#it’s been a while since i’ve used that tag goddamn

[bengiyo]

BL 2023 Review

I wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about BL for this year. I was originally going to do a The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly framework for it, but that feels meaner than I actually am about it. Instead, I think I’ll just write out some sections and unpack some things I felt along the way.

I Watched Too Much Again

Last year I engaged with about 92 productions around the world. This year it was 99 (I tracked stuff I completed here). Sure I dropped 18 of them this year, but goddamn. The problem with watching as much as I did this year is that I worked full time this year and also maintained a separate hobby. I also continued my twice-weekly watch sessions with my friend Emily, so there are an additional 100-ish watch sessions in here of rewatching, plus a few other rewatches (Theory of Love and My Ride most notably).

One of my struggles at this point is I’m far too familiar with the genre, and find myself feeling impatient and irritable with shows that aren’t to my taste the way I used to. Throughout the late summer and fall I found myself increasingly grumpier about the genre, and it didn’t get better until I had a holiday and basically slept a day to get some energy back. I also found myself growing apart from fans I’ve known and followed a long time. It’s been a difficult year for me as a long-time fan because my tastes, habits, and friendships in the genre have changed even if the amount I watch hasn’t really.

I Wrote a Lot This Year

I recently converted my watch tag away from my gaming internet persona to just my shortname, so all near-1000 of my Stray Thoughts posts can be found under #ben watches now. I’ve also been going back and adding #ben writes to some of the standalone pieces that I really liked. In reviewing them, the pieces I’m happiest about are my ode to Framboise from Kabe Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to Be Recognized, my post begging everyone to watch La Pluie, my post about what it means to actually like queer men, my SBS ep 10 post that ended up being wrong, my post about the Lavender Scare and Be My Favorite, my Tokyo in April is… post about the breaking of the BL line,

However, the two posts I am most proud of is my half-joking response about why I think tagging each other back and forth across Tumblr in our writing is so important. and The Knowing: Being Queer in BL because I had so much great conversations with folks as a result of both of these posts.

Looking back at my own blog, this is probably the most active I’ve been in my entire time on this website, so thank you to everyone who interacted with me this year, because it really is people talking to me that gets me most inspired to write things down. Big shout out to @lurkingshan who will bug me repeatedly until I blog something that I said in passing.

We Started a Podcast!

After hanging out with @shortpplfedup since Bad Buddy, she got inspired and really wanted to bring something different to the BL podcasting sphere. I had time, and liked talking with her enough, so we started @the-conversation-pod. Now we’re a full year into it and planning out future stuff. It’s been so much fun being able to get things off my soul and break poor NiNi in our recording sessions.

From this year, I think my favorite episodes we did were The Moonlight Chicken Episode, the Eighth Sense episode, the ITSAY Anniversary Episodes,  The Wedding Plan episode, , and The Holiday Clip Show. Huge shout out to @ginnymoonbeam for anchoring the transcription process, and @lurkingshan for editing.

The VIIB Awards will begin airing soontm so look forward to that.

Favorite New Term: Business Gay Performance

Let’s be clear, Bump Up Business is not good. It is an obvious BL cash grab from OnlyOneOf that seeks to comment on the fake nature of BL while doing everything it can to trick the audience into believing that the BL pair is real.

Before we got deeper into this year, I was a big fan of a certain pairing, and then their fans took it too far and it affected the way I engaged with their performances and their work. I like that we have a new term for “fanservice” that communicates that you understand that this is for work. (thanks to NiNi for this comparison) I can look at the latest behind the scenes video from Last Twilight and say that I think Sea really understands the work they’re doing, and he and Jimmy have a very relaxed and mature version of BGP without feeling like I’m feeding into shipping.

Do I think they’re dating? No. Do I like the way they fake it? Absolutely!

I can look at one of @respectthepetty posts about Yin and War having personalized, color-coded mics, and we can talk about the next level BGP between the two and both communicate that we know that this is a performance.

It actually makes the extra PR work fun for me again, because now I can just shout “BGP! BGP! BGP!” and it not feel like I’m giving myself brainrot.

Thai BL Needs to Finish Stronger Next Year

Let’s get into some of the show stuff. This year was defined for me by Thai BL starting strong with good premises and then squandering them by not focusing on the details that mattered or leaning into baseless melodrama. Time for some reads. Some of these shows were generally good, but they failed at these things:

609 Bedtime Story: The world building crumpled in the back half and both endings are flat.

A Boss and a Babe: Cher is a pro gamer who worked for a gaming company and there was no plot point about this at all, or collaboration between the two groups.

Bake Me Please: Why was a show about cake so lacking in flavor?

Be Mine SuperStar: You had a real opportunity to explore a fan and idol romance and had Punn show so little growth. I hope the footage of First’s range is helpful now that Ja is out of BL.

Be My Favorite: You redid that whole amusement park date and muddled so much of what the hell happened on that day.

Between Us: You had years to make this interesting. Why are there five pairs and why is the end of this a JC Penny catalog photoshoot?

Dangerous Romance: What the fuck happened to the Sailom we had in episode 1 and 2 before that gun incident?

Hidden Agenda: Tee, what the hell was this? Twelve weeks of this?

I Feel You Linger in the Air: You may be the most beautiful show, with some of the most impressive performances of the year, but you absolutely botched this ending. Finish the goddamn season next time.

Love in Translation: I love you, but that whole kidnapping plot was so stupid at the end.

Low Frequency: I like your OST. That's about it.

My Dear Gangster Oppa: No examination about how gaming friendships become close quickly because of the combination of anonymity and teamwork (shout out to @twig-tea for this excellent summation).

My School President: Saving your gay commentary for the final episode felt like a conservative choice. I want more from you next time.

Naughty Babe: You retconned your own characters to tell a worse story. Unforgiveable.

Never Let Me Go: You didn’t know if you wanted to be a high school BL or a mafia story. It was difficult to watch.

Only Friends: I cannot believe you did Boston like that at the end. Either give Force’s character a clear personality next time, or keep him enigmatic; half measures make him and Book look worse. Sand was absolutely embarrassing. Boeing was a waste. Ending on all of them paired like that felt so unearned.

Step By Step: You forgot to ground Jeng’s external dreams at the end, so the final two episodes are just frustrating.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. We can go into the next year now.

Korea Put in the Work This Year

I really like the efforts from the various Korean studios this year. I really hope we get a Strongberry joint next year, but I want to acknowledge that we had 18 Korean BL dramas I watched this year, and at least three of them I think are must watches: Our Dating Sim, Sing My Crush, and The Eighth Sense. Beyond that, I think Love Tractor, Unintentional Love Story, and A Breeze of Love are easy recommendations.

It’s really impressive how the complaint for me this year with Korean BL is not about them using their time poorly. It’s more about normal drama concerns, where I think characterization is a little weak, or a theme doesn’t land squarely. This rapid iteration from the Korean studios is really impressive to watch, and I’m excited to see what some of the recognized players do next year.

Taiwan and The Philippines Have Been Quiet for Me

I wasn’t really able to connect with much from the Philippines this year except for The Day I Loved You. I never wrote about The Day I Loved You, but this beautiful and heart wrenching show is one of my favorites from this year. I wasn’t too keen on the Oxin Films offerings of this year, and I’m still chasing down the ones from The IdeaFirst Company.

As for Taiwan, this new BL project from the end of the year just isn’t hitting. Kiseki: Dear to Me also ended up really hurting me with the way they used Wayne Song and Huang Chun Chih. I love that angry little man with the white hair, but I’m still salty about Wayne and the general mess of that show.

Japan was Busy This Year

I watched 16 new shows, a few older ones, and a few movies this year from Japan. We haven’t gotten this much from them ever. I continue to love the Drama Shower project from MBS, and my beloved What Did You Eat Yesterday? returned this year. We had pretty stellar outings with Our Dining Table, If It’s With You, and I Cannot Reach You.

I think a third of the Japanese BL I’ve tracked on MDL actually released this year. That’s huge.

Still, I am going to side eye Minato’s Laundromat 2. You were the show that let me down the most this entire year. More than Only Friends, more than Step By Step, and even more than Kiseki. You absolutely blew it. You were telling a great story about a man with an acute case of internalized homophobia coming out of his shell and learning to love his younger partner and you blew it for stupid amnesia nonsense. I will never forgive you for this.

Where Were All the Uncles This Year?

Really, without Jim from Moonlight Chicken, and without the men from What Did You Eat Yesterday? we had an alarming dearth of older gay characters passing on knowledge and wisdom to the youngsters this year. What the hell happened?

Rare Dynamics Won: Second Chance Romance and Friends to Lovers!

We had so much second chance romance this year. It’s really my favorite version of gay romance because gays don’t always have ideal settings when they’re young. We had Our Dating Sim, Individual Circumstances, Jun & Jun, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, Be My Favorite, Love Class Season 2, and A Breeze of Love. I am satisfied.

Friends to Lovers is actually so rare in romance and we have so many to choose from this year! The best examples are I Cannot Reach You and Sing My Crush, but we also have one of the pairs in Love Class Season 2.

Gay Thoughts

I had a couple of ongoing thoughts this year about queerness in BL.

First, I want to return to my post about Sing My Crush and La Pluie, and how I assert that Men Need to Be Angry Sometimes. More than giving men grace to be righteously angry or upset about things, along with letting them express it in ugly ways, I really want to get into how we engage with these shows. I will stop engaging with moralistic reads on characters in 2024. I will no longer engage with asks, reblogs, or meta gripping the fandom where we're judging the moral fiber of the character.

The question that really only matters for me at this point is: Is this act from the character justified from their characterization, the narrative, or genre conventions; and is it interesting? Whether or not the character is good or bad reeks of the lame arguments about good and bad representation, and I am not watching BL like I’m being graded in Sunday school.

The second thing I really want to acknowledge at the end of the year is that the gay sex is finally getting better again. I watched The Novelist this year, and we have taken so long to get back to the space that show took us on the portrayal of male-male intimacy. We are in the genre about people with dicks. It should feel like it. There should be a masculine component there that feels specific to queer intimacy.

I will acknowledge 2 Cutie 2 Pie, A Boss and a Babe, Be Mine SuperStar, Bed Friend, Candy Color Paradox, For Him, I Cannot Reach You, Kiseki: Dear to Me, La Pluie, Love Class 2, Love in Translation, Love Mate, Middleman’s Love, Naughty Babe, Only Friends, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, and Wedding Plan for your contributions.

Final Thoughts

I like how broad the genre felt this year, and I enjoyed how much speculative fiction is entering into the conversation. I don’t know how I feel about there being five vampire stories in the works next year, but overall I’m glad that we’re getting more experimental concepts. I’m burnt out on the college engineering BL, and would like to see more shows about working adults.

Despite how grumpy I was for at least three months, I think this has genuinely been one of the best years we’ve ever had in the genre. I made a lot of new friends in BL this year, and I’m excited to see what comes next. Thank you all for spending some of your time with me this year and I’ll see you in the next one.

[thecuriousquest]

Can’t Live Without You

Yandere Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, threats of violence, violence, violent quirk use, abuse, mentions of past abuse, PTSD from abusive relationship, possessive behavior, controlling behavior

Summary: You’ve managed to escape Bakugou for four years. He finds you in a café while you’re in college.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————

You sit at the little café at school feeling incredibly independent. It’s your third year at university, meaning you’ve escaped Katsuki Bakugou for four years. You think about how it was his plan for you both to get married right after graduating from U.A, how you didn’t want to go along with it one bit but was too afraid to say anything.

