grell, Othello, Phipps, Abberline, Randall, and Harcourt

This leaves us with only eleven survivors: O!Ciel, R!Ciel, Sebastian, Edward, Finny, Undertaker, Wolfram, William, Ronald, Grey, and Macmillan

Night 1 highlights

the boys are like “better make the best of a bad situation by creating the next Kuromyu”

Macmillan had the same idea, but he’s alone, and no one’s favorite character is Macmillan

alternate title: R!Ciel and Undertaker traumatize Edward and Finny so badly that they can’t sleep

O!Ciel’s sitting on his food cache like a fat dragon guarding its hoard of treasure

Wolfram is unable to sleep, but Grey builds himself an entire camp and presumably gets plenty of beauty rest

Day 2 highlights

Macmillan refuses to kill the shorter, two-eyed version of his friend. Meanwhile, R!Ciel is already dead

Ciel’s almost too in character as he waits for the enemies to come to him while he does whatever the hell he wants

they’re just blond boys doin what blond boys do

other highlights:

Wow, no deaths today, so it looks like it’s camping o’clock

Night 2 highlights

black ops Macmillan says never trust anyone, not even the side character who exists to set up exposition

why do I feel like Wolfram will regret this

well, at least we know he didn’t burn down the manor

R!Ciel: I’ve reclaimed the manor, my title, and my girlfriend. What are you gonna do about it? O!Ciel:

other highlights:

Alas, poor Will

Day 3 highlights

R!Ciel is really out here like “I’m incapable of dying, just try to kill me and you’ll see” but no one believes him

the food king discovers he cannot be sustained on food alone

Grey does the gentlemanly thing

Wolfram says “my death scythe now”

Other highlights:

and so day 3 comes to an end with this final roster

we’re fortunate enough this time to have things wrapping up with both twins and Sebastian still alive, which keeps things interesting. However, Macmillan is also here, and the randomizer could turn him into an absolutely feral killing machine. Nothing is sacred in Hunger Games Simulator

Night 3 highlights

looks like someone couldn’t find that water source

another man cleared of arson

fast, hungry boy and strong, hungry boy bond over being hungry

still not entirely certain Macmillan knows he’s helping the wrong twin

the only wounds he's gotten are from the thorns while picking berries.......

fair enough my man

The Feast highlights

Somehow the frail, decrepit perpetual ten-year-old managed to defeat the powerful demon and grim reaper armed with a lawn mower. Did I mention nothing is sacred

Day 4 highlights

Macmillan and Finny both spared R!Ciel, but as soon as Macmillan asks for death, Finny’s like “you got it champ”

meanwhile the brothers are squabbling but what else is new

imagine if we got to a point in the manga where the roster actually looked like this 3wijaor;jiwa

Night 4 highlights

so I guess somehow Grey has cemented himself as Enemy #1 and the boys put aside their differences so they could have a slumber party with the remaining blond boys

Day 5 highlights

Older blond boy kills younger blond boy in a truly devastating example of blond boy crime. Meanwhile, O!Ciel add medical supplies to his growing collection of goodies, and Grey says “ooga booga” at a child

Night 5 highlights

it’s like the start of the Blue Cult arc all over again

Day 6 highlights

Did R!Ciel just die really anticlimactically?? Also, O!Ciel becomes a perfect combination of McGruff the crime dog and Smokey the Bear and says no to fires

Night 6 highlights

Hunger Games simulator returns to being a rare pairs simulator. Somehow O!Ciel has acquired an infection, and R!Ciel is definitely dead

Day 7 highlights

O!Ciel, Grey, and Wolfram take a page from the Public School Arc’s notes and don’t do anything interesting for a while

Night 7 highlights

Wolfram gets medical supplies but refuses to use them on his new boyfriend. O!Ciel's canon energy is stifling

Day 8 highlights

O!Ciel receives a weapon he won’t use. Grey tries to make something happen. Wolfram goes spelunking

Night 8 highlights

O!Ciel’s canon energy continues to rise to dangerous levels, but Seb’s too dead to hear him make orders. Wolfram dies, and if this were the manga, you know our boy wouldn’t stand a chance in hell against Grey

Day 9 highlights

IT’S THE HUNGER GAMES SIMULATOR AND NOTHING IS SACRED

god look at that shit-eating grin. Ciel managed to make it through the whole thing without killing anybody and he knows his ass would be grass if Grey hadn’t gone kablooey. unbelievable. our grand champion, everyone

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 283: I'M MARY POPPINS Y’ALL

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all, “Tomura what do you have?” and Tomura was all,” a quirk bullet!” and they were all, “NO!!” He then threw the bullet at Aizawa, who ironically actually did have a knife, and since no one bothered to say “no!!” this time he proceeded to CHOP OFF HIS OWN LEG. Just, schwoop. Lopped it right off. Didn’t even fucking care. Anyway so then Tomura was all, “you know what who even needs quirk bullets” and somehow broke free from both Deku and Ryuukyuu to go claw off Aizawa’s face. Thankfully Todoroki “I've spent the past eight chapters puttering around waiting for the coolest moment to strike” Shouto finally decided to join the fray by impaling Tomura, and everyone was all, “ahaha, classic Shouto”, and Tomura was all, “don’t worry though I’m fine”, and it seems like he really is now, since he’s finally regenerated and all his wounds have healed again! The chapter ended with Gigantomachia stampeding towards Jakku, which is super terrible, but what else is fucking new.

Today on BnHA: The Gunga kids spend a few pages standing around letting all that trauma soak in nice and deep as Machia rampages on towards Jakku. Back in the Shigaraki Wastes, the heroes regroup, which mostly consists of the remaining conscious adults tearfully being all “you kids get out of here... save yourselves...” and the kids being all “YOU JUST SIT THERE AND CHILL, DAD” and “[EXPLETIVES]” and “I’M YOUNG AND FILLED WITH RIGHTEOUS SHOUNEN RAGE”, all of which is very entertaining to me and makes me very proud. Anyway so then Tomura’s body sort of explodes a bit, and he’s all, “what”, and then it finally sinks in that he might have popped out of the toaster early, so he tries to end the fight right there and then with another round of Decay. Except that Deku counters it by SPONTANEOUSLY LEARNING HOW TO FLY, which is probably SO CONFUSING for all the non-Gran-and-Kacchan people around, which is just one of the many things I love about it. And the other things I love about it are that it’s (1) THE MOST BADASS THING EVER, and (2) just, really fucking great. So yeah. Rage, Deku, rage.

OH NO MY BABIES

don’t tell me. I’m not sure I want to know what it is they’re looking at. how many of the pros are fucking dead now ffffmg

also that is an extremely intriguing chapter title, though. 75? as in percent?? oh my god is something finally going to go fucking right for our heroes. or at least, you know, less wrong

OOOF

dammit Momo he was supposed to go to sleep! WHAT THE HELL WAS ALL OF THAT MATH FOR, THEN. did he grow bigger, or did she just somehow miscalculate the dosage, or is he finally going to go night-night halfway to Jakku?

btw Momo I’m not actually mad at you, you’re still the only one who fucking did anything at all. if anyone tries to give you shit, just look them in the eye and ask them “okay and how many things did YOU do?”, and they’ll be like, “oh shit, none”, and you’ll be all “yeah that’s what I fucking thought” because YEAH

OH MY GOD SERO ANGST

I have never seen Sero this badly shaken before. it’s somehow so shocking?? holy shit you guys, I know I’ve been saying for ages “lolo all these kids about to be traumatized af” but somehow it’s one thing to know it’s coming, and another to finally actually see it. oh god

anyway let’s just hope all of the grown-ups aren’t actually fucking dead. but based on all of the kids’ expressions, it really feels like a lot of them might be, and that’s just... ...

and they had to see it. right? is that what this is implying?? holy shit. they watched it all happen. that’s it, the rest of this arc is cancelled, please proceed directly to the emergency therapy arc right now

TOKO!!

holy shit look at the size of that rock that fell on the medical tent. and DS pulling people out of the wreckage. it really feels like everywhere you turn this arc, the intrepid young scamps of U.A.’s first year hero class are the ones out here keeping things one step from total disaster

oh shit

excuse the hell out of me young Momo but what the hell is up with this use of the word “dead” with the implied “like everyone else” hanging there at the end?? what is up with that. that’s a very bad sentence I don’t like that at ALL

and what the actual hell is this panel of FATGUM AND TAMAKI IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CARNAGE, TWO PEOPLE WHOSE NAMES I’M QUITE SURE ARE ON THIS CONTRACT OF “PEOPLE WHO AREN’T ALLOWED TO DIE” WHICH HORIKOSHI IMPLICITLY AGREED TO THE MOMENT I STARTED READING THE MANGA. BOY WHAT

JESUS MOTHER F. CHRIST

THAT’S. THAT’S, UH

OH THANK FUCK

I mean, I already knew they survived, though. so WHY AM I STILL SO FUCKING ANXIOUS. good grief

and in before Majestic fucking dies on the next page, having saved the children with his very last act. I fucking hate you Majestic, you blue-balling child-preserving magnificent wizard bastard

HE FRISBEED THEM TO SAFETY GAH

WHY COULDN’T YOU DO THAT TO MACHIA THOUGH. BUT AT LEAST HE SAVED THE BABIES. TOO BAD HE’S FUCKING DEAD hahaha sob sob sob

is anyone still alive?? did the guys who were fighting off Snoopy Sno-Cone and RD back at the mansion at least make it out in one piece??

(ETA: from here on out all of these guys shall be referred to as Schrodinger's Heroes until further notice.)

so now Mineta is questioning whether or not their Smart Momo Plan even fucking did anything, which. same, Mineta, honestly. but it must have!! right?? ????

anyway so here’s some more panels of everyone dying do you want to see them. sure. why not

can we get back to the Tomura fight now. I’ve had just about enough of this, I’d like to see some 75% business now before this turns into the most depressing chapter of all time

BOOOOOOO

goddammit. well for now my money’s on Machia collapsing just as they make it back to Jakku. so Momo’s plan does eventually work, but the League still makes it back to Tomura thus ensuring more shenanigans can take place. goddamn, lol, just when I thought the arc was nearing its climax. feels like it just fucking respawned with a full life bar

also Toga is really looking... not great. I’m so scared for whoever she ends up fighting after this. OCHAKO MY SWEET BABY GIRL PLEASE WATCH OUT

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE

PLEASE ARREST HIM FASTER. holy fuck if you fucking screw this up and he gets rescued I SWEAR TO GOD

oh wait is he just here to provide more backstory on Gigantomachia

GO BURNIN’, YOU GOT THIS. also, gonna be honest, at this point I really would not mind if Machia did a little less living for Tomura and a bit more dying

FINALLY!!!

