#I want to get into it so bad despite the supernatural elements

[madlyfluffy]

I’m special I’m different because despite being a franklins lost expedition fan I have never read The Terror or finished the mini series

[svltzmans]

paint the town red - h.m.

a/n: this was a request and i had so much fun writing it!! i also got to write some supernatural elements which is the best lmao. writing these hope fics makes me want to rewatch legacies so bad 😭 but anyway i hope you guys like this

warnings: smut (18+), vampire biting, mention of blood, semi-public sex

hope wakes up in the middle of the night absolutely ravenous.

beside her, her girlfriend breathes lightly in her sleep. hope smiles to herself before gently getting up, determined not to disturb her.

making her way to the kitchen, she grabs a blood bag from the fridge. she knows it's nowhere near as good as the real thing, but she settles nonetheless.

her eyes glow bright green when she punctures the bag with her teeth, finding immediate relief in her midnight snack.

"hope?"

y/n had woken up shortly after hope had gotten out of bed, feeling the emptiness beside her. she didn't have to look for long before finding her exactly where she thought she'd be.

"what are you doing up?" hope questions, still in the middle of her bag.

y/n approaches hope from behind, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug.

"i felt you leave. missed you," she says sleepily, resting her head on hope's shoulder.

hope embraces the contact, leaning gently into y/n.

"didn't want to wake you," hope responds, kissing y/n's forehead.

in the midst of their conversation, y/n notices that hope's eyes are still aglow, and that the points of her teeth are still visible just beyond her lips.

y/n's attraction to her girlfriend is apparent based on the way her cheeks become as red as hope's blood bag.

she's sure hope doesn't notice, despite their close proximity.

"can we go back to bed now?" y/n asks, her exhaustion catching up to her.

"c'mere," hope coos, picking y/n up bridal style to bring her back to bed.

ever since hope turned into a fully activated tribrid, these "midnight snack" excursions had become a common thing for her. sometimes she just couldn't go back to sleep until she fed, and she had to give into her compulsions.

y/n didn't always wake up with her, but hope had caught her watching from the doorway on more than one occasion.

at first, hope thought that y/n was just interested in her tribrid status, but it slowly became clear that it was much more than that.

even though she's sure she has it figured out, hope doesn't want to assume anything. she knows she has to figure out a plan to confirm her suspicions.

it doesn't take hope long to figure out what she wants to do.

during one of hope and y/n's weekly movie nights, hope decides to put her plan into action.

"y/n, i'm hungry," hope playfully whines, immediately getting her girlfriend's attention.

"wanna order something? or we could go cook together," y/n offers a solution, still halfway paying attention to the television.

"i have a better idea," hope whispers, leaning in closer to y/n.

"what's that?" y/n acts clueless, even though she knows where this is headed, and she couldn't be more thrilled about it.

hope gently picks up y/n's wrist, lightly kissing it before looking up at her.

"may i?"

y/n swears she's dreaming. she's had many dreams like this, usually ending in hope pushing her down on the kitchen counter.

"please," y/n finally responds, giving hope her most intense heart eyes.

grabbing hold of y/n's other hand, hope exposes her fangs and gives y/n the most gentle bite she possibly can.

y/n gasps at the initial sting, but before she knows it she's letting out soft moans. hope is absolutely dizzying, and it's not from the loss of blood.

when hope pulls away, y/n's heart is pounding in her ears.

"it seems like you enjoyed that just as much as i did, hm?" hope teases, healing the small wound that developed on y/n's wrist.

y/n feels frozen in time, and hope is the only thing she can think about. as hope tries to keep watching the movie the two had started, y/n is entirely distracted.

long after the pair had fallen asleep, hope wakes up again, the same urge to feed pushing her up and to the kitchen.

she walks delicately out of the room to avoid waking y/n, even though she knows it's no use. y/n always knows when she leaves, and hope finds it adorable.

and like clockwork, she appears in the doorway, sleepiness apparent in her eyes. hope's eyes glow brighter at the sight of her girlfriend.

hope stops mid-bloodbag to greet her. "hi beautiful," she beams, her teeth still excessively sharp.

"hi," y/n replies, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"someone's sleepy, huh?"

"come back to bed."

"i'm hungry."

memories of hours ago come back to y/n, and she feels a knot forming in her stomach.

"what, i didn't hold you over?" she teases, hoping to get a reaction out of hope.

something in hope snaps at that, and she picks y/n up, sitting her down on the counter.

"hope, what are you d-"

before y/n can finish, hope's lips are on hers and they're making out in the kitchen of the salvatore school.

"hope, jesus, someone could see us."

"don't care. wanna taste you. not talking about your wrist this time," hope replies between kisses.

"but the bed is so much more comfortable for you to-"

"need you right now," hope slurs, and that's enough for y/n to oblige.

within seconds, hope has y/n naked from the waist down, legs spread on the kitchen counter.

"i can't believe you," y/n giggles, honestly quite nervous about their current position.

"the quieter you are, the less likely we are to get caught," hope replies, her voice sultry as she kisses y/n's inner thighs.

the second hope's mouth makes contact with y/n, it's game over.

the noises she can't help but make are obscene. hope is incredible at going down on y/n, and she's reminded of that tenfold every time.

hope briefly pulls away. "you're so gorgeous. what did i say about being quiet, though?"

y/n mumbles an apology but whines in protest. "please just keep going."

hope doesn't oppose, but she moves her tongue agonizingly slowly.

"hope... more, please," y/n pleads, not caring about keeping her composure any longer.

"i like when you beg," hope mutters against her, finally picking up the pace once again.

y/n is painfully close, and she knows it. she desperately tries to keep her orgasm at bay, wanting to prolong this moment as much as possible.

"god, hope, so good," she encourages, her hand resting in hope's hair.

it's at that moment that hope looks directly up at y/n, her glowing tribrid eyes piercing into hers.

the look hope gives her sends her over the edge, biting her lip to withhold as much noise as possible.

as y/n's breathing slows and her heart rate returns to normal, hope stands up, helping her get down and back onto her feet.

hope gently puts y/n's pajamas back on for her, and pushes her hair behind her ear.

"you okay?" she asks, resting her hand on y/n's cheek.

"much better than okay. but sleepy. can we go back to bed now?"

"anything for you. did such a great job for me."

hope takes y/n's hand as they head back upstairs, settling back into bed.

"oh, and hope?"

"yeah?"

"are you still hungry?"

a/n: its the middle of the night and i'm awake for some reason and was DETERMINED to finish this

[iolaussharpe-24]

Barbie in the Mojave - Chapter Two

Thank you to everyone who supported chapter one! You're all lovely!

❤️Taglist❤️

(Let me know if you want to be added or taken off for chapter three. No feelings will be hurt.)

@waywardrose, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @lunar-ghoulie, @ominoose, @reallyrallyauthor

@steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @have-you-seen-my-sanity, @missdictatorme, @angelitawings

@outey-spacey, @autismsupermusicalassassin, @mandytrekkie

Feel free to ask questions about anything as well. I'm happy to talk about my process with anyone that's interested.

Chapter Two: Bad Smells and Worse Ideas

Barbie and Ken stopped and sat down, exhausted. Both of them were tired and panting. Both of them had sore feet (though Barbie’s were considerably worse because of her heels). Both of them were soaked in water despite never being anywhere near water. Both of them were mourning their perfectly styled hair. Ken’s was drenched and stuck to his forehead, dripping in front of his eyes. Barbie’s had gotten frizzy and wild, sitting on her head like one of the dried out brown bushes they walked past. Her headband wasn’t doing much to keep it under control either. Each and every blonde strand had gained sentience and turned against her.

They had walked a long way. The car wasn’t anywhere in sight anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. The sea of sand had slowly but surely started to become solid rocky ground with dry plants sprouting from split stones and small animals and bugs scurrying into little holes at their feet as they came near.

The sun was setting behind them, making their shadows stretch out several feet in front of them as the air turned cold and the sky began to change colors overhead.

“Barbie, shouldn’t we have found the speedboat by now? This place is like an endless beach without the beach!”

“It’s called a desert.”

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“I think so.”

“Well what did Weird Barbie say?”

“We’re doing what Weird Barbie said.”

“Wandering aimlessly?”

“For the last time, she didn’t give me directions! I was told to drive a sports car to a speedboat to a rocket ship to a tandem bike to a camper van to a snowmobile to roller blades and then I’d be in the real world where I’d find my kid by equally unspecified means! I don’t know what I’m doing or how I’m supposed to do it, but I want to get it done so that we can go back home and everything can go back to normal.”

He contemplated that for a minute, then smiled brightly. “And then, when we can do boyfriend girlfriend things together. Right?”

She nodded, just to make him stop asking questions. “Sure Ken…. It’s getting late,” she added with a sigh. “We should probably camp out… somewhere. Get some rest so we can keep walking in the morning. I was hoping to be done and home by now, but nothing’s been going right, has it?”

It was annoying. Very, very annoying. All of it. She felt like she was going crazy. She knew that there were going to be differences between Barbieland and the Real World. She did. It was a logical inevitability that only made sense. After all, they are two different worlds. Different realities that were affected by one another, but still very much separated from each other. It sounded absolutely insane, but it did, for some bizarre reason, make a weird amount of sense. Like old sitcoms with a supernatural or otherworldly element that everybody treated like a completely normal thing.

Ugh.

Ken was crouched down with a pile of sticks in front of him, hitting two rocks against each other repeatedly. Trying to start a fire. Fair enough. Just like how the sun had seemed hotter than they were used to in Barbieland, the night air, in turn, was colder. Even in the winter, when everyone tended to bundle up in thick coats and fuzzy boots, the cold never really affected them. This did. It was making Barbie’s skin break out into a thousand tiny bumps that gave her a weird tingling sensation as they appeared.

Must be another human thing. Another problem to fix. Like the cellulite on her legs. She shivered at that thought. Would this spread too? At least the cellulite was easy to hide. It was just on her thighs and was easily covered up as long as she wore longer shorts and skirts.

Their clothes sat in a heap near the place they’d decided to call their campsite, despite not having a dream camper or a tent or a backpack or even a sleeping bag – which was the absolute barest minimum of camping gear they could have possibly had on hand. They’d been forced to carry everything while they walked who knows how far for who knows how long and when they finally decided to stop, they’d just dumped everything unceremoniously in the dirt and used their skates, pads, helmets, and Barbie’s hairbrush to hold down their clothes.

She reached up and felt her frizzy tangles. Felt like a bird’s nest. Probably looked like Weird Barbie’s hack job of a haircut. So, just to feel like she had some control over something, she picked up her brush and started trying to tame the beast on her head.