You scoff. It was so hard getting away from the teenager who claimed he wanted to be a hero. Despite him bullying you for years, putting you through absolute misery, he wanted marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The thought of waking up next to him everyday makes you gag.

Your heart feels lighter now. You haven’t been able to manage a boyfriend because of all the PTSD. It’s just too hard to move on for you right now. You need to focus on your studies anyway. Once you get a career going, then maybe, you’ll be able to handle having a relationship.

Bringing the cup of coffee to your lips, you choke on it when you feel someone slip into the booth beside you. A man’s hand, a familiar hand, rests on your thigh.

“Scream and I’ll blow your fucking leg off. Got it?”

Your neck cranes ever so slowly to look at his face. He’s back like a goddamn cockroach.

“Katsuki…I- what are you doing here?” You can’t help how squeaky and high pitch your voice is.

He smirks at you. “I came to get my teddy bear. It seems she doesn’t know her place. College? Really? Stupid fucking bitch. No, you’re coming home with me.”

Shaking your head indignantly, you make sure your voice is a bit more steady this time. “No, I have the rest of this year and the next semester left. I’m not quitting. I’ve worked my ass off to get this far.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem to hear you, and if he does, he doesn’t care. He wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you in close. You spill the coffee that was in your hand, watching it clatter and clang as it spills across the table.

You both watch as it pours over the other side, splashing all over the booth across from you. The workers there couldn’t give a shit.

Your ex chuckles lowly before looking back at you. “See? You can’t do anything right. You need me.”

“You made me drop it, asshole!”

“Quiet!” He grips your chin rather harshly, fingers squishing your cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s seen you up this close. His grip on you lessens but only by a little. He turns your face from left to right, analyzing you, trying to see if anything is different since you turned eighteen and left him. No, you still look the same. You still look perfect to him. You’ll always be perfect to him.

He whispers in your ear. “I missed you.” Bakugou nuzzles a sensitive spot on the side of your neck with his nose. You always had an involuntary reaction to when he does this. You moan ever so lightly, but he can hear it. He smiles knowing that still gets you going.

“Please…Katsuki…” You don’t know what it is you’re asking for. Your mind is fuzzy with confusion. He just showed up out of nowhere. You were scared. Now, you’re moaning in his grip. You could cry from agitation.

“What is it, Teddy Bear? What do you want?” He bites your ear tenderly.

Then, you remember. You remember the time he tried to give you a simple kiss on your neck. You had tried to push him away, and he retaliated by latching onto your ear with his sharp teeth. He drew blood that day, and you swore that was the last straw. It was. You’re so insecure about that one ear, the one with a giant knotted scar that will never heal.

You try to push him away from you, and you feel his hand heat up on your thigh. You hear faint sizzling, and you recognize the threat.

“Fucking calm down. Don’t make me hurt you.”

You know he will. He’s always true to his word. Shuddering under his heated touch, you sink your weight back as he pulls you from the booth. You struggle to get out of his grip as he pulls you out the door, and he makes good on his word by adding a small pop of an explosion to your wrist. It stings, the skin feeling as though it’s curling and crinkling around a burn. You force the tears down your throat, hating him even more for putting you in such a position.

There’s a driver opening a door for you. The car is large and black, and bile rises in your esophagus as you’re ushered into the car. You get in on the other side, trying to open the door. You clamber with the lock.

Katsuki watches you struggle with it. He reaches over and smacks your thigh, jolting you out of whatever escape plan you conjured up the minute you saw the unguarded door. Forcing you to look into his vermilion eyes, he gives you a ferocious glare. “Child locks, idiot. You really made it to your third year in college?”

Of course. How could you be so stupid. For safety reasons, only the driver can unlock the door, and without Katsuki’s permission, you doubt he will if you asked him to.

Bakugou grabs your hand, his gaze somewhat softening, but not by a lot. He’s still pissed off, but the hero seems to have calmed down slightly.

“When we get home, I’m beating your ass. Just wanted to make that clear.”

Your lip wobbles slightly, but you can’t let him see you in such a vulnerable state. You can’t let him see how he’s getting to you. You’re terrified of whatever punishment he’s going to give you. The man can be creative.

You shake your head and look out the window. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Let’s hope after all these years you can still take an ass kicking.” His tone is dangerous, warning you to be quiet.

You watch the driver pull away from the school. You’re going to miss your three o’clock lecture, you’re going to miss your 4:30 class. You’re going to miss the rest of what could have been as you watch your school grow farther away with the distance.

Goodbye friendships. Goodbye college. Goodbye career. Goodbye to what you wanted your life to be.

Say hello to what Katsuki wants instead.

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[randomyuu]

so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 5

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, probably won't)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, but he is a naughty-minded flirt 😉

Word Count: exactly 3200 for this chapter

A/N: And we're back! Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying this story so far, and please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my others!

(Thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider she made for me!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle

Ugh, this is ridiculous, you thought to yourself the next morning as you tossed yet another rejected outfit onto your bed.  You had been torn between wanting to dress professionally since you were technically working and wearing something more casual since you knew you would be watching Chef Murdock cook and didn't want to accidentally ruin one of your nicer outfits, and had ransacked your closet in order to find something in-between. It's not like it actually matters what I wear anyway.

Finally you pulled on a pair of jeans and a cute-but-casual top then hurriedly finished getting ready before heading towards Daredevil.

You sucked in a breath as you spotted Chef Murdock waiting for you outside of the restaurant. Goddamn, even dressed casually he's sexy as all hell.

He was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans today, paired with black sneakers and a comfortably-worn-looking brown leather jacket.

His head turned towards you as you approached. "Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Hi," you replied. "How'd you know it was me?"

"You slowed down as you approached me," Chef Murdock replied. "If it hadn't been you you more than likely wouldn't have changed your pace, so I made an educated guess."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that makes sense." You shook your head. "I guess you kinda have to pay extra attention to your surroundings, huh?"

Chef Murdock nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had to learn to utilize my remaining senses to adapt to the environment around me.”

He held a to-go cup of coffee out towards you. "Here, I picked up some coffee for you. I wasn't exactly sure what you'd want so I got you something based on what you were drinking at the Bulletin the other day."

Your eyebrows raised. To you your coffee always smelled like, well, coffee, but Chef Murdock was trained in the culinary arts -- he could probably tell what sweeteners and syrups were in a cup of coffee just from the scent alone.

You took a sip then nodded in approval. "This is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Chef Murdock took a sip of his own coffee. "So since any culinary dish starts with its ingredients, I thought we'd begin our cooking demo at the farmer's market this morning."

You nodded. "Okay, yeah, that sounds great. Do you mind if I record our conversation while we walk? Sometimes something will jump out in casual conversation that's good for my article."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Not at all."

"Great, thanks." You took your phone out of your pocket and started recording, once again stating your name, the date, and the time. "Interview of Chef Matthew Murdock, part 2."

Chef Murdock gestured down the sidewalk. "Shall we, then?"

"Sure."

You headed down the sidewalk together, the gentle tapping of Chef Murdock's cane against the pavement creating a rhythm with your steps.

"So, um, how was dinner service last night?" you asked. 

"It was… okay," Chef Murdock replied. "Not quite what I'd hoped for in terms of customers, but we're still finding our footing."

You nodded. "Well, hopefully my profile of you for the Bulletin will help get the word out."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Fingers crossed. So what about you? How was your evening? Have any big Friday night plans?"

You shook your head with a light laugh. "Not unless you counted a date with my Netflix account."

Chef Murdock chuckled. "That actually sounds really nice."

"I would ask if you got to do anything after the restaurant closed, but I'm sure you probably just went home and rested."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Actually, I have after-hours access to a gym near my apartment, so I frequently go there to work off my energy from service before heading home."

I wonder what kind of workouts he does to gain those biceps of his , you thought as you glanced over at his arms.

"Boxing." 

You looked up at Chef Murdock's face, which was sporting a small smirk. Shit, did I say that out loud? "Pardon?"

"I said I box," Chef Murdock repeated. "It helps me blow off steam after service and focus when I'm stuck on a recipe."

"Ah, okay. So did your dad teach you how to fight?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, he didn't want me to be part of that world, said he wanted better for me than to come home with bruises and broken ribs every night like he did. He encouraged me to focus on my education, said he didn’t want to see me have to struggle in life like he did."

You looked up at him as the two of you paused at a crosswalk. "I think he would be proud of you, you know."

Chef Murdock sighed. "I would hope so. Not sure he'd be too proud of the way I treated you when we first met the other day though."

You shook your head. "It’s okay, really. We all have our off days. And speaking of off days, do you get any time off to relax and do anything fun?"

Chef Murdock nodded. "I take Sunday after brunch service to relax and unwind. Sometimes Mondays too, but most Mondays I'm at the restaurant testing and perfecting new recipes."

"Like your apology tiramisu?"

Chef Murdock chuckled. "Yeah, but I'm also working on a few other recipes as well right now, appetizers and main dishes and such." 

You continued on as the crosswalk sign switched from 'stop' to 'walk'. "How long have you been at the Bulletin ?" Chef Murdock asked. 

"Five years," you replied. "I was at the Bugle for a little while before that, but the editor was only interested in unsubstantiated gossip and wouldn't let me write the kind of pieces I wanted to write."

"Which are human-interest stories?"

You nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I like to dig into a good investigative assignment just as much as the next journalist, but my stories don't always have to be hard-hitting exposés -- I want our readers to connect to the people I write about."

Chef Murdock looked contemplative. "That's admirable. So what made you want to be a journalist?"

"I've always loved listening to people talk about their lives and hearing about their hopes and dreams. One day I decided I wanted to be able to share their stories with the world and since I always had a knack for writing, I decided to become a journalist."

"Where did you go to school?"

You huffed out a light laugh. "Hey, who's interviewing who here?"

Chef Murdock grinned, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. "Sorry."

You shook your head. "It's fine, I'm totally kidding. I just didn't think you'd want to hear me ramble on about myself."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, it's fine, I uh… Actually I really like your voice." 

Your face heated. "Oh."

Chef Murdock shrugged, suddenly looking a bit shy. "I mean, I can't recognize people by their looks, obviously, so I pay a lot of attention to people's voices. Yours sounds nice."

Your heart fluttered again. Chill out, he's not flirting with you. "Thank you. I, um, I went to Columbia, by the way."

Chef Murdock nodded. "I considered going there -- thought about being a lawyer for a while, but I ultimately decided to go to culinary school instead."

You could picture Chef Murdock in a business suit, arguing a case in front of a captivated jury. He certainly could sway my opinion. "Oh, wow, that's… quite a different career path."

"Yeah, I thought that was what my dad would have wanted me to do but I eventually realized that what he really would have wanted was for me to be happy and do what I love."

"Which is cooking."

Chef Murdock smiled. "Yeah, cooking really is my passion. I love taking different ingredients and putting them together in order to create something for people to enjoy."

"That's really nice."

The two of you slowed down as you reached the lot where the farmer's market was held. "Here we are," Chef Murdock said.

You looked at the expanse of booths. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking… how do you know which vendors are where?"

Chef Murdock smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all. The vendors all have assigned spaces, so I've learned to map out who is located where. Plus Foggy comes with me most of the time to help out, or Karen will if Foggy's not available."

"Oh, okay."

The two of you began walking down the first row of vendors. "So, what are we looking for?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "We're just going to browse and see what we can find."