FKFKF Aizawa not looking too good oh god. and Deku looks like he’s about to spontaneously develop ALL OF HIS REMAINING QUIRKS JUST LIKE THAT ON THE SPOT, FUCK YOU TOMURA

oh my god DON’T GET DISTRACTED!!

Shouto’s arrival is either about to make Endeavor more useless than ever, or suddenly a whole lot LESS useless, and right now it’s up in the air and I am excited but also scared

EXCUSES EXCUSES

BLAH BLAH BLAH. “SORRY I’M LATE, I WAS SAVING PEOPLE’S LIVES,” Shouto lies through his teeth, clearly not aware that Tomura has a built in GPS and knows full well that Shouto was actually only a few feet behind Bakugou and Deku and so that explanation doesn’t fly at all. the real truth must be something so embarrassing that he’s ashamed to admit it. did you get lost. did you run into an NPC who wouldn’t let you pass until you had completed some sort of quest

THERE YOU ARE KACCHAN, I WAS WONDERING

just as enraged as Deku! it’s almost like he just witnessed his sensei chopping off his own leg and subsequently almost being murdered or something

(ETA: actually lol I think he’s mad at Deku, for taking off earlier and leaving him behind with Gran. though there’s no law that says he can’t be mad about two things at once! anyway so do you guys think that being beaten to the punch by Deku here may perhaps frustrate this young man and contribute to his decision to return the favor at some point later on in this battle, perhaps with dire consequences? hmm.)

anyway so if you all are keeping up with the math, and I think you are, it seems like just about every one of the adult pros is either down for the count (Aizawa, Gran), or recovering (Endeavor, Ryuukyuu??), or Might As Well Not Even Be There (a certain TWO OTHER PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL IN A TIME OUT AND HAD BETTER BE THINKING GOOD AND HARD ABOUT WHAT THEY’VE DONE. OR MORE PRECISELY, DID NOT DO OR EVEN ATTEMPT TO DO). anyway so all of that means that the only ones actually ready and raring to go here in Round 2 against the newly regenerated and POSSIBLY HAS HIS DECAY QUIRK BACK Shigaraki Tomura are... drum roll...!

okay but FUCK YOU GUYS though oh my god YOU’RE EVEN RUINING THE DRUM ROLL

DID YOU NOT EVEN NOTICE HIS LEG BEFORE?!?!? holy -- can I -- can I please just slap them, I --

anyway so RockLockRock looks like he has something to say here. probably going to tell Deku to take Aizawa and run, as if Deku isn’t the fucking glue holding this entire operation together at this point now that Aizawa is KOed. can you believe these guys are so incompetent they’ve actually got me arguing in favor of the child soldiers now, what even

...fuck

shit. that face. he’s ready to die to give them all a chance. he knows he wouldn’t last two seconds against Tomura and yet he’s willing to sacrifice it all. damn it RLR... okay fine your time out is done now, but I’m still calling your parents

unfortunately, you’ll never believe it, but Deku doesn’t seem all that inclined to listen to this man telling him to bail and save his own skin sob

ngl though I am living for the Enraged Vengeance Deku we’ve been seeing in these last couple chapters. maybe now everyone will stop dismissing him as just a soft boi who always eats his vegetables and doesn’t swear, and remember that in truth he’s actually a mildly unhinged feral child with an infinite pain tolerance and a god-given talent for never listening to any life-prolonging advice that adults give him ever

oop don’t tell me he’s gonna do the Decay thing again, shit

-- uh

“eh?” lmao what the fuck. my boy's torso just opened up like a fucking door hinge and all he can say is “eh.” this fucking manga

like he’s seriously just calmly standing there trying to assess what the heck has gone wrong

you really don’t feel pain do you. “haha lol what why is my arm falling off I thought I fucking ascended”

OH MY GOD

IT’S OCTOBER THIRD. looool the fuck

Tomura. my sweet little S+ ranked death machine with an A rank in knowledge. who’s spent the past 15-20 minutes battling to the death with the number one fucking hero and all his pals. who all just HAPPENED to be there all ready and waiting to fight him the instant he woke up. Tomura. buddy. did it really only just occur to you that maybe something went wrong somewhere along the line. that maybe things were not, in fact going according to keikaku. that maybe the heroes didn’t just sit around waiting for you to finish cooking in your villain bake oven. like please forgive my impudence but TOMURA ARE YOU STUPID, is what I’m saying, I guess. but gently

(ETA: SHIGARAKI TOMURA, WHOSE ARM IS CURRENTLY DANGLING BY A THREAD: “hold up lol what day is it.”)

I really like how Deku’s just crying nonstop this entire time though. but like, you know. crying with RAGE

lol and he’s figured it out as well, and I fucking love the connection his mind made, look at this

sudden feelings of solidarity. “WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I” lmao

AHH MIRKO

how does she still have two legs?? Horikoshi I can’t believe you forgot how many legs your own favorite character has. but anyways yes this has been your friendly reminder that Mirko saved EVERYONE and should have a battleship named after her

okay NOW he’s doing the thing

good job Tomura you finally got them!! good thing none of them can fly, or Float. RIGHT, DEKU

AHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSS

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT. AND A BLACKWHIP/FLOAT COMBO, TOO! TOMURA, YOU WERE SAYING??

(ETA: he even grabbed Kacchan too. “I can fly by myself!” YOU SHUSH MISTER.)

(ETA 2: and what I also love about this is that we know the SIXQUIRKS are seemingly in tune with Deku’s emotions, so it honestly makes perfect sense that in the heat of the moment with Tomura threatening to kill all these people that he cares about, the quirk just basically acts on his instinct to save and doesn’t stop to ask questions. we’re saving everyone, no buts. and he even activates Float at long last, acting on that same instinct. honestly Kacchan had the exact right idea the whole time, all the way back in chapter 217. “it’ll activate when he’s in trouble, right?” exactly.)

NO GRAN STOP NO ONE ASKED FOR THESE FEELS

OH MY GOD

NEVER HAVE I STANNED THIS BOY SO HARD. HOT DAMN

he’s so fucking mad. omg??! omg

okay so I’m gonna try my best to explain why I love this so much lol. all right. so the thing is, it’s actually so rare for Deku to actually take the reins like this. even though he’s the main character, even though he’s All Might’s heir, his personality is such that he genuinely doesn’t mind being in the backseat and is perfectly content to share the spotlight with others, or even relinquish it completely. BnHA has had... how many arcs so far? hold up let me check

-- okay I just checked and it’s 18. so, 18 arcs. and out of all those arcs, Deku has had a solo fight in approximately... five of them. and two of those fights were against Bakugou and Todoroki, respectively, so he was still sharing the spotlight even then. aside from that, he’s fought Muscular, Gentle, and Overhaul (oh, and Shinsou, I guess). that’s it! and it’s been almost 300 chapters! and again, he’s the main character. in a shounen manga. like seriously though, that is wild

and so seeing him here like this on the last page, ready to throw hands with Tomura, presumably while using Blackwhip as some sort of physical barrier to coat his attacks and prevent Tomura from trying any more Decay shenanigans with him? dude. I FELT THAT HYPE. it’s just a really effective way of keeping me from getting Main Character Fatigue like I might get in most other shounen series. because Deku doesn’t get the spotlight all that often in comparison, it still feels fresh to me, especially now with him actually going up against the Big Bad. just, idk what else to say except “hell yeah” lol

anyway, so I don’t even know how long it’s gonna last, and I expect that Kacchan and Shouto aren’t going to be content to just sit back and let Deku have all the glory either (Kacchan in particular is probably frothing at the mouth already), so in all likelihood it’s probably going to be more of a 3-on-1 than a 1-on-1. and it’s also very likely to end with Tomura gaining the upper hand and trying to take OFA! and so in truth this is a very fleeting moment of triumph, and the most premature of celebrations! but even so... damn. and also I just love seeing shounen kids lose their damn minds and explode with angry determination. and I especially love seeing it with Deku, because I love the reminder that beneath that sweet, unassuming nerdy exterior lies a core of fucking steel. that look in his eyes, though. TOMURA ARE YOU SCARED. you should be a little scared, lmao

anyway. so that’s the chapter! and I’m really glad we ended on this note, not just because Deku is a badass, but also because like I was saying earlier, this was about as bad a situation as the good guys have ever been in, and I felt like the manga was starting to lose that feeling of hope that still needs to be there at its core even when things are at their darkest. idk, I feel like we needed this. Tomura got a chance to catch his breath in the last chapter, and now it’s the heroes’ turn. whew

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Fire emblem AU

The third and final house is The Red Ravens House, where those from The Badlands Kingdom reside! (Also the route with the best exclusive boss music we get freaking dubstep in our medical fantasy game. Three house’s ost is so good oh my gosh)

The Badlands was the first to break away from the SMP, albeit in a more peaceful manner. Badland’s territory connects to the foreign nation of Errata and the two nations have had many clashes at their border. However, something odd is happening in Badlands. Mysterious red vines have started covering small villages and wiping out crops. It’s being kept secret by the king so that Badlands doesn’t appear weak. The Kingdom only has so much land however and the problem can’t be ignored forever. The Raven is chosen because of its cunning and willingness to do whatever is needed to survive. This years Red Ravens consist of the following

Bad-Bad is the prince of The Badlands and set to be its next king. Bad’s father is a decent king but his main flaw is his refusal to work with Errata due to them being enemies for a very very long time. Bad hopes that when he becomes king he can end the fighting between Badlands and Errata. He knows that their Kingdom needs help because of the new vines problem. Bad is seen by his father and royal court as too much of a softie and they hope he will toughen up at the monastery. Bad is one of the nicest people at the monastery and he is considered a bit of an oddball, such as his dislike of any swearing. Despite this, Bad is not to be underestimated. While he’d rather have a peaceful outcome to problems, he’s still willing to fight to protect his kingdom. Bad has strengths in bows, riding and flying. He has a weakness in axes. Bad has one crest

