#Blind Spite (Host)

[ivysangel]

…vampire!jason thoughts… you must provide them im desperate…. -🐞

(ik you probably expected #real smut, honestly i did too but this ended up turning into a whole bunch of lore/headcanons/whatever tf. i'm so sorry bae cw: talks of consuming blood)

you ask, you shall receive. i've been thinking about jason and dick as vampires in relation to each other, so this'll be a post about both of them just for the sake of comparisons. also, in my mind, this au takes place during the 19th century because i've conflated vampirism with the victorian era, and it's also no capes in regards to vigilantism bc vampires do love a good cape.

in this victorian era, vampire au dick would be either a nobleman or straight up royalty. he's got status, money, and a pretty face, and he uses them all to his advantage when it comes to feeding. you know in the originals or itwtv when they host an event that's actually a cover for them finding their next meal? yeah, he does that. he flirts with all of the ladies, plays into his charms, and sweeps women off their feet. and at the end of the night (sometimes even mid-ball), he coaxes them upstairs and ravishes them, sometimes in more ways than one.

i think for dick feeding is something he can have fun with, knowing that he holds such a high ranking in society that when bodies of people he's been seen with show up around town, people turn a blind eye. and even when someone does try to investigate, the wayne family checking account talks enough to shut down anything beyond a questioning.

in many pieces of media surrounding vampires, there are people who know about vampires and choose to feed them their blood. there's a bunch of lore that explores the idea that a vampire bite is almost orgasmic and kind of addictive, which is why some people are more than willing to put themselves in harm's way by either being employed by vampires or by straight up just throwing themselves into a vampires line of sight with open wounds.

with that being said, i think dick grayson likes the chase. i think that even if his father (bruce, who is also a vampire in this au because vampire families are just superior) has people on his payroll to provide blood for them, he's going to go out on his own to flirt a bit, get laid, and then have his fill.

which brings me to my next point; while feeding, like sex, is an intimate act, it's far from necessary for dick to need an emotional connection with a person he feeds off of or even a physical one. sex and feeding are related but not totally synonymous, and if he needs to just feed or just get his rocks off, he can. is it preferred? maybe not. i believe he does like the mess that comes with doing both at the same time.

ok so for jason, ugh so obsessed with him as a vampire because i think it's so in line with his canon story. in a lot of vampire lore, to become a vampire, you have to consume the blood of a vampire and either die or be on the brink of death, which is just so. it's so jason dying and being revived by the lazarus pit coded. and even the way he inevitable that he will spill blood post-revival in both this vampire au and his canon storyline…it's almost prophetic.

anyway, jason's approach to vampirism is quite different. i think he struggles with it no matter how long he's been one. he can't fully grasp that he's immortal; he looks in the mirror and sees that he hasn't aged a day and he feels sick. being a vampire for him feels like a curse and he only continues living because he's scared to die (again).

he doesn't stay anywhere too long, typically hopping from town to town in the middle of the night when less people are around. he believes himself to be out of place amongst normal people and he's paranoid that people can smell the iron on his breath when he talks to them so he makes it a point to have minimal interaction with people.

it's crippling, he drives himself mad with the solitude, but i feel like another reason why he continues to stay alive is to spite his creator, whoever that may be. he's most definitely got an agenda, in true jason fashion. i just don't know what it is yet.

he feeds only when he needs to but tries not to let the hunger get too intense because i do feel like when he loses control, he's the stefan salvitore type. a ripper. but he's pretty good about it and is almost polite when he's feeding? like he finds a victim and says i'm sorry before just absolutely tearing into their jugular.

i just really think he grapples with his own mortality, or lack thereof, and how it exists at the expense of others. so he is genuinely ashamed of who he is and what he's become. so, while blood drinking is something he needs to survive, it holds a lot of weight for him, which is why i think drinking blood and sex are pretty equal for him when it comes to intimacy level.

that brings me to my MAIN point (which isn't really a main point because it's being reduced to a small paragraph at the end of this post), all of that was background for this, eek. the act of drinking blood during sex is so. big. for him, it's eye-opening, life-changing. the amount of trust required on both ends for this to happen…at that point, it's basically end game for you two. and it's so funny because that's just a normal tuesday for dick.

anyway, i do have more thoughts and more lore, but this got really long, so i'll cut it off here

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter Two: Drunk on Halloween

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, underage drinking, mentions of binge eating, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+, everyone please thank @blue-aconite for deciding that jake 6'5 :)

word count: 4.3k

college au, fake dating trope, roommate trope

previous chapter | next chapter | fake it masterlist

The harsh sun beaming directly on Bradley’s back makes him deeply reconsider meeting up with Jake—especially on the one day he had off in his class schedule. Instead of sleeping in, like he originally planned to, Bradley’s waiting outside the student center building—that he didn’t even know existed until now. 

Flocks of underclassmen are exiting through the front doors, fresh lanyards hanging around their necks as they walk around him. A few of them even mutter an apology to Bradley, despite him clearly being in the wrong, planting himself in the middle of the walkway—with no intention to move.

Just as Bradley’s about to turn around and leave, the devil himself appears with a crowd of sorority girls in front of him—laughing as he holds the top of the door open for them to file out through. And even with Bradley’s impatience wafting off towards him, Jake doesn’t falter. 

In spite of it, Jake dips his head back down to say his goodbyes to the pack of girls, making sure to give out individual hugs as well. He then jogs over to Bradley with two energy drinks clutched in one hand, and a toothy smile plastered on his face—one that Bradley isn’t affected by because he’s not some girl seeking a temporary semester crush to keep herself going. Bradley’s just here to relay information, and to get lunch.

Ignoring the unimpressed look he’s receiving from Bradley, Jake continues walking down the cement path after passing him one of the drinks. It’s pocketed into Bradley’s sweatpants for now. 

“Untwisted Javy’s panties,” Bradley flatly states, catching up behind Jake in two long strides. 

“What?” Jake’s brows furrow, looking ahead at an approaching tour group. Stepping over to his left, Jake makes more space on the pavement for them to walk pass him as he continues on. 

Unlike his friend, Bradley doesn’t move over at all, he continues walking in a straight line—causing the appointed tour guide to visibly panic as he divides up the herd of highschoolers from their parents. “You forgot Juliet? He forbade me from seeing you.” Bradley’s face remains stoic, delivering his reminder coldly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jake answers, mildly confused. He hasn’t got a clue where Bradley pulled the new nickname from. All Jake knows is that he can finally get through the doors for frat parties, especially now that Javy’s cooled off his case.

Both of them meet back again, walking side by side—oblivious to the wide-eyed teenage girls doing double takes at the two attractive college boys that just passed them. 

It wasn’t like Jake and Bradley were blind to the fact that they always stood a head taller than most people. As a matter of fact, they both secretly marveled at their size comparison to others—it was just hard to remember how large they both were when they stood shoulder to shoulder, making eachother look rather normal. 

Jake pops open the tab of his energy drink. He slows down his steps, permitting Bradley to gain on him as he sips on the liquid that pools around the rim of the can. 

“This isn’t me helping you two with this shitty plan.” Bradley starts, before getting to his next point. Jake nods once, accepting the preface.

Reaching a downhill slope, their pace begins to wind down. “Talked to some chick in Alpha Xi for you. She told me Kendall’s coming to that party we’re co-hosting next weekend.” Bradley mutters, regrettably. 

Opposite to Bradley’s dead eyes, Jake’s own green orbs shoot into a brighter shade at the news. 

Bradley can nearly see the cogs turning in Jake’s head. From the look on his face, Jake’s already decided on taking you as his plus one to next week’s party. 

Jake elbows Bradley’s side. “You talked to someone for me?” 

While Bradley confirmed, more to himself, that this wasn’t him helping Jake out—the slight guilt is still there. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, knowing you’re in the thick of it all. 

Other guys would have no hesitancy when helping out a  buddy, but Bradley did. An unsensible part of him wishes you didn’t remind him of his little sisters so much. Juicing out information that obviously aids Jake’s dumb ploy feels like he’s setting one of his own sisters up for disaster. And though you were just as clueless as Jake was—Bradley’s no idiot. He might act like he doesn’t know what’s going on sometimes, but that’s only to have an upper hand on people. 

It was hard to not ignore the elephant in the room, Bradley felt he was watching two characters dodge an issue that was going to end up blowing up in their faces. But, Jake’s too wrapped up in his own delusions about Kendall to see that, and you? Bradley’s not close enough to you to put his finger on what method of denial you’ve stuck to. 

“You flirt with her to find that out, or are you just that handsome?” Jake adds on, laughing behind the can he brung up to his lips again. 

“Look.” Bradley cuts him off, making a sharp turn towards the direction of the dining hall. Jake follows alongside him, sloppily taking a larger chug than expected, caused by the change in route. 

“I have plenty of sisters, they—” Bradley presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, withholding the sappy lecture that’s threatening to spill out. Jake didn’t need to know he has that side to him, not yet. 

Bradley alternatively lets out a breath of frustration. “Just be careful,” he mumbles, stuffing his hands into his hoodie. 

Bradley watches from the corner of his eye as Jake discards the half empty can into one of the many trash bins scattered across campus. 

As much as Jake hates how much Bradley’s become protective of you, Jake also knew that this meant that Bradley liked you. Bradley Bradshaw—the guy who didn’t think twice when he stepped onto sloshed freshman that groaned under his foot—liked you.

And when Bradley extended his care to someone, he kept a close eye on them at all times. It was a tendency he fell into after becoming an older brother. Therefore, Jake made sure there would be no harm caused to you before bringing this idea up to Bradley. Because you and Jake? That’s never happening, it’s actually impossible, outrageous, unimaginable even. 

Jake knew what you liked, and that wasn’t him. Time and time again, you went for guys who were put together, guys who were as smart as you were, and guys who made your heart flutter through lame shit that Jake can’t even come up with. The few relationships you had didn’t last that long, but Jake was pleased knowing you weren’t left disrespected in the breakup. You were always the one who cut things off anyways. 

Having that knowledge made Jake confident that you’d say something if this fake dating thing wasn’t cutting it anymore. 

“Relax, Dad.” Jake claps a hand onto Bradley’s back, lightly laughing at the uptight expression dawning on his features. 

Seeing that they’ve reached the wide steps leading up to the dining hall, Jake lets the hand on Bradley’s back fall to his side again. Already dismissing their conversation, Jake stomps his way up the stairs—skipping a few steps just because his long legs allowed him to. 

Bradley sighs at his lack of awareness, following right behind Jake. Putting his hunger aside, Bradley feels something else bothering his stomach—a premonition, is what his kooky sisters would call it.

“Quit covering your face. I’m tryna show you off, not hide you.”