He slowed as you reached a booth featuring baskets of farm-fresh eggs. "We'll definitely need some eggs though."

You nodded. "Okay."

The two of you stopped at the booth.

"Good morning, Chef," the vendor said. "How can I help you today?"

"Morning, Oscar," Chef Murdock replied. "We'd like a dozen eggs, please."

"Of course." The vendor waved a hand at the baskets of eggs. "Take your pick."

Chef Murdock reached out and felt the eggs in one of the baskets. "We'll take these."

The vendor nodded. "Alrighty then."

He took the eggs out of the basket and set them in a cardboard carton. "That'll be $5."

Chef Murdock took his wallet out of his pocket and opened it before taking out a $5 bill and handing it to the vendor.

The vendor took it then handed Chef Murdock the carton of eggs. "Here you go, Chef. See you next week."

Matt gave the vendor a slight nod. "Thanks, Oscar. See ya."

The two of you continued on, stopping occasionally to chat with different vendors and purchase various fruits and vegetables. You watched in fascination as Chef Murdock took his time choosing each one, squeezing and smelling each individual item before deciding whether or not it was worth purchasing.

Finally you asked, "how can you tell if something is ripe or not?"

"Each individual fruit and vegetable has a distinct firmness and smell to them," Chef Murdock replied as the two of you stopped at a booth that was selling mangos. "I've learned to determine at what point they're at their ripest."

He picked up a mango. "Like mangos, for instance."

He took your hand and placed the mango in it. "Feel how firm this one is?"

You nodded, trying to focus on the fruit in your hand and not how Chef Murdock's touch was making your heart start to race. "Uh huh."

"Now smell it."

You held the mango up to your nose. "I don't smell anything."

"That means it's not quite ripe yet." Chef Murdock took the mango and set another one in your hand. "On the other hand, this one is a bit overripe."

You squeezed the mango, this one much softer than the other. "Okay."

Chef Murdock held a third mango up to your nose. "Smell this one."

You inhaled, a slightly mango-y scent filling your nostrils. "It smells like mango."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Exactly."

He swapped the mango currently in your hand with the one in his. "Now feel it."

You squeezed. It had more give than the first one but less than the second. "Okay, yeah, I can tell the difference."

"This one is perfectly ripe." Chef Murdock took the mango back, his fingertips slowly grazing your palm as he did so.

You swallowed. You couldn't deny that Chef Murdock was extremely attractive, but you were there to do your job, not lust after the man. Keep it professional.

You waited as he selected a few more mangos and paid the vendor before moving on. 

You reached the last row of booths and stopped in front of one called Claire-romatherapy.

The vendor walked over to the two of you with a smile on her face. "Morning, Matt."

Chef Murdock grinned. "Morning, Claire."

He turned to introduce the two of you. "Claire helps run the community garden near my apartment," he explained. "I grow herbs there."

"Ah, okay," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Claire said. "So what brings you two by today?"

Matt adjusted the bag he was carrying on his shoulder. "Actually, I'm almost out of that lemon soap and I was wondering if you had any in stock."

Claire nodded. "Actually, yeah, let me grab some for you. How many did you need today?"

"I'll take two. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

You picked up a soy-based candle and gave it a sniff, the subtle scent of coconut and mahogany filling your nose. "Mmm. How much are your candles?"

Claire glanced over at you from where she was sorting through a bin of various soaps. "Six for the smaller ones, ten for the large."

You nodded and went to dig your wallet out of your purse. 

Chef Murdock placed a hand on your arm. "I've got it."

You shook your head. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly --"

"No, I insist." Chef Murdock smiled at you. "Considering I'm the one who dragged you out here at 8 AM on a Saturday it's the least I can do."

You bit your lip, then sighed as you put your wallet away. "Okay then. Thank you."

"Alright," Claire said, returning with Chef Murdock's soap. "Total comes to sixteen dollars."

Chef Murdock handed her some cash. "I'll see you next week, Claire."

"Okay. Take care, Matt." Claire turned towards you. "And it was very nice to meet you." 

"You too," you replied.

"Alright, I think that's everything," Chef Murdock said as the two of you walked back towards the entrance. "Let's get back to the restaurant."

You nodded as you headed down the sidewalk together, excited to find out what sort of culinary creation Chef Murdock had in mind.

"Okay," Matt said half an hour later as he set a plate of crepes topped with fresh fruit, honey, and whipped cream in front of where you sat at the prep counter in the kitchen at Daredevil.

After finishing up at the farmer's market the two of you had gone back to the restaurant, where you had watched Matt prepare breakfast.

Matt had admittedly shown off his skills a bit, making perfectly cooked crepes and slicing the fruit with culinary precision before making freshly whipped cream.

"Oh my gosh, this looks amazing," you said.

Matt smiled as he set his own plate down across from you. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks then."

He waited as you cut a piece and took a bite. He knew every ingredient was exactly as it should be but was still nervous about your reaction.

You let out a moan. "Ohmigod ."

Matt sucked in a breath, his mind wandering to other sorts of situations in which he could get you to make those pleased sounds for him. He knew you were attracted to him -- all of the physiological signs he had picked up on had pointed to such -- and the more he had gotten to know you over the past several days, the more attracted he found himself becoming towards you in return. 

He cleared his throat, fighting to keep his thoughts professional.  "Good?"

You made a sound of affirmation as you took another bite. "Please tell me that your crepes are on the Sunday brunch menu."

Matt chuckled as he took a bite of his own crepes. "As a matter of fact, they are."

You took a sip of the freshly-squeezed orange juice Matt had also prepared. "Mmm, good, because now I know what I'm doing tomorrow morning."

Come home with me tonight and I'll make you all the crepes you want. 

Matt could imagine himself in his apartment's kitchen, making breakfast as you sat at his kitchen island wearing nothing but one of his shirts after a night of passionate lovemaking.

He mentally shook his head. He would definitely need to blow off some steam at the gym after service tonight. "I'm glad you like them."

You made another pleased sound. "These are amazing, honestly."

The two of you continued eating in comfortable silence. Once you were finished, you set your fork onto your plate. "That was so good."

Matt smiled. "Thanks."

He picked up your plates and brought them to the sink to wash them later, then turned towards the receiving door as the bell rang. "Oh, excuse me one second."

He walked over and answered it, the smell of motor oil and fresh blood filling his nostrils. "Hey, Frank."

"Hiya, Red," Frank replied. "I've got your delivery for today."

Matt nodded. "Come on in."

Frank wheeled the cooler with the fresh meat Matt had ordered into the kitchen, pausing when he saw you. "I didn't realize you had company. I could've come later."

Matt shook his head before introducing you. "She's doing a profile on me for the Bulletin. "

He gestured back to Frank. "This is Frank Castle. He's our meat supplier for the restaurant."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

"Likewise, ma'am," Frank replied.

Matt took the clipboard Frank handed him, feeling for the sticky flag he needed to sign by. "Give me just a second to take care of this."

"Actually, I should get going," you said. "I'm sure you have to start prepping for service soon and I don't want to be in the way."

As much as Matt didn't want you to have to go, you were right. He nodded. "Give me just a second and I'll walk you out."

"Okay."

He finished signing off on the meat order and handed the clipboard back to Frank. "Thanks, Frank."

Frank shook his hand. "No problem, Red, see ya Tuesday. Ma'am."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

Matt waited until the rumble of Frank's truck faded off into the distance before turning back to you. "By the way, if you're ever looking for someone interesting to profile, Frank's your guy."

"Oh?" you replied curiously as he escorted you towards the front door.

Matt nodded. "He's a former military veteran who was shot in the head while overseas then lost his wife and kids in a shootout between two rival gangs."

You sucked in a breath. "Oh my gosh, that's awful."

"He became a rancher in order to help with the PTSD and is now one of the biggest beef suppliers in New York."

"I'll definitely keep him in mind then. Thanks."

You both paused as you reached the door. 

"I… I had a really nice time today, Chef Murdock," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

"No problem." Matt rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Um, you know… you can call me Matt if you'd like."

"Okay," you said, a smile in your voice. "Thanks… Matt."

Matt smiled at the way his first name rolled off your tongue. "You're welcome."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Matt nodded. "Have Karen let me know that you're here and I'll come say hi."

"I will."

Matt unlocked the door. "See you tomorrow."

He sighed as he let you out then locked the door behind you. It was getting more and more difficult to fight the mutual attraction between you… and honestly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to keep fighting it.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part seven (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death

Part six Part eight

Tag list: open

After reuniting with Y/N reunites with her family, things are... awkward.

I sit in a room in the dawn court, looking at my family along with the new additions, all of us sitting in silence.

More had already half strangled me with hugs, but now things were getting awkward, as none of us knew what to say.

“So, two out of three of you have found your mates, very lucky.”  I say, sipping the alcohol that had been passed around.

Rhys nodded, smiling a bit, but Cassian smirked, putting his arm around Nesta.  “Yeah, I’d say we’re lucky males indeed.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, her lips quirking upwards.  “Do you have anyone special Y/N?”  She asked, her voice that of a warrior queen.

I froze, paralyzed.

“I’ve been dead.”  I say simply in response, looking away quickly.

I can still feel her eyes on my, but I refuse to look at her, in case she wants to push the subject.

“I actually know a decent amount of what I missed out on, Tamlin and Lucain caught me up on some of it, though I’m still not clear on some parts, like how you three were turned into fae.”  I say, hoping to move the spotlight off of me.

Again the room falls silent, and I realize I’ve touched on a sensitive subject.

“It's alright, I don’t need to know.”  I say, shooting the three sisters smiles, Feyre and Elain smiling back at me, while Nesta eyes me with suspicion.

“No, it’s fine.  I was… Killed.  The High Lords all joined together to bring me back since I broke Amarantha’s curse.”  Feyre said, and I nodded, giving her a comforting look.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”  I say, knowing she’d probably already heard it a million times.

I knew what it was like to die and be thrown into a different world where you didn’t recognise yourself.

She nodded, and we all went back to being silent.

“I’m going to go look around a bit.”  I announce, standing abruptly.

“I’ll come with you.”  Azriel stands, and I suspect my brother had some influence on his decision.

“No thank you.”  I say with a smile, turning and walking out the door before he could respond.

All I really wanted to do right now was find Eris and talk to him.  I wanted to be able to talk about how awful this all was and just hang out with him like we used to.

Except I now had shadows following me.

They were very good at hiding, and an untrained eye wouldn’t notice them.  Too bad I am a trained eye, and have severe paranoia.

After maybe an hour of searching, I found a brightly lit room large enough that his shadows wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening.

So I sit down, smiling to myself.

A little while later I hear footsteps, and I smile to myself, surprised I can still recognise Eris’s solid, clipped gate.

As he opens the door, I grin at him, and he looks relieved as he rushes to me, letting the door close behind him.  “Are you alright?  They didn’t hurt you did they?”  He asks, his voice strained with worry

I shake my head, standing and going over to him, throwing my arms around him.  “Remind me why I wanted to find him again?”

He chuckled, hugging me back.  “Because he’s your brother and is the only one with any goddamned idea of what's happening.

I snorted, pulling back slightly.

“Thank you for standing up for me back in there.”  I knew what going against his fathers orders meant, what he did to his sons.

He smiled.  “Haven’t I already told you I would do anything for you, pet?”  He said a little too seriously.

I blush, looking away.  “Ah, you said you couldn’t say no to me, those are two very different things.”

He smirked, shrugging as he leaned against the wall.  “Then let me say it now. I would do anything for you.”