Skeppy- Skeppy is Bads retainer and best friend. However, it didn’t start out that way. Skeppy was an orphan commoner who was forced to do crime to survive. He would go from village to village and steal from the richest people there. One day, Skeppy was hired to steal a rare book from the royal families castle. While he really didn’t want to, winter was coming and he needed the money to survive. Long story short he gets caught by the king who is about to kick him out. That is, until Bad happens to spot him and asks his father if Skeppy can stick around because he looks hungry and needs a friend. Skeppy works as a servant in the castle for years and he becomes the best friend of Bad. It helps that Skeppy now has a place to stay and three whole meals everyday. Eventually, Bad asks if Skeppy is willing to train to be his retainer and Skeppy says yes. Despite Skeppy messing with Bad a lot, they’re still best friends and Skeppy does feel he owes him a lot. As a result of this, Skeppy is very loyal to Bad and doesn’t like hearing what all the adults are saying about him. He hopes that when Bad becomes king he won’t change too much. Skeppy is the biggest prankster and has a love of making puzzles. Skeppy has strengths in bows and swords. He has a weakness in heavy armor. He has no crest

Sam- Sam is a minor noble whose family is famous for scientific discoveries. It was his grandfather who invented a device that determined what crests people had. Before, people had to be put in dangerous combat for the crest to activate. Sam studies magic so that he can invent new spells to make lives better. He was raised by his grandfather and feels he has big shoes to fill. Sam is considered a dad friend among his classmates and is good friends with Puffy. He’s that guy who won’t directly give you the answers to homework but will help you with it. Collects texts that the church has deemed inappropriate. Sam has strengths in reason(lighting) and riding. He has a weakness in faith. He has one crest

Ant-Ant is a minor noble who lived in a small village close to the border. A couple of months ago, his village was one of the first to be overtaken by the vines. Many of the people of his village mysteriously disappeared after they claimed that the vine were to be worshipped. Ant is at the monastery so that he can hopefully find a cure for the vines. He worries that he has been infected and doesn’t know it yet. Ant is a more distant type and appears to have dislike for Bad. This is due to bitterness at Bad’s father for not wanting to confront the problem and being more focused on fighting Errata. He also thinks Bad is just pretending to be nice at first. Ant does eventually warm up to Bad, but he’s still the most likely to challenge him if he feels he is making a bad decision. Ant has strengths in bows,riding,and faith. He has a weakness in flying. Ant has one crest

Punz- Punz is a part of a mercenary group. His goal is to be the next leader of the group. Leaders are chosen by beating the current leader in a sparring match. Punz is at the Monastery so that he can get the best training possible. Punz is well known for being the one who trains a lot. He’s also known for being willing to do almost anything for some cash. He’s the guy you go to if you want to buy a homework assignment. While some of his classmates fear he would sell them out for the right amount of money, his true friends know that...well, if you’re a friend he won’t sell you out but otherwise ehhh. Basically, Punz was raised by his mercenary family to not trust easily. Once someone proves they are trustworthy, make sure to repay that trust tenfold. That’s the mercenary way. Punz has a strength in swords and heavy armor. Weakness in bows. He has no crest

Purpled- Purpled belongs to a family of merchants. Him and Punz actually knew each other before going to the monastery because their two families work together when traveling to protect each other. Purpled’s family is also unique in another way. Their family lived in the foreign nation of Loxbor and have only recently come to Carmine. This is because Carmine is considered to have more variety in resources. Purpled is smart and very business savvy. He’s at the monastery mostly to make new connections, hopefully with nobles. While he was a bit annoying with the nobles in his class at first, he eventually learned that the best way to get allies is to just treat them like normal people. Purpled does look up to Punz and Punz in turn teaches him some of his sword techniques. Purpled also sometimes get his family’s products in the mail and will advertise it to the students. Purpled is a nice and smart guy even if he can act a bit callously. Purpled has strengths in reason and axes. He has a weakness in faith. He has no crest

If Karl teaches The Red Ravens, the main plot is les s focused on winning the war and more focused on taking care of the the whole egg situation. Probably more lighthearted than the other routes.

There are 21 chapters in this route. In the 18th chapter there’s a decoy egg that is set. What the group thinks is that a certain spell needs to be performed by two people, one of whom has to have whatever Bad’s crest is called. So, that chapters mission is getting Bad and one other Red Raven(besides Karl but other than him whoever you send over there) to the decoy egg and doing the spell. Then, it is revealed that it is a trap! The spell actually causes Bad and the other person become overtaken by the egg.

19th chapter is when the person decided by you is saved by destroying an egg that is near them. That person vaguely remembers where Bad went and so the army goes after him.

20th chapter is rescuing Bad, which basically means you have to defeat him and the egg that is with him (which would be a pain gameplay wise probably). So, Bad is knocked out and when he wakes up he knows where the main egg is located.

The 21st chapter actually starts when the Red Ravens have broken into the main egg and have to fight whatever is inside it and ready to hatch out. Honestly, I think it would be really cool gameplay wise to have the final battle set in the egg. You can do a lot with that visually.

Also in that chapter where TWSITD send javelins of light (nukes) on Fort Mercues, it’s instead this huge seed that comes down on the fort and completely covers it in red vines in like a minute or two.

After seeing this Bad gives everyone permission to say one swear word right then and there.

There’s also a point where Bad helps Errata with the egg and they in turn send soldiers and supplies. So, yay peace!

So yeah that’s all houses done! Now, what’s next I wonder?

Holy hell. Okay. That’s great. That’s honestly great.

This is the arc I would be playing the most if it were a game and that’s solely because of the characters and everything.

Love all the little things in here too!

As for what’s next, well, assuming that it isn’t a rhetorical question, then uh...I don’t know why and it’s highly impossible but now I’m just thinking of trying to find a way where I can get everyone to be happy.

Fuck. I love all of them too much and now I’m attached to them all.

[artificialqueens]

Little Home (Deladore) - Candy Cane

A/N: soooo… i know i havent exactly been around lately. im dealing with a lot  of things atm (like most people lol) but i managed to get this out for the rare pair challenge! i think its a cute ship and i really hope that u enjoy @drag-race-jedi <3 im also working on the third installment of Everything is Color, and i have planned it out so that the series is at least five works so we’ll see how that goes sdfsdgf hope yall enjoy this lil fic for today tho

Summary: Adore was always a clutz.

Adore has been trying very hard for the last hour to not get in Dela’s way, and she would probably be more successful if she just sat still in a different room, but she loves watching her girlfriend in the kitchen. And even more than that she loves helping her girlfriend in the kitchen. The singer can admit she’s an awful fucking cook on top of being a giant clutz, she just doesn’t allow either of those things stop her. Tonight is very special though, as they’re throwing a dinner party to christen the new house they’re renting out together.

It’s a small house, only one bedroom since they really don’t need a ton of space. The big appeal lies in that it’s near each of their jobs and the parts of town that they frequent the most. By no means was it an easy find, but it’s perfect for them. Adore loves that she gets to have her own home with the person she is fairly certain is the love of her life, who is currently flying about the kitchen in a frenzy trying to get everything ready.

They have one more hour until all four of the people they invited start arriving and Adore is getting worried for Dela. The older woman is clearly stressed, wearing a nervous frown as she completes each task as best as she can. While Adore knows she’s not really being helpful trailing after Dela like a dejected puppy, she’s not sure what else she could do.

“Babe…” Adore whines, big pleading eyes looking down at Dela with a very convincing pout, “I wanna help!”

Dela sighs from where she’s standing at the counter, knife in hand as she cuts the mushrooms for her vegetable medley, “And you already set the table?”

“Yeah!” Adore nods eagerly.

“And did the dishes?”

“All the ones you gave me,” Adore says earnestly.

The older purses her lips thoughtfully, “I need to do some touch ups for tonight. Do you think you can cut these and put them in the pan?”

Adore grins, realizing she’s worn down on Dela, “Yup! Go take care of yourself baby, I’ve totally got this!”

Dela smiles softly, “Alright, but be careful. Remember what happened the last time I gave you a knife?”

“I’ll be fine!” Adore insists, shooing her girlfriend back towards the bedroom, “I’ll yell if I need help.”

“Alright…” Dela relents skeptically, quickly disappearing into their bedroom to freshen up for the evening.

She loves Adore, a lot, but her girlfriend is nothing less than a walking disaster. No matter what it seems she manages to find a way to wind up with a new set of scrapes and bruises everyday, even though Dela begs Adore to be more careful. Still, most nights Dela finds herself forcing Adore to put a bandaid on a particularly bad cut, or put ice on especially nasty bruises. While Dela worries and is often frustrated by Adore’s unusual habit, she loves being able to take care of her.

It didn’t take long for her to come to that conclusion. However, it did take a while to become completely comfortable with that conclusion. She feels all warm and soft inside whenever Adore gives her a kiss and a ‘thank you’ after she takes care of her. Though what she loves most is knowing that Adore is safe, and healthy.

Just minutes after starting to redo her hair, Dela hears a loud yelp from the kitchen. She quickly sets down her hair brush and heads back to the kitchen, a worried shout of “Adore?!” on her lips.

This has to be a new record, Dela thinks, a little amused at the thought but mostly concerned for her disastrous girlfriend.

The first thing she sees upon entering the kitchen is Adore hunched over the cutting board, one hand gripping the other tightly, long hair covering her face, and her shoulders visibly quivering.

Dela runs up to her and wraps her arms tightly around the taller girl, then reaches out for her clearly injured hand. There’s blood dripping from her hand onto the cutting board and all over the mushrooms, the sight of which causing Dela to feel a little sick and very worried.

“Let me see,” Dela says, attempting to pry Adore’s hands apart so that she can survey how bad the cut really is. She hopes it’s not actually very deep, that Adore is just being dramatic, but there’s really no telling quite yet.

“I’m okay,” Adore says through clenched teeth, not letting Dela look at her hand.

“Honey, please,” Dela begs softly, moving Adore’s hair out of the way to look into her eyes.

Adore sucks in a sharp breath and slowly reveals her hand to Dela, whispering a very quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Upon gently taking her hand to inspect it further Dela discovers that the cut is surprisingly shallow, it’s just deep enough to bleed a lot but not deep enough to mean any real damage was done. She sighs in relief, and kisses Adore’s cheek softly. She’s mostly just glad that Adore isn’t severely hurt, as that would not make for a fun evening for any of them.

“Accidents happen, but maybe I shouldn’t leave you unsupervised in the kitchen anymore,” Dela reassures her teasingly.

Adore giggles wetly, rubbing roughly at the tears collecting in the corner of her eyes with her good hand, “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Dela pulls Adore over to the sink, carefully eyeing the way Adore grips her wounded hand, “Sweetness, I have to clean it.”

“I know,” Adore pouts, “It just hurts even more when you do though!”

“I’m sorry, I know,” Dela soothes, turning on the sink faucet and guiding Adore’s hand underneath the warm, low pressure water.