Contrary to his complaint, you turn your head away from the speechless girl, who unfortunately, stumbled upon you two in a compromising position. “This is humiliating,” you groan quietly into his hoodie, listening to her scramble off with hurried footsteps.

Meeting up with Jake in the library was clearly a mistake on your part. With your search for textbooks coming up empty, Jake took it upon himself to fool around, making a show in front of other innocent students, subjecting them to a view of him towering over you. How else would everyone know you’re my girlfriend, he argued. 

You lean back against the bookshelf he’s pinned you against. 

Thumbing over the button of your denim shorts, Jake lets out a soundless breath. The metal clasp looks so tiny compared to his digit tracing it—putting Jake in a momentary trance. “My girl’s so shy, what am I supposed to do with you,” he teases, eyes still trained on your waistband. 

“I…I see why she broke up with you. You can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you grumble—face hot at the coined term. It’s embarrassing as is—that he’s starting with a public declaration of your ‘relationship’, but calling you his girl? None of your exes had even attempted to test out the term with you, because they had shame—something that Jake Seresin has not one ounce of. 

I see why she broke up with you. Right, Kendall broke up with him.

Jake’s hands drop from your figure, feeling kicked by your comment. “You think so?” He whispers, eyes trailing back up to your face. Jake fills his cheeks with air, self-conscious at the sudden reminder that Kendall dumped him out of the blue—without giving him a single explanation as to why.

Reaching up a hand to squish his face, your eyes soften. His cheeks slowly deflate as your fingers press down on his tanned skin, allowing him to blow out the excess air. “No. I don’t think so.”

After echoing back his comment to him, Jake eases up again—puckering his lips in your hands to make you laugh, which you do—quietly. The librarians were already well versed on who you two were, there must’ve been a catalog of complaints under their desks with both your names on it. 

You drop your hand from his face, forcing Jake to conceal his disappointment at the motion. “Told some girls I have a new girl today,” he moves on, eyes tracing over the lines of your face. 

It only hits him now how much you’ve aged—not like it’s a bad thing. You just look different—not like the younger version of you that Jake had in his head.

“Told em’ you’re real pretty—think that’ll get back to her?” Jake rests his palms on your hips again—maintaining the illusion.

Through natural impulse, Jake’s thumb finds itself ringing around the clasps of your shorts again. The pad of his digit circles the metal button, and occasionally drops down to trace over the teeth of your zipper. He plays with the opening of your pants so lightly, that you don’t even notice it.

You face scrunches up, pretending to wince for his ex-girlfriend. “Ouch.”

“Can’t wait to break your heart and dump you, once she comes crawling back to you,” you lightly joke, poking a finger into his chest where his heart would sit. Despite his soft jab to Kendall, you had a feeling that he’ll win her back in no time.

Jakes softly smiles at you, almost forgetting where you two are for a split second. “You wouldn’t break my heart, Princess. You’re too nice for that,” and he meant it.

When his older sisters used to complain about how insufferable Jake was during puberty, you always assured him that he wasn’t annoying at all. One could say the comradery only conspired because you were also going through puberty, but it made Jake feel validated at the time. Thirteen year old Jake was well aware that he was a brat, but he just needed to hear you say that he wasn’t. 

“I’m just the bestest friend ever huh?”

“The best a boy could ask for,” Jake’s eyes crinkle from his stretched out smile.

In the last hour that you two have spent here, there had been a layer of hushed whispers that can be heard amongst the soft clattering of hardcover books and clicking of keyboards—but there’s one familiar voice off in the distance that urges you to tune out Jake’s response. 

Turning your head in search for it, your vision zones in on a group of girls heading directly towards you and Jake. You don’t know if it was pure luck or your intuition but the voice belonged to one of Kendall’s friends. 

To your surprise, all her girlfriends are here—but she’s not with them.

Right as you take notice of the one friend, the glossy lipped girl makes instant eye contact with you. She wastes no time notifying the others around her by swatting their arms with her nimble hand. 

The air in your lungs immediately expunges once they all start to swivel their heads precisely at you. 

Alertness strikes you like a clap of thunder, prompting you to snap your head back to Jake. His smile falls once he catches your panic-stricken expression. 

Wanting to decipher what’s bothering you, Jake tears his concerned eyes off you and starts to lift his head in the direction you were previously looking at. 

If Jake were to look over there—this whole dating thing wouldn't look natural. With that in mind, you knew you were left with only one option. 

Without a warning, you cup his cheek in your hand—bringing his attention back to you. Tucking away your nerves, you clasp your other hand onto the back of Jake’s neck—pulling him down towards you.

It almost happens too fast for Jake’s brain to register what’s going on—until he feels a new warmth against his mouth. 

You’re kissing him.

Your tongue isn’t shoved down his throat, your lips aren’t slotted into his—all you do is softly press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but it catches him off guard nonetheless. 

From the sudden proximity, the distinct scent of your strawberry body-wash floods his nose and travels to his brain—scrambling all of his thoughts into one jumbled mess. 

Not knowing what to do with himself, Jake digs his sweaty fingers into your hips in surprise, the pads of his fingers practically wet your denim. This was the last thing he expected out of his visit to the library.

Slowly, you pull back only to peck him on the corner of his mouth again, to make it look believable. Deciding it should be enough, you get off your tippy toes—and withdraw the hand you hooked onto him. 

Disregarding the dizzying rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you look up at Jake expectantly—lashes fluttering underneath him. 

It’s fruitless—Jake’s scan to see if you’re wearing that prickling lip plumping gloss Kendall used to jabber out, the one that made his mouth sting from kissing her. Because Jake feels that similar sensation on the little spot you kissed. His lips tingle there.

“Jake? Did they see?” You ask, cutting through his thoughts. 

Jake blinks down at you, marked with confusion. “Jake.” You stamp down again, urging him to check. You were far too mortified to make eye contact with those girls again.

Jake stammers for a moment before looking off to see what you’re talking about. Finally, his sights land on the overly familiar group of girls—it’s Kendall’s best friends.

They’re all standing by a row of printers across the library floor, faces frozen in shock. Their heads almost knock into each other in a failed attempt to turn around, as if he hasn’t already caught them looking over here. 

Dismissing his heart thumping in his chest, from the energy drink he guzzled down earlier—Jake twists his neck to look back at you again, mouth parted in realization. You took the initiative to kiss him on the edge of his mouth, because they were looking—because from this angle, it looked like you were giving him a sweet little peck. One a girlfriend would give to her boyfriend.

Jake easily shakes you from the way he squeezes your hips in celebration. The boastful action pulls a weak smile from you. “You're a fucking genius, you know that?” Jake feels like he’s about to explode from the swirl of pleasant emotions in his chest, ones that he can’t even put a name to. 

Jake could give you an actual fucking kiss right now. Even if you’re probably wearing that tingling lip gloss. 

“Get your–own! Jacob!”  you shriek, pulling your ice cream cone away from him. The soft serve was initially bought as a thank you gift, for the show you put on in the library. But you were sadly mistaken if you thought you could enjoy your frozen treat without Jake asking for a bite—which turned into two bites—which turned into half of your ice cream being gone before you could have so much of a taste.

The fight you put up is futile, as Jake’s already coming up from behind you. His large frame almost casts a shadow onto the bulletin board you’re both standing in front of. To steady your stance, Jake presses his palm against your stomach, so you don’t stumble forward.

Holding your wrist steady with his other hand, Jake lifts your hand up to his mouth to sink his teeth into the melting glob of milk and sugar. After securing a large bite, he uncurls his fingers from your wrist. “What are you gonna do about it? Kiss me?” He asks, chest rumbling behind you. 

Tipping your head backwards, the top of your head hits his chest. “No more,” you declare softly—looking at him through your lashes. 

Jake licks off the excess ice cream on the corner of his mouth. His teasing smile drops at your serious plea. “No more,” he repeats, looking down at you. 

You knew it was ridiculous to be slighted by Jake eating your ice cream, but you’ve been feeling uneasy during the past few days. And the snacks back at the apartment weren’t enough to diminish your need to stress eat. There was something in the back of your mind lately, that’s been increasing your desire to binge. 

Jake nudges the side of your foot with his own, encouraging you to eat your ice cream.

At the assurance that he’s done consuming your vanilla cone, you both bring your attention back to the array of neon flyers stapled onto the board in front of you two.

Since Jake’s hand is still pressed against your tummy, he extends his pinky to play with the button of your shorts again. “How about the outdoor movie? Maybe Kendall will show up,” he offers.

Your eyes search for the poster he’s referring to. “Jake, you’re really bad with scary movies. It says right there that it’s a horror movie night,” you point out, apprehensively. 

“Movie nights are stupid anyway,” he scoffs, setting his embarrassment aside. 

For the next few minutes, you read off the upcoming school events to Jake as he distracts himself by watching you give your ice cream kitten licks—holding back the urge to take another bite. 

“...I don’t think she’ll be showing up to any of these Jake,” you conclude, leaning back against his chest with the waffle cone between your teeth. 

Jake stiffens. It only just occurred to him now, that he made you two come all the way down here for no reason. Jake was already aware of an event you both could go to with Kendall’s confirmed attendance.

“Did you just—flex your abs because I laid back on you?” 

Yeah he did. It was reflexive for the most part, but there’s other things to be discussed. 

Jake cuts in with his new idea, “My old frat is co-hosting a party that we’re invited to. Kendall’s showing up,” he proposes, looking down to probe your reaction. 

“Oh, okay. We can—we can do that,” you untangle yourself from him, while still being careful to not drop your cone.

Jake’s brows pinch in confusion, watching you slip out from under him. “Where are you going?” 

Doing a quick turn to face him, you hand him the empty cone which he grabs from you. “That just reminded me of something—I gotta go. I’ll meet you at home later?”

Jake raises the cone to his mouth, taking a bite from it. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure him with a faint smile. 

When the doorbell rang through the house, Bradley swung open the door, already prepared to tell whatever girl that was there to leave. And that her boyfriend is most likely cheating on her if he lives in this house. 

Instead of finding some teary eyed girl on the doorstep of the frat house, he found you standing there digging the toe of your sneaker into the stained doormat beneath you. 

If he was given a heads up that you were coming, Bradley would’ve made an effort to tidy up his room. When he led you inside, he had to kick away the piles of out-turned shirts and dirty boxers to clear the way for you. 

Bradley couldn’t begin to imagine Jake's reaction if he knew that you were sitting on top of Bradley’s bed right now. 

Typically when Bradley did have girls on his mattress, they didn’t look like a meek little lamb with their hands politely folded into their laps and they definitely didn’t have their legs stiffly glued together.

