#and i didn't proofread a thing

[patricia-von-arundel]

I have an ask I'm genuinely curious about and that you might also be able to speak to, given your other recent asks! I noticed in FE3H, in one of her support conversations, Hilda mentions metal allergies in the context of making jewelries. But.... I don't think allergies were known about at that time period? I'm curious how much this is an anachronism, if at all. Also can you even tell (as a person with a medieval history background) from context if there's a certain time or period that FE3H is trying to base itself in?

A lot of medical history is characterized by "well, they knew... but also they didn't." Basically: cause and effect, yes. Why something was cause, or something produced an effect, often not so much. Modern understanding of "allergies" only dates back to the mid-19th century, when it became more possible to use scientific advances to get a much more detailed idea of what and why. As far back as Ancient Egypt, and certainly documented extensively in Greek and Roman treatises, people knew that someone might have a negative reaction to something (whether it be a certain weather, foods, etc.), but not precisely why. Asthma and what we now call "hay fever," in particular, were well known (likely because they produced a clear pattern both of symptoms and causes, and didn't as often outright kill someone, like, say, am extreme allergy to foods or insect stings might). These things got worse in spring, plants are blooming in spring, there's something about plants causing this. But it wasn't until the 1800s that "pollen" could be truly tested as (one of) the culprit. You see the same in other areas of pre-modern medicine - things like "eating more red meat when showing weakness and easy bruising, because these are signs that your sanguine humor is out of balance." And it worked, because if those things were actually a sign of iron deficiency, and red meats are rich in iron, the effect was the same whether credit was given to vitamins or humors in balance: the symptoms got better.

Sooooo... I would assume an allergy to metal would certainly be recognized, because it would not have been fatal. I have a latex allergy - even if I didn't know that was what was causing it, I'd be able to see that if I slap a Bandaid on my arm and leave it too long, there are unfortunate results. 🤣 So if someone had an allergy to, say, copper or iron, they might not refer to it as an allergy, but they would be able to recognize "wearing jewelry of this make = a bad time," and avoid it. So: knowing you have to be careful with jewelry? Oh, yeah! Calling it an allergy? Less likely, but I also understand not throwing at a casual audience "ah, yes, copper is clearly causing the phlegm to collect in your wrists, and you can only rebalance it with liberal application of aloe leaves boiled in mare's urine under the new moon in April" (where the actual effect was entirely down to the aloe, and, uh... horse pee should be optional). It's anachronistic to be certain of why it was happening, but not to know such things happened to some people and how to avoid them (plus the horse pee). I'll let them have that one, especially since it means there isn't a monastery activity of "collect pegasus urine and boil it with blood collected from Sylvain's skull after Ingrid finally bashes it in." 😅

As for the time period - it says it right in the game! I'm almost certain the 1100s was quite deliberately chosen for a number of reasons.

1. It was the High Middle Ages - when you ask someone about "Middle Ages," and what they think happened then, all the common answers (kings and knights, ecclesiastical law, Crusades, heresy, wars on massive scale both time-wise and place-wise, even stuff like Ivanhoe and Robin Hood and Joan of Arc and all that fun stuff) are in the High Middle Ages (roughly 1000-1300 AD). (Well, okay, Joan was a bit later, but not much. Also, it's worth remembering that "Middle Ages" did not mean uniform developments even within Western Europe - Italy was already running like hell towards the Renaissance while some extremes of the North were still crossing their arms and closing their eyes and refusing to leave their pagan religions behind until people convinced them that they could still have trees and eggs and shit, just now for Jesus!) So - "medieval," someone says? They probably mean 1100-ish, whether they know it or not.

2. That period also matches pretty neatly with the major powers that existed in Europe (and a bit beyond) at that time. Without going into detail of every mentioned land in 3H, if we just consider Adrestia, Faerghus, Leicester, and Garreg Mach, we can still find parallels. (Not always geographically, but definitely culturally.)

(And I'll say here that this is my interpretation only. I've seen others mention differences here, and I respect that too! Unless we're told, any speculation has validity. I'm also basing this on the period I studied in the most depth, including for my dissertation: the twelfth century. 1100s for me and for Three Houses!)

(I studied Peter Abelard. He and Edelgard would either get along beautifully, or she'd bash his head in before the day was out. But he definitely knew a thing or two about being declared a heretic and excommunicated. And teachers sleeping with students. Er... anyway...)

Garreg Mach is clearly the Papal States, what remained of the Western Roman Empire. I don't think anyone would argue with that.

Adrestia is almost certainly the Holy Roman Empire, and particularly the Empire under Henry IV and Henry V. The twelfth century was all about conflict over ecclesiastical versus royal law, and what was called the investiture controversy: does the church allow kings, or do the kings allow the church? What happens when an emperor and the papacy are in conflict? This pops up again and again during this time, but the particular parallels between the HRE and Adrestia become very clear when considering the reign of Henry V, who, from 1098 until his father's death, co-ruled the Holy Roman Empire. Sound familiar, if on a truncated scale? (Also, without going into great detail, there was already conflict between the papacy and the empire over which was truly "the Inheritance of Rome.") Henry V ultimately sided against his father and forced him off the throne (again, sound familiar to the way Adrestia is presented in any route except Crimson Flower?)... and then took the pope hostage (I assume I don't even need to say it again 🤣).

Without going into aaaaaaall the complicated shit that went down during the cage match between Henry and the popes, let's consider another fly in the ointment of Fódlan, and of Europe: Matilda.