After rinsing it with water thoroughly, Dela pours hydrogen peroxide over the wound, shushing and soothing Adore the whole time. The younger whines and grumbles through the whole thing, and Dela feels terrible for it, she does, but she knows how necessary it is and doesn’t allow her girlfriend to pout her way out of it. She pats it dry with a paper towel, presses a cotton pad onto the wound, then wraps that in medical grade tape from their first aid box.

“There!” Dela finishes with her signature smile, “All done.”

“Thank you, baby,” Adore says, leaning forward to kiss Dela. It lasts a few more seconds than she had planned, but in no way does she complain.

“Anything for my girl,” Dela murmurs.

It’s an exciting way to start their new life in this new home, Dela can’t deny that it’s very… them, though. She knows the rest of the night will be fun, and that Adore will animatedly tell the story of why her hand is all wrapped up with all the excitement of an eight year old. Dela loves that she knows her girlfriend so well. She loves that they trust each other so thoroughly, so deeply.

Dela has never had anyone like this in her life before, someone to take care of and someone that will gladly take care of her. Like any other couple, they need different things from each other. That’s part of why they are so perfect together. Dela is certain this is what she wants for the rest of her life. She’s certain she wants this.

Adore grins at her with love and confidence, with warm and heart, and Dela knows that this is what she wants to. It works. They work. Perfectly, just like this.

[moonknightly]

Could Feel You Surrounding Me : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.”

Warnings: Uhh mentions of injury, blood, cursing. That’s it I think? This one has a happy ending fellas!

The first emotion you experience is shock. It’s unfathomable, how someone you love and care for so deeply, with every inch of your being, could be at the forefront of a situation you thought only existed in dramatized TV shows — under harsh lights, covered in bandages that turn from white to red and only do so much to hide the cuts and the bruises that mark their skin. Attached to various tubes, drains, and IV lines. So many different wires.

The sight is near unbearable, and it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many hours or even days pass by in a blur of fast-moving staff wearing stethoscopes and scrubs. And everytime you close your eyes, you tell yourself that once you open them again, you’ll finally be used to it. You tell yourself it’s not gonna hurt as bad this time, but it’s even harder than it was before.

And the sounds. God, the sounds. The unfamiliar, almost haunting beeps and buzzes that start to become a comfort because they serve as the only reminder that they’re still there. The excruciating and traumatic cries of a family’s hearts breaking from down the hall mixed with rare periods of somber silence. The rapid-fire exchange of incomprehensible medical terminology, so many different medications and diagnoses and explanations that you just can’t wrap your head around.

It starts with the shock, because while you knew that this reality existed outside of those damned TV shows, and while you were aware of the possibility of having to live it yourself, given his line of work, you never thought you would actually have to face seeing Santi lying in the ICU like this.

Because he promised. Each and every single time he went out on a mission, he promised you that he’d come home to you, safe and sound and in one piece. And Santiago never broke his promises. Not a damn one.

But it had been a freak accident, and he hadn’t even been on a mission, and that was probably what freaked you out the most. The new realization that it could happen at any given moment, at any given time in any given circumstance.

All of the sleepless nights spent in your empty bed, praying to any divine being that would listen, worrying over his safety and just wishing him home, and he’d managed to land himself in this position during a boy’s trip into the mountains for a little leisurely camping.

They’d been rock climbing, something they were all five well-trained in, but the rope had been settled against a rock with a rather sharp edge, and the constant pulling of his weight had cut straight through it. It was a fall that he was lucky to survive. The paramedics who arrived on scene hadn’t expected to find him alive, and definitely hadn’t expected him to come back once he needed to be resuscitated.

His neglect to check the ridge was something that seemed so out of character for both him and the other boys. No detail was ever overlooked. It was hard for you to believe that he hadn’t noticed how sharp the edge of the rock had been, but you also knew Santi — he never would have thought it would happen to him

There were several things the nurses told you that you didn’t quite understand, and honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask them to clarify, or put it into words that actually made sense. As ignorant as it was, you almost didn’t want to understand. You didn’t want to focus on all of his injuries and the no doubt long recovery ahead until he opened those big brown eyes of his that you so adored and kept them open.

Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.

What you did understand was that he had several broken ribs, some injuries to his spinal cord, and a moderate traumatic brain injury amongst other things blunt force trauma to his abdomen and chest caused. He’d needed a blood transfusion down in the ER, and he was on so many different medications, you couldn’t keep up.

They’d sedated him after a mild seizure, keeping him in a medically induced coma for the first two days before waking him again. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for long though, and while your eyes had briefly met, you don’t think he really registered who you were or what was going on.

It was day four now, and he was breathing on his own. He was waking up unprompted more and more, usually to vomit, but would fall back asleep after only a minute or two. Sometimes he would glance towards you as if to make sure that someone was still with him, sometimes he would only blink at the ceiling. He’d move, but only if a nurse asked him to touch his nose or wiggle his toes, and he hadn’t said a word.

But neither had you. Each time he looked at you, you could only stare back, blinking away your tears until you were sure he was asleep again. Only then would you let yourself cry, and fuck, did you cry. You were sure you had cried more in the last four days than you ever had before.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the only time you left his side was to let one of the boys visit. Frankie usually sat with you in the cafeteria while the other three took their turns, trying to get you to eat something, but he’d convinced you to use the time that day to run home and get a shower in, and grab yourself some clothes and other things you’d need since it was apparent you wouldn’t be leaving. He knew no one other than Santiago could convince you to stay the night in your own home rather than in the recliner by his bedside.

Frankie also knew that as brave as Pope was, he’d want you next to him through it all. He’d be heartbroken if he woke up and you weren’t there.

You’d be just as torn up over it.

A nurse checked on him every hour, and it was this particular nurse’s last round before shift change. You liked her. Her name was Casey, and she was always so gentle with him. It was obvious that she actually cared about her patients, not just for them, and you appreciated it to no end, words failing every time you tried to properly thank her. You knew the comfort was something he needed, something you were still too scared to give him. You were afraid to touch him, so terrified that you’d hurt him or cause him even an ounce of discomfort. You hadn’t even touched his hand.

But, it was something you needed to get over. You both needed it.

You watched as she worked around him, checking to make sure everything was still in place, double checking it even after she was sure nothing had wiggled its way loose. She peeked over her shoulder towards you. “The doctors are bringing in an occupational therapist tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked, shifting in your chair, eyes flickering between her and Santi.

“We’re hoping to keep him awake long enough to get him to write a few things down. See if communicating that way is a possibility. And if not that, maybe we can get him to point at a chart with different letters to spell things out.”

You shifted again. “Is he ready for that?”

“The doctors seem to think so. The longer he stays awake, the better we can gauge where he’s at cognitively.”

You stayed silent at that, your stomach flipping as another bout of fear moved through you.

Casey seemed to know exactly where your head was at though, and she stopped momentarily to reach back and set a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery sweetheart. I’m not the type to believe in miracles and things like that, but given what he’s already pulled himself through, he’s one lucky man.”

You smiled gently, putting your hand over hers, but a frown quickly worked its way back onto your face. “I’m just scared he doesn’t recognize me. Every time he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s looking through me.”

“And does that make you love him any less?”

You were taken aback by her words, completely shocked. But you immediately shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s not his fault.” Your answer was again immediate. “Because he just went through some shit and it’s not his fault at all. I vowed to love him for better or for worse, and that wasn’t a promise either of us took lightly.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged, pointing to him. “Because that’s still your husband. He’s still your Santiago. There’s just a few kinks to work out, and even if those kinks did become permanent, you’d still love him, right?.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You knew she was right. You knew that even if he didn’t recognize you at first, the doctors were near positive that he would eventually. And even if he didn’t, and he had to relearn you completely, it’d be worth it. Because at least he was still alive, still breathing. You still had him.

“Thank you.”

Casey smiled, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently before turning her attention back to Santiago.

Once she was finished, she turned towards you again, tilting her head to the side. “You know, he could really use a bath. And I think he’d appreciate it if you were the one to do it instead of me.”

The smirk on her face was entirely noticeable, and you knew exactly what she was doing, but you still nodded your head, suddenly craving the physical contact, that connection.

“Great,” she hummed, leaving the room to grab the supplies you would need in order to give him a sponge bath.

She returned a moment letter with a cloth, some soap and deodorant, and a basin of water, instructing you to stay clear of any bandages, and to not worry about his hair. If he woke up, you could try to wash his back, but otherwise she didn’t want you to worry about that either. You nodded your head, listening intently even though it was all pretty straightforward. She turned off the bed alarm, showing you which button to press once you got up again, and left the room.

Once Casey was gone, you took a moment to just stare at him, even though you hadn’t truly looked at anything else in the last four days. He looked better than he had when you first saw him, really. He had some color back in his cheeks, and the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. He looked almost peaceful.

You sighed gently, giving yourself one final push before stepping forward, carefully peeling the blanket and the sheet away from his body.

Should you try to wake him? Or would it be better for you to just go for it? You decided on the latter, thinking it would be better if he woke up on his own accord. If he stayed asleep, then it was obvious his body needed it.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing a few sweat soaked curls away from his forehead. “I’d ask how you’re doing but that seems a little redundant right now.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the cloth, wetting it and applying a little bit of soap. You started on his arms, staying away from his IV and the bandage near his elbow. Your touch was gentle, slow, but the feeling of his skin under your fingertips after not feeling it for days set both your body and soul ablaze, chest so full of love and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe? You didn’t know.

“The boys have been in and out,” you continued, even though he couldn’t hear you. You just wanted to talk to him. “Frankie told me you woke up for a second the last time he was in here. He cried a little bit, but he’s never gonna admit it.”

You hesitated, moving to untie the hospital gown as much as you could, pulling it down just enough to reveal his chest, being extremely careful not to accidentally disconnect a wire for the heart monitor. You started on his upper arms.

“The boys feel like shit. They all think there was something they could’ve done to prevent it, even though everyone knows it was just a stupid accident. Benny’s taking it really hard.”

You brought your free hand to his lower stomach, your fingertips tracing random shapes and patterns into his skin as you moved the cloth over his right shoulder, your eyes glued to your movements.

“I miss you so much,” you sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re right fucking here, but you know what I mean. I miss your hugs, your kisses. Your voice. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours.”

The tears started before you even had a chance to realize. You could feel them trailing down your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below.

“I just really need you to be okay, you hear me baby? I need you.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself begin to shake, the sobs moving through your body with relentless force. You made yourself stay quiet though, not wanting to scare a nurse or a family down the hall, or even Santi himself.