Directly across from you, Bradley’s manspreading in his black and white gaming chair. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a black hoodie. And the only light in his room is a desk lamp that shines down on your face.

“He definitely remembers.” Bradley squints his eyes at you in suspicion. It’s not often that you come to him for advice, so when you did, it always had to do with Jake. 

Your hands clamp tighter in your lap. “I don’t know Bradley, he looked so confused when I mentioned it in the elevator,” You’re practically sweating under the yellow light, as if Bradley’s cross-examining you. 

“You kiddin’ me? I’ve seen Seresin play Jenga when he had a pack of beers in his system. And he fucking won,” he scoffs, leaning foward to rest both elbows on his knees.

Bradley’s voice is naturally gruff, but he’s making an effort to keep a calm tone with you—because it honestly looks like you would shatter like glass, if he were to speak to you in the wrong way. “When did you say this kiss was?” 

At the question, your face scrunches up trying to remember the details. “It was at a Halloween party—we had to be sixteen or something,” you swallow thickly, recalling what follows. “I only had a few hard seltzers but Jake he…um he had a couple of his dad’s beers.”

Bradley intently nods, ensuring you that he’s listening.

“The music was so loud Bradley, I could barely make out what he was saying—he was trying to tell me something but his words were all—they were,” you pause, deliberating over the right word choice.  

“Slurred? Fucked up? All over the place?” He offers, engrossed by your narrative. 

“Yeah, and God—I had such a big crush on him at the time,” you bury your face in your hands. This had to be the first time you admitted this out loud. Never in a million years would you think you’d tell Bradley of all people.

Bradley presses his lips together and nods slowly, unmoved by your confession. He wonders what his sisters would tell you in this situation. 

On his bed, you’re taking slowed breaths. It doesn’t take a genius to get a sense on why this problem from years ago is troubling you now. But, Bradley’s not sure if he wants to be the one to break it to you.

Bradley sighs deeply, putting his hard demeanor on hold. 

“You don’t have to say anymore, I can tell how the story ends,” he says quietly, bringing a stiff hand over your knee. 

Jake had just broken up with his first girlfriend that Halloween and intentionally got shit-faced, while dressed as Ken and you as Barbie. The costume was meant for his girlfriend pre-breakup, but you took it and matched with him instead—hoping it would cheer him up. 

After having too much to drink, Jake came staggering over to you, spewing out nonsense you couldn’t even hear over the blaring music.

Then, he kissed you—right then and there. It was nothing special, the kiss lasted for less than three seconds, but it still knocked the air out of your lungs.

And right after he took your first kiss, Jake proceeded to pass out, landing straight on your shoulder like dead weight. It left you standing there, trying to keep him upright as your legs felt like jelly. 

The morning after, Jake didn’t bring it back up. Right when you knocked on his door still giddy from last night, Jake let you in and continued his complaints about his ex.

You had cried for weeks at the revelation that he didn’t remember. That he had probably mistaken you for his ex-girlfriend, given the costume and all. Jake thought he kissed her in his drunken haze, not you.

And by the time you two were seventeen, you finally got past it. Whatever romantic feelings you felt for him diminished to nothing. And you’ve already concluded that it didn’t matter anymore.

So why does it bother you so much now? 

“…Get out…my…room,” you tiredly mumble. The words are almost incoherent as they slip out your mouth. 

Sitting on your bedside, the corner of Jake’s lip tugs into a small smile. How can he take you seriously when your face is squished into a pillow? 

When Jake came in to check up on you, he walked in on you being half awake with your front sinking into the bed and your back pointing up towards the ceiling. 

With a hand sprawled against the small of your back, Jake stretches his fingers wider to see much of your back he can cover. Then, he begins to gently caress his hand over your spine, contributing to your sleepiness. 

“Where’d you go?” He asked in a hush tone, not wanting to disturb you too much. 

Jake had gone straight home after you left him earlier in the day, but you didn’t get back until the sun had set. And when you finally got home, you looked off. 

“Friend’s house,” you short-cut your answer, a tell-tale sign that you were drifting off. 

Jake pauses his movement.

“…What friend?” Last time he checked, you had no other friends but him. 

He waits for you to answer, but he’s only met with silence. You fell asleep on him.

All he can do is sigh, pulling his hand away from you. And as he stares down at your peaceful state, Jake struggles to identify the uneasiness twisting in his stomach.

note: after much keyboard smashing she is here! thank you for reading! and as always, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[enakane]

Hi, I figured you'd have an interesting take on this, as the #1 The Emporer fucker (affectionate) on my dash. I've always seen Ansur's attempted murder of the Emp being less "you're a horrifying monster who I must kill before you turn on us, even if it kills me to do so" and more "the man I knew would never want to live as a mindflayer, the man I knew would be horrified at what he's become, the man I knew would rather die" but he didnt consider that the man he knew was dead the moment he turned into a mindflayer, as it's (I think) canon that mindflayers feel and think differently than other races, so the 'man he knew' had been fundamentally changed in such a way as to become unrecognizable in his thought process, and thus, would no longer agree with his past-self. So while I don't think what Ansur did was right, I don't think he's the out-and-out villian some people paint him as, just someone so blinded by grief and fear and sadness, that he doesnt realize how changed Emp was. And then when you show up, the Emp at your back and an elder brain on the rise, I think Ansur is blinded by rage, and grief, and betrayal. He thinks all his worst fears about Emp have come true, and that you're, at best, a pawn in Emp's game, and at worst, a thrall, so that's why he attacks. Havent played that section in a while, so I might be talking out of my ass, but that's my take based on what I remember. Thoughts? (Sorry this is so long, I am a Verbose Bitch.)

(brb gonna get "#1 Emperor fucker" tattooed somewhere on me, truly an honor)

I totally agree that Ansur's intentions were first and foremost to enact what he thought would be Balduran's wishes! As far as he knew, he was dealing with an illithid puppeteering Balduran's body, and after failing to bring him back to the way he was (if I remember well, Ansur tried for some time to restore Balduran to his former self but failed), killing him was equivalent to putting down a zombie.

Mind flayers indeed canonically think differently from other races, plus (depending on the source), the host's mind either mostly or completely disappears once ceremorphosis is complete. There was a high chance he was dealing with a master manipulator that only pretended to remember who it used to be to be set free. Ansur was hardly evil for wanting to end Balduran's cursed existence/kill the thing pretending to be him, and Emp was hardly evil for choosing to live.

(If I start talking about how the Emperor wanting to live despite everything ties in perfectly with the game's theme of choosing to live in spite of irreversible changes + the I Want to Live song, I may never shut up, HE'S JUST LIKE US FR-)

Ansur remains as a ghost due to his unfinished business, so when he feels Emp near and speaks to you and him... The situation hasn't really changed for Ansur. Either Balduran is still an illithid or there's still an illithid pretending to be Balduran, and like you said, the chances that you're either a thrall or being manipulated are very high, so why wouldn't he try to finish the job and consider you an unfortunate collateral damage? There's no more evidence that Balduran is actually in control than there was the first time. Plus, I'd never considered that Ansur might feel the Elder Brain nearby and assume Emp is responsible; that would indeed make him feel betrayed and more willing to attack.

I definitely understand why people aren't too keen on the idea of trusting the Emperor bc mind flayers have a Reputation(tm), but how people came to hate Ansur is kind of weird imo? He's not a villain at all, his decision to kill Emp was a desperate last resort, a way to free Balduran from his torment and save the many people who were gonna get their brains eaten if he got out. I know some people dislike that he possesses Tav, but I played that scene before reading about it and it never bothered me, I mean... he's a ghost. If I'd played through bg3 without getting possessed at least once I'd be lowkey disappointed.

Thanks for giving me an excuse to ramble about my bg3 fave, I hope I'm coherent lol

[savagebisand]

Let's do a deep dive into the complexity of Mew and Ray rebounding on each other and how it leads to a huge necessary parting of the entire core four.

It reaches a head at that cursed Halloween Party in this ep. Because y'all. We've had sweet and bitter but today we really saw it blend together and I think this whole series tackles the futility and perseverance of love and connection but we really saw it during episode eight at it's peak.

There is literally no room in my heart for hating on Mew over Ray right now because like Mew has taken every opportunity to insist that Ray isn't controlling or changing him, Mew is changing, Mew is saying fuck it so what to everything he despised before because he's tired of fitting in a box. it has nothing to do with Ray other than that Ray makes it easy. Ray won't judge because he cannot as he's done everything Mew is trying. Mew himself is telling everyone he's a grown ass man who is coping with shit the best way he can right now and Ray just happens to be the only one not trying to restrict him or tell him how to cope. the others blaming Ray for Mew's spiral is just what's easiest for them to swallow the truth. they don't see that Mew is using Ray's unconditional love as an excuse to be the worst version of himself because to them Mew is the only vulnerable one. So let's unpack all that shall we?

Ray on the other hand knows full well that Mew doesn't love him or want him as anything other than a distraction but he's humbly accepted his role. you can tell when Mew only kisses Ray in front of Top, when Mew can't tell Ray he loves him back that Ray knows because he knows Mew, Mew does not and can not love Ray at least not the way Ray imagined Mew could. but it's alright. because for once when Mew is falling apart he's picked Ray to get to stand fiercely at his side and give him arms to cry in. all Ray wants is to feel important and connected to Mew some way and so when Mew asks for cigarettes and coke and drinks and parties, Ray doesn't question it because if he did he loses the little limited space Mew has let Ray reside in whilst everyone else has been pushed aside.

I mean hell Ray even tells Sand that Mew and him "have to see if things will work between them first" when Sand insists Ray has had his dream come true getting to be with Mew. he insists they aren't serious yet but instead seeing how things go, that Mew is at least letting them try and that's good enough. The way Ray talks about it, you can tell he doesn't believe Mew will let him stay around as a boyfriend for long. It's not just because it's Sand he's talking to, there's this understanding in how Ray addresses it. He's okay with it because all that ever mattered to Ray was trying, was having the concrete proof that Mew and him don't and can't work in romantic love instead of Mew's half assed denials.

Ray understands perfectly his role as Mew's supporting character, he isn't blind like some insist. In fact he's got more in common with Nick and Sand than people would like to recognise. Remember how Nick insists that Boston "doesn't have to love him, doesn't have to make nick his priority, he just cannot hate him?" Well that's very much Ray now that Mew has given him the time of day. Everything is still all about Top and Ray can tell but as long as Mew is happy to pretend his spite overrules his lingering love, Ray will play along. I think its very telling in the moment when Mew says this:

Literally right in front of Ray's face and Ray says nothing about the fact they're supposed to be a "we" not an "I" right now. They're supposed to be playing the hosting couple, a united front. Yet here Mew is proudly proclaiming he doesn't need anyone anymore because he's learned to only care about himself for once, he's happy on self destruct because at least he only has to be his own priority and worst enemy. No one else gets to set his rules and break them and let him down except for himself.