“I think I saw a spark!”

Ken did not see a spark.

Barbie didn’t have it in her to tell him though. Instead, she praised and encouraged him to keep trying. Saying, “You’ll get a fire in no time,” and genuinely hoping that he would. Maybe that was what was so wrong with everything. Fear and negativity. Maybe, if she just tried to keep a positive attitude, and kept smiling, and tried to go on like her world wasn’t turning upside down, she’d manifest that reality and everything would go back to normal on its own. Or, at the very least, they might get lucky.

It took hours before either one of the two dolls could start a fire. And, by the time they did, it had already gotten cold. To keep warm, the two of them mixed and matched the clothes they brought to cover up as well as they could since they tiny flame they made wasn’t providing them with any kind of warmth whatsoever.

Barbie was in a pair of hot pink ankle boots that didn’t match her pants, and a baby blue long-sleeve shirt that didn’t match anything. Ken had closed his jacket, put on a pair of low waisted jeans, and swapped his sandals for his neon yellow roller skates, though he removed the neon pink wheels from the bottom to make it easier on him to walk in the morning.

After a few moments of sitting side by side to keep warm, Ken lifted his head and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“Smell what?”

“I don’t know. Something smells… bad.”

Automatically, Barbie turned her head away from her friend, breathed into her hand, and sniffed. Not great. Not terrible. But not great. Think that this wasn’t what Ken was smelling, she lowered her hand and sniffed as well. That’s when she noticed it. A sour smell in the air.

She scrunched up her nose at it at first.. and then realized that it seems awfully close.

For no real reason at all, Barbie lifted her arm and smelled the underside.

Oh. My. God.

She retched and lowered her arm so fast she was impressed that it didn’t snap clean off at the joint. Ken looked at her, confused, and she forced herself to smile and pretend that it was nothing. Even as she dug her nails into her biceps just to make sure that he arms stayed down in an attempt to keep the smell from coming out.

She didn’t understand what was happening to her. Why was her body doing all these things it wasn’t supposed to? First, she was leaking water, her hair was messed up, then she started getting bumpy, and now she smelled?! And that wasn’t taking the fact that she got lost or the wrecked car into account, or any of things that happened before she left Barbieland. This was all in the past few hours.

What could possibly be going on in this little girl’s life to change her like this? It didn’t make sense. How could anything be so wrong with a human that it punched its way through to another world just to drastically alter a Barbie in so many awful ways? It was like time and space and fate had it out for her or something! Worse than Raquelle at her most infuriating. Worse than-

Her thoughts were cut short by a sound in the distance. It was loud and shrill and, like so many other disembodied noises in the dark, was both familiar and strange. It sounded like a dog’s howl in the middle of the night, but it was twisted. It was wrong. And it wasn’t alone.

More howls accompanied the first like a choir singing a chaotic chorus together. One by one they sounded off, the noise echoing in the distance. Barbie looked out into the darkness ahead, unable to see anything at all. Ken did the same, though for a very different reason. He started walking away from her.

“What are you doing?!”

“Dogs! I want to pet the dogs!”

She stared at him, incredulous. “Ken! We don’t know anything about this place! And that doesn’t sound like Skipper walking a group of dogs to me. There’s no one around. We’re out in the middle of nowhere! This is a bad idea.”

“Hey, when it comes to petting dogs, there are no bad ideas.”

“If we were still in Barbieland where we know all the dogs!”

He wasn’t listening. He was just marching off blindly into the dark, his silhouette growing darker and darker. Blending into nothing.

“Don’t go too far! I don’t want you to get lost!” she called out desperately.

Ken didn’t answer. He might have been too far already.

Despite how annoying he could be, Ken was still her friend. She cared about him. Didn’t want him to get hurt. As of right now, he was the only piece of home she had with her. Well, him and a small pile of stuff she had been forced to carry since the car crashed, but she couldn’t talk to a cute skirt the way she could Ken.

She hoped that he had enough common sense to stay close.

Despite poor Barbie’s warning, Ken couldn’t see any harm in wanting to pet a dog. Or a cat for that matter. Or a horse. He loved horses. More, he suspected, than Western Stampin’ Ken did. Animals in Barbieland were always friendly and cute easy to handle. Always. And the Real World counldn’t be that different from Barbieland. It just couldn’t. Their world was made to resemble the Real World. To fix all of the problems the humans faced. That’s what the Barbies and Kens were made for in the first place. An unfriendly animal, especially a dog, felt nothing short of unnatural to him.

She was just being paranoid. Had to be. He’d never known her to be paranoid before, but he’d never known her to have any malfunctions either. This must be one of them. Yeah, that made sense to him. In fact, it made so much sense that it might have just been the reason why Barbie wanted to do this alone. She didn’t want anyone to see how bad this problem could get! He could understand that. If there was a chance that she could end up like Weird Barbie living away from everyone else in the Weirdhouse with all of the recalled Barbies and Kens, it only made sense that she wouldn’t want anyone to see that. In her position, Ken wouldn’t want that either.

Another howl sounds as he walks. That’s a good sign, right? Means he’s getting close. Like how being far away from something made it look smaller. But in reverse.

Excited, Ken walked faster. He thought about all the dogs he’d met in Barbieland and how cute they were. With their big eyes and black noses and little smiles. He even loved the old Taffy dog with her three puppies. Two of them had bobble heads, and the third one needed to be potty trained. That’s why the Barbie that owned them all always had a few newspapers in her dreamhouse. She always let him pet and play with them when he saw her.

Just as he was starting to smile from the memory, he stopped in his tracks. There was a dog in front of him. A little puppy.

It had tan fur and a cream colored underbelly. Big black eyes that stared straight at him. It wasn’t smiling though, that was weird. But the same black nose he always loved nuzzling his own against. It stood perfectly still, watching him as he watched it.

“Hi there,” he said softly, sinking down to his knees. He slowly held out his hand and cooed, “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s Ken.”

The puppy stared at him, then stepped forward, sniffing his hand. It yipped at him and two more puppies came out from around the corner to join the first.

In that moment, he just knew that Barbie was going to be jealous. He’d tell her that he found puppies and that he got to play with them, and she was going to look at him and say, “I wish I’d gone with you.” He just knew it. What else would she say? He was right. There’s absolutely no way that petting a dog can be a-

Grrrrrrrr…

That wasn’t a good sound.

Looking up at the rocky side of the plateau, Ken saw two more dogs. Fully grown ones. Their teeth were showing as they growled at him. The blond stood up straight, still smiling. “Hi! These little cuties must be yours.”

One of the dogs jumped down, still growling at him, it’s ears low, teeth bared. Then the other dog jumped down to join the first. And a third came from behind him.

His smile fell at bit as he watched. They reminded him of something… unpleasant. Something he’d seen in some of the older movies while at the theater with Barbie. Maybe she was right… maybe this actually was a bad idea. He hadn’t thought that was even possible until now.

Oh no.

Ken took a few steps backwards as one of the dogs started to snap at him, still snarling while it did. He raised his hands, showing the dog his empty palms. “Woah, woah, easy. Easy. I’m not going to hurt you. Or the puppies.”

A loud BANG! sounded from the darkness, echoing through the valley that Ken had been walking in. Almost immediately after, one of the dogs let out a pained whine unlike anything Ken had ever heard in his life. The others turned and ran away while the one that cried fell to the ground, a thick red liquid soaking its fur on one side. He’d never seen anything like it before and… wow… he was thinking that a lot lately, wasn’t he? The Real World was so different from Barbieland. Even the things that were familiar were different.

He looked down at the dog lying at his feet. It wasn’t moving. Wasn’t making any noise. It was more like the dogs back home that way. But in a bad way. A way that made him… not happy. Very not happy. It was like how he felt when Barbie turned down his attempts at doing boyfriend/girlfriend things to have a party with the other Barbies but it wasn’t that. This was different. Like everything else in this world.

He knelt down beside the dog and put his hand on it’s snout. It didn’t react. The fur was coarse and warm. But… it was getting cold. Fast.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what was happening. All he knew was that he didn’t like the way it made him feel.

Dirt crunched under heavy boots behind the blond while he knelt over the animal. He looked up to see a man wearing a long coat and a hat standing there. The first person he’d seen aside from Barbie since they left home.

“You lost, brother?”

[saintlethanavir]

✨ Hey you! yes, you 🫵✨

✨Do you like getting monthly drawings of your blorbo?✨ Maybe some stickers in the mail? ✨How about your name in a game or even full early access to the whole process of said game?✨

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If you've read this far, hi! I'm Lev, local eldritch horror who draws silly little guys and I've got a deal for you! My husband @thecoffeerain and I run a patreon/Kofi where you can support our household and visual novel game just by giving £1 a month or more (if you are so inclined)

✨ The Fun Stuff ✨

Our Visual Novel in development is called Beyond Blood and it's all about supernatural creatures finding love in a small town + some vague apocalyptic events possibly. By becoming a member you can get full updates of the project all the way up to voting on characters and story elements, and get bonus content you won't see on social media!✨ You also get optional access to the equivalent patreon tier, if you'd like to see our non Beyond Blood content or even get more goodies!✨

(below is concept art for the game and only one lineup of many for Romance Options)

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We also have a generic patreon filled with fanart, oc content, a sticker club, exclusive drawings, monthly requests, and voting on lots of different things! Even from just £1 you get access to sketches, full wips, early access to full illustrations, and voting on collabs between myself and Jack!

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✨Not so fun stuff (why I will be queuing this every other post for a bit)✨

Both of us work grueling jobs that we are severely struggling with. We are both disabled, trans, and Neurodivergent. I work 8-9 hour days on my feet constantly to the point I've developed a need for a cane just to be able to get by. I'm also AUDHD and have begun to experience symptoms of severe burnout but I cannot stop working retail. Currently the NHS has decided I'm too high functioning/not bad enough to qualify for CBT or other therapies for my PTSD as well, despite the fact I've recently undergone traumatic events and have had multiple breakdowns. So if I want to treat these things I have to pay for it out of pocket and I cannot afford that.

My husband is in a job that has him constantly exhausted from early days and late night shifts, and the environment is not only discriminatory towards trans people but also to those with mental health issues. But again he can't leave his job.

Both of us are at our limit and we need something to change.

Anything helps, even just a reblog.