Nothing had ever been so hard. This entire experience had been more than difficult, but as you sat there, thinking about how things could have gone in an entirely different direction, and how you could have walked away a widow instead of a wife, you realized exactly how true Casey’s words had been. Santi really was lucky, and so were you.

And if this was hard for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be for him once he was fully conscious again, and able to make sense of everything that he’d been through. The doctors were still unsure of just how far his brain injury ran, but they were sure there were things that would take time to come back to him — like his ability to speak, possibly his ability to walk. They predicted that he’d have migraines for months. Light sensitivity, some dizziness and confusion that could last just as long. Fatigue, general weakness. Pain. His recovery was going to be hell, and there you were, having sat by his bedside for four days feeling sorry for yourself.

How could you have been so selfish? In a time where your husband needed you most?

You felt selfish even crying, but you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept pouring, and the hole in your chest grew and grew as you continued to spiral deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

You were only pulled from them when you felt a set of knuckles gently brush against your cheek, and for a moment, you thought one of the boys had managed to sneak their way in, or maybe it was even Casey coming to check in one last time before heading home for the night.

The last thing you expected to see when you blinked your eyes open was a familiar pair of warm brown ones staring right back at you.

Brown eyes full of recognition and worry.

You gasped, not able to stop the sound before it left your lips, but you did refrain from throwing your arms around him, knowing the action would probably hurt him or knock something loose. Instead, you reached up, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.  

“Santi?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking as if he wanted to say something in response, but he could only frown, and you knew him well enough to notice that his inability to speak was already frustrating him.

But you almost took that as a good thing, because it showed that he remembered waking up before, and how he hadn’t been able to speak any of those times either. The fact that he remembered was good, right?

And he might not have been able to verbally speak, but there were still so many things he could say without words. You felt him squeeze your hand, three times — a silent “I love you”, something he had started doing not long after saying it to you for the first time.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

He pulled on your hand, trying to bring you closer to him, and you started to shake your head, still worried about hurting him.

“Santi, no-”

This time he gently smacked your hand, effectively silencing you as he pointed to his shoulder, and you knew what he was trying to tell you — you wouldn’t hurt him if you were only lying against his shoulder.

He knew exactly what you were thinking without you needing to speak, too.

And you couldn’t deny him, not when he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he knew would get him anything he wanted.

You tossed the washcloth back into the water, and pulled his gown back up, redoing the ties before scooting further up the bed. You made sure that everything was out of the way before leaning back against him, keeping your eyes trained on his face the entire time. Only when he didn’t flinch did you finally relax.

And you both simply laid there, staring at one another, letting your eyes do all of the talking. Neither of you looked away, not even once. Not until Santi’s eyes started to close again, his exhaustion taking over once more. You kissed the corner of his mouth, and you watched as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile before he gave into unconsciousness.

He’d managed to stay awake for over half an hour this go around, and for twenty minutes the next time he woke up, and another twenty after that.

And when morning came and Casey walked into the room for the first round of her shift, all she could do was smile.

Santiago was awake again, and you were the one asleep, lightly snoring from your place on his shoulder, looking so completely at peace.

And he was looking at you like he was the luckiest man alive.

[sun-daddy-yoriichi]

Kimetsu no Yaiba Role - Reverse AU : Pillar Version

I’m not planning on this being long as all hell but let’s see if it gets out of hand or not :)

Sun Pillar : Yoriichi Tsugikuni

I ALMOST WASN’T GONNA INCLUDE HIM BUT I HAD TO-

My entire account is named after his come on have more faith in me.

Okay but I feel like the twins would get a lot of outside attention

Not because they’re Demon Slayers but because they’re hot as fuck

But that could also just be me

Nobody knows how or when Yoriichi learned Sun Breathing. It hasn’t been used in hundreds of years, and it’s supposed to be incredibly difficult to master, and he’s like twenty-five being able to wield it with complete ease.

Michikatsu thinks his brother is the most annoying thing ever

They spar constantly

Yoriichi thinks that Nezuko and Tanjirou are the cutest things ever, and Nezuko knowing what Dance of the Fire God is, is really only a huge plus.

The twins fight over who gets Nezuko as a tsuguko constantly.

Moon Pillar : Michikatsu Tsugikuni

Everyone’s favourite motherfucker y'know-

Jk we love him

His Moon Breathing is not like his Blood Demon Art at all, really. His Blood Demon Art was a corrupt form of his Breath Style. In actuality, his Breath Style is much finer and more graceful.

If I’ll be honest, his breath style is actually quite beautiful.

Like Breath of the Sun, his Breath of the Moon almost looks like a dance.

Michikatsu and Yoriichi fighting together is a sight to behold, and a force to be reckoned with.

If only Michikatsu could stand to be in the same room as his brother for more than five seconds at a time.

When he goes on missions, he tries to keep it as low-key as possible. He hates having people looking at him

And he’s not the type of person to fail on his missions at all. Which is why it was so surprising for the others to figure out that he had let the Kamado children go.

Mostly because Tanjirou reminded him a lot of Yoriichi, so he couldn’t help himself from sparing them both.

Ice Pillar : Douma

Another favourite, surprisingly. A lot of people like Douma and it’s very confusing.

Other than Rui, he's one of the youngest Pillars (16).

Of course he still uses his fans rather than a Nichirin blade. And effectively, too.

Douma is one of the fastest Pillars out of them, aside from maybe Yoriichi and Michikatsu.

Obviously, Ice Breathing is descended from Water Breathing. Rather than flowing attacks, however, most of them have more strength added to them, in order to pack quite a punch.

He’s a bastard and we all know it.

Usually, Douma is given missions that are difficult even for a Pillar’s standards, but still out of the way of civilisation.

Because his breath technique is DESTRUCTIVE.

He’s basically the same as his demon counterpart, except he doesn’t eat humans.

But he’s still a damn sociopath

We all love him though

Soryu Pillar : Akaza

Haha I didn’t know what else to put for him-

His fighting style is strongly based around the Soryu Style he was taught before he became a Demon Slayer. He ends up using hand-to-hand combat a lot more than he uses his Nichirin blade.

Which means he rarely has to commission a new blade if his breaks, because he only uses it slay the demon near the very end of their fight. Nothing more.

He’s a very respectful opponent. Unlike other Demon Slayers, he won’t goad or insult his opponent. He doesn’t hate demons, like some Pillars do.

Because his fianceé was turned into a demon, and he would want to respect her if he ever ran into her during one of his missions.

Thus, all of his missions are ended quickly, and with great respect. Any demon that’s run into him and lived to tell the tale always holds him in such high regards (for a Demon Slayer, at least).

His main job is to keep Douma and Enmu in check, though.

Urami Pillar : Hantengu

Can you tell that I have no inspiration for some of these names

Urami means 'resentment' which makes sense for Hantengu since he hates demons for killing his family and deforming his face.

Despite visiting several doctors, the appearance of the pair of horns on his head remains a mystery.

Some Demon Slayers think he's got demon blood in him, but nothing has been confirmed.

He doesn't have a designated Breath style at all.

Rather, you could call his technique 'Universal Breathing'. If he's had enough training with a certain Breath style, he can use it. Which means he can basically learn all of them if he wants.

He's mastered two : Wind and Flame. He knows bits and pieces of others, but usually wimps out before he can continue training.

His sword gets broken a lot for no reason at all. His swordsmith hates his guts, but always pulls through with a new blade.

His crow is old and cranky, but they get along just fine.

Water Pillar : Gyokko

I mean that’s basically what he is-

He's fabulous

And he'll make sure everyone knows it right after they meet him.

(Nezuko lowkey hates him)

Most of the time, he's not given as many missions as his teammates. He's left to his own devices.

Which means that his territory to patrol - perhaps just around the capitol - is very well protected.

His tsuguko, Sabito, is cute as all hell, but will kick your ass if he needs to. He looks up to Gyokko, and thinks really highly of him.

Most of the other Pillars think there's something wrong with Sabito-

But he's a strong Demon Slayer, so they don't question Gyokko's teaching methods.

Blood Pillar : Gyuutarou

Irritable as all hell

But he loves his sister and would do anything for her.

Rather than use swords, he uses sickles

Yes yes very dramatic thank you Gyuutarou-

He gets cold easily (being so skinny and all), so he stays bundled up often

Daki gets mad at him if he’s not careful, so they often get into fights with one another

Which ends up with Akaza pulling them apart and putting them in time-out

Missions that he’s sent on are often ended quickly and precisely. He’s usually paired up with Rui or Daki, since both of those two Pillars are incredibly good at long-ranged combat, while Gyuutarou is more adept at short/mid-ranged combat

Blood Breathing is derived from Water Breathing, but Gyuutarou also equips the use of the poison that Daki makes in order to get the upper hand on his opponents.

He’s had a tsugukos before, but his training was so harsh that they quit on him. He hasn’t taken another one after that.

Silk Pillar : Daki

Designated medic in the Demon Slayer Corps.

She’s very skilled at not only making antidotes but making poisons out of wisteria. Other Pillars, like Enmu and Gyuutarou, use them in combat. She’s just making them to pass the time.

Rather than use a blade, she uses special sillks made specially from Crimson Iron Sand and Rui’s spider silk. They’re soft and heat-insulated, and Daki wears them over her Demon Slayer uniform.

However, much like Rui’s spider threads, she can manipulate them with ease, allowing them to become as sharp as a blade.

Honest to God nobody knows how she and Rui do it. Perhaps it’s brute, strength, or their Breathing techniques.

Either way, it’s quite a new experience to be on the receiving end of her silks. Daki is fast, and agile. She can get from one point to another in a matter of seconds. The only person faster from her at all is Douma, and even then it’s by seconds at a time, maybe not even that.

Daki doesn’t care to sympathise with demons. She’s never thought of it. Usually, her missions consist of her yelling insults at her target while she battles them.

Biwa Pillar : Nakime

Pretty girl pretty girl

With two eyes this time

She doesn’t often use a sword at all. She has one, but it’s only used for worst-case scenarios.

And when you are Nakime, you don’t get to the point where you can consider something a ‘worst-case scenario’.

Her Biwa is her main weapon, and she has the special ability to create music that harms demons.

The strings are crafted specially from spider silk (courtesy of Rui) and Scarlet Crimson Ore, but they’re also infused with Wisteria incense (courtesy of Enmu) in order to ward demons off.

She’s a master at her craft, and at her best, she is a force to he reckoned with.

She is often paired up with other Pillars on difficult missions, or if there’s more than one Demon in a certain area. Nakime’s music travels a lot farther than a sword does, after all. But a demon has to be within fifty feet of her to actually die from it.