So yeah Ray knows exactly where he stands but, look, as easy as it is to blame him for playing a part for Mew and not recognising Sand's love, we have to also bear in mind that Ray stands in this very fragile precipice currently where his loyalty to Mew is the difference between total alienation and having at least somebody from the broken family of the core four still remaining. Mew easily tossed Boston and Top aside, ruthlessly, and he will do the same the second Ray takes any high ground over Mew's actions because Mew will waste no time reminding him how much of a hypocrite he'd be right now.

And yes it's wrong that Mew is using Ray as collateral damage to his first real break up induced sad manic girl break down but in grief we become people we don't recognise. We go numb. I don't think Mew realises fully how detrimental it will be to rely on Ray right now as he cracks before he heals, he's too caught up in going through motions, one all nighter to the next. One revenge plot to the next. He does his best to protect Ray by insisting to Cheum and Top these are his own choices and consequences to handle but when your loved ones see you a certain way, they very staunchly refuse to recognise when you make choices they don't like for you.

Cheum and Top are kinda hypocritical for blaming Ray and not noticing their own flaws in their bid to "protect" Mew but it does make sense. They can't reconcile this new Mew with the one they have grown to understand and care for and rely on. It is far easier to look to the nearest external factor influencing Mew and pin everything on that. It doesn't make it right but it does explain their motivations. They can't see Rays complexity the way the viewer can so it's far simpler for Cheum to say Ray is careless and too greedy so he can never just settle. For Top to insist Ray can't love Mew if he keeps negative shit around Mew whilst forgetting he can't exactly be one to talk when Mew wasn't much better off with him.

Basically they're all getting to that point in this journey where they have to sit with some hard home truths about their friends and themselves and really no one is to blame anymore for anyone other than themselves. No one is responsible anymore for anyone but themselves. It's no longer a blame game and more a time to sit and ask questions about who they are and why they let things get to this point. It's the only chance they stand at not spending the rest of uni totally lost and alone. The only way they might all find a way back to each other, stronger than they were before, different yes, a little broken yes but stronger together.

I think this episode did a particularly beautiful job at showcasing how love remains and prevails even as things shift and recalibrate. Mew is downright vengeful to Top but Top quietly takes it all and refuses to quit when Mew pushes him away the way he gave up on Mew before. He stands steady and strong and he's the one who carries Mew to bed and cleans him up and gets him comfy. Treats him like he's precious finally and refuses to leave.

Boston is told by everyone he has no right to show his face but he insists he has to be there anyway, even as he challenges Nick for daring to approach him, a part of Boston clearly wishes Nick had told Ton about his project because he wanted to share the celebration but Ton can only hear Nick bragging that he's moving on to better things whilst Ton still keeps company with red solo cups in a hidden room, stuck in the sidelines. And yet Boston can't find it in him to treat Nick spitefully, the best he can do is dismissive. He still shows up in a panic on that staircase, helplessly searching for a way to save Ray even as he knows it's all too broken to fix.

Cheum explodes on Ray like a mother or sister whose lost all hope not once but twice but it comes out of a place of concern, a desperate final plea that if they really aren't enough then Ray has to want to help himself. And as hypocritical as we may find her for saying Ray is careless to those around him, she's not wrong that Ray, the night of the party in particular, has only dedicated himself to Mew. She knows now that none of her hopes or wishes for the boys to be better and focus on doing the best for themselves will ever be enough alone to make them care more about friendship and futures than sex and love. She's realising how little she noticed about how deep the cracks ran and she's having to struggle with that but she still begs Top to save Ray from a place she knows will take him to the point of no return even as she chooses to walk away.

Hell Sand and Nick don't even want to be at that party but against all odds they turn up because they owe it to themselves to save face and at least try to move on. To be mature and talk to the people that they've hurt and who have hurt them instead of burying their heads. Boston and Ray are cold to them and yet they don't leave. Sand still turns back and tries to protect Ray because even if he pushed him to the ground earlier and told him they're over. He can't watch Ray rot in prison when what Ray really needs is rehab. When thats the worst place Ray can go.

Top even helps Ray avoid jail time. He says "sorry for my friend" and even if his motivation is more to help Cheum or to do this because Mew will totally tip off the edge if Ray goes down, he gains nothing from this. There is a genuine flash of concern and recognition in his face as he watches Ray cry and scream that actually maybe they aren't so different. Maybe both of their realities are pitiful and lonely.

It's just so interesting that even as things come to a close and we can tell these characters are going to split apart and take some distance, abandon each other and pray it means they come back one day able to show up better for each other as friends... they still choose love, against all odds. It's a bittersweet goodbye because they're all angry and hurting and confused about who they are and why they're behaving the way they do but even in that final moment as Cheum pulls the curtain closed, she's that last string to break when Ton has been forced to pull away and so has Top, and we can tell Ray will try to cling to Mew a little less as he battles with Cheums harsh truth that maybe he really is bad for Mew and maybe Mew really isn't enough for him. They all show up to protect Ray and each other one last time. Even if it's hopeless.

Because love and loyalty remains unconditional even if they don't like the versions of themselves they can see right now. Because even when you don't agree with choices your nearest and dearest make, even when you can't forgive it, they will still always be your broken fucked up little family.

[madamefluffnstuff]

TES Summerfest 2024, Day 2: Golden Secret

Day 2 of TES Summerfest 2024! Hosted by @tes-summer-fest.

I mean it's a day late but this week has been hectic.

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Online Pairing: None Rating: T Warning(s): Imprisonment, Captivity, Kind of sort of Kidnapping (it's Meridia, she's a spiteful hag, it comes with the territory), Gaslighting, Has a Happy Hopeful Ending I Swear (TM), Darien gives himself a second chance. Spoilers for the Daggerfall Covenant questline and the Summerset DLC. Words: 977 AN: Darien is a good source of angst but Divines I need to give him a chance at hope. And I need to quit making stuff that breaks my own heart, this can't be good for me. Or for my followers.

Darien is imprisoned by Meridia for trying to escape again and she locks him away. All he has are his thoughts to motivate him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the name "The Colored Rooms", the realm itself was... not very colorful. The only exception to the blues, greens, and browns was the brand new "prison cell" Meridia whipped up. This mockery of a Nirn jail was a porcelain-white hue with garish gold accents and bars, only big enough for a single prisoner.

Coincidentally, there was, in fact, a singular prisoner in the cell. His back pressed against the wall, wrists in shackles attached to said wall level with his head. As if just chains weren't bad enough, Meridia just had to put it where he could constantly see his hands, but not be able to use them.

"Well, now you've done it," Darien Gautier muttered to himself, glaring at the golden bars and crumpled paper sheets in front of him. He rolled his shoulders and clenched his fists to get some circulation flowing.

He cursed himself again for getting caught. He managed to get a few letters out, even a small pamphlet that somehow made its way to Summerset. But as he was about to send another letter, the Lady of Light discovered his little secret.

Meridia scolded him like a petulant child. Didn't he appreciate what she was doing for him? Saving his friends, keeping them alive? Dissuading the other Princes from coming after them? Giving them a chance to make a name for themselves?

Be the heroes they were meant to be?

Something about that last line made something snap in the back of his mind, and- in the heat of the moment- Darien leapt to his feet and did something he never thought he'd have the guts to do;

He talked back to a god.

What he actually said, he didn't remember. Couldn't remember, maybe. All he did remember was there being a solid ten seconds of stunned silence. Then a blinding white light. And finally, him waking up in the cell with a killer hangover-like headache and his arms in chains.

His memory as a whole was foggy most days, but he didn't dare to write any of it down for fear Meridia would find out and take that from him too. Little bits and pieces would come back here and there. Those fleeting memories were precious to him.

The Lion Guard taking down the werewolves in Camlorn. The liberation of Shornhelm with Countess Tamrith and Captain Jenaeve. When they almost lost the good Captain. Gwendis helping him find the smugglers' tunnels. Skordo calling him a "long-legged bastard", asking him to slow down when they were being chased.

Hearing second-hand Gabrielle mention to the Antiquarian's Guild how she wanted to save him.

"Gods DAMN IT ALL!" He nearly roared in frustration. The metal bar on the wall creaked as he leaned forward, gasping for air as he fought back frustrated tears. "Why... why is it... like this..."

Darien slumped back and slid down, the chains clinking and rattling as his eyes slowly closed in exhaustion. Whether or not he realized it, his tired body was forcing him to rest. He was simply too drained.

Then, without warning, it clicked: His friends. His comrades. Allies and fellow soldiers.

The entire Lion Guard, the Countess and her sister. Skordo the Knife. House Ravenwatch. Gabrielle. The late King Dynar. His own father, the General.

They were waiting for him. They were actively looking for him. He couldn't give up on them or himself. Not when so many people cared about him and were awaiting a miracle.

He opened his eyes warily, half expecting to see Meridia glowering at him. To his relief, she was nowhere to be seen. Darien decided to wait a few minutes to make sure there were no watch guards nearby where they could hear him. Then, slowly, he rocked himself enough to get on one knee. He balled his hands into fists and started to pull against the wall.

"Got to do this," he muttered in a voice just barely above audibility. "Have to... get out... Have to do it- nngh!- for them..."

Even Daedric metal has its limits. As he grunted and strained against his confines, Darien could hear the binds groaning. He grit his teeth;

"You can do it, Darien. Just- just a bit- more-!"

Without warning, the shackles on the wall snapped and shattered, the noise startling him a little as the support bar flew over his head and clattered on the floor. He looked at his hands in disbelief, he was really free? Fists clenched and unclenched. He didn't dare believe it.

Darien stood up on shaky legs, testing himself and his balance. Once he steadied, he rubbed his sore wrists and looked around. The coast was clear. He was more determined than ever now as he stalked over to the golden prison bars. A quick glance told him they were not as sturdy as they appeared far away. Another trick from Meridia?

It didn't matter now. His body moved somewhat automatically as the blood rushed through his veins, vigor and vim flowing through him. He grabbed two of the gold rods in an iron grip and pulled. The bare minimum effort was all it took to completely dislodge them. Suspicion took over a moment, this was too easy for his comfort.

Maybe Meridia didn't expect her protege to try to escape again and didn't bother to make them as strong. Psychological tactic, very similar to what he had seen a few times as a soldier. But he reminded himself it didn't matter right now. The chains were off, the bars removed, and a door was open. Darien took a cautious step outside the prison cell. Looking around, he was still in the clear.

When he turned back around, the jail was slowly fading into Oblivion.