[anonymous-dentist]

hi!! I just wanted to give you kuddos over how great you're managing the addition of a different language in the fic; I'm a native spanish speaker and I usually avoid when people add spanish bits in english fics because it tends to feel forced, but you do it so perfectly, I always get all happy when you use it :D

also, you really got q!roier on point. I fully trust any decision you make with his character will be great because you get him fr fr. that is all! loving the fic, you're great :)

Thank you so much!! I’m always super careful about how/when I stick the Spanish or Portuguese or whatever into dialogue because I Do Not Want To Mess It Up lol. I’m a very monolingual English speaker (despite my best attempts), so it’s always a bit of a challenge trying to get the characters’ native languages in there in the right way.

Fun fact, my Spanish Translator is my best friend @anonymous-jey !! She’s Chilean, but she helps me get the Spain-y google translate Spanish I send her into something that Roier or Mariana or Spreen or whoever would actuallysay. I literally could not write this fic without her lol she’s my Favorite

And I’m glad to hear you like my qRoier because the literal reason he hasn’t shown up a lot in breaking dawn is because I’m so scared of writing him like. He’s a wild character!!! He wears his heart on his sleeve but also he’s a closet tryhard but also he will quite literally be the cause of your downfall and the root cause of you not immediately getting rescued after you’re kidnapped by a shady government organization and he will feel really bad about it because he loves his friends so much it literally kills him. I think the Brazilian fans have got it right when they say that his element out of the spooky supernatural elements that Cellbit has in his ritual room is Blood, which goes with feelings ig, because my guy qRoier is driven solely by his emotions. God bless

[stitchedscripts]

❝𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫?❞ | s. geto headcanons

WORD COUNT ;; 2264 .

TRIGGER WARNINGS ;; a bit of gore, s / h, && suicidal ideation .

NOTES ;; i think about geto more than any normal, sane person should so i thought i'd share my headcanons for him here !! they're split into categories for silly && wholesome, dark && angsty, and an au in which he becomes a teacher at jujutsu high ! i hope y'all enjoy !

SILLY && WHOLESOME ;;

– Suguru has two cats, Koko and Ruru. He named them after Shoko and Satoru, respectively. Ruru is very chill and gets along with most people, though he’s usually seen taking naps by the window. Koko, however, is very attached to Suguru and can get extremely jealous when he gives other people attention. She has a massive grudge against Satoru, and tends to attack him at every opportunity. Despite that, she loves other cats and is happy to spend time with them.

– Suguru keeps a small plushie that he and Satoru won together at the arcade by his bedside table at all times. It’s a massive comfort for him when Satoru isn’t really around, especially in the months leading to his defection from Jujutsu High. When he left, the plushie was one of the few things he took with him to remember Satoru by.

– Suguru LOVES horror movies, both good and bad. His favourites are movies with heavy psychological elements and ones that really make you think, and he loves to overanalyze them. He also likes supernatural and paranormal horror movies, though they don’t scare him in the slightest, as he can logically imagine most of what happens in those movies to be due to curses, and even if none of it was, those are the least realistic types of horror movies anyway.

– On the topic of movies, Suguru enjoys intentionally watching bad ones just to judge them with Satoru and Shoko. He gets surprisingly passionate about pointing out the flaws, much more than to be expected from him.

– Suguru also enjoys playing video games when he has the time to, though his attitude towards a lot of games is a lot different than it probably should be. Games that are supposed to be relaxing and chill ( e.g. Animal Crossing ) stress him out an unnecessary amount, whereas the games that he plays to wind down tend to be the goriest horror games.

– Speaking of playing games, Suguru tends to easily become attached to certain characters in story-driven games. In a more modern au, he and Satoru would have randomly decided to play Doki Doki Literature Club on a whim without knowing what they were getting into. Suguru quickly became attached to Sayori as a character because in a way, she reminded him of Satoru, and he was FLABBERGASTED when she died. He refuses to ever admit it to anyone but he cried and a break needed to be taken after that.

– Suguru’s favourite animal is the beluga whale. He liked them as a child and that carried on to his later years. They just seemed to bring him a sense of joy that he just couldn’t explain. Belugas seem to be drawn to him as well, as there have been several times where he’s taken a trip to the aquarium and a beluga has swam right up to where he was standing, pushing its nose right up against the glass where he had gently placed his hand.

– Suguru doesn’t swear all that much. A lot of the time, he has to be really upset for a curse word to come out of him, and anyone he talks to can tell he’s in the worst mood when he says it with his usual calm, collected tone and that soft smile on his face.

– Suguru has a bit of a problem when it comes to taking people into his group. Whenever he comes across a mistreated sorcerer with nowhere else to go, he instantly wants to take them in, as he doesn’t want them to have to suffer in the way that Mimiko, Nanako and many others had. He very frequently has to be stopped by the other members of his found family, though, because there would probably be way too many people and not enough space in the temple if he were to take in everyone he wanted to.

– Even after he defected, Suguru and Shoko still met up for coffee every couple weeks due to Shoko still remaining a voice of neutrality in the jujutsu world. The two of them would simply catch up and have a nice conversation with each other every session. Most of the time, Shoko would poke a little fun at Suguru for his ideals, and while he does try to defend himself, he mainly just lets her. ( best friend clownery privileges <3 )

– Suguru used to do theatre in middle school. He used to be cast in all the scary roles despite that being the opposite of who he was at the time, and he was great at playing them.

– Suguru enjoyed going all-out for Halloween back in school. He always had the best costumes, and sometimes he would act the part as well. One year, he dressed up as a character who was possessed for a majority of the thing they were from, and it was a team effort between Satoru and Shoko to do his makeup, wrap chains around him and dump a jug of fake blood on him while he stood in a bathtub. When he showed up to school with ripped clothes, messy hair, bloodshot eyes and completely soaked in blood, it scared the hell out of Utahime and Haibara.

– Suguru very much enjoys reading. He finds that books can make for a great escape from the world, and he loves curling up inside and getting lost in a good book when he can.

– In a similar vein, Suguru likes watching the movie / TV show adaptations of books he’s read and pointing out the differences between them. He appreciates seeing the different versions of the stories being told in a new medium, but he will get passionate and a little upset if the adaptation is bad. Satoru has had to listen to many a rant about how film adaptations have completely messed up some of Suguru’s favourite books.

TEACHER GETO AU ;;

– In an au where Suguru was talked out of defecting and becomes a teacher at Jujutsu High, his mind is still very fragile and he could still very well be driven to violence the way he was in canon if pushed far enough. Unfortunately, “far enough” means “at every minor inconvenience” to him. Dropped a piece of chalk? Well damn, all of the non-sorcerers have to die now. He’s not gonna do it, but he’ll certainly think about it.

– In that same au, Suguru has a very close mentor / student bond with Nobara, Yuji, and Inumaki.

– Suguru and Nobara talk about absolutely everything. They have weekly shit talks and gossip sessions, in which he usually tells her about embarrassing things that Satoru did back in high school for her to use as blackmail against him. He also lets her rant / vent to him about anything that might be on her mind, and he gives her the best advice when she needs it.

– Suguru often takes Nobara out shopping ( with Satoru’s credit card, of course ) when the two of them have spare time, then takes her out for ice cream afterwards.

– Yuji’s smile and energy is absolutely infectious to Suguru. He could be having the worst day imaginable, but one smile from Yuji and a word of reassurance that everything would be okay could brighten his mood in an instant.

– Yuji is fascinated by Suguru’s cursed technique and loves hearing about it from him – and Suguru, of course, does his best to tell him everything he wants to know. Sometimes, he even summons a few of his lower level curses for Yuji to practice training with.

– Suguru was initially the person to recruit Inumaki to come to Jujutsu High after hearing of some of the incidents regarding him accidentally cursing people without intending to.

– Suguru picked up on the meanings of Inumaki’s rice ball speech fairly quickly, and it didn’t take long to be able to have a conversation with him. Sometimes, he would speak in rice ball ingredients back, making it almost like a kind of code for the two of them. Suguru was one of, if not the first person to make Inumaki feel as if he were finally truly understood.

– Suguru ended up acting as a translator for Inumaki due to being able to understand him so quickly. His favourite time to translate for him was in the middle of arguments, where he would speak in the exact same tone as Inumaki so that the translated words would have the same effect.

– Due to being specifically targeted by Kenjaku for his cursed technique, Suguru still dies by the end of this au, the difference being that he ends up being brutally slaughtered by Kenjaku himself while out on a mission, completely disappearing from the school without a trace.

DARK && ANGSTY ;;

– From the moment he was born, Suguru always felt as though he was being watched by a pair of eyes that burned into his skull, judging his every move. He always passed it off as an irrational feeling and ignored it, but the truth was that he was right. Kenjaku was always watching him, pulling the strings that eventually led to his demise in order to steal his body and cursed technique.

– Suguru absolutely despises crying, especially in front of other people. He never lets himself do it in front of even the closest people to him, yet the guilt, sorrow, hatred and anger that he constantly feels towards the world and the pain that he’s inflicted on those he holds dear makes him feel as though he constantly needs to. When he’s alone, he feels as though he can finally sob his heart out, although it always makes him feel pathetic and weak. He’s supposed to be a ruthless, brutal killer, the worst curse user, yet there are many times after a long, exhausting day where all he can do is let himself cry.

– Piggybacking off of that, this parallels what Suguru used to do in the weeks leading up to his defection from the school when even spending time with Satoru and Shoko, the two who were supposed to bring him the most joy out of anything, hurt him too much. When he couldn’t do that, all he could do was hole himself up in his room and sob his heart out.

– Along with crying, Suguru despises the idea of worrying people with his issues, so he’s extremely prone to bottling them up until they completely explode inside of him. He often feels like he has no one to turn to when he isn’t doing well due to his aversion to burdening others with his problems on top of his own. He constantly forces himself to keep up his calm, collected persona and tries his best to help other people with their issues despite being in no condition to do so, just so that he can ensure he won’t worry anyone else.

– For ten years, Suguru craved the sweet hand of death to come and take him from the mortal realm. He wasn’t sure if he genuinely wanted to die or if he was simply waiting on his inevitable execution, but the truth was that he really did crave his end. That was a sentiment that he seldom admitted to even himself, but it ate away at his mind at every waking moment. He told himself that he had to live for his family and for the creation of his ideal world, but as he was living on borrowed time anyway, he wanted death to envelop him in its sweet embrace sooner rather than later.

– Suguru has recurring dreams that involve him eventually snapping and ripping his own heart out and watching himself bleed, squeezing it until it eventually pops, letting the blood inside of his heart soak his hands and the rest of his body. These dreams stem from his internal belief that his life would be so much easier to get through if he really were heartless like much of the jujutsu world believes him to be. If he didn’t care nearly as much as he did about the people he loves, he could do so much more without the constant mental consequence, but seeing as he does, he’s plagued with so many negative emotions at all times that he is unable to voice to anyone. Over time, his dreams started occurring so much that they became genuine ideation and he really began to wish that he could just rip his heart right out of his chest.