She doesn’t exactly use a Breathing technique for her Biwa. But her base Breathing technique is Water Breathing, so she practices using her sword often so her skills stay sharp.

Dream Pillar : Enmu

I’ll start this off by saying that no, it’s not quite the same as his original Blood Demon Art. But it does use illusion in order to confuse his target.

Enmu is, to say the least, a sadist.

(Nobody likes him)

He toys with his prey and usually ends up taking a long time in order to complete a single mission because he loses track of time.

The Corps wouldn’t like that if they ever found out, but it’s not like they can just stop him.

However, his technique is extremely effective if they ever have the opportunity to gain information from a demon with a high rank.

Which is probably the only time the Corps would let him do as he pleases.

He doesn’t really have a reason for joining the Demon Slayer Corps. He had no family or loves ones to worry about, and he was good at killing demons. What more could he say?

(That’s probably even more depressing than his family dying or smth)

His Dream Breathing is descended from Flame Breathing, because honestly anything destructive is a plus to Enmu.

He uses a Nichirin blade, but he also uses poison on occasion. Not the type that Shinobu uses to kill them, since that’s not the kind of person he is. He uses hallucinogens to make his Breath style more effective.

Spider Pillar : Rui

A surprising amount of people like him, but I can’t say I don’t know why.

Rui’s one goal when he became a Demon Slayer was simple : protect his family.

None of them are actually blood related, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fight tooth and nail in order to protect his siblings.

It’s not fake like it would be if he were a demon. Rui deeply cares for those that he sees as his family.

His Spider Breathing is descended from Wind Breathing, and is very unpredictable.

Rather than use a traditional Nichirin blade, Rui opted for a more experimental approach : threads.

To the touch, it’s fine and hard to miss. But when he uses it in battle, alongside his Breath Style, it’s hard as diamonds. And Rui controls is expertly, though there’s not really any way to just cut a demon’s head off.

He usually ends up slicing them into tiny bits and pieces, but that does the job as well.

Listen

CAN and WILL adopt any lone child that he sees

That's all for him lmao

Demon Slayer Corps Leader : Muzan Kibutsuji

He's So Done with everything and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Bedridden or not, he’ll beat someone’s ass. On more than one occasion, he’s somehow chased after Daki and Gyuutarou for fighting.

But don’t worry, he’s a very good leader. He’s just temperamental at times, is all.

However, he is a strategic genius. He does everything for a reason. Nothing is done without purpose.

He does know how to wield a sword, but he can’t do it often. His body wouldn’t be able to sustain that kind of physical strain.

The Pillars are incredibly protective of him. They respect him deeply, even if he can be quite stingy and a little aggressive at times. It’s just how he is. He’s never angry just to be angry.

Despises demons. They’re the reason that his body is as weak as it is, so he can’t help but hate them for everything they’ve done.

[drivingsideways]

k-drama rec list

Prior to 2020 I’d maybe watched 2 k-dramas in my entire life, but this year I got sucked in, thanks to some great recs, and y’know, *gestures * everything.  

I think I’d held off watching kdramas because my impression of them was limited to romances that I didn’t enjoy at all. But this was the year I discovered the equivalent of “gen fic” kdrama- dramas that had wonderful ensemble casts, strong story lines that weren’t entirely romance focused and also a variety in terms of themes and styles. A big plus was that I found so many of these dramas had women leading the writers’ room, and seeing the effect of that in the story telling. (Notable exceptions: a certain “star” writer who should please stop inflicting her badly written, formulaic crap on the world, yes Kim Eun-Sook, I mean you, and whoever wrote that trashfire Flower of Evil)

So here I am with my own rec list! Caveat- these are mostly not the dramas released in 2020, I’m still playing catch up! :)

Under the cut for length

My Mister/ My Ahjussi  (2018, Written by Park Hae-Young, Directed by Kim Won-Seok, starring Lee Sun-kyun and Lee Ji-eun aka IU) 

This was definitely my absolute favourite of the shows I watched this year across western/ asian media. It’s a story about the thread that binds us all and the ineffability of human connection. It’s also a story that deconstructs ideas of masculinity and honour and shame in a non-western context, but with an extremely compassionate touch.  It’s a story that doesn’t shy away from showing the consequences of material and spiritual poverty; and how one can so easily feed into the other. It’s a love story that isn’t a romance, except that it’s a Romance. It’s about finding salvation in one another and in the kindness of strangers.  It’s about choosing life, and picking yourself up off the floor to take that one last step and then the next and then the next. The one quibble I have with the series is that it could have been better paced, it does get extremely slow after the half way mark. But god, do they land the ending. Both Lee Sun-kyun and IU turn in absolutely heartbreaking performances, and fair warning, be prepared to go through an entire box of tissues watching this series. 

Life  (2018,  written by Lee Soo-yeon  and directed by Hong Jong-chan, starring Lee Dong-wook, Cho Seung-woo, Won Jin-ah, Lee Kyu-hyung, Yoo Jae-myung and Moon So-ri.)

Medical dramas are very much not my thing, and I wouldn’t have taken a chance on it except that @michyeosseo said I should, and she was right! It’s a medical drama in the sense that it’s set in a hospital, but rather than a “case-fic” format, this is actually a sharp commentary on the corporatization of health care, and the business of mixing, well, money and what should be a fundamental human right. Writer Lee Soo-yeon was coming off the global success of Stranger/Secret Forest S1 when this aired, so I understand that expectations were probably sky-high, and people were disappointed when this show didn’t give them the adrenaline rush that they wanted. On the other hand, I thought that this outing was really much more nuanced in terms of the politics and also how the ending doesn’t allow you the luxury of easy-fixes. This show has a great ensemble cast, and while it took me a while to get used to Lee Dong-wook’s woodenness (i ended up calling him mr.cadaver after watching this and was surprised to learn that he’s very popular?), in the end I was quite sold on his version of angry angst-bucket elder-sibling Dr.Ye Jin-woo. His best scenes were with Lee Kyu-hyung who turns in a lovely, achy performance as the paraplegic Dr. Ye Seon-woo who just wants to live a normal life. The love story between the two brothers is actually the emotional backbone of the story, and I think they landed that perfectly. 

My one quibble with writer-nim is that she ended up writing in a forgettable and somewhat (for me at least) uncomfortable romance between the characters played by Won Jin-ah and Cho Seung-Woo. I think part of my uncomfortable-feeling was that I got the strong sense that the writer herself didn’t want to write this romance, it was as if she was being made to shoe-horn it in for Studio Reasons, and she basically grit her teeth and did the worst possible job of it.  I do wish we could have absolutely had the OT3 of my dreams: Moon So-ri/Cho Seung-woo/Yoo Jae-myung like, c’mon TV gods MAKE IT HAPPEN, just...look at them!!!! 

Anyway, that apart, I think this was a very engaging series, and by engaging, I also mean thirst-enabling, see below. 

 Stranger (aka Secret Forest  or Forest of Secrets) S1 & 2 : (2017-, Written by Lee Soo-yeon, directed by 

2017′s smash hit aired a much anticipated second season in 2020, and I managed to catch up just in time to watch that live, so that was thrilling :D . Writer Lee Soo-yeon  mixes up thriller/office comedy/political commentary in an ambitious series. I think S1 is more “exciting” than S2 in terms of the mystery and pacing,  but S2 is far more dense and interesting in terms of political commentary because it takes a long hard look at institutional corruption and in true writer-nim fashion doesn’t prescribe any easy solutions. Anyway, please enjoy public prosecutor Cho Seung-woo and police officer Bae Doona as partners/soulmates kicking ass and taking names in pursuit of Truth, Justice and just a goddamn peaceful meal, along with a stunningly competent ensemble cast. Also yes, Han Yeo Jin is a lesbian, sorry, I don’t make the rules. 

Search: WWW  (2019, Written by Kwon Do-Eun, directed by Jung Ji-hyun & Kwon Young-il, starring  Im Soo-jung, Lee Da-hee, Jeon Hye-jin)

GOD. Where do I start? +1000 for writer Kwon Do-Eun saying “fuck the patriarchy” in the most grandiose way possible, i.e. absolutely refusing to acknowledge that it exists. Yes, this is that power fantasy, and it’s also a fun, slice-of-life  tale about three women navigating their way through work, romance, national politics and everything in between. It’s true that I wasn’t entirely sold on the amount of time spent on the romance, and I really wish they’d actually had a textual wlw romance, though the subtext through the entire series is PRACTICALLY TEXT. But still, it maintains that veneer of plausible deniability and I think queer fans who are sick of that kind of treatment in media have a very valid grouse against the show. On the other hand, personally I felt that the queer-platonic vibe of the show is very wonderful and true to real life, and it was only reinforced by the ending. This is a show written by a woman for women (like me), and it shows. 

Hyena  (2020, Written by Kim Roo-Ri, directed by Jang Tae-yoo & Lee Chang Woo, starring  Kim Hye-soo and Ju Ji-hoon )

Those of you who’ve been watching hit zombie epic Kingdom are probably familiar with Ju Ji-hoon’s brand of sexiness already. I had not watched Kingdom and got hit in the face by Mr.Sexy McSexyPants’ turn as a brash, privileged-by-birth, up and coming lawyer who gets completely runover by the smoking hot and incredibly dangerous fellow lawyer/competitor from the other side of the tracks in the person of Kim Hye-Soo. When I say they set the room on fire, I mean it, ok. Every single scene between these two is an actual bonfire of sexual attraction and emotional hand grenades, and they’re both absolutely riveting to watch. “Flower of Evil” wishes they had what this show has- an actual grown up romance as opposed to a thirteen year old twilight fan’s idea of an adult romance. 

The “lawyer” shenanigans and the “cases” are hit or miss, and I think the occasional comedy fell flat for me. But that’s not why I mainlined like 6 episodes of this series overnight like a coke addict, and that’s not why you’re going to do it either. It’s so RARE, even in these enlightened days to find a female character like Jung Geum-ja: hard as nails, unapologetic about it, and not punished by the narrative for it. The best part for me is that she feels like a woman’s woman, not a man’s idea of what a Strong Female Character should be. Anyways, when I grow up I want to have what Kim Hye-soo has ok?

Other dramas that I watched this year, quickly rated:

The King: Eternal Monarch (3/10 and those 3 points are only for the combined goodness of second leads who deserved better- Jung Eun Chae, Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam. Please head over to my AO3 and read my attempts to fix this garbage fire and rescue their characters from canon)

Flower of Evil (-10/100, dont @ me)

Tale of the Nine Tailed (5/10, I think it succeeds at what it set out to do, which is a light hearted, sweet fantasy-romance-melodrama, plus “second lead” Kim Beom will make you cry as the hot mess of a half human/ half fox spirit ALL TEARS character. I think if you’re into kdrama romances as a genre, this is probably a good bet?)