He looked left, right, and made a mad dash for the pathway where he last spotted a portal to Nirn.

[synthshenanigans]

So I did it

Please use water for this and not the alcoholic liquids this man says entropy a lot

Take a drink/swig for:

-Anytime Heart and Mind insult the other

-Anytime Soul is tired of Heart and Minds shit

-Use of words you dont know the meaning of or didnt know before you heard the song

-That a song ends with "Oh No"

-When a song comes on that was popular on TikTok

-When Tally Hall is mentioned

-A death/suicide lyric

-Every Jekyll & Hyde reference

-Every Chicken Pun (have fun with mucka blucka)

-Everytime another song is referenced via name, lyric or melody (have MORE fun with mucka blucka)

-Anytime Emotion and Logic is said and its synonyms (Emotional, Cognition, Pathos, Logos)

-Anytime he does math or counts

-When his accent is more noticible?

-Mentions of sound or lack of sound (Silence, Silent, Sound, Ring)

-Religious Reference (Just Two Wuv basically)

-Swearing

-Mention of being blind or getting blinded

-Glitches/Stutters (Like Be Born or TSE)

-A Time/Ticking reference

-Mentiond of the weather (clouds, rain)

-Names are said (Juno, Atlus, Harmonia etc.)

-Blues and Greens are mentioned

-References to the Loop

-When he sings a line from the original song (only for the heavily changed ones like Storm and A Spring, THA, TME, TSE. Not NMTK or VoaC or anything)

-Refs to the gun shot (bits like "And right as I/He Missed" or the little "ah" noise from RoE)

If he says any of these words, take a swig:

Entropy, Cacophony, Heart, Mind, Soul, Night, Light, Tridential, Harmony/Harmonies, Sun, Moon, Black, Grey, White, Vessel, Helplessly, Endlessly, Duality, Whole, Dissonance, Whore, Ruler, Host, Deviants, Tandem, Combined, In-Between

Bonus Words for Extra Hydration:

Sky, Gun, Shot, Eyes, Hole, Ground, God, Fool, Walk, Cold, Pit, Cry, Crying, Sing, Singing, Truth, Harsh, Lies, Insane, Trite, Life, Hue, Dream, Spite

[is-on-its-way]

In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son

Episodes: One Son/ Two Fathers

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

Chapter 6: You've already won me over in spite of me

She sighed “I have showed you evidence that if it related to anyone else you’d have thrown the bathwater and the baby out by now.”

An exploration of themes, in which Scully feels uncomy and scared at the seriousness and intensity she had with Mulder. She has never had a relationship that wasn’t superficially based in the familiarity of her childhood trauma. Mulder is her equal and she must decide what to do.

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

It was never a choice. 

Diana was never a choice for him because he had already chosen her. She knew that. She’d known that for a long while. He’d said as much so often, he’d shown her with actions even more. She worried about him though. His heart was more open than any man she’d ever known, maybe any person. He was filled with such guilt and remorse over not saving his sister he never let anyone who might be in need of saving feel like he could abandon them. But it left him so dangerously exposed sometimes. 

It had never been a choice for her either. 

Since the day she’d met him. Since that trip to Oregon, standing in the rain with him laughing, sharing his deepest personal story in that hotel room in awe of his beautiful mind and wild passion for something she had never felt for anything. 

Since she had been faced with death and the only fear she’d had was not of dying; but of leaving him alone to his despair and to the world that would swallow him whole. His sweet and gentle nature ignored, without anyone seeing him how he should to be seen. 

It had never been a choice.

Since she had gotten so blinded with fear he would leave her, and each time, he was utterly flummoxed she’d even considered that an option. 

Since he had gone to the ends of the earth for her. Literally.

The blood ran down her arms and fingers splashing big pinkish brown drops onto the white porcelain of the tub. It flowed into the drain in swirls.

There was something the matter with her. She always avoided feeling. Was terrified of that wild and reckless thing of opening up to someone. To herself even. 

That she recoiled so fully from feeling anything painful or difficult. Forced it down behind that closed door in her head. Locked away with things she didn’t feel like facing. She held so painfully onto the order and safety of shallow living. she felt in the long run the stress of keeping those things at bay would crack her apart more fully than if she just gave into the chaos. 

That chaos was beckoning her now and there was such a warm comfort there. She could feel the wall cracking apart ready to fall down finally. She had a sense of calm about it that would’ve perturbed her if she had any ability for reflection at the moment. Instead she relaxed into the oblivion of pain.  

She sank to the floor of the tub taking great gasping breaths trying to stay as quiet as she could, pressing her hand tightly against her mouth. She folded over her knees and rested her face in her arms. The water ran down her back around her ribcage and legs as she sank into the comfort of being free.

She felt like she was loosing something as she was gaining something else. Like a boiled frog she had just looked up and realized what she’d been longing for had already happened. And with it came a whole host of feelings that were unexpected in their despair. She felt like she was suffocating and being resuscitated at the same time. Scared and comforted all at once. 

She and Mulder, Dana and Fox. They were intertwined. And had been for so long. There was no fleeing this. She was his life and he was hers. 

Her tears had run out and her breathing was slowing, her ribcage ached from holding her silent sobs at bay. Her head ached from where Lucia had pushed her. Her arms ached from performing CPR for as long as she had. Her mind was a mess of thoughts. She pushed herself up with an effort and resolved to find a bed as soon as possible. 

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

She was just in jeans and sweater now but when Mulder saw her he gave her the same look she had caught on his face when she walked out in the black dress earlier in the evening.

He whistled a low wolf-whistle.

She shook her head and said “shut up Mulder” automatically.

He smirked as he turned away from her and she could see the blood covering his neck dry mow.

She gasped “Mulder your head”

He turned to her “Oh… yeah she got me good.”

“Come here.” She took comfort in the business of treating her patient. The only live one she’d had for seven years.

She tried to pull the hair away from the lump to see how bad the cut was but the hair had dried.  “Hold on, let me get a towel.”

She got the first aid kit and a warm wet towel from the bathroom. And sat on the bed behind him. 

“This is going to sting.” She said as she held up the towel to his head

He sucked in a breath in pain. “Fuck Scully, cant I just…”

“No mulder this might be a severe wound you need to go get stitched and I need to see it, so stop being a baby and suck it up.” 

“Well watch your hands will you?” He said annoyed

She smiled at this, he was such a baby about the small wounds. Leave it to mulder to ignore things like being shot in the head but sink into childish complaining with a splinter or cut. 

“I’m being gentle.” She said softly.

“Debatable.” He returned sullen

“It’ll be over in a minute.” She said softly.

When she had finished he turned around on the bed to face her content with her work and smiled at her. 

“Not too bad”

She let out a snort and tucked her damp hair behind her ear,

She could see his face change as she did. If she didn’t know any better she’d call the look one of pure love. “You’re right, I like you better dressed like this.”

She smiled. Then something inside of her rose up in feral dread. She was a child in the middle of a vast forrest lost, alone, terrified. She stood up and shrank back from him. choking sobs, erupted from her, body shaking.

He crossed the room to her, and wrapped her up in his arms. She didn’t protest at his embrace

“Did I say the wrong thing?” He sighed gently into her hair.

“I can’t” she managed and sobbed into his chest

“You’re scaring me Scully, whats going on? Was it something I did?”

She shook her head gasping choking sobs. 

“Was it the guy with his eyes turned to pudding?” He said semi sarcastically. 

She shook her head again and hiccuped a laugh.

“Are you…” He swallowed “Are you thinking about leaving?”

She shook her head “I couldn’t, I can’t.” she said voice wavering.

“Is it because of that?”

She tried to get a hold of herself and she could feel him agonizing as he waited for her to answer.

She shook her head again “I want to be here with you” She found the front of his jacket with her hand and held on as if she would float away otherwise.

He breathed deeply in relief she could feel his tense shoulders relax. “Thats good because I want to be here with you.”

She turned into his chest wracked with more sobs. He looked down at her and held the back of her head in his hand stroking her hair. 

“Was it pretending you were madly in love with me when in fact you are hanging on by a fine thread of your sanity because I’m an ass?”

She laughed at this and sniffled. Pulling back looking up at him. She wiped her nose on the back of her sweater

“Its.. me. Im not. I don’t know how… Its me.” Was all she could manage.

Mulder put a hand on her cheek

“Well whatever it is I’m here, okay?” He whispered.

Tears streamed down her cheeks she nodded and her chin dimpled as her lip quivered

“Dana” he said voice wavering in emotion. He pulled her by her head into his chest and she felt comforted in her discomfort. 

She closed her eyes at the kiss to the top of her head, listened to his heartbeat until her breathing matched its steady rhythm. She sighed and pulled away from him, wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. 

He brushed at his cheek quickly and she was sorry she’d made him cry.

“Im sorry that wasn’t right to do at work.” She said glancing up at him.

“Fuck professional Scully. Its me.”  He said seriously. 

She nodded at him.

“I only seem to do this in front of you.” She attempted a laugh.

“You can do anything you want in front of me.” He said, pushing the hair that fell as she touched her face, behind her ear. 

Then, as she raised her eyebrow at his suggestive choice of words, he laughed softly. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“You never make me feel like I should be ashamed. Its why your opinion of me means so much.”

He nodded biting his lower lip.

“Im too inflexible.” There she’d said it. Admitting her own biggest disappointment.  

“Thats one of my favourite things about you.” he nudged the bottom of her chin and gave her a small smile when she met his eyes. “You’re my one in six billion.”

Always words of understanding. It was why she had felt so lost when he had taken that away. Instead she swallowed and looked up at him, feeling a desire to be reckless against his unchanged support.

“It feels like everything is falling apart, like my world is upside down.” She hiccuped. “I’m not good at change.”

“Whats changed?” He searched her eyebrows knitting.

“Mulder, I…”

The door banged open. And Scully dropped his hand, and walked away from him to the desk by the window to gather her bags and hide her puffy face.  

Agent Thomas came in and grunted a “Hey” as he got his belongings, from the desk. 

She heard Mulder mutter something. 

She went to the bathroom and put the rest of her things in her bag.

She heard Mulder say “We’re going to head out.”

“See ya” Agent Thomas said from the closet.

She met him at the door of the bathroom, he had the rest of her bags and his, he placed his hand on the small of her back as he lead her out the door.

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

The moment had gone. Whatever she had wanted to tell him had evaporated through that door when it banged open. What remained was a relaxed and comfortable silence as they had ridden the elevator down to the car and drove back to the FBI parking garage.

Just when he thought he had her figured out she did something to catch completely off guard.