– Due to all of the walls that Suguru has put up since the Star-Plasma Vessel incident, he’s realized that a lot of the time, he doesn’t even feel human anymore. He struggles to differentiate between what he really feels and what’s all just part of the front he puts up, and he sometimes questions if any of his feelings are real or if he’s just fooling himself and everyone else into thinking they are.

– Suguru has a bad habit of stabbing into his hand with his nails so hard that it bleeds. It used to be an impulse thing he did on autopilot, but it became intentional as he tried to focus on the pain and the blood dripping from his hand rather than the thoughts in his head.

[bereft-of-frogs]

friday! 🌿

books:

(in progress) Salvation Day - Kali Wallace: I have started and not finished this book like 4 times. Which is probably a bad sign because I also didn't love the other book by this author I read. I've heard this is better though. But I couldn't pick anything else, officially DNF'd Kill Show, I skimmed a couple pages of the other book I took out of the library and I think I'm too much in A Mood to read it, so I am attempting this again.

(in progress) The Rising Storm - Cavan Scott: Not much to say, chugging along with catching up on the High Republic, extremely slowly. I'm just happy Bell and Indeera are back! Love them.

(finished) The Hobbit: Not my favorite, but I feel like it's good to revisit occasionally. Still hilarious when Tolkien kind of slips into that super epic fantasy voice, and then goes right back into 'kids adventure' tone

(in progress) The Silmarillion: Ngl, part of this reread is fueled by that person on the 'have you read this fantasy book' who for some reason didn't believe that 300 people (based on the results at the time of their comment) read The Silmarillion and accused us all of lying for clout. (which like...clout? what clout? why would I lie about this?) So I'm reading it again.

tv:

Constellations (AppleTV+): I LOVE this. LOVE it. I mean I'm always a sucker for space ghosts so that was a given, but this is really fun. The lost cosmonaut stuff, communicating through tapes, the fairy tale like elements. I love it Also my toxic trait is basically any multiverse thing I judge based on whether or not I think it could be a branch of The OA's multiverse tree and this passes that test, you can easily imagine Brit Marling and Jason Issacs chasing each other around the universes just off-screen. I only have one episode left, really interested to see where things are going (still wondering who the 'ghost' who appeared when the Soyuz disengaged from the ISS was, I have a Theory, but I'm not sure yet). Also bonus point for having some absolutely genuinely creepy scenes. I am so desensitized, it's always really fun when something manages to unsettle me.

You (Netflix): Trash fave, this is my current 'while I'm cooking/eating dinner' show, it's so cheesy but I love it. I never watched the latest season but revisiting season 1 is fun.

Under the Bridge (Hulu): Yeah so episode 1 I was like 'oh old friends? that would be hot. they'll never do it' and then episode 3 was like 'yeah they're *old friends* *wink* *they make out*' and I was like OH OK.

film:

They Cloned Tyrone (2023): I love movies where at the climax everything seems to go wrong and then it rewinds and shows you how it's really all going according to plan. Also, this was brilliant for the plan basically revolving around the villains seeing what they wanted to see, and the protagonists playing into that. And it recreated the vibe of those 70s exploitation films so well.

Palm Springs (2020): This kept appearing on 'what time loop media is your favorite' polls so I thought I'd rewatch it. Still SUCH a fun time loop movie. I did vote for it in both polls, despite the second also having 'that one episode of supernatural' as a possibility.

The Grudge (2019): ABYSMAL. Like truly terrible. I'm not saying the original US remakes were good, but they do have a special place in my heart because they were some of the first movies to really scare me. And also I thought maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I liked the Netflix Ju-On: Origins series that came out in 2020 fine despite it not getting very good reviews. But no. In this case, the reviews were correct, this was awful. In the running for the worst movie of the year and it's barely May.

The Stranger (2020): Maika Monroe has such a weird typecasting haha but I don't hate it. I learned that this was apparently supposed to be a Quibi series and was stitched back together after the fall of Quibi. It probably would have been more effective as short form content. I probably would have ate it up. But as a film it just felt like 'ok wtf is going on'.

to do:

work day: I'm hoping to get through my tasks fast so I can write on the clock. ('doesn't that mean you should be doing them and not making this post?' SILENCE.)

oh man so much writing because I set myself a deadline so now. there's that. well ok it is self-imposed and if things do go catastrophically wrong, I can JUST post the first chapter. That's for sure ready. ideally though: finish the last 2.5 chapters this weekend -> resolve comments (most of which are just 'come up with secondary character name', 'check spelling on wiki', but there is one I know I have to be clever for which...we'll see how clever I can be) -> full read-through. I'll eventually (sooner rather than later) have to rewrite the action sequences of chapter 9, but I think that should be enough to make me feel like I can start weekly posting.

I might go to my favorite thrift store tomorrow to look for some 'person who cares about their job' dresses/blouses/idk for annual corporate socializing event week

Star Wars day! lol remember how exactly a year ago I was like 'idk man, it's star wars day but I'm really not feeling it' and then had to eat my words like literally less than two weeks later? that was funny. cheers to that. Meeting my dad and brother at the movie theater and then we're going out for pizza just like it's 1999 (ok my brother was not actually there in 1999 because he was 4, but we welcome him to the nostalgia trip)

the monthly Big Clean (aka I fell behind on recycling so I have to take a lot down to the recycling bins, and the vacuum and mop are coming out)

pretend to care about my job for 3 days. Ok, no, I do care about my job in that I actually do like it and I want to do a good job, I just don't really care about like...*the company*. but I will get a lot of free food and probably wine if I pretend to care about the company for 3 days. so. fair exchange.

[springdandelixn]

Kiss of Life

Vampire!Vision x F!Reader

Summary: Your search for your boyfriend has you finding him on the cusp of death.

Warnings: mentions of vices (smoking joints), supernatural elements, but overall fluff. Or depending how you take it.

It‘s never too late to post spooky stuff! It’s been a while since I wrote Vision so this was really something good to take on. A breath of fresh air if you will hehe Also, this showcases Vision’s human form.

As always, your comments and likes are highly appreciated. Re-blogging would be even better for it would help share my story. Thank you for reading this and I hope you all enjoy! ❤️💛

“Have you seen Vision?”

Loki turns his head to face you, only to frown and give you a response of no with a shake of a head. 

“I thought he was with you?” He asks, almost shouting, over the loud music. 

“He was but now I cannot find him anywhere.” 

He just shrugs at your words and you turn away, leaving him with his brother, and look around the packed house for your boyfriend. 

In the living room, in the kitchen, even in the rooms on the second floor, accidentally walking in on a couple and shutting the door fast, and running back down in embarrassment, you frown as you’re still left empty from your search. 

It suddenly has you thinking that he’s left you at the party. 

He didn’t want to go in the first place. Telling you that you can go without him since he has some work to catch up on. But you insisted, arriving at his apartment in your MIB costume and pushing to put his on before dragging him out and heading to the party. 

You take off your coat, feeling too warm from the cluster of bodies in the house, and make your way to the front door, hoping to see him standing outside, waiting, or even chatting with one of your friends. 

But you don’t see him. Though you see Steve, Bucky, and Sam smoking a joint by the steps and you immediately make your way to them, nodding your head in acknowledgment when they greet you and turning down their over for a hit. 

“Have you seen Vision?” You ask, mostly to Sam, knowing that he’s one of your boyfriend's close friends. 

“He was here a while ago, looking for you,” Bucky answers instead, passing Steve the joint. “Didn’t see him after.”

“Do you guys know if he went back in?” 

They shake their heads. 

“He must have left,” Sam adds. “He looked kinda sick.” 

His words fill you with worry and you immediately leave them after giving a soft ‘thanks’ before walking out into the street and getting in your car. 

You try to call him, starting the engine as your phone dials, but curse when you’re sent to voice mail. You try again, driving slowly down the street, eyes looking left and right, high on alert, hoping you’d catch him and that nothing bad has happened. 

“He should have told me he wasn’t feeling well.” You mutter to yourself, worrying your lip as you keep your eyes vigilant for him. 

Then your eyes catch a glimpse at the side, making you turn your head and gasp in shock when you see Vision slumped in an alley, his eyes closed and his hand resting on his side. You park your car, not caring about any of the traffic rules, and run up to him. 

“V!” You call his name and dropped down to your knees, your heart beating loudly against your chest when you notice has pale he looks, hissing at the coldness of his skin. “V, are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” You ask frantically. “It’s me—I’m here.” 

He whispers your name and a soft yet weak smile graces his lips and you sigh in relief to see him respond, holding his hand tightly in yours. “What are you doing here?” He asks. “Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

“I was looking for you. Are you hurt?” You pat his body down, making sure that he’s okay. “Are you sick?” 

He shakes his head and the smile on his lips dies down as he looks at you with hooded eyes. 

Your eyes then widen when you see the blue of his irises gone, replaced with pools of black. A wince leaves your lips when he grabs hold of your wrist, the grip tight despite his image of weakness.

“Darling, you have to go—” He groans, his forehead creasing as his head hangs low, a guttural growl escaping his lips. “Please, you shouldn’t be here.” There’s agony in his voice and you reach up to cup his face, making him face you. And from the way he starts to look at you, how his face seems to change, almost looking feral and hungry, you know something is terribly wrong. “Please—go. While I can still hold it.”

“Hold what? What’s wrong?” You push, pulling your hand free from his grasp and holding his face with both hands. “Tell me. Let me help you.” 

He seems to be thinking with the way he stares, his mouth slightly parting, hanging open and you notice his canines poking down on his lower lip.

This cannot be real! 

You’ve only known such creatures existed in stories and movies. Never once thought that they would be roaming amongst people in real life. Yet here he is, his fangs already exposing themselves from his mouth, his skin pale as the moon, and his skin cold as ice. 

“Are you—” You want to ask but the words die down on your lips.

“Yes.” He groans. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is yes. So, please—” He begs, a frown evident on his face. “Leave while you still can.”

“What happens when you don’t—” You want to say the words but you don’t have the courage to push on. 

“I would die.” He says weakly. “But it will be better this way.”

No! You can’t let him!

You grab his hand tight and close your eyes as you contemplate what to do. You can’t let him die. Whatever he is, whoever he is, you’ve come to love him. And losing him—you simply cannot think of what would happen to you if you do. 

You look at him once more, taking in his image. His blond hair falling over his eyes, his body completely drained from strength, and his hand laying lip in your hold. 

You can’t let him.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of his hand and begin unbuttoning your shirt. You ignore the way his eyes grow wide and carefully, you tuck yourself between his legs, pushing yourself closer to him as much as you can. 