Signal  (7/10,  This was the first full kdrama I watched this year and would definitely recommend. It’s a police procedural with time travel shenanigans and has an engaging plot, good pacing, texture and compelling performances. My one disappointment with it was the way they wrote Kim Hye-soo’s character. As literally the only female character to survive in any way, she was given short shrift, and toward the end it really began to grate on me.)

Six Flying Dragons - (7/10, also would recommend if you’re interested in Korean historicals. It definitely already feels a bit dated in terms of styling and production values, and even scripting and acting choices. But it has a good balance of fantasy and history and political commentary. I was not a fan of Yoo In-Ah’s performance in this series, but it’s not anything that would make you want to nope out of the series. It’s GoT , if GoT was thoughtful about politics and characters and not the misogynist, racist trashfire that it became.)

My Country: The New Age - (3.5/10, and that’s 3 points to Jang Hyuk’s fan and 0.5.points to Woo Do Hwan’s heaving bosom. If you like your historical drama/fantasy with very pretty men, very gay subtext -seriously RIP to show makers who thought they could hetero it but didn’t account for Woo Do Hwan’s Tragic Face- lots of blood and tears and very nonsense plot, this is right up your alley. I probably would have enjoyed it more in other circumstances, I think? But this one just annoyed me too much at the time! 

I have a couple of more dramas to watch on my list, that’ll probably carry me over into 2021, so see ya on the other side! :D

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #454

“last thing i remember, i was running for the door  /  i had to find the passage back to the place i was before”

Last thing you bought online? Did you like it? I have no clue. Could you date someone who didn’t drive (and didn’t show an interest in ever getting their license, either)? I don't know. Public transportation isn't a big thing here at all, and even whenever I get my license, my partner needing to get somewhere while I'm needed elsewhere could be problematic. I think it would also depend on why they don't want their license. Like if they had a traumatic wreck, I couldn't blame them. How would you react if your artwork became famous? That'd be fucking amazing. Would you get your nipples pierced? I've briefly considered it. I ultimately wouldn't, though. How many people know your birthday? Without the assistance of Facebook, a few, I guess. My immediate family, Sara, uhhhh... Has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in? Yes, and it worked. For the better, though. He had a bad reputation. Have you ever watched a whole hour long infomercial? Ha, yes, this one time with Girt. It was a vacuum infomercial. We were just really bored at my place and... okay, I have no justification for watching that whole thing lmao. What is your current MySpace song? I still remember it was "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Beddingfield lmaooo. What is your favorite kind of meat to put on your sandwich? Ham. Which one of your exes do you feel like you have the most chemistry with? Sara or Jason, idk. How do you feel about people who make Facebook profiles for their pets? I don't care. Have you ever personally known a pair of conjoined twins? No. What was the most disturbing thing you have ever heard your mother say? Mom and my older sister got in a fight once and Mom yelled that she was a slut. I don't know why, but... it never left me, and I GUARANTEE it never left Ashley (who is not a "slut," by the way). This was when she was a teenager, so it's been many years and I can absolutely promise you Mom regrets it, big time. I don't even have to ask. Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it? Mark and meerkats, ha ha. Chewy chocolate-chip cookies: like or dislike? Chewy is the way to GO. If your boyfriend/girlfriend wanted to dress only in the opposite sex’s clothing, would you support that? If not, would you leave them? I wouldn't care. I'm pansexual, anyway. Anyone can be attractive to either gender's clothes to me. I think assigning clothes to a specific gender is dumb, anyway. Do you think your grandmother is/was beautiful? I only remember how my maternal grandmother looked, and yeah, she was a pretty lady. Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on? Mark, ha ha. I know way too much on a person I've never met. When was the last time you got all dolled up? Not since last October when I did a witchy Halloween shoot with friends. Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) No. Do you have a criminal record? No. Last person you took a nap with? Sara, years ago. Well, unless you count my cat. He always comes running when he hears me getting comfy in bed, ha ha. Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well? Yes, and angry because I want to stop whatever it is making her cry, but I usually can't. Do you think someone likes the same person you like? I have no idea. Do you want your life to stay the way it is right now forever? God no. Have you ever been to craigslist.com? Yes; I've adopted and rehomed pets from there. What about eBay? Mom's bought stuff from there. Have you ever used Nair? Yes, on my legs. It's just as exhausting as shaving with how thick my hair is. Are you medicated? I think I'm on too much medication, personally. I want to try weaning off my OCD prescription, because I haven't had problems in a long time, but my psychiatrist doesn't want to? Which is odd to me because when I came to him, he was stunned by how many different meds I was on. He's concerned that the symptoms will just re-emerge, but like... I've beaten OCD before, for many years. I can do it again. I trust him with my life though, because he saved it, so I just go with what he says, honestly. Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows? No. Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex? I've worn Jason's pajama pants before because I found men's pj pants more comfortable, and besides, sometimes I spent the night when I didn't plan to and needed something more comfortable than jeans. Could you make a statement about anything political? Texas' new "heartbeat bill" is fucking bullshit and is going to get so many women killed from DIY abortions. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates, but I do believe I met the person I loved more than I could ever possibly love somebody else again. Do you get the feeling something good will happen in your life soon? Fuck if I know. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? Yes. Have you been to McDonald’s in the past month? Yes. Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house? I have. How often do you go bowling? Very, very rarely. I haven't been since I was on a date at the end of 2017, I wanna say??? Or was it '18??? Last time you were in an apartment? Not since Colleen still lived in one and I was visiting her. Have you ever seen a live seahorse? Yeah, in aquariums. Would you like to have your own yacht? I mean I wouldn't say no if you offered it to me for free, but I'm not exactly interested in one. I'd probably just give it to my dad. He'd be on Cloud 9. Winnie the Pooh or Tigger? Pooh! :^) What’s the unhealthiest thing you’ve eaten today? A brownie with caramel drizzle. Mom bought a box of them to split between Ash and her family and us, so I had one. :x Thankfully though she gave more to Ash, because I don't like having treats in the house for my weight's sake, but a little something sweet occasionally keeps you sane when you're trying to lose weight. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? Ew, no. What is something you’d be happy to receive as a gift, that doesn’t cost a lot? I'd really appreciate something hand-made, like a drawing or something. What kind of music does your significant other/crush like to listen to? He likes mostly the same stuff as me, but also more indie-ish stuff than me. Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Jason. His eyes are brown. Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? Supernatural. It's inevitable that I'll sing, ha ha. Do you eat dessert after dinner? Very, very rarely. Have you ever had too much to drink and felt embarrassed about your behavior the next day? No. When you go out drinking, what do you prefer to drink? I don't go out drinking, but if I was to order a drink right now, I'd go for a sangria. That sounds soooo good rn. What was the last animal that you saw? My cat. Venus is in her hide as I'm answering this, so I can't see her. What was the last thing that you said to one of your siblings? I told Nicole bye when she was leaving the other day. What is the most expensive thing that you’ve purchased that you paid for: My snake. What is your favorite messaging program? Discord, nowadays. Do you eat fast food more than 5 times a week? Yikes, no. Have you ever almost drowned? No. Have you ever learned something shocking about someone through Facebook? It wasn't shocking in a bad way, just very unexpected. One of my friends has been an egg donor twice, I wanna say? What’s the scariest living animal that you’ve petted? I have no clue. Nothing that dangerous. Well wait, I shared the story of holding a tarantula before, and I was still kinda nervous to do so when I did. She was a total sweetie, though. Do you remember the first conversation you ever had with the person you currently have feelings for? I actually don't. Other than he got my attention with "lip ring girl," lmao. Do you dread certain days of the week? If yes, what day/s and why? No, because they're all the same to me. If you eat oatmeal, do you have it plain or do you have certain toppings that you like to add to it? I add a bit of sugar. What is the funniest or strangest thing you’ve ever heard somebody say in their sleep? *shrug* Choose one - Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers: Milky Way, 100%. Do you use Mozilla Firefox? No, I use Chrome. Who is your favorite person to hug? Sara. Have you ever had to have a mug shot? No. What was the last thing you carried to your room? Water. When was the last time you had a late night phone call? Damn dude, I couldn't possibly tell ya.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #18- Rung Psychologically Tortures a Man with Poor Snack Management

So, Swerve’s having a less than stellar day, and for once it isn’t linked to his deep-rooted sense of self-loathing.

Good thing he already emptied those stills, otherwise this would be just the hugest mess.

Thanks to some off-panel Whirl shenanigans that took place prior to this storyline, Swerve had Brainstorm put in a few security measures. Of course, Brainstorm being Brainstorm, never does weaponry in any half-measures.

Still, it isn’t quite enough. Looks like Swerve’s going to have to break out the big guns for this guy.

There’s a lot going on here, so let’s break it down.

On the character side of things, it would appear that Swerve is a merciful god of robot booze, as he’s not yet banned anyone from his small business, even when he probably ought to- Fort Max I get, and Whirl has the whole “is also an Autobot” thing going on, but Cyclonus has actively attempted to murder Swerve in the past, and also is the closest thing to a Decepticon they’ve got on the ship at any given time.

On the weaponry side of things, it would seem that Swerve having blown his face clean off his skull back in issue #12 got back to Brainstorm, who- because he’s married to his career and loves a project- immediately got to work on a gun that Swerve could actually handle with his funky little cartoon-man hands. Of course, that doesn’t mean Swerve’s going to get away with his dignity intact, oh heavens no! This thing has a literal smiley face slapped on the front of it. Well, you know what they say: it’s Nerf or Nothing.

Swerve blasts a hole in the Legislator with his silly, silly gun, and the bar is saved from further destruction.

I like to imagine that Brainstorm recorded that victory line himself, because he wants to support his friends, in his own, bizarre way.

Things are looking rough for the rest of the Lost Light, as the Legislators have completely flooded the ship with their forces, as the crew do their best to fight them off. Blaster’s had his titty compartment blasted open. Huffer is screaming. The medics have taken to violence. Skids has broken out the brass knuckles and is making god-awful math puns. The Legislators are still coming, without any end in sight. It’s a real shitshow.

Over on Luna 1, it would appear that Ratchet immediately passed out after seeing Pharma, which is a fair response to seeing someone who’s supposed to be very much dead, I think. Pharma calls Lockdown, they have a bit of banter, and then the scene moves on to whatever Cyclonus and Whirl are doing.