I nod, trying to smother the strange feeling in my chest.  “And I you Eris.”

Taking a small step back, the feeling in my chest lessened slightly as I regained my composure.  “So, do we have any idea who the other two who returned are?”

He shook his head, turning a bit more solemn as the subject changed.  “There’s been no word of them.  If it happened the same way your return did, then they should have shown up where they died.”

The worried twist of his lips unsettle me, and so instinctively I raise my hand, touching his lips with a featherlight touch.

He only moves slightly, to look at me with wide eyes.

I trace my fingers over the side of his mouth, and over his cheekbone, pushing a loose strand of his red hair out of the way.

“Everything is going to be alright.”  I half whisper, knowing he needed to hear it as much as I did.

He chuckled softly.  “You know, if anyone else said that to me, I wouldn’t believe them.”

I smiled, taking my hand back, “Well, I’m glad I’m not just anyone then.”

He stepped back, and I hated the coldness that enveloped me at the loss.  “I’ve got to go now, but if you need me, you know where to go.”

Of course I did, the tree between the autumn and spring court, where we used to meet before I had died.

I nodded, and he turned, leaving almost as quickly as he arrived.

I sighed when he was gone, letting my shoulders slump a bit.

It had been a long time since I didn’t know what to do, how to proceed.  All I knew was that I was going to have to question Elain about her visions.

About what exactly she had seen.

[ripeteeth]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern! Tagged by @perverse-idyll, thanks for tagging me! This is really interesting, especially as I’ve been playing with my writing style and changing it up lately.

1. “A long cloak of night has fallen across the bed.” [Milk Teeth, MDZS, Jiang Yanli/Jiang Cheng. If I’m ENTIRELY honest, this is an inside joke with myself, as an old livejournal friend once described Snape by saying “pick up your long cloak of darkness and get to therapy”, which is a statement I think describes Jiang Cheng quite well.

2. “The trouble with stories is that they don’t always line up quite right.” [Over My Dead Body, MDZS, Wangxian, WIP. I like to bullshit about storytelling and story structure. There’s something fascinating about the interplay of author and reader, and of reminding the reader that they are sitting down to a story. There’s a special charm when the author editorializes and goes off on tangents - such as Victor Hugo in Les Mis - and while I am no Victor Hugo, it IS extremely fun to do.]

3. “‘Please,’ you say, and he likes it when you say it.” [empty, save you and i, Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley. I just love the cadence of this and the way it establishes the close, confessional second person POV.]

4. “Naked, wrapped in silk, and turned away on his side.” [say it like you mean it (with your fists for once), Kinnporsche, Gun/Vegas. Does the lyric “why is the bedroom so cold / you’ve turned away on your side” from Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart haunt you like it does me? I like how this established the feeling of isolation and loneliness.]

5. “This is how it goes.” [Zoetrope, MDZS, songxuexiao. Again with the storytelling.]

6. “The day he meets them is a red-sky day.” [blood, bones, and butter, MDZS, songxuexiao. Red sky at warning, sailors take warning! How else should you introduce my babygirl Xue Yang? I’m realizing a lot of my lines have tucked-in references, allusions, and inside jokes with myself.]

7. “Spring is pale in Revachol.” [Revachol Calling, Disco Elysium, Harry/Kim, WIP. Honestly, I don’t like this line and if I ever rewrite it, I hope to have something that fits better. This doesn’t grab in the way a DE fic should grab the reader. God, this WIP haunts me. Someday I WILL finish it, but it’s been three years since I’ve played the game and I absolutely need to play it again to get a feel for the voices.]

8. “The walk home is lonely.” [long slow love song, TGCF, fengqing, WIP. I really like short first sentences, huh? I suppose this is just brief scene-setting. Mu Qing seems like a guy who takes a lot to open up, so a short opening line suits him.]

9. “He wonders how he’ll die.” [impact, Beyond Evil, lee dongsik/han juwon. I’m proud of this one. I feel like this sets the tone and grabs attention. It’s just a short fic inspired by J.G. Ballard’s Crash, so I can’t think of a better way to begin.]

10. “When Kinn had been a boy, he’d had an old tomcat that liked to sleep in his bed.” [shotgunning, Kinnporsche, vegas/kinn/porsche, WIP. Introduces this as a Kinn character piece.]

Bonus from unposted Frankensmut: “One should not travel these woods alone; the Wild Hunt is strong here, and all are prey.” [Introduction to Natural Philosophy, Frankenstein, The Creature/Victor Frankenstein, WIP. An opening line that promises you that the hunter WILL get his prey. I promise you this.]

What I’m really learning here is that 1. I need to work on finishing my goddamn wips, and 2. wow I really rely on passive voice to open. Huh. Are there any other patterns? Maybe some authorial direction to remind the reader of the story structure. I’ve also got a bit of a penchant for short opening sentences followed by paragraphs that either elaborate on it or negate it, usually heavier in length and description as a counterbalance. Like adding acid to balance fat or sugar. Truthfully, I’ve kinda grown bored with my typical writing style, which is partly why I haven’t posted much fic lately. Art is all about pushing yourself and trying new things and innovating. I’m dead sick of writing present-tense third person limited and am vibing with first and second-person POV, which aren’t fan favorites for fic. I’d also LOVE to try something much more zoomed out, like omniscient third-person.

This was fun! Tagging @brawlite-archive, @iodhadh, @jaggededges123, @rcmclachlan, @weatheredlaw, and @darcylindbergh if you’re vibing, and anyone else who’s interested!

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 14: Savior Complex

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, alcohol use, domestic abuse, nightmare, mutual masturbation, PIV sex, fluff, making out in public, banter, attempts at jokes, made up a middle name for Javi, movie nerd shit, angst, deep talk, argument, crows?

Chapter Summary: Our heroes share secrets, take pictures, and get some drinks.

Notes: Chapter title from "Savior Complex" by Phoebe Bridgers. I'm done with my summer classes so I'm celebrating like a fucking dork and putting this out today (in addition to a chapter on Sunday). Just a heads up since I gave a warning last chapter, there will be some domestic violence scattered throughout this series until... well, when you know you'll know. But I probably won't mention it again in my notes unless I feel the content warrants an additional warning. OK THANKS FOR READING!

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151 Fir St N, Laredo, TX July 1, 1998

“I’m just saying, you’re lucky you didn’t break your goddamn hand,” Javier observes, leaning on the doorway of your bedroom. He’s watching you with curiosity as you apply makeup at your vanity.

I’m sure his watchful eye has nothing to do with the fact that I’m only wearing a robe.

“I’ve been wanting to punch him for a very long time, he just gave me a reason,” you shrug, dabbing a sponge around your face with your bruised hand, “Although, I would have preferred breaking my hand over listening to Dan and his fucking dad scold me about it.”

“Scold you? For what, standing up for yourself?”

“Dale had to call and convince Mark not to press charges. Plus it caused a scene,” you scoff, “Whatever. Then Dan cut my allowance in half as a punishment. I feel like a fucking child.”

You don’t even want to get into the way that Dan yelled at you after you got home from the party. How he called you a psycho, unhinged, and forbade you from attending parties until further notice.

“What am I, fucking grounded? Like a teenager?”

“If you’re going to act like a teenager, I’m going to treat you like one. You’re fucking insane. Starting a fight with my friend at Greg’s party? I can’t fucking believe you would embarrass me like that. You’re sick, you know that? Always have to make it about you. Everyone was having a good time and you had to make it about you. Selfish bitch. You’re lucky I love you, nobody else could.”

The argument reminded you of fights with your dad. They both have a scathing way of making you feel one inch tall when you fuck up.

“Your allowance?” Javi raises an eyebrow and pushes himself off the doorframe to step closer.

“Yeah, he gives me money for groceries and stuff around the house, whatever is left over is mine to use however I want,” you explain while sifting through your makeup bag for blush.

“Do you have access to money other than that?” he asks, brow furrowed, arms crossed, making eye contact with your reflection in the mirror.

You frown and shake your head, then flip open your blush compact, “I had a bank account when I worked at the school, but we closed it after I quit.”

“And that money is…?”

“In his bank account.”

“How much does he give you in your, uhh, allowance?”

Your heart starts pounding. Why does he care?

“Usually $100 a week. Well, $50 now,” you tell him timidly, frozen with your blush brush against your cheek, “Why?”

“It’s just… odd,” he purses his lips and sets his jaw.

Is he mad that I haven’t been paying for myself on our dates?

“I- I can pay for myself tonight, if you want,” you frown, continuing to apply blush, “I’m sorry for assuming that you’d pay for me, I shouldn’t-“

“No, no, that’s not-“ he sighs and puts a hand on his hip, “I just don’t want him to take advantage of you.”

Your shoulders slump as you try to process this, “I know it’s a lot less than what I was making, but it’s enough to do what I need it to.”

“Sure, but it’s not enough to save money, right?”

You shake your head and pause, thinking about this further, gears turning slowly in your head. It’s always struck you as annoying and micro-managerial, but he told you that he’s just better with finances than you are, so he’ll take care of the money. He kept bringing it up until you eventually agreed to it, convincing you that you don’t spend your money wisely. A knot twists in your stomach as you realize that this might not be normal.

He is trying to trap me, isn’t he?

The nightmare you had last night plays in your head. 

You’re entrenched in the void. Can’t see anything. Rope digs into your skin when you try to move, rubbing against lesions that haven’t yet healed, pulling a sharp yelp from your throat. It’s muffled against a gag.

Creak

You shake your head back and forth in a panic. Try to scream out, HELP ME, HE'S HERE, SOMEONE PLEASE- the sound is muffled and your throat is raspy and sore, like you’ve already been screaming for hours. A coughing fit cuts your pleas short, and you gasp for air behind the thick, wet gag stuffed in your mouth. Your blood pressure spikes so fast you get lightheaded.

Creak

He’s close now. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it. Get the fuck out get the fuck out. You try to thrash around desperately to no avail. 

Creak

Louder. Right beside you. Your eyes clasp shut because you don’t want to see you don’t want to see you don’t want-

Back in real life, Javi calls your name. You flinch away from the sound and realize you’ve been staring at your vanity.

“Are you ok?” he asks, eyes wide.

You shake the dream out of your head, “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

After inspecting yourself in the mirror, you decide you just need some mascara and lipstick and you’ll call it good. He frowns, “I just… I worry about you.”

“I know, baby,” you tell him with your mouth gaping open as you coat your eyelashes with mascara. He sits down on your mattress and continues to watch you. Desperately wanting a subject change, you make eye contact with him through the mirror as you close the mascara tube and put it away, “Do you like my bed?”

“It’s very comfortable,” he observes while pulling his legs up and laying his head on the pillows.

He looks fucking good there, sprawled out so casually. Like this is his bed, not the one you share with your fiancé. You spin around your swivel chair to face him, biting your lip, looking him up and down. He raises an eyebrow at you. Yearning sparkles deep inside you. You drag your seat closer to him, next to your nightstand, then cock your head to the side with a sly smile, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” he answers, then rolls onto his side and props his head on his hand so he can see you better.

“Where you’re laying right now…” you lick your bottom lip, “I’ve fantasized about you so many times while laying there.”

All of the breath leaves his body. His gaze melts into a smolder. He looks you up and down while rolling his tongue across his lips, “Tell me more.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you open your drawer and take out your vibrator and a bottle of lube. The vibrator is hot pink, curved, and about 7 inches in length. His eyes are burning into you as you handle the toy, “I usually use this to help me.”