Tugging down the shirt from your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, exposing the junction between your neck and shoulder, and hold his hand, your other moving to rest it at the base of his neck. 

“As much as you need, please,” You tell him softly. “I—I don’t want to lose you.” 

“Darling, no—” He grunts and tries to push you away but you stay firmly in place. “I cannot. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ll hurt me more if you die—so please.” You look down at him, eyes pleading. “I love you.” 

He blinks at your words and you see him exhale. Your breath hitches when you feel his arms wrap around you, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer. 

You hear a soft hiss emit from his lips and you close your eyes tight, your fingers grabbing a handful of his hair as you feel his fangs sink into their mark, Vision taking what he needs from you.

As much as you need. As much as you want. Just live.

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

Seventh Son (originally The Spook's Apprentice):

The book is a dark fantasy book for children, with fantastical elements that ring true to folklore but still have their own distinct flair, really well written horror centered on the fact that the protagonist is still just a boy, and a very strong theme that the spook opposes the forces of darkness and evil with knowledge and wits rather than heroics. The series as a whole has a lot of digs at established powers, both the Church or the nobles. It also has a mentor that is showed as imperfect from the get-go because of sexist tropes, and a protagonist who criticizes it even at the beginning when he's just a boy. The movie makes the protagonist an adult, turns the spook from an old wise man who practices using a stick (peasant weapon!) to fight and throwing silver chains to immobilize supernatural creatures, into the SURVIVOR of an ORDER OF KNIGHTS, and generally removes all the slow creeping horror to turn it into generic shitty fantasy movie #493, with bad acting on top. And it bombed so bad it probably RUINED the Spook's series chances to ever get a good adaptation, damnit!

Mentor gets changed from being part of a long line of people with a cool fantasy job to a discount Templar, cool methods of handling monsters got reduced to just killing them, awesome assassin grandma changed to Default Movie Witch, and more! It's pretty much not the story anymore.

It takes pretty much nothing that I liked from the books with the initial premise and some names being pretty much the only things kept intact.

The plot and world were completely changed. Most of the changes make for a much more generic and, in my opinion, worse story. Spooks in the books are seventh sons of seventh sons who are trained to fight creatures of the dark because seventh sons of seventh sons are able to sense the supernatural. They are hired for jobs by ordinary people, usually exorcising ghosts or capturing creatures like boggarts and witches. In the movie, the Spooks are also seventh sons of seventh sons, but for some reason, they are an order of knights. In the books lot of people think Spooks are charlatans until they come face to face with a ghost or creature of the dark because the world is usually pretty ordinary and peaceful. The setting is inspired by Lancashire and the world feels pretty unique. The setting in the movie is Generic CGI Fantasy Land where everyone has American accents and big CGI monsters are everywhere.

The protagonist Tom and Alice, his friend and later love interest, were aged up like in the Percy Jackson movies. In the books, Tom starts out as a 12-year-old and grows up as the series continues. He starts out very uncertain and wants to stay on his family farm. He only becomes a Spook because he knows he has to get a job to ease the financial burden on his family. He grows into his role as a Spook's apprentice over time. Alice is a pretty interesting character in the books, she is naturally very talented as a witch but struggles with the darker side of her powers over the course of the series. In the movie, they became incredibly generic Hero and Love Interest characters with pretty much no personality and instantly fall in love.

Mother Malkin was a first-book villain, who was mostly only such a threat because Tom was an extremely inexperienced 12-year-old at this point who accidentally released her and didn't realise how dangerous she was. She was monstrous and decrepit and fed on blood. In the movie she is turned into a beautiful seductress and a world-ending threat who can turn into a dragon. They also made her the Spook's lover for some reason.

Tom's mother is a really cool character in the books who pushes him to become a Spook despite him being reluctant and plays a larger role in the later books. In the movie, Tom is the one who wants to be a Spook and his mother doesn't want him to.

I think the character who got it worst was the Spook himself, John Gregory. In the books, he is a former priest at the end of his career as a Spook, he is incredibly uptight and disciplined to an extent that other Spooks find over the top. For example, he has a rule of fasting before a battle that he makes his apprentices follow and he only kills as a last resort. He's tough but usually pretty fair to Tom and explains things to him so he doesn't get hurt. In the movie he is pretty much the complete opposite, he's a drunkard who spends the whole movie making getting angry and fighting and doesn't seem very interested in teaching Tom how to be a Spook. Also, the accent that Jeff Bridges uses is terrible.

I'm not sure the movie would be enjoyable if you hadn't read the books, having read them I hated it, but I feel like it would be mediocre at best even without the comparison. The acting is pretty bad despite the big-name cast. I think you could maybe enjoy it in a so bad it's good kind of way. The books were spooky and pretty charming from what I remember and I think if they had been adapted more accurately, preferably as a TV show, it could have been pretty good. Sorry this is such an essay, I've never hated an adaptation more. It's been a long time since I've both read the books and seen the movie, so if anyone wants to correct anything feel free.

The Hobbit trilogy:

Ugh. Too long, added a bunch of unecessary stuff. Tried to make it be the same as lord of the rings instead of a bunch of weird little adventures

Stretched into three films, unbearable amounts of filler, yet important scenes are dropped or not given their due.

Stretched a book that could've easily been a single movie into three, added useless romance subplots, doesn't delve into any of the subplots that *might* have benefitted from more time, the dwarves are turned into caricatures, tried to unnecessarily connect it to the events of Lord of the Rings beyond the already present connections of the original story

[englass]

Concept/Title: Viewfinder

Pairing(s): Joseph Seed x Reader? / Undecided

Word Count: 3,187

Warning(s): Supernatural elements, horror elements, mentioned gore, death/ghosts, bad language/swearing.

A/N(s): Labelling this a concept piece because it’s not that refined imo; I got violently struck by the need to write it after randomly thinking of the idea at work. Doubt I’ll expand on it, but still interesting to write. And yes, I’m fully aware I’ve missed Halloween but– shh, who am I to question when inspiration strikes?

-/-/-

“Holy shit…”

It wasn’t anything new. Really, you shouldn’t be surprised; not with all you’ve heard about them. Not with the things you’ve seen…

But it’s the volume that catches your breath, makes shaky words tumble loose in a wispy exhale despite your aim for covertness.

You shouldn’t be here. Perched precariously across a high branch, you never should have come here. You can’t even remember why you’d decided on such recklessness in the first place, far removed from your typical cautious nature.

It was likely curiosity, the damned thing. What with this local war, once a whispered rumour with the tension brewing in the county, now in full swing.

You were unaligned, vehemently against the needless bloodshed on both sides. Had seen too much death in the calm of a spring evening to ever want to see it in the wrath of an actual war.

Without your camera, an old heirloom passed down to those with your ‘talents’ in the family, you could only catch glimpses. The unnatural glint of luna’s light in the corner of your eye, reflecting off the impression of a form that isn’t there in your periphery.

With the camera however… Well, fact is oftentimes stranger than fiction and seeing the evidence of some of the ways people have died is…

It was terrifying as a child; it’s still terrifying as a young adult.

God, you’ve always wanted to throw this fucking camera away. Put your foot to it so you would never have to see the horrors that lurk behind its lens again. Save any future members of your bloodline from the trauma it will surely lash upon them.

But you can’t.

It’s like a compulsion; morbid curiosity in full unrelenting force. You can’t bring yourself to destroy it. The not knowing, the paranoia should you ever lose – even just misplace it keeps it close.

Hardly a comfort, but always better the devil you know.

And you would always rather know than not when they are looking at you.

But this… this is unprecedented.

They’re not looking at you – fuck, thank god – but they are looking at him; at them.

Fucking hell, there’s so many…

It’s sickening. Seeing one is bad enough, having one follow you is worse, but this… this man has a whole fucking army of ghosts around him. All surrounding him, all circled close along with the living but still maintaining a certain respectable distance from him.

Are they all his followers, devoted in death as they were in life? Or have some inadvertently latched on to him, tethered themselves to him from the fear or rage he caused them in their final moments? It’s hard to tell. The toils and muck of conflict stains them all, makes them indistinguishable from one another.

You suppose death never has been a biassed prick.

The sight is beyond unsettling all the same, though.

Can he feel them? You know you can, if they get close to you. Still not figured out if they can hurt you though; never given them the chance, never been brave enough to try. Only ever turned tail or shot them with your camera in a reactive bid to startle them away. Sometimes they come back, other times they don’t. Sometimes they appear to want to show you something, other times… other times you don’t know.

You don’t exactly care to look at them long enough to find out.

Thankfully, depending on who you were to ask, he doesn’t seem to notice them. None of them do. Not even the girl, their appointed sister, despite how much exposure to that fucked up Bliss stuff she’s apparently had.

You’ve heard it causes hallucinations, makes people see things; you sometimes wonder at how much of what they see is really there or not.

They all have ghosts, you notice though. More so the preacher, Joseph if you remember rightly. But the other two men – his brothers, have a few of their own too. Barely a handful each, but…

You shiver, breath a whispered gasp as you see the way they stare. There’s no emotion in a ghost's face, completely blank and expressionless save for whatever injuries or lacerations may scar them. Even their eyes are blank, void of any thought or feeling, never no different than the eyes of a dead fish; but the intensity… that is something else. That is something felt.

And if they could… well, you’re sure they’d be glaring something fierce.

Did they kill them? It’s an awful thought, but with what you’ve heard it wouldn’t be far beyond the realm of possibility. The Seeds have always had blood on their hands, as goes the local gossip. And with how fixated the two and one ghosts are on the other two brothers respectively…

There’s history there, at the least. Enough history that you don’t think they’d ever leave.

Grudge worthy history.

God, how do they sleep at night from such a look? From such a silent and inexpressible rage? It’s beyond you.

… You really should leave.

This is dangerous. The full weight of the situation you’ve found yourself in starting to drag you down. Chewing at your already fraying nerves. It’s not even like you could take a picture to hand over to the resistance as a peace offering of sorts, in exchange for your continued uninvolvement. The flash would go off; the outcome would be your worst case scenario.

Slowly, so slowly you start to move. The ramblings of the zealous preacher falling further into the background as you attempt to manoeuvre from your, admittedly awkward position across the branch.

You don’t think too much of the chill from the night air. A glance towards Joseph and his entourage is enough proof that the ghosts haven’t moved from their docile positions, dead eyes still fixed on the preacher. You breathe a sigh of relief and continue to carefully raise yourself into a sitting position, making sure to keep as much of yourself as close together and hidden as possible under the leaves and cover of night.

It wouldn’t do for anyone to see you swinging about like some damsel in distress because you lost your balance.