Because these two are the only ones on the away team who can actually fly, they’ve broken off from the rest. Whirl’s getting antsy, and decides he’s gonna fight something. Cyclonus, though he does mention that Rodimus told them not to do exactly what Whirl is suggesting, seems to agree with this line of thought.

Speaking of Rodimus, him and the rest of the gang are zipping around on those M.A.R.B.s, though it appears as if some of the passengers have switched drivers. Rung’s over with Chromedome now, holding on to him for dear life. Maybe they’re having an impromptu grief counseling session as they run from danger. Tailgate’s with Rodimus, and he’s just pointed out that Ratchet got left behind. Rodimus can’t deal with that right now, though, and decides that they need to get away from all these gotdang Decepticons and then figure out their next step.

Then he’s distracted by the literal lineup of dead Titans just hanging out on the moon.

Luna 1’s kinda fucked up.

Cutting back to our framing device- nope, still haven’t gotten caught up with the present yet- Ambus asks what Rodimus did next. Well, a lot happened. A lot. Chromedome jumped out of his therapy session with Rung and transforms into his alt, which I want to say is the only time he’ll do it in MTMTE. Whirl and Cyclonus are faffing about in the sky, more or less toying with the Decepticons following them. Rodimus wants to pull another Fantastic Voyage, much to Tailgate’s horror.

Rodimus zooms into the first crack he sees, but doesn’t manage to lose his attackers. Tailgate provides commentary, as Rodimus wraps the little guy around his neck like a cape, leaps from the M.A.R.B., and does some super sick gymnastics, hanging from a pipe jutting out of the ceiling as the guys who were chasing them run into… well, I assume each other, but it’s not terribly clear.

Crisis avoided, Rodimus drops down, transforming as he does. Tailgate goes with him, because gravity is still a thing on the moon, and we get a reminder that he’s only got a couple days left to live. Unfortunately, it would appear he’ll be spending his final days rotting in a prison cell, as Lockdown shows up with everyone else in handcuffs, forcing Rodimus to come quietly. Everyone seems very put out by this whole situation, especially Brainstorm. He’s downright furious, probably because he got captured by the guy with a fish butt on his head.

Oh, the indignity of it all!

Then again, maybe he’s just focused on working up the cajones to ask just what the hell is going on on this super weird moon. Lockdown obviously isn’t a bad enough dude to be running this operation- we saw what happened the last time he went against someone who actually had the time to plan something out- so our away team has deduced that there’s someone higher up on the food chain here. Also, there’s the whole issue of money clearly being a major factor in all this.

That sort of tech doesn’t just fall out of the sky.

As they’re being walked down this corridor of tension building, Chromedome spies Ultra Magnus in an adjoining hallway. He calls to him, but is very solidly ignored. But there’s no time to worry about Magnus being a rude shit, because it’s time for character reveals!

There’s an interesting little detail about Tyrest’s character, which is a little hard to see given the layout of the art for this page, but here it is, on the end of his staff:

Now, I know that the Autobot badge was appropriated from a symbol meant to represent Primus, but that was millions of years ago. So much for being a neutral party, huh Tyrest?

Rodimus is real peeved about being chased, shot at, arrested, and held against his will, and fully intends to give Tyrest a piece of his mind. Tyrest isn’t interested, however, telling him to shove a sock in it, or be “held in contempt.” While this is happening, Perceptor and Brainstorm have noticed the positively humongous and positively ancient space bridge that Tyrest just has lying around in this room.

Oh no, this is about the baby field from last issue, isn’t it? Brainstorm’s going to jail for infant arson.

Rodimus greatly dislikes this whole situation, and expresses himself through the art of verbal abuse. Smash cut to them back in the cell, Ambus not seeming terribly impressed with how Rodimus handled himself with Tyrest.

The tale is finished, we know where we were. Now how to move forward?

Chromedome asks for a bit more information on our new friend, because the whole “Ambus” thing is throwing him off, and with good reason: how do you tell your late husband’s ex that you had to blow up your mutual partner to keep him from being eaten by a lippy bastard? But this isn’t the illustrious Dominus Ambus- this is MINIMUS Ambus, the lesser known brother. Chromedome/Dominus isn’t completely taken off the table, however, as Minimus uses some awkward phrases that seems to tell me Dominus isn’t confirmed dead.

Rung wants to know what Minimus’ whole deal is, seeing as he’s also in prison with the lot of them. Minimus explains that he’d been moving a shipment of energon derivatives, when Tyrest had arrested him for having traces of space cocaine in his goods.

Was taking his eye really necessary, Tyrest?

Minimus was placed into custody years ago, and has been awaiting trial this whole time. Not exactly sure why, seeing as this moon isn’t exactly off the chain populated. Maybe Tyrest’s just been busy doing things that are absolutely NOT nefarious in any form or fashion whatsoever.

Minimus mentions that he’s lost his Autobot badge, and Rung offers to let him borrow his own- which we’ve never seen him wear because it’s apparently too big for him- but Minimus would rather he wear it himself.

Tailgate doesn’t take to this bit of information about the appeals system very well, seeing as he’s not got years to wait around. He’s beginning to panic, not trusting Cyclonus and Whirl to break them out, and starts needling the others to do something. Brainstorm reveals that his briefcase, which he’s had this entire time, as he always does, has an attention deflector built into it, making it effectively invisible to Tyrest and his goons. Rung feels a certain kinship with the briefcase in that moment.

Imagine walking up to a widower and saying “Hey there, honeybunches, how about submitting to that crippling addiction your late spouse begged you to quit so we can bust out of prison?”

Of course, Tailgate’s only told Cyclonus about his condition, so no one’s exactly raring to go busting out, since they’ve assumed everyone present is effectively immortal.

Over on another part of the moon, Ratchet’s finally waking up from his stress-induced nap to find Pharma channeling his inner Jigsaw. Ratchet gives him some constructive criticism on his new hands, but Pharma’s kind of over listening to whatever Ratchet thinks.

Oh, I hope it’s one of those gag gifts where you open it and get hit in the face with a pie. Those are always a laugh.

Back on the Lost Light, Swerve is looking for his very best friend in the whole wide world. I really hope the feeling is mutual, because there’s no way Swerve would survive that sort of rejection.

The doors to the oil reservoir open, looking like the elevator scene from The Shining, and we see what’s become of our dear, dear Skidsy.

Skids is pretty sure all this Legislator nonsense is because of him, and he’s not about to let people die for his sorry butt today, no siree. He’s gonna save the day.

Then again, this is about where Star Saber pops into existence behind him and stabs him through the spine, so maybe not.

Behold, a bastard!

Star Saber in the IDW run is well-known as being a witch-hunting zealot who can and will commit acts of violence over any perceived slight against Primus he identifies in any given living creature. This is a stark removal from his original character, who is so pure-hearted, kind, and generous, he literally adopted an orphan to raise as his own son. So, what exactly happened here?

TMUK happened.

Back in the days before Roberts was a professional scriptwriter, back before IDW had the license for Transformers, the members of the TMUK fan group decided that Victory’s Star Saber was going to be evil. Why isn’t exactly clear, only that it was a decision that was made not by Roberts on his lonesome, but more as a collaborative effort. Of course, this Star Saber isn’t a one-to-one copy of the TMUK Star Saber- that guy was much more conniving and, uh, Hitler-y, than what we have here.

Getting back to the story, Swerve tries to save/avenge Skids, firing with his custom gun, only to miss every single shot.

Looks like there’s going to need to be a rework on the My First Blaster.

Swerve gets beaned over the head with the butt of Star Saber’s sword for his troubles, his visor shattering in the process. Damn, sure hope he’s got a reading prescription, and not anything he’ll actually need to see.

Back over on the moon, Ratchet’s pretty uninterested in playing Pharma’s little game. It’s just as well though, because, as it turns out, Pharma’s an impatient guy. Must be an absolute nightmare during the holiday season and birthdays. He throws open the box, revealing what’s inside.

THAT IS NOT PIE.

But we saw Ratchet’s face over on the other side of the room. How can he be in two places at once? Well, here’s the thing about Transformers…

They’re pretty darn hard to kill.

Back in the cell, Rung’s doing his part as a member of the away team by passing out snacks. Tailgate reveals his awful garbage disposal mouth. We get the down-low on Tyrest.

Once upon a time, Tyrest was an engineer. Then the war happened, shit got crazy, and suddenly he was organizing exoduses and peace talks with genocidal maniacs, and got appointed Chief Justice by the space pope himself.

Rodimus comes over to get in on the little snack party Rung and Tailgate are having, mentioning the Aequitas Trials- the very ones that were recorded onto Ironfist’s brain back in Last Stand of the Wreckers. Minimus comes over, warning Rodimus to keep hush-hush about those, since they’re top secret and all. Kind of a weird thing for you to do, Minimus. Hell, why do YOU know about these super secret trials, Mr. Nobody Trader Guy? Those were after Dominus disappeared, so it’s not like you had an in through your cool older brother.

Rodimus gives everyone the skinny on the trials, despite Minimus being weird about the whole thing.

Perceptor knows all this already, but I suppose it’s possible Rodimus is the only son of a gun who isn’t subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified and isn’t aware of Perceptor’s whole deal.

Minimus moves the topic over to the crew of the Lost Light, latching on to Skids specifically the moment he’s mentioned. Rung does his due diligence and offers Minimus a ride on the snack train. Minimus declines, Rung insists, and the box of space pocky is dropped on the floor.

Minimus goes to help Rung pick up the snacks, as Rung actively hinders the clean up effort.

Minimus is two seconds from snapping Rung’s scrawny little wrist like a toothpick if he doesn’t quit it. Luckily Rodimus is there to break up this positively bizarre situation. And then things get really weird.

Rung’s been watching Minimus since they got here, noticing things that were very familiar- speech patterns, mannerisms, tone, inflection, OCD behaviors, things like that. Once he developed enough of a hunch, Rung started intentionally antagonizing him by making a mess and putting his Autobot badge on in a way that isn’t up to standards. Why would he do this? Why would he want to cause an outburst in someone he just met?

Well, the thing is, he hasn’t just met Minimus Ambus. He’s actually been serving under him for the last year.

That’s a rather dark use of your doctorate, Rung, forcing a man to reveal his true identity by poking at his mental health until he was about to snap your neck over some candy. You did it so well, too.

Maybe you were on Kimia for more than just psych evals. What was your career officially called again? Psyops specialist is what they have listed on the Wiki. Truth be told, I don’t even know what that entails. Let’s look it up, shall we?

...I guess therapy is his side gig?

So either Roberts meant something else entirely, or Rung is actually super fucking scary.