Sometimes she unraveled but it was in such a way that he always could sense the sense of irritation and control still gripping her. This felt like she had lost even that. Like he could feel the strict control she held over her life and psyche falling apart. And despite her reassurances he felt acutely at fault.   

He thought about telling her he wouldn’t ever speak to Diana again. But it felt childish. Immature in a way he recoiled from. He had once heard his father shouting at his mother telling her not to speak to that man again. Now he could guess it had probably been CGB. 

He’d gone through the same with Diana when she’d asked the same of him about a colleague he’d have a drinks with when they’d teach at quantico. At the time he felt she had been within her rights as his newlywed wife. But look at how that had turned out.

But being a partner to Scully was something different. He knew if he offered that she would be offended he’d even suggested it. She had wanted him to listen to her and acknowledge what she was saying. He had heard ‘chose between her and Diana’ again and again instead of what she had been saying. Scully wasn’t someone who had ever tried to coerce him with forced promises and ultimatums, even if she was a bit threatened by Diana. He had made a mistake to think so, because thats what he was been used to.

Wasn't it his father who had drilled into him loyalty above all else. Above whether you like them or not that week or month above whether they make mistakes or cause you pain?  

Thinking back now, the way he felt he could breath when he was with Scully was unlike any relationship he’d ever had. The support she gave him, choosing to live this life with him, listening to him always as if he had something that mattered to say. 

Feelings of gratitude that had always simmered for her, grew so that his lungs swelled in his chest, and he had to blink rapidly to keep his eyes clear on the road. 

He pulled into the designated spot and turned off the car. They sat in silence neither of them even unbuckling. He started as she said “Mulder”.

They both looked at each other and laughed.

“You go” he said.

“I’m sorry for what I said” she said looking in her lap.

“Which part?”

“Before, what I said by the car, that you didn’t care about this partnership, about me.”

He nodded “I do care about you.” He could see her breath catch in her chest. “I know we have the x files now… but I want this part of our partnership to be okay.” He said as she met his eyes pushing her lips together in a small smile

“What were you going to say?” She asked.

“I made a mistake with you. I learned how to relate to people, from people who used favors and coercion as proof of affection. But you’re not like that. You’re concern for me doesn’t come with strings attached. Im sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.

She swallowed. “I know it sounds like I’m just jealous, but its not that. Its a feeling…” 

“When was the last time you believed me over an intuition? When was the last time you didn’t ask me for evidence first?” He said gently.

She sighed “I have showed you evidence that if it related to anyone else you’d have thrown the bathwater and the baby out by now.” 

They were talking so calmly now, sorting it all out like they were discussing a cancelled flight. How uniquely easy this was with her.

“Circumstantial evidence is not enough for me to turn my back on a friend.” 

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Well just be careful. Diana is the type of women to use your care for her to her advantage in any way she can.” 

Mulder thought on that.

She said “She’s openly and unabashedly manipulated you, for whatever reason, especially when you tell her information she otherwise wouldn’t know. Just… just be careful Mulder.” 

“Okay Scully. I will.” Mulder said earnestly, looking at her searching her face. 

She bit her lip and looked at him. So many unsaid things shed wished she could say.

“I’ll see you Monday Mulder.” She said instead.

He smiled as he said “Im glad to hear that Scully. Hey,” He touched her arm as she pulled the door handle and she turned back to him. “Skinner thinks he’s found us an interesting case. He called while you were showering. He says we might need to do some light undercover work, nothing as mortifying as dancing in public Im sure.”

She gave him a small smile and raised her eyebrow, then got out of the car.

Mulder locked the company car and watched her retreating figure. He noticed that imperceptible sway in her hips he’d seen earlier. 

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

Notes: Honestly idk with this one, if anyone has thoughts let me know Im am not opposed to editing.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

@today-in-fic 🔆

[the-witchs-cafe]

The Ex-Dark Lord from Miitopia would survive in Puella Magi Madoka Magica!

Reason: A mix of their desire to undo the damage they had caused as the Dark Lord and pure, unfiltered spite. Unsatisfied with their work as a lowly HP Banana factory worker (which...raises a lot of concerning questions in regards to the worldbuilding and environmental problems present within Miitopia), they heeded the call of a mysterious, disembodied voice promising them a new life away from the walls of that factory; leading them to an ancient box that once kept the evil sealed away from all of Miitopia. Upon foolishly opening it, they have unleashed an era of darkness upon the land, and made themselves into the unwilling host of the Dark Curse.

After the MH freed them from the grasps of the curse, the Ex-DL knew its line of thinking whilst under its control; how it was blinded by malice, hatred, and resentment towards every other mii on this land. As their first step towards redemption, they guided the heroes through the Skyscraper - the final obstacle before entering the Darkest Lord's domain - and provided them with ample information on the origins of the curse from their point of view.

Once peace was brought into the land of Miitopia once more, the Ex-DL found a new job; to guard those who stepped foot in New Lumos and warn them of the dangers up ahead. It's a tough and terrifying job, but if someone has to do it, it was them. Nobody said that redemption would be a fun road, after all.

Requested by @sleepygalxx

[whiskeysmulti]

Perfectly Imperfect (KHR Flufftober)

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn Ship: 6996 (Mukuro Rokudo/Chrome Dokuro) Wordcount: 1,005 Prompt: Left! No, other left! Event Host: @flufftober

Battle was hard enough, but to make matters worse, Chrome was facing the inevitable now, she may never get her sight back in her right eye. Nagi had perfect vision once, but Nagi was gone. In her new life as Chrome, it was hard enough getting used to illusion organs and now she had to learn how to read and see all over again. However, in spite of all of this, it made her happy. She finally had a place in the world where she belonged, where she was loved even if some of the guys picked on her, it was still better than going back to the biological mother who almost let her die.

In fact, Nagi as she'd been known was dead now, Chrome was all that remained and it was honestly how she wanted it. She had found her place in the world with Kokuyo and found love in the most unexpected place. A dream world where she thought she'd died. In a meadow stood a boy, a boy who looked oddly familiar to her. Chrome had survived the car accident and found her place in this world and now all that was left was to start her training. However there was just one little problem, she needed to get used to using only one eye now as her other was lost in the accident.

That's where Mukuro stepped in. He couldn't let anything happen to her and if Chrome couldn't figure out how to navigate her visual impairment in battle that would make her an easy target. He refused to lose her, even if he had to take her out to spar every day, Mukuro was determined to help her learn to cope with her newfound disability.

"I'm ready, Mukuro-sama!" She called out and it began.

Mukuro instantly used an illusion technique on her casting a flock of crows towards her from her blind side. He wouldn't go easy on her, he had to know if she could protect herself or not against powerful real illusions like these still. He wouldn't let he become a sitting duck so to speak, paralyzed with fear and unable to fight back. She needed to learn now, so he sent a crow towards her right and hoped she could dodge.

"To the left, Nagi and you'll be able to escape it!" Mukuro called out. His hand smacked his forehead in a facepalm as he watched her jump right into the line of sight of the crow. "Other left, damn it!" He yelled out and dismissed the crow for now. They could work on training more later. He didn't want her pushing herself too much since she was still getting used to this. "Let's take a break. I don't want you pushing yourself too much."

"Yes, Mukuro-sama!" She called out, feeling slightly sad at the training ending so easily. Chrome put her trident down and walked across the training room to pull out a picnic lunch she'd prepared herself just for the two of them. "Would Mukuro-sama like to eat with me?" She blushed, it was no secret she loved him and he loved her dearly, the two were practically soul mates and two sides of the same person when you studied their bond.

Chrome might still be having trouble telling her right from left just yet as the injury did cause her a little confusion as well as the sight problem, but there was one thing she wasn't confused about whatsoever. She loved the man sitting next to her with all her heart and honestly thought of him as her savior.

As she got out the sandwiches and fruit she'd prepared she thought about what her future would be like and something in her told her she wanted him in it no matter how it was, as a husband one day, as her leader in the gang, as a friend for the rest of her life, Chrome was just happy as long as Mukuro was there. She finally found her place in this world and it would always be with him. She might not quite know her right from left yet, but she knew she loved him and always would.

However, that left her to question. How did he feel about her exactly? It's painful when someone you love so dearly and practically idolize doesn't see you in the same light. If she felt he was her left half and she was his right, but to him she was merely a fellow gang member, a friend or god forbid even a burden, Chrome would be absolutely devastated.

However for a guy like Mukuro who had never been shown kindness and love in his entire life, expressing love and tenderness was something hard for him. It was much easier to protect and serve her than to actually say those three little words be it a simple sparring like they had today or swapping places with her on the battlefield so she was safe, Mukuro would never let harm come to her. They loved and needed each other desperately, neither of them could afford to lose the other, it would prove devastating.

They both had their own flaws they needed to work on, neither was perfect and that was how they both wanted it. "Nagi, can you pass me a napkin?" Mukuro asked. "They're to your left." He smiled.

Chrome turned red with blush and reached for the right.

"Other left, Nagi." Mukuro chuckled.

They were two halves of the same soul and couldn't live without each other, even if it meant going to extreme lengths to protect one another, even if it meant risking everything for the other and even if it was just a simple training to help the better recover from an injury and adapt to a newfound disability, Mukuro and Chrome would always love and support one another.

It wasn't a perfect romance if they were both being honest. It was perfectly imperfect, and that was exactly how they wanted it to be.

[deliverred]

End of Day

The cabin is quiet, but the energy is less somber and more…tired, restful, than it had been the prior week. They'd not yet heard from their hosts, so everyone was taking their chance to rest up for the day.

It felt as if things were finally coming to an end.

Lance propped up in the corner, armor is meticulously removed and set aside. Padding and jacket are left neatly on the precisely made bed, swapped out for a looser and more comfortable shirt. There's a book tucked away in his pack but he leaves it to grab something else; there would be plenty of time in the future to meander through the story written down in those pages.

He moves through the cabin as silently as he can, unsure if any of his few teammates were trying to get some rest indoors and not wanting to disturb them if they were. The door opens and closes with hardly a sound. Standing with the door to his back, he pauses for a moment before setting his things aside and working off his boots, tucking them out of the way so that they wouldn't trip anybody.

In spite of being here for the length of the month, this was the first time he was walking barefoot across warm sand.

Lukas doesn't go out of his way to avoid anyone he might cross paths with, but he's not seeking out company or conversation or scrabbling for any sort of upper hand right now. He takes his time, purposeless, wandering along the shoreline.

Movement catches his eye, and he stops just short of it; feet sinking slightly into damp sand as he simply watches for a time.

Crabs. Red ones, with an underside that faded to more of an orange with paler sections near the joints. They scuttling across the sand, dashing away from waves and gesticulating at one another with their claws.