In a cruel moment of irony, you stretch your leg back to start shimmying to the trunk of the tree, fully intending to make your way down and skedaddle away, when your foot suddenly slips from its hook on the branch too quickly. Body tipping dangerously to one side, frantically wrapping your arms around it, camera scuffing against the sturdy wood as you pin it harshly between your chest and the branch.

Thankfully, the flash doesn’t go off.

Taking a gasping breath, your eyes skittishly dart from person to person, hoping beyond all else that no one heard your – almost – fall. When no one seems to bat an eye you sigh, slumping with the weight of it to further cage your camera against you; forehead colliding a little harsher than intended into the bark.

That was too close.

With another quieter sigh you start to rise again, adamant to get away as quickly and stealthily as possible; not wanting to test your luck any further tonight.

But then you see it.

A glimmer, an unnatural glint of silver in your periphery.

You freeze.

Breath catching in your chest, fear an icy tendril sliding down your back you stare wide eyed at nothing; eyes becoming unfocused in a vain attempt to better see what is typically hidden. To attempt to follow the things you normally can’t.

It’s a silly attempt. Worthless really, but still you make it. No different to chasing those squiggly things in your eyes.

Cautiously you slide your camera out from under you. Turning to look over the edge to the ground below, vision spinning at the sudden acknowledgment of just how high up you are. You close your eyes hard for a few seconds, take a deep breath, and raise your camera…

It’s there. Almost right underneath you.

Dead eyes staring up at you, empty and expressionless.

You don’t move. Snared in the trap that these weird moments of looking at something that shouldn’t be, that isn’t there for most people, lock you into. Almost like an invincible ledge that you don’t know the limits of, nor the depth of the fall that awaits you should you get too close.

They are a follower of Joseph’s, though. You can easily make out the mark of the cult on their shredded jumper. Can see the inked branding of a sin on the inside of their arm. You think there might be hints of another one on their face, but… if there was one it’s gone now. Missing with the entirety of their right cheek; muscle and tendon and teeth exposed, part of their tongue…

They don’t gurgle though. Or choke. Or do anything really to show off their grisly wound. Not like the way they do in the movies or on television shows. There’s no fanfare here. They’re already dead, they have no need to sputter and uselessly swallow. They’re just an apparition. A scary one, a harmless one, but an apparition all the same.

Or at least, you try to tell yourself that.

With the sting of salt in your eyes you watch in distress as the ghost raises its arm, loosely outstretched toward you. Burnt and blood coated fingers pried apart into a lethargic open grab, a claw ready to steal you from your haven.

Oh, you’re so fucked…

It’s blocking your only way down. The only good thing is that ghosts can’t climb, but one of many pieces of bad news is that it's standing guard, waiting for you to eventually leave the safety of the tree. Sadly you don’t have the luxury of staying in one place forever, unlike the dead do.

The only thing you can think to do is to jump, but that’d be stupid– even for you. If you fall wrong you're done for. Staying up here might not be ideal, but at least you're not down there with it; incapacitated to boot if you were to be foolish enough to take the risk and end up hurting yourself.

… But you need to leave.

You’re becoming too lost in your fear, can feel your finger hovering over the shutter button, the urge to press down and drive the thing away growing the higher your panic rises. The need to flee itches at you, makes you twitch the longer it stares blankly up at you through the camera. Arm raised and painfully still.

What the fuck does it want?!

Before you catch yourself your mouth is already opening, a hushed ‘go away’ on the tip of your tongue–

And then there’s a shout, a raucous rally and the sporadic spritz of gunfire.

You jump, muscles flinching violently as you move to look too quickly, arm slipping out from under you–

Hands reflectively grabbing your camera tightly to hold onto and protect–

The impression of a button under your finger–

The flash goes off.

“Ahh–!”

You’re blinded, vision seared white as you're shot near point blank, flail in your shock and feel yourself slip from the branch, scrambling too late to save yourself before the blurry world is tumbling by too quickly–

A crack of pain has you scream out.

The ground a harsh greeting as you warble a pained cry, breath a wheezing cough as you weakly roll from your back to your side.

Fuck, you think you caught your shoulder…

The world is still a blurry mess of afterimages and lights, tears threatening to fall at the pain ricocheting through you, but you don’t have a chance to try and work yourself through it all before you're being mercilessly yanked to your feet. Rough hands grabbing and clawing as you are thrown into the roaring crowd.

“G-get the fuck off me! Let me go!” Your demands are far weaker and shakier than you want them to be as you're dragged along, shoved into one person only to collide and be pulled by another, the jeering exclamations and threats of the cult loud and ringing in your ears before you’re aggressively tossed to the ground.

You barely stop your face from hitting the ground, knees and forearms taking the brunt of the assault as your head instead knocks into your shielding arms before resting there as you curl into yourself. Make yourself as small and un-intimidating as possible in the eyes of the dead and living both.

Although, you’re far more concerned about the latter…

Choking at the harsh dig of your hoodie into your jugular, you're yanked by your hood back and onto your knees. Fingers clawing at the pressure around your throat as you're made to look up into the piercing eyes of the cult’s leader: the elusive Joseph Seed.

Freezing, you barely pay any mind to how he lightly raises his hand, a hush falling over everyone at the placating gesture as the choking grip on your hood is slackened into a controlled grip; a warning hold.

… You’re so going to die here.

The realisation has you gasping on a shuddery breath, tears gathered from your painful fall now weeping down your cheeks at the physical and mental strain of it all. The emotional turmoil of being so viciously confronted with the sudden fragility of your existence.

There’s no mercy here, you realise. No conceivable way to weasel yourself out of this now that you’ve been captured. Any excuse you can think up, any plea your brain desperately provides turns to ash in your mouth. There’s no way out of this…

He’s going to kill you…

You’re going to become one of them…

Glimpsing the flickers of light snagging on their ethereal forms you try not to actively look and search them out. The cold is far more prevalent when surrounded by them all, all no doubt watching you now that Joseph’s ramblings have come to a close at your impromptu arrival.

You try not to shiver though, try not to draw attention to the fact that you’re trying to look for something that isn't there. You’re sure you fail though, if the way Joseph slowly tilts his head is any indication. Natural eye colour tinted differently with the defence of his sickly yellow glasses between you.

Effortlessly, the older man kneels in front of you. Keenly observing you as you sniffle and barely hold back a shiver, breathe a contained gasp at how close he suddenly is. You try to retreat, to back away from him but you can’t; his hands quickly yet gently take your face into his grasp, holding you steady in his subtle inspection of you.

He calls you a child, tone patronising yet insufferably endearing as if you know no better. Looming over you as he admonishes you with all the righteous authority of a concerned father. Falls into a terrifying inflection of faux-sympathy as his thumbs brush absent circles into your damp cheeks, passes too close to your vulnerable eyes to be anything less than an unspoken threat; an intimidating yet wordless demand for your compliance.

You merely stare wide eyed at him, listen halfheartedly to his fraudulent platitudes and serpentine reassurances. Addressing all present, not just yourself as the object of his unwavering stare. Manufacturing a humble spectacle as he makes voiced inquiries he has no intention of letting you answer, drawing assumptions that rile up the onlookers into a thunderous rapture as much as it eases them from the edge of action.

Completely controlled and controlling.

An arrogance thinly veiled, a power freely wielded and openly demonstrated.

He is dangerous, beyond reason and comprehension. The devil is a sweet talker, and Joseph’s tongue is an enticing silver snare for the unguarded; words an enchanting will-o-wisp preying on the gloom of a despondent soul.

It’s little wonder he has risen to such notoriety.

Then his eyes drop, his voice stills, and his smile fades.

A pause. Lengthy and considering; lined with a tenuous, yet undefinable tension.

Watched by all around with bated breath, your interaction a show upon this most undesired stage, the hum of your joint audience a silent wonder and murmured question.

… What is he–?

Before you can follow the thought, he reaches for you.

He takes your camera.

“No, wait– let go of me!”

In the midst of your renewed struggle, panicked and desperate as he frees you from the metaphorical shackle of your camera and its strap around your neck, you keep your wary sight trained on Joseph. Watch in morbid interest in case he sees something, that he’ll be scarred by whatever it is he finds on the other side, letting you go free from the fear that will no doubt begin to plague him at such a blasphemous view.

Though you also fearfully hope he doesn’t break it…

He carefully turns your camera to and fro, expression contemplative as his fingers brush over the vintage wood. Tracing the elegant silver vines and delicate spirals inlayed into its frame.

He looks to you, peers at you over the frame of his garish glasses in a manner too much like the ghosts that watch you both.

You can’t keep the contact, too quick to look away and stare wantonly at your camera instead. Casting nervous glances to the flickers of unnatural light in the corners of your vision; afterimages quick to dodge your direct line of sight.

Joseph raises the camera; looks it over one last time, before finally looking through the viewfinder.

You hold your breath, struggles ceasing a second after at the morbid wonder that has taken hold. He doesn’t jolt or flinch or give any indication that he sees anything, simply looks through it. Seamlessly turning to point the camera at the many people around him, to turn it on his own brothers and sister; to turn it on you.

You flinch violently at having the dark lens of your camera pointed at you; the abysmal eye of death’s observer trained intently on your trembling form. Your terrified and living visage reflected in the black pitch of its glass.

Click—

There’s a flash, blinding and sudden and you yelp at the revitalised burn of your eyes, held tightly closed as you attempt to blink away the afterimage seared into your poor eyes: the ominous face of your camera staring back at you, a mask upon the devil before you.

Hesitantly your eyes flutter open, ears picking up at the laborious whir of your old camera as it develops the film.

Joseph is disinterested in you, focused purely on the picture slowly drooling from the film ejector.

He takes it gently, briefly shaking it to help develop the picture quicker. Once he’s satisfied, he stares. Shaded eyes glossing over the captured details of your person.

Green tinted eyes slowly crawl from the picture to its living counterpart. Watching you from his towering advantage as you shrink further under his blank yet intense gaze. So much like them, so much like them…

And then he smiles.

“You can see them too.”

[neiviele]

I wrote this about a month ago when the "is tulpamancy ok" topic popped up and didn't get to post it. My thoughts are largely the same though, so might as well post them.

I don't think the experience of tulpamancy (forcing a headmate, imposing them, etc.) and creating a headmate is problematic, but I really think the community needs to stop ignoring the (imo, quite valid) concerns that keep on coming up with it.