“Show me,” he rasps.

You tug at your robe’s sash until it falls open and exposes your naked body, then kick one of your feet up onto the table, letting your legs spread wide open. Something akin to a growl emits from him.

“I want to tell you about the first time though,” you advise, then set the vibrator down in favor of the lube.

“The first time?” he asks, unable to take his eyes off you as you pop the top open, squeeze some into your palm, then set the bottle down.

You rub your hands together and then spread the lubricant all over your tits, teasing each nipple with little tugs and rubs, “The first time I masturbated with you in mind.”

Never in one million years did you think this was something you would tell another soul, let alone the subject of your desire. But the confession is making you so hot, you can’t stop now.

“Y-you remember that?” he lifts his puzzled gaze to your eyes to ask you, “How?”

“Because it was the night I met you,” you tell him, squeezing your tits together. His eyes are on your cunt, watching you get wet. One hand trails down to skirt through your bush, then you spread your lips open so he can get a better look, “I was already so fucking horny, nobody had touched me in months. Then I saw you. I wanted you.”

His eyebrows draw together in an expression that’s almost remorseful. The moment you saw each other for the first time wasn’t magical. It wasn’t cute. He probably doesn’t even remember it. He completely blew off your existence and went home with your roommate. You suspect if he could do it over and go home with you instead, he would. But it doesn’t matter.

“When I got home, I heard you fucking her,” you bring your middle and ring finger to touch your opening, then drag your slick up to start gently massaging your clit, letting a moan fall from your lips. You look up at him and notice how strained he is, specifically in his pants. You purr, “baby, take your clothes off.”

He nods and sits up, unbuttoning his shirt as he listens intently, eyes glued to your pussy as you draw circles around your swollen clit. The shirt comes off, then he starts working on his pants.

“I heard you fucking her and I couldn’t distract myself. It was driving me wild,” you grab the vibrator. Javi lays back down on your bed and squeezes some of the lube in his hand, then starts stroking himself. Clicking the vibrator on, you watch his face as you press the toy to the inside of your lips, whimpering at the change in sensation. The vibrations radiate all the way into your molten core and make your heart pump faster.

You moan as lust fills your body, then start to grind against the toy, confessing to him between whimpers and pants, “I-I touched myself… while listening to you fuck her. I went in my room- and and I fucked myself against the wall.”

The thrill of this repentance, paired with the waves of vibration against your cunt, have you on a different fucking planet. Your mouth falls open as you pleasure yourself in front of him. His cock looks so slick and good and you just want-

“Holy fuck, baby, come here,” he groans and grabs at you the best he can. You jump up so fast, it’s a wonder you don’t collapse on the fucking ground before clamoring on top of him. As soon as you’re straddling him, he bucks up into you. You let gravity take you all the way down, causing both of you release a strangled moan. You start rolling your hips, gasping at the pleasure of his cock filling you just fucking flawlessly on each thrust. The vibrator is still going in your hand, so you press it to your clit.

“I- I made myself cum listening to the two of you- fuck - the other side of the wall, wish- wishing I was her,” you sputter between labored breathes, “Ssso many nights I’ve wished- holy fuck- you were with me while I fucked th-this toy. But it doesn’t compare. N-nothing compares.”

He groans and grabs your face, pulling you in to kiss you with urgency, velvet tongue exploring yours. He draws back to pant against your mouth, “That’s so fucking hot. You’re so- you fuck me so good, babygirl- take me so well.”

“So good, daddy, so goood,” you mewl. He grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it as leverage to expose your throat, where he brushes circles onto your pulse with his tongue. Your mouth falls open and you lose control of your vocal function, sputtering and gasping out guttural noises, letting your body act on impulse, chasing the climax roiling inside you. With your free hand, you grab his shoulder and dig in your finger nails as you ride him faster now.

“You’re fucking incredible, baby, perfect. Sh-should’ve taken you home- I’m a fucking idiot,” he breathes, releasing your hair so both hands can move to your waist and hold you there while he starts slamming up into you faster, babbling now, “Pussy is fucking perfect, n-nothing compares, you’re right, nothing fucking compares-" he pulls you back down to kiss him as his hips stutter and he exhales a shaky moan against your mouth, then he cums inside you.

His praise liquifies and sinks down into the same molten core that’s being fed by his twitching cock, the vibrator, and it brings you over the edge. Your whole body quivers with ecstasy; you cum so hard you literally see stars at the tippy top of the orgasm. You cry out, not giving a single fuck that the neighbors can probably hear you through your open windows.

You collapse on top of him, absolutely glowing as you catch your breath. He hums and groans in satisfaction, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a lazy kiss. Then you roll off and spread out beside him, flushed body covered in sweat. He turns and faces you with a smile, chest heaving, “Was that true?”

Now you finally start blushing and bury your face against his arm before squeaking, “yes.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he chuckles, scooping you up from your hiding spot to pull you closer. You rest your head on his chest, then start drawing arbitrarily in his belly with your fingertips. He brings his hand up to play with your hair. And you’re both content to do this… forever, it seems. It’s heaven in this peaceful bubble of affection.

“What time is the movie?” he rumbles into your hair.

From your very snug position nuzzled into his side, you mumble, “5:00. Is it time to go?”

He plants a kiss on your forehead and hums in the affirmative. Reluctantly, you both roll out of bed to get dressed. You slip on a short-sleeved babydoll dress adorned with light pink and lavender flowers. Javier is still buttoning his purple shirt up when you emerge from the closet, and you can’t help but notice the charming smile that spreads across his face.

“What?” you giggle while looking for the right color lipstick.

He saunters up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, making eye contact with you through the mirror, “I think this is the most color I’ve ever seen on you.”

You spin around and clasp your hands behind his neck, meeting those gorgeous brown eyes that make you melt inside, then blush as you admit, “I wanted to wear it because it matches your shirt.”

His smile widens, flipping your stomach upside down. You get up on the balls of your feet to capture his lips in yours, then arch into him as his tongue sweeps against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. Your bodies fall so easily together like this; everything about being with him is natural. You pull back and meet his gaze again, “Ok I really do think we have to go now.”

“Hey we would be there already if you’d stop distracting me,” he jokes, throwing his hands up defensively.

Despite the “distractions” you make it to the theater with time to spare. After getting pop and popcorn, you start off to find the theater playing Armageddon, when you come across a photo booth. You stop outside of it and ask, “Can we…?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles at you, “You want to? Sure.”

He snatches the popcorn from you and sets it down next to his pop on top of the machine, then puts a dollar into it. You clap excitedly and climb into the booth. Javi sits down next to you before closing the curtain.

You get the machine going and it starts taking photos as you both smile into the camera. Javi wraps an arm behind you then tickles your side, making you jump and start laughing like a hyena, which in turn makes him laugh.

“You’re the worst,” you grin. He tilts your chin in his direction, leading your mouth to his for a kiss, just something small and sweet at first. His languid tongue rolls against the seam of your lips and you pull on his shirt to bring him against you harder, meeting his tongue with yours. You get lost in him, entranced by the way the two muscles slide against each other, pausing periodically to breathe, then reinvigorating the kiss anew.

He paws at you while your hands roam from his hair all the way down to the top of his thighs, stopping at the fly of his jeans to press down on the bulge in his tight jeans. He groans quietly into your mouth and grabs the inside of your thigh, sending a shudder across your body. You instinctually spread your legs for him to get closer. His thumb starts skimming across the most sensitive part of your body, catching friction on the black lace underwear, making you whimper and arch your back towards him.

A knock comes from outside of the booth and it’s like you’re violently ripped from the lala-land of living with rose colored glasses on, enjoying heavy petting with your boyfriend  back into the boring reality land of sitting in a photo booth, now get your shit together, what are you, 16?

You both snap your legs shut and sit up straight, dazed from the whiplash of this teleportation. Javi pulls the curtain back, where a theater employee is staring at the two of you with her arms crossed, not amused at all.

“Hi, so sorry,” you smile sheepishly, entire face heating with embarrassment when you emerge from the booth after Javi.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Just… keep it in your pants until you get home, ok, kids?”

“Yes ma’am,” you nod obediently. Javier is finding this all very entertaining, suppressing a boyish grin.

The two of you are so out of it, you start to walk away empty-handed, until she beckons you back, “Y’all at least gonna take your stuff?”

A burst of laughter escapes you while Javi has to double back to grab the pop, popcorn, and photo strip. You snatch the photo strip away from him as soon as he catches up with you. There are four photos on the strip: cheesy smiling, laughing, smiling at each other, hot steamy kissy kiss. It’s very cute and it fills your heart with so much happiness it could burst at the seams.

“Which two are you going to take?” you ask, kicking your feet up on the back of the seat in front of you. The images are still in your clutches as you commit them to memory.

“Can we just take them again and both get one?” he asks after a long contemplative pause.

You raise your eyebrows and gape at him, “I don’t think we’re going to be allowed to go back in there.”

He groans playfully, “First Nico’s, now this? You’re getting me into so much trouble.”

“Oh my god, you started it, Javier,” you pause your bratty attitude to sidebar, “what’s your middle name?”

“Ferdinand”

This… rocks your world for some reason. If you were given infinite guesses, you never would have guessed correctly.

“Shut the fuck up, your middle name is not Ferdinand,” you howl with glee, a little too loudly, earning some side eye from patrons around you. Which… is fair.

He starts laughing, “It is, though,” and leans forward to take out his wallet, where he shows you his driver’s license, which, indeed, states JAVIER FERDINAND PEÑA.

“That’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you smile from ear-to-ear, then clear your throat and resume your scolding, “Anyway, you started it Javier Ferdinand Peña, so don’t tell me I’m getting you into trouble.”

“Whatever you say, cariño,” he winks, then grabs a handful of popcorn and tosses a few kernels in his mouth. After swallowing, he points to the photos and tells you, “I want the bottom two.”

You beam at him and nod, fold the strip in half, then tear the flimsy photo paper in two. He puts his half of the photos in his wallet before returning it to his back pocket; you put yours in your purse.

Armageddon is entertaining. It’s full of clichés and kind of silly, but regardless, the ending makes you cry. You’re right in the middle of hoping that Javier doesn’t notice, when he grabs ahold of your hand, stroking his thumb against yours on occasion until the credits roll.

After the movie, he takes you to the Pour House. You’re grateful that the Wednesday night crowd is light and there aren’t any familiar faces present. Sometimes you forget that he’s your paramour. It doesn’t ever feel like that’s how it should be. You secretly wish he could take Dan’s place.

Javi approaches the bar and orders a whiskey from Gina, who grabs a glass.

“Can I get one, too?” you ask after pondering briefly.

Gina raises her eyebrow, but gets it for you regardless.

“I don’t usually drink straight liquor, except shots when I’m shitfaced, but you do it and it looks cool… so, I want to try,” you explain to Javi, who must think you are an extraordinary dork by now.

This makes him chuckle and shake his head at you in admiration. Gina returns with your drinks. Javi sits across from you in a booth and watches with amusement as you take a sip and grimace, “What the fuck, why do you do this to yourself?”

“Well this whiskey is… not great, first of all,” he takes a long sip, you suspect it’s just to show off, then continues, “But I’m more used to the taste so it’s probably just not as…” he trails off, trying to find the right word.

“Gross?” you offer.

He raises his eyebrows appraisingly and shrugs, confirming your word choice, “Gross.”

“Will you show me what ‘good whiskey’ is, then?” another sip passes through your lips and burns the whole way down into your belly. You gag.