Once he's sure his presence won't bother them much, Lukas sits cross-legged in the sand and pulls his notebook out. True to its name, it's full of notes -- idle things, battle strategy, observations. He'd need a new one soon, but there were a few blank pages left.

He's not an artist, nor does he think he ever will be, but why not indulge in trying? It wouldn't be perfect, but it didn't need to be. It just needed to be.

The sun makes its march across the sky, beginning to dip low into the ocean and casting the sky's blue into peachy pinks and incandescent oranges. The fading sun glimmers warmly over the water, blinding but in such a way as to pull your eye toward it instead of to shield your gaze from it.

The crabs had long since left, leaving nothing behind in the water-beaten sand of their having been there at all.

But Lukas still sat facing the sunset, pencil to paper; eyes closed and a smile on his face.

[juniperhillpatient]

How’s it going @juniperhillpatient ?

I know that you’re a huge canon of the horror genre. But what are your opinions on cosmic horror. Of the Lovecraft variety and the like. How humans deal with the ideas of ancient demon gods that control reality, and falling into madness or worship, or hostilities.

How would you consider cosmic horror in terms of Azutara? If indeed, you do find Cosmic horror to be interesting.

Say Azula and Katara are both tormented by their own brands of cosmic monstrosities. Let’s say Tui (basically an ATLA version of Cthulhu) targets Katara at her village in the SWT (or conversely somewhere in New England) and assaults the community. Perhaps indirectly or through a cult of sorts. In typical Lovecraft fashion. Minus the Racism!

I know that Azula usually ends up taking the role of a detective or PI in your stories. Which is one career I can absolutely see Azula doing (and enjoying) by the by.

Anyway, Hakoda perhaps calls up the Police of his state or county. Asking (perhaps even pleading?) for assistance. They refuse. But one kind souls directs Hakoda to an up and coming Private Investigator. One who’s has penachant for solving crimes, and also has a not totally undeserved crackpot reputation. Especially, considering she deals with horrible truths of the world others don’t want to accept. That PI is of course Azula.

Azula herself is also tormented by Cosmic horrors. In her case by the draconian demon god Agni. It also doesn’t help that her father Ozai is the head priest of the deity’s…cult. Which haunts her very shadows.

Azula and Katara then meet for the first time and have to deal with two differing cosmic horror deities, their warring cults, human sacrifice, murder, and a whole host of crime sand evils. And also their budding… desires for each other. and the story goes on from there. Oh and Azula and Katara are about 23-25 years old at the start of the AU.

So what do you think?

Also how do you think either Azula or Katara deal would deal with the realization on the “reality on unreality” . To enumerate, take how in the Cthulhu Mythos the deity called the “blind idiot God” is also known as “the great dreamer”. Why? Because everything that exist is dream. This one bbeings dream specifically. Everyone and everything and every experience (no matter positive or negative) is but an expression of a thought. A dream coming from an unconscious non-personal deity. Even Cthulhu and the other gods are mere instances of this dream. An individual is but the mirror image of a foreign intelligence. A person is not themselves. And if that creature ever wakes up, “reality” blinks out of existence. Everything gone faster than a snap.

That whole idea in probably (inspired by) something that Lovecraft got from the Vedas (probably the “Hymn of Creation”?) or the Hindu philosopher Shankara. It also gives me a massive migraine just to think about. But for the sake another Azutara Au idea, we must press on!

Everything is (in a word) a simulation, a dream. Including the “gods”, including individual persons, including Azula and Katara. How would they [Azula and Katara] deal with this existential question? Would succumb to despair and perhaps fall to madness. Or perhaps the two would rely on each other and come to embrace Descartes philosophy “I think therefore I am”. Leading Azutara to conclude that they do exist in spite of the machinations of Tui and Agni (who are demon gods tormenting them in this au) in trying destroy their sanity and attack their (Azula and Katara’s) very sense of self.

How would all these struggles bring them [Azula and Katara] closer? Or would it see the two fall apart. Or fall apart temporarily , but ultimately help each other in staying sane. Which is a big part of the “Call of Cthulhu” RPG.

Sorry if the ask was a little long.

—745 Voice of the People

Hi there! I enjoy Lovecraftian horror - I’m not hugely educated on it but conceptually I like it & I had a lot of fun with the ‘Call of Cthulu’ game I played a while back. My brother & I were just talking about my character & our old campaign earlier tonight!

Your idea seems like a really interesting fic that could truly dive into some existential dread & terror in a fascinating way. And the concept for the plot with Hakoda reaching out to Azula, who solves mysterious issues & is almost considered a crockpot but actually knows what goes on in the world because Ozai is the head of this cult?? Yeah that’s Super interesting!

I love the idea of Azula & Katara navigating this existential terror & decline in their sanity while also facing feelings for each other. This seems like a really fascinating fic concept!

[opossumanon]

Here's why you shouldn't meet your heroes. Or just people who seem cool, cuz this douchebag I'm about to vent to yall about wasn't even my hero he just seemed like a cool person to talk to and then proved to be an asshole.

So a couple weeks ago I was at this conference being hosted at a good university, and it was a journalism and media thing where teens from all over the US and its territories come and learn about the field of journalism and practice and meet other journalists. It also yapped on and on about diversity and inclusion, but was actually fucking terrible about inclusion, but that's a whole other can of worms cuz today I just wanna vent about one specific bad moment.

So nearing the end of the conference was an event where we'd split up and be lectured by different journalists or professors of our choosing, and then there would be a "mixer" where we got snacks and then had the opportunity to chat with the speakers that we didn't get to see. I wanted to go with this one guy that I'm calling Guy, but all the tickets for his thing ran out so I went to another guy who had a REALLY good presentation but was also a classist dick (again, another can of worms). During the mixer, I struggled to get the opportunity to talk to Guy cuz I was so nervous and wasn't sure how to ask my questions without being boring or weird. Eventually my friends at the conference bullied me into doing it and so I waited in line to speak to him, watching as he was all energetic and charming and nice to a normal-looking girl talking to him and watched as he gave her his card. This detail is important.

Eventually the girl left and it was my turn to talk to Guy, and I explained how I couldn't see him speak even though I wanted to and I asked about what he was talking about, and he gave this really paraphrased answer that felt kinda bland? Like he threw in a very short summary of a story he told but it still felt rushed and like he was detached while telling it. It ended with me realizing that he probably wouldn't spill any tea to me personally so I went "Hey do you have anything else that I could look at to get more information?? A website, video, etc??? Or could I just get your card?" and he deadass said (I'm paraphrasing here)

"No, I don't think that'd help you."

Like wtf???????

(For anybody confused as to why I'm upset: In any sort of professional setting where a person has a card, asking for it is the most basic polite thing you can do to the point where people don't even have to ask cuz the other person will just go "Hey you want my card" and hand it over. Guy refusing to give me his card, when I knew for certain that he had one, was the professional equivalent of me reaching out to give him a handshake and him recoiling in disgust. I'm pretty sure he did this as blatantly as he did because he assumed that I'd be clueless about this sort of thing like most of my peers were.)

Looking back I can't find a single thing I did wrong. I waited in line patiently, introduced myself and shook his hand, made eye contact, etc etc. I wasn't even chatting with him for longer than 2 minutes before I gave up and went "I should go now cuz the guy behind me wants to talk to you too, have a good night" and left so it wasn't like I had him trapped talking with me for an hour. By the time I went back to my dorm, I was genuinely on the verge of tears and I felt useless and like I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything...Yknow, at the conference where they've been going on and on and on about how we're all special and are on track to be good journalists and stuff like that.

After 10 minutes of being blinded by tears and sniffling to my heart's content I switched to being angry and decided that I wanted to start a podcast starring weird people, being about weird people, and having an audience of weird people. I still wanna do this because the power of spite is absolutely a thing, but there's also a part of me that wants to back away from anything journalism/media related at all because I feel so fucking crushed from how Guy treated me. A lot of the self confidence that I spent YEARS trying to build back up from nothing was basically knocked over thanks to him.

I don't have much of a lesson to teach, I'm just still upset about this weeks later and I needed to get it out is all, but what this event taught me specifically was

I'll never be seen as normal or taken seriously, no matter how good my neurotypical cis white guy cosplay is

Professors of massive universities are pieces of shit and I'm probably gonna avoid going to them for advice in the future

Higher education is a good thing that all people should have access to if they wish, but also the people you find in higher education settings tend to be classist/elitist pricks who look down on people who don't walk, talk, act, or look like the "typical intellectual" (White person who's obviously upper middle class or higher who's neurotypical and cishet and able-bodied) and therefore making higher education available for everyone is and will continue to be a useless fucking endeavor until we flush out the intense biases against people who don't fit the "typical intellectual" within the system.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Island in the Sun

Note: Always indebted to @flashfictionfridayofficial so glad that it exists. Once again here’s my entry for this week’s prompt An eternal summer #FFF197 to dabble on my head canons. In my universe, people like Shigeki Suwa should pay for the consequences. Lily’s image doesn’t exist. Episode 12 doesn’t exist (don’t get me wrong I love it.). AU-Canon divergence.

Fandom: Buddy Daddies

Characters: Rei Suwa, Kazuki Kurusu, Miri Unasaka, Karin Izumi

Pairing: Kazurei established (Kurusu Kazuki/Suwa Rei)

Words: 778

Rating: T

Rei has never been on a French beach. But like they say, there is always a first time for everything.

Unfolding himself from the car, the first thing that hits him is the blinding sun in spite of his aviators. As soon as he puts his feet down, white sand fills its way immediately into his footwear. It is a pair of camouflage flip-flops Miri has chosen for him when he and Kazuki casually browsed the Rakuzon website months ago for their impending escape along with the midnight-blue beach shorts that he is wearing right now.

He can taste the salt in the sea breeze blowing his jet-black hair gently. It is dry and humid, and he cannot say if he likes the temperature at all, so he lets his ebony vest open refusing to shed it off. Using a walking stick on a beach is not practical but needs must.

“Not too fast, Rei, your wounds!” Kazuki, freshly tanned, calls out. To hell with my wounds, Rei thinks, the bandages on my legs are gone. He limps his way to the shore ignoring Kazuki’s pleas. Exactly three months and a half ago, they were still in Japan and got involved in a car accident where the three of them supposedly died. In this “bad business” meeting different sorts of people is usual like the one-eyed supplier of cadavers. God knows the methods Rei used to ensure the man’s silence.

Now, they are on an island called Groix in Brittany, walking along its coast and renting a house on a cliff. Rei was in a coma for a week and after that 16 days in a rehabilitation center, while Kazuki arranged their new life in France with the assistance of his sister-in-law, Karin.