Two concerns that keep on coming up, for me:

▪︎ Biases in the tulpamancy community. I've noticed that the tulpamancy community is picking and choosing who it wants to listen to, which makes me fairly uncomfortable. We can't determine who is and isn't a genuine Tibetan tulpamancer over the internet (at least not without prying into someone's personal life and heritage) and I think all voices from the area tulpamancy originates from/the religion matters when discussing these topics. You can't invalidate their religion or ethnicity based on their behavior or views in syscourse. (For example, I've seen some dismissed because they're upset about tulpamancy, and anger is not a Buddhist behavior to some, but I think it's more than valid to be angry over a perceived injustice!) For me, it's clear that there's at least contention over who can use the term, but most Eastern tulpamancers would want at the very least a name change.

I also don't think it's only bad faith anti-endos who like to bring this issue up, I've seen this concern brought up even by those practicing tulpamancy who have no issues with the community, back when tulpas were first attracting attention in 2014.

▪︎ Stigma around (and talking over) supernatural/Eastern Tulpamancy. I've seen Western tulpamancers speak over tulpamancers intending to practice the original form of tulpamancy, dismissing their beliefs despite their culture being the origin of the word and those beliefs. When an Eastern tulpamancer searches for other tulpamancers they expect to find other tulpamancers who at least respect their views, not get dismissed for their beliefs. I've also seen Western tulpamancers/tulpas get offended over supernatural tulpas despite these tulpas having no link to the Western tulpamancy community. You can't use someone else's term and then get upset that someone associates you with the supernatural elements of that term.

(This is enough reason for me to agree that tulpamancy shouldn't be the term the community uses. Regardless of whether the term was willingly shared or not, you can't talk over people involved in the original practice, and if it's continuously happening and you're even getting offended over being associated with it, maybe something needs to change?)

Obviously the term can't be completely changed now since it's what most people know it by, but I think encouraging a collective community synonym would be helpful. Some already exist: parogenic, willogenic, alinome, etc. Reddit, Tumblr, and other social media platforms won't be around forever. The community is still in its infancy, historically speaking. Resources don't have to change overnight, but over time people would come to know tulpamancy by the new term.

(I'm not a tulpamancer, but changing terminology is not something the rest of the plural spectrum has no experience with. Other communities and groups have successfully done this before. DID/OSDD used to be MPD and DDNOS, plurality used to be called multiplicity, endogenic used to be called natural multiplicity. It's not an impossible task.)

[lovecinnatwist]

For the WIP game, can you tell us about Best Kept Secret? :)

AHHHHH FIRST OFF I READ YOUR NEW FIC. I'M LITERALLY FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. CHEF'S KISS. A MASTERPIECE.

It's so so gooood. Excuse me while I reread eleventeen more times! 😍😍😍😍😍

But yes- Best kept secrets came to life in the capes and coffee discord server! Kieran_Granola shared an idea where omega!Jason has a magic pussy and it basically spiraled from there?

Basically Jason knows he can heal people through sex but never tells anyone about it. After he and Tim are trapped while alpha!Tim is bleeding out, he ends up riding a delirious Tim to save his life. From there Tim ends up seeking Jason's ahem- supernatural healing abilities again.

Here's a little excerpt!

“My arm is broken.” Tim offers bluntly. Jason looks back with an upwards eyebrow. The alpha’s gaze cuts back to his, calculating and patient. 

Jason pauses to sip his tea, the scent of peach rooibos floods his senses. 

“Your arm is broken.”

He repeats to make sure. Tim gives him a look. It’s meaningful enough that Jason’s heart rate starts to sky rocket. Oh. His arm is broken. Blissful ignorance comes crashing down and Jason realizes what Tim is asking for. 

“And you’re telling me this why?” The denial is effortless but Tim’s roll of the eyes spells out the fight before it even starts. 

“Really- Is this this route you really want to take?”

Jason frowns and brings the tea up to his lips. He isn’t wearing scent blockers. This is his private apartment and he’s been slowly scenting it for the last week to get ready for his heat. He locks down the part of his scent that all omega- that wants to roll over in the half done nest and bare his cunt. Jason didn't get to where he is by giving into his instincts, so instead he doubles down and Tim sighs rather dramatically. 

A stack of files get taken out of the large sweat shit pocket. Some how still crisp despite the journey. There’s no time to consider what’s in there. Soon the clean kitchen counter is a mess of Tim’s injuries. 

“ I catalog every injury I obtain every single night. I take pictures with my remote cameras at the nest and perform x-rays when there's even a chance of internal damage.”

Jason curses eyes growing tight. There’s side by sides dated before and after the incident. Wounds that would be fresh and bright already healing. As well as cuts and scraps that should be open already scabing over. It’s obvious to any meticulous person that some kind of healing element had been at play.

While Tim gave off disaster energy- it appears that spoke more to his lack of self preservation and actively ignoring injuries instead of not knowing about them.

“ Ok- so you get healed and you’re assuming it was me. You had a pretty bad concussion Baby Bird not the best recollection of memories to pull from. “ 

A mistake has been made. It’s obvious the way the alpha smirks like he’s won something. 

“But these pictures aren’t from the nest. Sure some of them are but Bruce took these pictures himself he just didn’t have anything to compare it too. It matches Alfred’s report in the Batcave, between the fall and rescue you were the only person I had contact with.”

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Okay now I'm gonna need you to tell me stuff about broken blessings - not the stuff that makes it into a wip intro! - just incidental stuff. Tell me about Weed the cuddlebug and especially about Sleepy, my namesake. There's also an Owl? Hello???

HI HI HI :D

This has been in my inbox for a little bit I wanted to put things together nicely-

I won't go into too much plot detail because I suspect this is going to be long anyway but what you need to know about Broken Blessings is that it's /almost/ am anthology of short stories, with story arcs being connected into one narrative while every character does bring their own styles and genre into the story, and parts where they interact are a combination of those styles - I'm having lots of format fun here, but all of this is to preface the wild tone jumps that introducing Weed, Sleepy and Agent Owl are going to be.

Agent Owl and Agent Falcon are a duo, a team, partners, legally married for undercover reasons in romantic love and haven't figured out what to call it yet, but hey, they're very autistic and having fun looking for aliens together.

Their story tone is extremely cartoony, they work for a purposefully vague Secret Agency for whom they are Secret Agents but in the same manner as play-pretend cowboys are related to actual real-life cowboys. They wear sunglasses and neat suits and talk in a dry fotmalistic way and never change their facial expression from neutral and due to a series of hijinks and wild coincidences they have never ever caught a real life alien despite being surrounded by supernatural at all times. Eventually they end up in a polyamorous relationship with a vaguely malevolent god (Dusty), which doesn't keep them from doing their jobs because hey, the agency didn't say anything about deities, it's extraterrestrials they have to be weary of. Agent Owl and Agent Falcon are similar in dress and expression but they have different appearances and personalities - Agent Falcon is slightly shorter, thin and white, and Agent Owl is slightly taller, plump and Black. Agent Falcon has a special interest in lizards and is good at pretending like she knows what she's doing, while Agent Owl has a special interest in languages and romantic comedy movies and is more booksmart. Agent Owl is also the more gentle of the two, kind of a gentle giant type. They have been working together for years and are very good at taking care of each other - Owl knows sign language which helps Falcon because although she can make out spoken language with her hearing aids it's taxing for her, and Agent Falcon can spot signs of Owl being overwhelmed and uncomfortable when no one else can on account of her not emoting visibly. They are very good at the partner thing however I have to stress how very, very bad they are at the special agents thing. I love them so much. They can healthily communicate their way out of any interpersonal difficulty and meanwhile a saucer would successfully land nearby to ask them for directions and fly off without them being none the wiser.

Sleepy is somewhat a Sleeping Beauty situation gone wrong - someone placed a curse on him on account of his father getting into a supernatural being's bad graces when he was young, however the curse went slightly wrong both because it's old and starting to grow thin and a few of the elements of it going wrong, like Sleepy transing his gender. His narration style is somewhat fairytale-esque which I love for him because he's the exact opposite of s typical fairytale princess in so many ways. His curse ended, a solid 50 years after it was placed, not on account of any true love intervention but because the person that placed it just. Died of old age. So now he's out of time, trying to re-adjust to life 50 years into the future, stuck with such side effects as being super sleepy all the time, insomnia, roses sometimes growing around him in his sleep, and chronic pain from the leg he broke badly in his dream that was never actually broken in real life - and that's the most important thing, his dreams. For all 50 years of being in his magic sleep he had a continuous vivid dream in which he was in a magic Kingdom, got to fight kings, save dragons, settle down and have a quiet family life all the way into his old age. And then he woke up, 25 again, and apparently all of that was a dream and now he has to do all of this life things all over again. He's understandably pretty done with all of this but he's distracting himself by taking care of a bookstore and a bunch of rambunctious traumatized teens. He's generally pretty chill and even-tempered but he's so so tired all of the time.

Weed, aka Sage Gallagher (he/they) (Weed is sort of his true secret name which is what some magic families with fair folk blood do, also what Crow calls him) needs cuddles Always. He was sort of forced into head of the family position at age 20 when Crow ran away from home and they had to act tough and play at being a scary ethereal Fae Lord but honestly they just want to not have to talk to many humans and grow mushrooms and maybe be a mycologist. They also feel very alone on account of their parents being missing and Crow having ran away from their not pleasant at all grandparents Without Taking Him so he's so glad he has Eddie at least. Eddie loves him quite unconditionally, they've been together since childhood and now officially Eddie is Lord Gallagher's bodyguard and unofficially he's their boyfriend and supplier of cuddles and the one person keeping the wet cat of a mushroom summoner relativity sane. Eddie has mild fire powers which makes him very, very good at warm cuddles. I haven't pinned down their narration style quite yet but it's a fun mix of noir and high fantasy. Yes all of these characters interacting and their narration styles mixing gives me life I am putting little guys in situations,

This had gotten super long so thank you for reading all of that! Have some pecrews:

Sleepy:

Agent Falcon and agent Owl:

Weed (left) and Eddie (right):

[gunsli-01]

5 + 9 for da writer ask game

The ask game (I kept forgetting to do this because still pretty sick) X

Thank you for asking I'm sorry I'm going to ramble.

5. ⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

I've been missing Acair lately so more than likely his story. That or the visual novel script since I've missed most of the cast for that. I tend to do original works based on what character I feel like seeing at the time. Which is difficult because I have to do rereads and rewrite stuff a lot. Easier for Acair since his was in a rewriting stage anyway but honestly most of them are planned out I just have to write it.

9.🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

So, weirdly enough there's this one story that is a combining of two works I made before that a friend and I have been workshopping for a few years now. It's still in the world building stages in order to make it fit into the existing universe of stories more without taking away from either of them. It deals a lot with supernatural elements, and I was really excited to create a whole bunch of new supernatural beings for it. The first one is original all the way through but the second was based off of mythologies. So, a good deal of it will be reincorporating/reworking those aspects into something entirely new and unique. I really like creating entirely new beings so I was looking forwar to doing this one a lot.