He smiles and nods, “I’d love to.”

After you go back to Gina and ask her to add some ginger ale to your whiskey, she agrees, and barely gives you shit about it. Sliding back into the sticky booth, you ask Javi, “What did you think of Armageddon?”

“I liked it. Kind of cheesy, but fun.”

You agree, nodding, “A little bit predictable. But… obviously it got to me.”

“The romance was grossly cliché,” he admits, then waits for your thoughts. He lights a cigarette and offers one to you, which you accept.

“Why?” you frown.

“So there’s one woman on an oil rig and she just happens to find a soulmate in her dad’s protégé?,” he shrugs, “I just think if there were more women it would be different. Resource scarcity.”

You take a drag, twirling the words around in your brain to figure out how you feel. You sigh, “I don’t know. I mean, I guess there’s no way to know. Maybe it was fate that they both ended up being on the oil rig. If we’re subscribing to the idea of soulmates, we can subscribe to the idea of fate, right? To me, at least, they both sound too much like destiny to be coincidence, ya know?”

He furrows his brow, nodding thoughtfully, then leans forward across the table and swallows hard, “Do you ever feel like it was fate that we met again?”

You’re feeling dangerously open and vulnerable, so you throw caution to the wind and tell him, “I do. I think it was in San Antonio, too. The first- erm, well, second time I talked to you, it was like,” you snap your fingers, “instant. I felt comfortable with you immediately. That doesn’t happen for me with anyone.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks down at his drink, “There’s so much bad that came before this. So many bad things I’ve done, things I’ve seen. I don’t know how… my life could lead to anything good. Why would it? That’s unfair for good people. I don’t… I don’t deserve good,” his gaze turns up to meet yours and there’s so much pain in those warm eyes, “But you’re good. You’re so good. And it doesn’t make any fucking sense. That is, unless the universe is chaos.”

These words sit in your head for a minute as you absorb them, trying to understand and formulate a response. You could point out that you're not so good, for a plethora of reasons. However, you understand that you're drawing conclusions about yourselves and each other based on heavy biases. That being said, you cannot comprehend him being anything but wonderful.   

Finally, you take a deep breath and say, “I refuse to believe it’s all happenstance. I… I wish you could see how good you are. I don’t think there’s a deity keeping a score sheet of your decisions, tracking their moral judgments on everything you do. Everyone deserves love and belonging. You do, too,” you take a sip of your drink, drag of your cigarette, then continue, “And besides, the bad that you’re talking about… don’t you think you’ve learned from it? You don’t work for the DEA anymore, and you tried your best to rectify the situation when you were still in it, which are pretty big indicators that you did learn from your mistakes. And you’re a better man for it-“

“Yeah, ok,” he scoffs, then juts his jaw and glares at his whiskey, “While I sit here and revel in the fact that I’m a ‘better man’ because I ‘learned a lesson,’ there are people that are fucking dead,” he bites off. You flinch back like he spit in your face.

The words hang in the air for a moment before you react, snipping at him, “Yeah. They’re fucking dead. What can you do about it? Didn’t you already do what you could?” He says nothing, just sulks and signals for Gina to bring more drinks. You stare at him sternly, hard eyes searching his face as he looks around at anything but you, “You can’t do anything else for them, Javier. You don’t need to make yourself fucking miserable for them. Why keep punishing yourself?”

His eyes snap to yours. You just stare at each other and marinade in the wake of this spat, eyes slowly softening as your tempers go from a boil to a simmer. Gina sets your drinks on the table and walks away. Your hand extends across the table to him, then he releases his breath and reaches out to hold it. As your eyebrows knit together, you search his face and tell him earnestly, “You’re not that person anymore. You’re good, I know you are. And you deserve good things.”

He squeezes your hand, neither of you realizing that it’s the injured one until you yelp in pain. Apologies pour out of his mouth as you assure him you’re ok. The two of you sit there for a while, lost in thought, not really paying any attention to the fact that your hands remain intertwined across the table.

You’re zoning out, wondering if maybe there’s something you said that was out of line. Probably. You gave unsolicited advice and dove too hard into aspects of his life you don’t have any right to discuss. And then… he snapped at you. He raised his voice. Is this when he starts to realize he doesn’t want you anymore? When it dawns on him that you’re a fun plaything whose allure has faded? Safe to use temporarily but will attach itself if used too frequently?

I’m catastrophizing. Javi isn’t that kind of a person.

The sound of Javi calling your name pulls you out of your thoughts. You shake your head like an etch-a-sketch, “Sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry for getting upset with you,” he sighs, takes a sip of his drink, and admits, “It’s… it’s difficult for me to find myself deserving. To forgive myself.”

You nod knowingly, “It is hard. I struggle with it all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, stomach churning while you try to decide if you should delve into it further.

Is it too much? Am I revealing too much?

“What’s wrong?”

You frown and look down at your free hand, then start picking at your nail polish, “I just… never really know if I’m getting too much into things people don’t want to talk about with me. I don’t know when to stop. Then I go too far, like I just did, past peoples comfort zone and…” you gesture to him, “that happens. Then I sit and ruminate on it for… days. How I shouldn’t have said anything. I should mind my own business. Shut the fuck up,” you scoff at yourself, then sigh, “Anyway, yeah, I know how it feels to not find worth in yourself. How hard it is to forgive yourself. It’s fucking hard . Easier said than done, am I right?”

He nods, mumbling in agreement, “Easier said than done,” then he frowns and looks up at you, “Me blowing up wasn’t about you stepping over a line, cariño. If I don’t want to talk about something, I won’t. And… as someone who has been told to shut the fuck up, I don’t know, hundreds of times,” he chuckles, causing your spirits to lift and a smile to crack across your face, “please don’t shut the fuck up. I want you to feel safe… to be exactly who you are. I adore you.”

I adore you.

“Ok,” your smile widens until it can’t anymore, “Ok, I can do that. You’ll regret it when I talk at you about crows for an hour straight though, I promise.”

He clicks his tongue, “I’m sorry, when you, what now?” he laughs, tilting his head at you with curiosity.

“Like how, for instance, I have crows that visit me every day, and I feed them, so they bring me shiny gifts.” you inform him, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Wh- why do they do that?” he leans in towards you, taking the bait.

You clap excitedly and lean in, too, “Well, see, the thing about crows is…”

[ Next Chapter ]

[gunkreads]

13 books tag game, tagged by @amemoryofwot (thanks!)

1) Last book I read:

The Tyrant Baru Cormorant; I finished it a while ago and have been reading incredibly slowly since because, in the wise words of @pillowfriendly, the problem with baru cormorant is that many things are not as good as baru cormorant. Go. Read. Masquerade.

2) A book I recommend:

Hmm, this one's tough (too many options). City of Stairs by Robert Jackson Bennett. Not the most prominent book on Tumblr, from what I've seen, but the first book in one of my favorite series, and has some absolutely staggeringly good worldbuilding and politics, as well as surprisingly well-done action.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

Sphere by Michael Crichton. I read it when I was 15. Started it at about 6 pm and was late for school the next day because I read the whole thing that night. Truly terrifying book for a kid, but lives in my head to this day.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more)

Name of the Wind--I reread Kingkiller Chronicle about once every year or two. It's my all time favorite series, I think.

5) A book on my TBR

SO MANY SO FUCKING GODDAMN MANY. I need to finish Grave of Empires, so Three Axes to Fall would be next, I think.

6) A book I’ve put down

Exordia. I'm.... so sorry. I want to get back to it someday, but I picked it up when I was in a bit of a reading slump and just wasn't in the mood. Modern dialogue is fun to write, but I don't like reading it, and something about the whole tone of the book just felt too Tom Clancy/Clive Cussler to me.

7) A book on my wish list

Shorefall! Robert Jackson Bennett has another series he just finished, the Founders, and I absolutely adored the first installment, Foundryside, but my library doesn't have Shorefall.

8) A favourite book from childhood

Eragon. It's not good, but I kept the copy my parents got me when I was four years old. I didn't finish it then, of course, but I went back and plugged through when I was about six. First chapter book I ever read, and my introduction to fantasy as a whole. Immense sentimental value, but would be kindling if I came across it today.

9) A book you would give a friend

I've given several friends copies of Red Rising, specifically to break them out of YA. The first book is sort of on the cusp between YA and New Adult, so I think it's a great way to show people "Hey, there's way more out there that'll actually cater to your intelligence."

10) The most books you own by a single author

Well... I have Eye of the World through Crown of Swords from my now-abandoned attempt to find all of Wheel of Time in paperback at used bookstores, and that's 7, so that.

11) A nonfiction book you own

I've got a copy of the 2017 AP style guide on my desk for work. It's pretty fun to reference, actually.

12) what are you currently reading

Four, sort of! Gardens of the Moon, the first Malazan Book of the Fallen book; Sleeping Giants, something I found on Libby and was reasonably well hooked by; Rubicon, which I found at the library's discarded-book sale; and Don Quixote, which I may or may not finish before the heat-death of the universe.

13) what are you planning on reading next?

I got a copy of A Farewell to Arms because I've sorta picked up through the grapevine that Hemingway might be up my alley. I don't really read classics, so I'm interested to see how it goes.

No pressure tags:

@pillowfriendly @anyboli @briannysey @asha-mage @coffeefirst-thenspacepirates @flame-of-tar-valon

[fantasywritten]

Happy New Year! For my first post of 2023, I just want to spread positivity and thank those who made this year in the tumblr rpc AWESOME! In all honesty, every single one of my mutuals made this past year a great one, so if I forgot to tag you, I’m so sorry! It’s past midnight and I’m EXHAUSTED lol.

@dcmure — I love youuuu!!! You’re such an amazing person and have so much talent! Valerie is one of the best OCs I’ve ever had the pleasure of interacting with! I can’t wait for more interactions this upcoming year!

@depictedblue — I figured I’d just tag your Cassie blog but this obviously goes for all your blogs lol. I’ve loved writing with you since the moment we met! You’re such a genuinely sweet person and I love every single one of our interactions, no matter which muses we’re using! Here’s to more awesome interactions in 2023!!

@extraordinarygrrls — We didn’t meet that long ago, but ever since we started writing together, I ALWAYS look forward to our threads! You’re such a sweet person ooc and an amazing writer! Plus I love Abby to death lol. More interactions in 2023, coming right up!!

@inkmchine — SAVVY!!! I love youuuu!!! It’s always so much fun to write with you! Your Bendy is AMAZING, and I’ve fallen in love with him (as have two of my muses lmao) because of your spot-on portrayal! There’s a lot of Bendy roleplayers out there, and yours is extra unique because of all your awesome headcanons and all the thought you put into him. Not to mention the fact that you’re an AMAZING artist, like… hello?!? Anyway, I can’t wait to write with you even more!!!

@inkabys — I will literally follow you to the ends of the earth! No matter what blog you’re on, no matter when you’re on tumblr and when you’re not, I always want to write with you! Charlotte’s my favorite XD but all of your other muses are absolutely amazing as well! Always a pleasure interacting with you, and I can’t wait for more of our stuff in 2023!!

@lcveblossomed — Interacting with you is always such a joy!! You somehow manage to bring all these different muses to light! I love all of your OCs, and I love to interact with all your different characters, even if I don’t know their fandoms! Our ships are amazinggg and I’m so glad to have written with you so much last year! I can’t wait to write with you more this year!!