His rumination stops as the right car door slams and Miri comes out. The child is wearing the biggest black sunglasses Rei has ever seen on a human face. Her summer hat can’t keep still on her head. Kazuki makes a fuss about the yellow ribbon that is quite not attached to it. She insisted on donning her uneven black-striped swimsuit an hour ago inside the car.

Rei thinks he must commend their five-year-old daughter’s toughness. She’s been braving the long stretches of journey, and abrupt and lightning-speed changes in their lifestyle, at times violent, ever since leaving their country and her newfound friends.

Trailing behind them is Karin, who their child finds attached to each day the longer the young woman stays with them.

“Aunt Karin is so beautiful, and she creates these pretty dresses!”

Corresponding with her secretly before the accident required too much effort even leaving Kyutaro-san out of the picture. Perhaps, they will see him again in the future and apologise to him why they left without telling him.

He takes a look at Kazuki, finds his satisfied smile as soon as the view of the beach lays out before them. The sun and the sea. An eternal summer only for the three of them. Away from everyone they refuse to see. Finally.

Miri cannot wait to dip her toes to the water. It is not as if Fukuoka doesn’t have its own beaches. Still, France is far away from Japan. The Atlantic is much colder and wilder than the Pacific Ocean.

“It is a ginormous bathtub, Papa Kazu!” Her small hand intertwines with Kazuki’s own.

“It is, yeah!” Kazuki answers with great enthusiasm. “The half-day travel was worth it, Karin. Thank you again for finding this place,” Kazuki touches her shoulder, squeezes it.

Karin, in turn, holds his brother-in-law’s hand back. She’s been their host for the duration of their house-hunting in France even willing to put her studies on hold to accommodate them.

“I am relieved that your crazy plan worked out,” she sighs.

A “mysterious hacker” turned over a huge file of classified intel that convinced the Fukuoka Prefecture police to raid the Suwa’s ancestral home. They are consequently conducting immediate arrests of the organisation members concerning a number of attacks on the civilians that has happened since the 1990s. And the final nail on the coffin? Shigeki Suwa is languishing in a jail cell awaiting sentence because of two counts of murder, including killing his ex-wife. The news has made Rei’s long-winding recuperation at the hospital worth something, but his temporary immobility is debilitating.

Still, the fight is far from over.

“We are not safe yet, Kazuki, as long as he’s alive. We are going to continue to run for our lives.” One can sense the disappointment on Rei’s voice. If he could, he himself would put the bullet on his father’s head. He’d love to see that day happen.

[radioiaci]

Aside from my queue that I'll run through the weekend, you may also still RP with me much more quickly on my OC blogs! These blogs are both much more mobile-friendly!! If you're interested in interacting over there, I'll make lil' starter calls there too. :> (These OCs are both way easier to ship with too if you like to write corny stuff!)

@cdwalker ; Charlie Dean Walker is a holistic/herbalist self-proclaimed doctor who lives on the outskirts of Newark, New Jersey. His clinic is hidden away in an old abandoned warehouse and his purpose is to assist with the supernatural, paranormal, and altogether strange population of this weird hub city in their day-to-day and urgent medical needs. Charlie is a manmade chimera/hybrid who is half human, half assortment of various animals. He has a metamorphose form which is similar to a dragon. He is notably blind.  

@dinosaurgreasestain ; Pride is one of the seven deadly sins and is considered the first tarry sludge to be yoinked from Satan’s nasty self. He holds himself in the position of ‘eldest brother’ among the other sins, though he is closest to Wrath. He rules an army of tar demons known as “The Tar Legion” and operates Earth-side, typically, by possessing a man named Donovan who is referred to as his Host. He is a mean, spiteful demon who will do what it takes to get what he wants, including using and abusing both friends and strangers. He reports to Lucifer who is the only individual who he will refer to as “King”.

[cherry-velvet-skies]

It's time for more Beatle Era Ratings! (I fixed the title 😌)

Episode 3: Johnny Boy 🥰

Moon Dog (Pre-Beatles Era)

Teddy Boy John somehow looks older than when John was actually older

He gives the vibe of a teenage boy who dresses to look older in order to get into an adult rated movie lmao

Formed a band and felt like the coolest guy in the world (and you know what he unknowingly created one of the greatest bands in the world so he's allowed to feel that way)

6/10 because he looks great but the look is not really for me

Twist and Shout (1962-63)

And just like I thought, he looks younger here than the previous era

John Lennon if he were an android in Detroit Become Human

He looks so uncomfortable dressed like this PLEASE 😂 someone help him

4.5/10 and I know the second they walked off stage he would rip this jacket right off lmao

Cuddle Bug (1964-66)

One of John's best eras and that's a fact

He's so friend-shaped I'm gonna cry

This haircut suited him so well and gave him an all-around adorable vibe

100/10 and I have a personal vendetta against anyone who ever made him feel bad about his appearance 😤

Blue Meanie Defender 3000 (1967)

If you ever wanna know what the people in the late 60s who experimented with any drug they could find looked like, just picture this mf

Bro saw God at some point and God was a walrus apparently

But this was when he actually got glasses instead of just being fucking blind all the time so I guess that's good

7/10 although I can't tell if being around him when he's high would've been nonstop laughs or literal hell on earth

AnD nOw YoUr hOsTs fOr tHiS eVeNinG (1968-69)

An absolute gremlin of a man

But I mean if I was in his shoes I would just randomly scream for no reason too so I get it

If Get Back taught us anything it was that mans hardly showered

6.5/10 the vibes are hella confusing but not terrible. Sense of humor was off the charts though

Bigger Than Jesus (1970)

So far John's Jesus era was the fanciest

The fur coat and wool cap are giving Bratz doll

Speaking of Bratz dolls John would've loved early 2000s fashion I JUST KNOW IT

9/10 he would've worn Juicy tracksuits religiously and ate us all up

I Sleep Well, Thanks (1971-72)

Exhausted dude at his office job who just wants to go home and get high

You know what scratch that he shows up high and has the nerve to act surprised when he can barely function

Survives purely off of spite

6.5/10 he wants to cause problems on purpose

I Am the Egg Man (1973)

I'm not even sure I have the certification to comment on this

Seeing John almost bald feels sacrilegious

He looks like one of those unhinged yoga instructors

2/10 I am very uncomfortable with the energy we've created in the studio today

Freelance Artist (1974-77)

In his academia era

His aura feels like one of those people who you go to their apartment and it's full of giant canvases with art that deserves way more recognition

That Elvis pin is iconic

10/10 and this entire photoshoot is honestly so beautiful I wish I could've included all the photos

Sexy Valet Driver (1978-79)

I absolutely adore the tie and waistcoat combo

It gives me an immense level of gender envy, and John is not immune to that lol I wanna look the way he does in this photo so bad

He looks both cute and handsome but I can't decide which one tips the balance

20/10 if I saw him dressed like this I would definitely compliment him (and maybe ask him out if I was feeling brave 🤭)

Eccentrically Reserved Fashion Designer (1980-∞)

Are we gonna pretend that he didn't look absolutely GLORIOUS this year

I think I have to say this one is a dilf era because oh my god

I secretly think John would've been a great fashion designer idk he seems like he has the correct amount of insanity to pull it off

542/10 and it's a shame we never got to see how he would've evolved physically, and even personality-wise, as the years went on. I feel like he would've been a better person as he got older and I wish we would've gotten to see it 🥺💕

[polychaeteworm]

Here it is, the long awaited pin post (will be edited later)

If I have followed you and you are a dark/horror/goth/traumacore or Saltburn blog, it was @neurotheascars that hit the follow button.

(currently only on mobile)

Hello I'm Orn, I'm the alien system host of a 31 year old human body with 8 alters inside, this is just my blog though. I'm a mixed media artist and I know more mediums then I can remember to count. I give advice compulsively so if you have a weird art supply question my inbox is open and anons are on. I know all about glue, polymer, proper glitter use, and UV colors. Bodily Native Lakota.

Aro/ace-spec, into men as a man and women as a women. I support all people with cluster B disorders, my partner system has BPD. You are all worthy of love and safety.

I'm also a green wizard and I've been doing weird art based magic for about 11 years

On this blog you'll find a nice mixed bag of the following: Precambrian explosion and Paleo fun, speculative biology, green magic and experimental occult content, 420 weed posting, plants, pendantic info dumps, artwork(both mine and not), web 1.0 tech nostalgia and autism/did/disability content!

I was formally diagnosed with the demand avoidant flavor of ASD when I was 7 and can't live alone but remain very independent in spite of my support needs. I have lots of trouble wording things and as an alter I've become hyper verbal out of a fear of being misinterpreted. ABA therapy abused my system into having a pretty convincing mask so Sorry Not Sorry but I am a living breathing wall of text in this space.

Other bs I deal with- DID, hypermobility, fibromyalgia, dyspraxia, low vision/legal blindness, irlen syndrome, complex synesthesia, hyperphantasia, and really uncontrolled maladaptive daydreaming

I grow cannabis in a legal state and use it to treat my various issues.

I am posic and objectum about plants and old technology and that is liable to come out a lot on this blog. I currently have a courting/platonic relationship with a Philodendron Solleum Named Basaran and a committed platonic partnership with a large MFC office printer named Leviathan. I've had several committed romantic relationships with older computers, but currently don't have an alive and well computer partner.

Other blogs I'm connected to:

My irl human(dog) partner is @guromechanical TW: don't go here if you're not fucked in the head 18+

@neurotheascars Saira's side blog, trauma holding alter, goth aesthetics and vent posts. TW for syscourse, traumacore, unreality and blood/SH specifically. If you are a Saltburn, traumacore, or otherwise dark gothic blog it is most likely Saira that has followed you.

If Saira is co-fronting or informing a post here, it will be tagged with ⚔️

Saira has more severe difficulty with communicating and needs a bit more patience than me.

Finally:

Some things about interacting with me:

I sometimes struggle to reply to people in a timely manner, but you can always poke me for a response.

I never ask bad faith questions or make bad faith assumptions. I'm a safe person to talk to if you struggle to understand language because I have alters that struggle like that. If I'm not understanding something, an analogy usually helps.

I practice kindness and I will match your energy. I am a high empathy autistic and this means the worst name I'm gonna call anyone is an asshole and asshole is a title that is temporary and fleeting because even the humans I hate are humans who are alive and make mistakes. I dislike making people feel bad so I do not hurl insults. If you give me anon hate I'm just gonna wish you well. Anger is born of pain, even if misplaced. I receive rage like a wall, so don't bruise your fists on me please.

I try not to follow minors but if I have followed you for any reason and you don't want me to follow you just lemme know and I'll comply. No issues.

I prefer minors to not follow me, but reblogging @ing, hearting, ect is totally fine.