Though I got distracted by the stories that connect to it. i.e someone connected the family of someone connected to one other series is involved here but it's unimportant because he disowned on them. But scratch that it's important in another story because he does actually have direct descedents these people are trying to kill but scratch that the person who caused all of this does not care to fix it and it's his descendents problem now. So, he's remaining greatly uninvolved but incredibly entertained. So despite these being connected it's like no they're not plot wise.

It is just very fun to remind myself sometimes that one dude caused several issues and has just been living his best life honestly. He also causes issues in the story he's actually involved in and faces no repercussions there as well. Dude just creates problems and then chills at home. The only repercussion he faces is getting a dude stuck in his house because said dude did not listen to his very specific instructions on how not to get stuck in his house. At which point he's like I don't know how you fuck up so bad and you definitely can't go home now because you ignored my instructions but you're definitely not staying in my house and not returning my shit. Have fun stuck in whatever the hell is outside of here. I don't know what it is; I don't go out. Goodbye~

Ultimately I want to start this one to just have the beginning worked out of the the three series completely driven by one irresponsible dudes poor life choices started. Because its funny he's so terribly disinterested with the conceivable consequences of any of his actions. He's just like well if there's a consequence that can happen it will at this point. I'm just wondering which one it'll be.

As several people with shorter lifespans than him are all like I fucking hate you plus the one guy that has the same lifespan as him is still mad about it (he didn't want that) and in fact is meant to be living with him but tricked the guy mentioned earlier who cannot go home. That guy being Acair's dad. He's not going home by the way. That definitely won't cause problems.

"They said like a writer creating a problem."

[aokuro-san]

The Tokyo Revengers ending! Some thoughts now that I've read it.

this is so messy... I’m sorry.

A love letter to the fans

And, don't you think that's what it is? The last chapter constantly thanks us and Takemichi for having read, enjoyed and followed the work to this day.

Does everyone remember?

The supernatural element hasn't disappeared (and that's a good thing because it's the coherence of the plot)!

Naoto, who was a policeman (and became a policeman to save his sister in the future), is now an occult journalist, since he no longer needs to save his sister from death and may have vague memories of what happened with Takemichi. , just like Chifuyu.

And speaking of Chifuyu...

Chifuyu

At first, he was not convinced that the narrator of the last chapter was precisely Chifuyu. I loved he, but it wasn't his story, nor was it the end of his journey. However, when I reread it (I won't get tired of saying that TokRev is to reread forever) i convinced me more. On one hand, I think Wakui wanted to express his feelings about the end of TokRev (in addition to thanking the fans for their support). And, on the other, to narrate again what it means to be a hero. As Takemichi is no longer our crybaby hero, but just our hero. The hero who sacrificed so much to save them all. And true heroes don't tell their own story. Chifuyu, who represents fidelity personified -at least, to a certain extent- is perfect for doing so.

And speaking of Takemichi...

Takemichi

I've seen some people complain that they wanted to see the Takemichi of the past, with his eyes "lit up" (which he has, by the way!) And, above all, crying his eyes out at the wedding. But I think this would be a mistake, even if the ending was different! Takemichi has given all the tears he could to his companions, out of love for them. But now he doesn't need to cry anymore BECAUSE HE HAS DONE IT! He has achieved his goal. No one has died and everyone goes their own ways despite everything. He no longer needs to drop another tear, just smile, just as he does: with satisfaction and peace.

On the other hand, is it complete happiness?

Yes and no. Happiness, in this case, means having the opportunity to follow your own path, despite everything (as Chifuyu explains in a paragraph). Which is to say that many of the things we saw didn't change overnight (obviously for me!) and just happened:

Draken was abandoned by his mother and lived for years in a brothel, but the love of his life did not die tragically at the age of fifteen, they have managed to be together and it seems that they are going to start a family.

The history of the Shiba family and that of the ToMan against the Black Dragons did happen more or less as such.

South survived the violence of his childhood (I think with him I have the least doubt that this guy fought his own gang against the ToMan, before he joined her) and is now a professional wrestler.

And he chases the one who was his killer in another life! LOL. It might be a bit weird, but in this ending you have to use your imagination (which isn't a bad thing, the writing is half imagination, half description), so I imagine South, after his battle with the ToMan, was equally defeated by Mikey (as in the past, with the difference that he did not kill him) and now admires him for being the person who managed to defeat him. The truth would not be strange to me...

Sanzu and Senju STILL HAVE A SHITTING BROTHER.

Takeomi is still the same as always and takes advantage of his brothers, as Chifuyu tells us. But these, although they seem quite apart from Takeomi, who calls himself his manager, they also don't seem to have many problems giving him money. As Chifuyu explains, this is THEIR decision and, although it seems bad to us (I include myself at this point), Senju and Sanzu are adults to make their decisions... I guess.

Izana had the life she did (look at her eyes!), but she met the Sanos and the ToMan and now she travels the world helping kids like him along with Kakucho (who also had a bad life) and the rest of Tenjiku.

And now I want to make a little emphasis on the latter...

Wakui's true goal (or so I think, haha)

Wakui has explained many times that in his youth (and as most of his manga shows, haha) he was part of a bosozoku gang. Initially, these types of gangs were born to fight against war and other injustices, before - as Wakui explained in his day - the gangs became small mafias that terrorize the neighborhoods of Japan. And that is the goal of Tokyo Revengers (according to the author)!, to revive those ideals. That's why we have the protagonist that we have (who learns from them along the way), that's why several of the characters have managed to survive their injustices (like Izana, Sur, etc.), that's why, in the end, some of the characters ( such as the group of Tenjiku or Kisaki and Koko) work and/or help in charitable associations. Because that's the meaning Wakui knew (and wanted to convey) of gangs! Mutual support, lasting friendship (despite following different paths) and the fight against injustice.

So did I like the ending?

Yes, and also, now I think that it is the ending that Wakui wanted to give it (see what a clever little person posted on Twitter) and that makes me twice as happy.

Tokyo Revengers has become one of my favorite manga. I can't wait to have the complete collection! (I think it's been years since I wanted to make a collection like this one). There's something special about this work, and it certainly won't stop being special to me overnight (probably never). And I hope I can keep talking about her here on Tumblr! Because what Wakui has achieved with that ending is that TokRev never ends.

one of my favorite panel

[mermaidsirennikita]

cannot WAIT for your thoughts on tonight's IWTV episode

Tbh I don't have like... fully realized thoughts on it and I don't think that I'll know how I fully feel until the season is over?

My initial reaction was pretty pissed off, because like...

Here's the thing. In a very real way, Lestat and Louis have a toxic relationship in the books and in the show. The show adds in the element of Lestat being white and Louis being black, giving Lestat power over Louis that he doesn't fully understand or acknowledge because he's that classic white partner who goes "no no I get it I'm cool" when he's not.

Additionally, there is a lot of emotional toxicity on both sides, and obviously, they are both murderers and Lestat did... kill Louis, even if Louis was in the moment really upset and asked for it (arguably in part due to a series of events that were manipulated by Lestat).

To me, all of those yeeeears of resentment and issues, plus Lestat's jealousy of the bond between Louis and Claudia would be enough to eventually motivate Louis to kill Lestat, which is what this is all leading to, right? The attempted murder.

So if Lestat beating the shit out of Louis happened just like that, and it's just something the writers threw in to motivate Louis to kill Lestat, I think that's bullshit on several levels. For though Lestat is awful:

--there's no basis for it in the books... which doesn't really matter, but I say that to go "this is a decision the showrunners made fully independently"

--it was unnecessary

--a white guy beating his black lover is an even tougher watch and not something we super need on our television screens at the moment, especially when it's on this supernatural TV show where it served the plot... not at all...

So the question is... and why I'm not passing full judgment as of now... did it happen like that.

We see it from Claudia's perspective. Not only does Claudia APPARENTLY (lol it hasn't happened yet but I assume) participate in the attempted murder of Lestat... she's the one really pushing it. Is Claudia making this up OR exaggerating a fight that happened in order to justify the attempted murder?

But also, Claudia is fully insane. I love her, but she is delusional in a way that I don't think Lestat is, despite his own mental fragility. (Sidebar: I don't super think we needed to see Claudia get assaulted in this episode, so that bugged me, but a friend of mine pointed out that this could play into Claudia recalling things different in terms of projecting the other guy's danger onto Lestat.) It is entirely possible that Claudia fully believed she saw something that didn't happen like that, as Louis is her father and Lestat is... different... for her.

And Claudia did not actually see most of the actual fight. What she saw--if that is all reality--was bad, don't get me wrong. But she also heard Lestat saying that he didn't want to hurt Louis, begging him to let up, etc. Which would play into the idea that Lestat has abilities and appetites that remain unfamiliar to Louis because he wants to protect him from that side of himself, something the show has played with before.

But I don't super know how any of this works with Lestat flying Louis up in the sky, soooo.

And even if they do reveal that this was another unreliable narration issue--I feel like I'm still a bit pissed. Maybe they'll find a way to convince me. But unreliable narration around the subject of DV seems.... dicey.... especially in our current timeline. And the unreliability coming from a mentally ill black girl who'd been sexually assaulted? IDK BOB. SEEMS LIKE A LOT OF BAD IMPLICATIONS.

And of course, it's also revealed... theoretically I guess, but I feel like this was real--that Antoinette has stayed Lestat's long term mistress? Not surprising I guess, but MESS.

I suppose there's also an element of--is the show going to get too entangled with the unreliable narration? Claudia's narration, Louis's, and theoretically we'll get Lestat's. With as much of the show's narrative theoretically depending on Lestat as it will, you'd think that they'd be hesitant to make him THAT coldly unsympathetic.

Unless, and here's the kicker because it is soooo possible: they are actually that dumb and don't recognize man-on-man domestic violence as the same as man-on-woman domestic violence. And that's, again, possible and I'd never trust the writers!

Here's the thing: in essence, is it unbelievable that a relationship as toxic as Lestat and Louis's would escalate to domestic violence? No. But in fiction, is it a) worth showing a gay black man being beaten brutally by his white lover just... because b) wise to make a character who's supposed to stick around and drive so much action as a semi-sympathetic figure a domestic abuser? Seems not to me on both counts.

Look, maybe they'll surprise me and pull this off. I really think there are a lot of questions up in the air still so I can't say exactly what happened. But either way, imo making this part of the unreliable narration game was..... not a good move.