@hellmersmyopathy — I know you’re not super active on this account right now, but I just need you to know how special you are to me. We’ve been friends for a while now and I wouldn’t give that up for anything! The way you write Berlin is INCREDIBLE, and I find myself reading all of your threads just to get more of him! I cannot wait to interact with you more in 2023! Please feel free to reach out to me anytime — I’m always here for you!!! <3

I’m absolutely exhausted so I’m going to bed now, but a special shout-out to the blogs below for being so awesome!

@shireentheunburnt @unsnare @wellfell @chaxticdreamxrs @slashaer @dehvils @auriibus @arcaneprophesied @diviines @hrrorstrie @madeofstxrs @insomniiatic @theolderhenderson @rebelliousfamily @rosydreamiing @wheezycigar @wrenmusezs @queencheer @zoomingupthathill @drecmsdrcwn @familybyerstm @scarednotscary @the-goddamn-babysitter @dcllsent @iworryalotdarling @chocolatercake @thxwxlf @theresastargirl @tragicsongs @killjoysanonymous @truesymphony @hvbris @princewished @lovepurposed

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

[supernaturalnardog]

This is Us fanfic

So, I’ve recently become absolutely obsessed with This is Us. I’ve quickly descended into fandom level obsession in the 2.5 weeks that I’ve been watching it, and I’m already on season 4. I’m in love with the Pearson family, every single goddamn one of them, and I’m a sucker for any kind of Pearson family hurt/comfort. This show is probably my greatest obsession since I discovered Supernatural.

There’s only one problem with that- for how popular it seems the show was, there’s a severe lack of fanfic in the This is Us tag on the most common fan fiction websites, and an even more surprising lack of hurt/comfort fics.

“Growing up” in the Supernatural fandom, lack of fanfic was never an issue for me. While I’ve consumed literally thousands of Supernatural hurt/comfort fics over the years, I never considered writing my own- for every idea I had, someone else had already written that fanfic for me- and they’d done it well. I was never “hungry” enough to want to spend time writing my own fan fiction.

Well- with the lack of fanfic in the This is Us fandom, things have changed now. If no one else is going to supply me with extra Pearson family feels, I’ll do it myself, dammit 😂.

Long story short, I’m currently working on a 10 year old Kevin sickfic- the premise is that he gets sick on a Saturday and is at first bummed to be missing out on weekend activities, but then realizes it’s actually kind of nice to have mom and dad all to himself for the day taking care of him. Here’s the summary:

Title: Pretty Good Saturday

Summary: in March of 1991, 10 year old Kevin is bummed to be missing Sophie’s birthday party when he comes down with strep throat. As the day goes on, he realizes maybe it’s not so bad after all- being sick on a Saturday when both mom and dad are home- and his siblings aren’t.

If anyone has any interest in that, let me know and I’ll consider posting it when it’s done. If not, I’ll keep the story to myself forever lol. If it actually manages to go over well, I’ll lead the This is Us fandom in hurt/comfort fics for as long as I have to 😂.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Bedridden Blues

Ship: Anton Chigurh x Salem Nickel Newman

Word Count: 1022

Summary: During a shootout, Salem caught a stray bullet through the ankle, making his life on the run more like a life on the moderately fast limp. Anton insists he get his rest in when he can and bars him from overstrenuious activity- including taking anymore hits. CWs for mentions of violence, injury, food, and drugs, some suggestiveness toward the end.

Tag List: @futurewife @canongf

About two days ago, Salem was shot right through the left ankle, by no real fault of his own… “Just one of those crazy flukes, I guess,” he had said once he and Anton had gotten away from the shootout before promptly collapsing. They had since gone off the beaten path to find a hotel to reside in, waiting for their next hit.

“What did I tell you about walking around too much?” Anton asked softly yet sternly as Salem re-entered their room. Anton had set out to get a scope of where exactly they were, so in the meantime Salem had gone down the hall to get a pop from the vending machine.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon and I was thirsty,” Salem limped to the bed and sat down, cracking open his can of Pepsi. “It’s not that long of a walk, Anton.”

“You have a hole through your leg and it’s not going to get better unless you lay off it.” Anton shooed Salem further up the bed, took his foot in his hand and propped it back up on a small pile of pillows at the end of the bed.

“You act like I’ve never been shot before.” Even as he said it, Salem grimaced, attempting to cover it up with a swig of his soda.

“You’re goddamn lucky you’ve never gotten badly shot.” Anton knelt beside the bed and took his partner’s free hand in his own. “I know, you like what we do, you’ve grown accustomed to living a majority of your time on the road, but can’t you just sit for a little while?? I’ve done all I can for you with what I could get my hands on, now you’ve gotta play the waiting game.”

Salem frowned as he continued to drink his Pepsi before finally setting it aside and looking down at his ankle. “When did you do all that cleanin’ and sewin’ and gauzin’ anyhow?”

“The first night we got here, when you were out cold.”

“‘Suppose that’ll do it.”

“Here,” Anton stood and strode over to the tiny television set on the dresser, picking up the remote control on his way, and turned it on. He silently considered the TV guide for a moment before changing the channel and bringing up Alien, in all the glorious, grainy quality of the 1970s. “Watch this. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Anton, you know I don’t like movies unless we’re seeing ‘em in the cinema…!” Salem groaned as he disappeared into the bathroom.

“Make do.”

Salem huffed and half-directed his attention to the TV across the room, exhaling as he leaned back against his pillows. He knew Anton was right about not putting too much strain on the wound, but the last time he had been truly cooped up like this was way back before Anton had even come into his life. Things were unfathomably dull, then.

Just as Salem felt he was about to drift off for the night, between the faint sound of Anton’s shower and the dull ache in his leg becoming background noise in his mind, the bedside telephone began to ring. Springing up in bed, Salem scrambled to pick it up.

“Anton Chigurh?”

Salem grabbed a notepad and a pen as he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear. “Just his business partner, who’s asking?”

“Someone who’d pay a pretty penny to find out who’s stealing his product and reselling it… tampered with. You’re not far from us, now, based on our sources. You ride into San Angelo and we’ll get you in contact with a middleman who’ll give you more information.”

“We don’t deal in vagueries, mister. Name the price up front and we’ll consider getting back to you.”

“$900,000, how’s that grab you?”

"You'll know by tomorrow." He promptly hung up and ecstatically waited for Anton to come back into the room. They didn't really do this for money- especially not Anton, who had a voracious taste for both the hunt and the eventual kill, and all the carnage that he would inevitably create in his wake, but they always appreciated cash to assure a roof over their head and food in their stomachs… the easy way.

"We got a call, Foghorn." Salem stated as Anton exited the bathroom in his jeans (he rarely wore anything "usual" to bed). He raised an eyebrow.

"You're using a nickname, you must be rather proud of yourself."

"$900,000 to go bust some drug trader's chops. Could be fun. We've gotta go to San Angelo tomorrow to get more information."

Anton thought for a moment. "I'll scope it out."

"Yes!"

"But you’re not coming."

"What?!"

"My word is final, go to bed." With that, Anton twitched off the light and slipped into the second bed. Salem opened his mouth to retaliate, but he knew Anton wouldn't respond, even if he did, and thus resorted to silent stewing as he tried to fall back asleep.

~~~

"Let me come, pleaasee!!" Salem begged as Anton went through his morning routine. He spat out his toothpaste.

"No."

"It’s an hour's drive, it won't overexert me!"

He combed his hair. "No."

"Antonn..!"

He put on his shirt. "For the last," and hoisted Salem over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than your standard bag of groceries, "goddamn time," promptly plopping him down on the bed while simultaneously minding his injured ankle, "I said no, Salem, and you're gonna sit tight here until I come back, unless you want to be in a mess of trouble with me, understood?"

His large hand traveled down their side until it came to his hip, his face inches above its as he gave its skin a flighty pinch. Salem winced and blushed.

"Understood, sir. Sorry, sir."

"That’s more like it, devil." Anton kissed him sweetly and even with all of their frustration, Salem melted, kissing him back with a smile and tousling the back of his hair.

"Well, at least be quick about it."

"I'll try. Room service will bring you breakfast in a couple of hours."

"Bye, baby."

"Bye."

[kenj1sl0v3r]

i’ve done my fair share of scrolling through the hannibal tag on this app, but the one thing that i want to talk to literally anybody about when it comes to the hannibal book is this:

the perspective it’s written in.

thomas harris books are very obvious written from the 3rd person. BUT! hannibal specifically, at least i think so because it’s been a hot minute since i’ve read red dragon and sotl, have these very important moments to me where the perspective switches from like.. the “all knowing eye” or whatever the fuck, to some sort of unknown narrator. am i using the right terms? probably not, so stick with me here.

instead of the perspective reading like this, (this is just a random example) chap 59: “the dna lab was new, smelled new, and the personnel were younger then starling. it was something she’d have to get used to, she thought with a twinge- she’d be a year older very soon.”

SOME OF IT SOUNDS LIKE THIS (and here is a excerpt from one of my favorite chapters ;)) “here beside you is the palazzo of the capponi, a family distinguished for a thousand years, who tore up a french kings ultimatum in his face and produced a pope”….”in that pane of crazed old glass is a bullet hole from the 1940s. go closer. rest your head against the cold iron as the policeman did and listen. faintly you can hear a clavier.”….”the alarms cannot see us. the wet policeman lurking in the door way cannot see us. come…”….”a long stone staircase, the stair rail cold beneath our sliding hand”… LIKE OH MY GOD??????

AND LASTLY LITERALLY ONE OF THE BEST THINGS IVE EVER READ THAT JUST HAPPENS TO BE THE LAST SENTENCES OF HANNIBAL:

“follow this handsome couple from the opera? all right, but very carefully…”….”we’ll withdraw now, while they are dancing on the terrace—the wise barney has already left town and we must follow his example. for either of them to discover us would be fatal. we can only learn so much and live.” LIKE EXCUUUSEEE MEEEE???????

i don’t even know how to explain how this kind of writing makes me feel. i could read books in only this kind of format for the rest of my life and i would die a happy human.

i need to know if there’s a specific name for this style of writing because oH MY GOD i love it SO GODDAMN MUCH !!!

i didn’t realize that i would be able to fall in love with a writing style but alas- here we are 😭

literally if anyone feels the same way or even feels different about this way of writing, please share your thoughts!!!!

[masterthespianduchovny]

no one fucking gaslit you but yourself. I a! so goddamned sick of the tedbecca shippers appropriating the actual experiences of actual abuse survivors to whine about not getting the ship that was very clearly never going to happen, and acting like having yet another bland straight white couple is somehow groundbreaking television.

y'all write whole goddamn essays about how you're so oppressed by *shit that did not fucking happen*. it's fucking tedious. your sydcarmy ship isn't happening either and I hope you die mad about it too

all y'all are doing is exposing yourselves for thinking that a woman only exists as a whole for your fave fictional white men to fuck and I'm tired of the endless tantrums in the tags about it

sorry you're incapable of media literacy and didn't immediately get the incredibly obvious joke in the finale but that's a personal problem. congratulations you played yourself. next time don't brainwash yourself with gifsets instead of watching what the show actually does. goddamned immature brats

Ooh, chile, you shouldn’t have told me that you’re sick of us spamming the tag because I’m going to make sure to write even more here and spam it all fucking day, baby. Thanks for that. ☺️

Now on to your bullshit post:

1. No one’s appropriating anything. You seem like the person who believes that only army veterans can have PTSD. Newsflash: that’s false just like your understand how who can be effected by gaslighting is false—it’s broader than you believe.

2. I’m a fucking black woman, let’s not get into politics over shipping because you will lose regardless of race. The show is predominantly WHITE and to ship either of the leads with the black men on the show, which has canonically happened for a pairing, is problematic as fuck.

3. Whoever said they were fucking oppressed, you need to talk to them NOT me. However, I can criticize what I deem as POOR writing. That’s not oppression, that’s a grievance that writers can learn from in the future.

5. I have a fucking degree in CINEMA AND MEDIA STUDIES. The lowest grade I ever received on film and TV analysis was a B and that was because I was trying less than usual. I’ve been apart of film/tv and have been on the crew of independent movies—even got an IMDb credit for it. I was briefly an English major before switching to cinema and I’m currently writing a book, this is all to say:

I very likely watch tv (and film) more intently than you do and ever have. I break down character, plot, dynamics, tropes, themes, etc subconsciously and can recall small details and plot points that most people cannot.

I’m in the process of being a guest for a movie podcast, launching my own movie and tv podcast in a few months, and writing an article on the function of filler episodes in tv, both past and present.

So while my criticism is focused on a ship, it’s due to my intimate knowledge of tv, my education, and career path. The goal is to end up as a writer of movies and tv. Like, I’m true to this, not new to this.

I don’t give a fuck what you think is tedious. Bad writing is bad writing. It’s why Ted Lasso was shut out at the TCAs and will likely have very few or NO Emmy’s because the last season was terrible. The final episode doesn’t make any since even when you don’t account for Tedbecca. If you bothered reading that tedious writing, you’d know that. Don’t worry, I’ll write a post and flood the tag again.

The bantr reveal fake out does not make any sense if they never intended to AT LEAST explore ted and Rebecca’s feelings. That’s taking up important space in the narrative. We literally didn’t need it. Setting ted and rebecca up as soulmates regardless of it it was romantic OR platonic with NO pay off is BAD writing. Harping on their connection only for them to spend most of the season apart and very little screen time with ted being inattentive to rebecca in the last episode is BAD WRITING.

I’m sorry that you don’t know what bad writing looks like, but media literacy is being able to discern narrative consistency and how writing qualify influences that.

Part of the criticism of Tedbecca is that if it weren’t going happen, why were all of those unnecessary details there?

The other problem is that is was gaslighting because of how the writers, producers, and Jason interacted with fans. They led fans on, and Brendan was an asshole about the w tire thing during his AMA.

Like why in the fuck is Jason saying, “what if you had a crush on your boss” and invoking Nora Ephron? I don’t want to hear any bullshit about subversion when 1. The writing wasn’t good enough in the third season to subvert shit 2. Outside of shipper complaints, the show has fallen off hard in SM discourse. Went out with a whimper!

5. So wanting Rebecca AND Ted together means we think a woman only exists for our fave fictional white man? Mighty presumptuous of you to assume that Ted is my fave white man—that’s Mike Lawson and Fox Mulder. Even then, many who ship tedbecca are rebecca/Hannah stans and are actually pissed that her storyline didn’t involve therapy and focus on her professional life more. Hell, she didn’t even get adequate apologies from Higgins or one from Nate. The romance is only one of many ways the show has failed her and it has been discussed at length on Twitter. Please keep showing how you’re all assumption and don’t read or maybe you just lack comprehension skills. You’re the one exposing yourself here and lack the self reflection to understand that.

I suppose that’s hard when you have one brain cell. Don’t work it too hard!

We’re immature, but you’re sending anon hate mail to me because you’re upset. LOLOLOLOL!!! People have the right to complain if they want for long they want, get over it. The real immaturity is being unable to deal with the fact that people feel differently than you, not understand why (may be due to the one brain cell), and attacking us over it.

6. There’s no reason for me to be upset if SydCarmy doesn’t happen. While I do believe a foundation is being laid, The Bear can actually maintain high quality writing. So whatever they choose to do, even if it’s not marking my ship canon, I have confidence in the direction they choose to go.

7. Your head is so far up your ass that you think people didn’t get their pedestrian joke. Lol. You’re defending writing that, for TWO SEASONS, painted Jane as an abuser and that Beard needed to get out of their toxic relationship only for them to get a happily ever after that glosses over said abuse. Keep in mind that Jane fucking SHREDDED his passport.

Come get your clown make up kit, you’ve earned it, dear.

Because I want you to explain and justify THAT to me.

Let’s also breakdown Ted’s narrative arc, which doesn’t make a lick of sense and was changed in the third season.

Or how Jamie and Roy fighting over keeley was nonsensical.

And that Michelle’s ex was sabotaged narratively in the last ep and I don’t even like that dude.

Or how keeley and rebecca wanting to create and run a woman’s football league is random as fuck and has never been discussed, teased, alluded to, or anything else.

You think this is the first time a ship hasn’t happened for me? Hell, I’ve had one half of my ship did and they were CANON at one point. As a matter of fact, it was TWO ships only one canon and, for the latter, there was rampant RACISM going on behind the scenes.

Because I don’t know who else, if anyone else, you’re sending these anon messages to, but I’m very well versed when it comes to fiction and I don’t fuck around. I stand ten toes down in everything I say because it’s backed up with facts and careful thought.

So if you want to get into, we can get into it, but I guarantee you, you’ll be exposed as a fraud of who doesn’t know shit about fuck.

We can do this or not, the choice is yours.

[tryalittlejoytomorrow]

I was tagged forever ago by @winterlovesong1  , thank you!! 💜

rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.  girl you already tagged my faves! @flythesail @scarletslippers @gizkasparadise @alienor-woods

1/ you hit me with a plot twist

Six of Crows / Matthias x Nina / 29k

Another proof that she's lost her goddamn mind, if she can pair the words Kaz and cute together.

2/ and now I even like you when I’m sober (honestly that’s a first)    

Nancy Drew / Nancy x Ace / 8k

Ace shakes his head, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. "I don't believe in regret."

3/ when it's too heavy to carry, remember this moment with me (they say love is a journey)

Nancy Drew / Nancy x Ace / 48k

Nancy narrows her eyes at him. "No, the first question actually is: do you remember what your spouse was wearing the first time you met?" She starts frowning. "That's crazy, who's gonna re-"

4/ so you were never a saint (and I’ve loved in shades of wrong)   

The Umbrella Academy / Diego x Lila / 10k

Lila freezes as she opens the door and reveals a man who is definitely not Herb.

5/ and I'm running out of reasons to push you aside (you said I get that's what you do - but maybe don't)    

The Umbrella Academy / Diego x Lila / 4.8k

Diego opens his mouth, and he looks contradictory, so Lila just holds his chin in place, boring her eyes into his until he relents. "Yes, ma'am," Diego reluctantly agrees. "Your bedside manner needs improvement, honey," he still teases her, freeing himself of her hold and playfully nipping at the tips of her fingers.

6/ help me hold onto you   

The Umbrella Academy / Diego x Lila / 2.2k

Diego shakes his head. "Nope," he says with a popping sound, dodging the upcoming slap with reflexes honed by practice and catching her wrist with his hand where he presses the softest kiss to the sensitive inner skin. He uses his momentum to pull her forward, spanning her waist with his free hand. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he says as a warning, just in case she does truly want to slap him more than she wants him.

7/ yet now I'm standing here, my heart's so full, I can't explain  

Nancy Drew / Nancy x Ace /  2.4k

She looks at him as he reaches for the little box on the coffee table, pulling out the little plague finger puppets he made. "Get you a man who can do both," Bess says in a loud-whisper. "Cut open bodies by day, sew cute little puppets by night."

8/ remind me once again just who I am because I need to know   

Nancy Drew / Nancy x Ace /  2.2k

Which is why Nancy doesn't understand why she starts. Opens her mouth and spills it all. "I wonder what my mom would say about me tanking my grades and ending up here."

9/ all I know is that I’ll never really be alone (‘cause we got a lot of love and a happy home)   

Nancy Drew / Nancy x Ace / 20.2k

Nancy frowns at him. People tend not to mention her mother around her. It's been years since Kate passed away, a decade, and while she and her dad talk about her sometimes and have learned to remember and cherish the good memories, it's still not easy. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, it's just been so much harder; Rebecca has tried her best to be there for her and really, she's the best mother-in-law Nancy could have ever hoped for, but it's just not the same. For the first time in years, Nancy even thought about looking for her birth parents, find her birth mother as she's about to become one, too. As happy as she is, having a baby without her mom around has been one of the toughest things she's ever faced. "You knew my mom?" Nancy asks, hating the wobbling in her voice.

10/ by the prospect of the touch, by the memory of the feel (we're undone by each other)    

Nancy Drew / Nancy x Ace / 55k

"I don't have any magic in me, though," Nancy frowns. "I don't know anything about magic. If anything, I'm witch-adjacent, seventh generation removed, and...how are Hudsons and Marvins tied again?"

[duxinteritio]

Tagging @sapphicwitchstudio since one of the characters is hers,  putting in a break because the story is long enough to need scrolling.

“Car....” Bernie’s voice was unusually soft, a quiet plea in the undertones. Carson reached to the side of the vehicle he was under and pulled himself out from beneath. He narrowed his eyes on the woman standing beside him. Bernie was smiling with her lower lip caught between her teeth and twisting her oversized T-shirt in her hands. 

“What do you want girlie?” Carson sat up, arching slightly to pop his back with a groan. 

“You drove right? Like-”

“No.” Carson laid back down on the creeper he had been using and pulled himself back under the car he was working on. “I will not help you with those goddamn death races. You and that bot of yours can keep your asses out of that.”

“We’ve already been going.” Scrappy provided the information helpfully causing Bernie to flinch slightly. She knew the old mechanic would not be happy. The slow slide back out from under his current project took both too long and not enough time once his glare was leveled on her.

“There’s a big race coming up and we could win a lot of money,” Bernie said firmly. “You’re always complaining about how much money I spend on parts and scraps when we don’t bring enough in. There’ll be more than a year’s worth of rent.”

“I can’t teach you to drive the way you’ll need to to survive girl.” Carson pushed himself to his feet. “I’ve seen you drive and you just don’t got it.”

“Then you can drive with me as your navbot.” Scrappy flashed bright colors across her screen. Carson glared.

“What about with Bast?” Bernie pleaded hoping to convince the man to drive or teach her the tricks she was sure were still up his sleeves. 

Carson let his gaze bounce between them, his glare darkening with each pass. Snarling he dropped back to his creeper and slid under the car. “Fine, get the bot to agree and I’ll drive with Bast.”

“Great! Be at the track in an hour!” Bernie skipped away while Carson’s curses chased after her and her bot.

=-=

At the track Carson glared at the machines he could see. New. Shinny. More technology than machine. Granted the bot with him was far newer and probably higher tech than most of the drivers had ever seen.

“Perhaps we should pull out. Tell Miss Bernadette that we’re in over our head?” Bastian suggested from where they towered over the human.

“No. All these uppity little shits will be depending on their bots and technology. Not a damn one of them can feel their machines.” Carson dropped his cigarette and crushed the ember beneath his boot heel. 

“And you can?” Bastian glanced at the man’s injured knee. 

“Just keep me appraised of changes in the course and worry about firing weapons,” Carson said sliding into the driver’s seat. Bastian hesitated a moment ten slid in beside him.

“I’m supposed to also tell you about-”

“Nothing.” Carson moved his hands softly over the steering wheel.  “I have my dash for all that and the feel of the car. You can’t teach instinct.”