And this, as you'll see, is why I think Faerghus is based on France and Norman England. Matilda was actually married to Henry V, not Henry IV, but her life has several very interesting parallels to a certain Anselma. (Even the name issue - she was either Maud or Matilda, depending on where and when she was!) Her father was Henry I of England (whose own claim to the throne was a little iffy - he probably had his brother, William Rufus, shot so he could claim both Norman France and England). Again without going into great detail, Henry managed to, amongst his MANY, MANY CHILDREN, only have two who were legitimate. One was William, who was heir presumptive. The other was Matilda, who was shipped off to marry Henry in the HRE.

Then - oops - a ship went down in the English Channel. The White Ship. It had William on it.

Oops again.

Well - now Henry had a problem. But he decided to make it a problem for after he died: he got Matilda back to England and made everyone swear they'd recognize her as the heir. Then he died. Then shit really went down.

Over in France, there was a guy named Stephen, whose mother was Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror. And he had a penis, and therefore would be a better ruler than Matilda, who was also a grandchild of William the Conqueror, but a stinky female one. So Stephen trotted off to England, called himself king, and he and Matilda spent several years having a slap fight, before they agreed that Stephen's heir would be Matilda's son, who became Henry II, and everyone else rolled their eyes and were thankful they could mostly ignore the idiots in charge, as they had already been doing through Celtic, Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Danish, and Norman rule, and essentially as most Brits still do to this day.

...And it's almost 9pm and I just realized I should probably have dinner. I'll get into Leicester tomorrow, but I think it's the Byzantine Empire, with Almyra being the near East/nascent Ottoman Empire. Watch this space! I can go into more detail on the others, too, if anyone is interested. Medieval shit is complicated. 😆

[desaturate-worlds]

part two to this but can be read alone

when their relationship first shifted from begrudging to friendly to something else, wade had expected to have to fight for it. he thought it was going to be claws and teeth and knives and guns and goading the wolverine until he finally gave in and admitted his feelings.

he was very wrong. so wrong, in fact, that he was blindsided when logan was the one to make the first move.

they spent all of their time together to the point that they eventually just quit pretending to want to sleep apart. wade abandoned his spot in the bedroom with althea to join logan on the cramped sofa bed. it started innocently enough - they would stay up late watching a movie, and wade would just stay in the living room instead of going to bed. this happened a couple of nights a week (they really spent that much time together) for approximately two weeks before wade just started climbing into the sofa bed at night without pretense. he always made sure to keep to his side, scared to push what he thought was a delicate balance too far and lose it altogether.

wade was almost too cautious of their peculiar relationship. as much as he wanted to jump the wolverine's bones or cuddle up to his chest in the night, he was too afraid of driving the other man away. wade knew he was annoying; of course, he knew that. it was kind of his whole schtick. most people could barely stand him, and he knew that logan's tolerance levels were even lower still. at least, that's what he got from their time in the void.

sure, logan had been much calmer and kinder since he had agreed to stay with wade and al (and mary, possibly the most important household member). and yeah, maybe he smiled fondly when wade ran his mouth incessantly instead of plunging his claws through the merc's throat. and, okay, sometimes wade catches logan looking at him with the softest look in his eyes.

but still. the mercenary wasn't willing to sacrifice the friendship he had with the only person in the world that he would never have to say goodbye to. as long as he didn't fuck this up, that is.

so, you can imagine his surprise when the two had settled into bed one night (after a marathon of real housewives because, for whatever reason, logan was obsessed with the trash tv) and he felt a heavy arm wrap around him.

he had been laying on his side, facing away from logan, with mary curled up by his legs. wade was a fitful sleeper and knew it wouldn't be long before his shifting legs and flailing arms sent the dog to find a more comfortable arrangement, but he loved that she still chose to snuggle up against him while she could. that was normal, though. what wasn't normal was the face pressed into the nape of his neck, or the arm circling his waist, or the hand resting on his chest. wade felt frozen, sure that him moving or speaking would send whatever this was off kilter and result in him sleeping in al's room again.

(side note: when had it become al's room? he lived here too, dammit, and even if he didn't sleep in the room anymore it's still his as much as it is hers.)

(it was al's room.)

thank god he didn't have to sit in his fear for long before logan spoke, his voice rumbling against wade, warm breath fanning over his neck.

"this is okay, right?" that brought wade right back to life. the thought of logan questioning this was enough to kick him into gear. he placed his hand over logan's on his own chest and shifted backwards into the other man's warmth.

"of course it is, peanut." his voice was barely louder than a whisper, perhaps still unwilling to break the moment. "it's perfect."

maybe it wasn't the frenzied fight-turned-makeout-session-turned-fuckfest that wade had imagined it would be, but maybe it was even better. and besides, this was only the beginning. they had forever to figure out the rest.

[littleoddwriter]

Special Little Lamb | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hey there! This fic is inspired by this textpost and @hibiskooks' tags, which led to further thoughts on my part and then the urge to turn them into a whole short story (hence why I linked my own reblog on my horror sideblog because it shows both our tags and the thought process). Understandably, it's a dark fic, albeit romantic this time, unlike my previous Cooper fic, hjdkhsjk! I hope you'll enjoy it! summary; You were once a captive of the Butcher, but as it so happened, you formed a deep connection with him and are now helping him with his victims. One of them tries to get through to you to help them out of the basement, but hadn't realised your status as the Butcher's favourite. You have a tattoo to prove it, though, and so does he. notes/warnings; Gender Neutral!Reader; Dark Fic; Reader used to be a Victim (still is, if you will); Reader most definitely has Stockholm Syndrome and is Morally Grey/Dark; Implied/Mentioned Murders; Active Captivity of a Female Victim; Abuser/Victim Relationship (if we're being realistic); Ableist Language (once); Partner Tattoos; Hints at Sexual Acitivity, but nothing Explicit whatsoever; Kissing.

With practised ease, you opened the several locks, and then the door they were a part of, down to the basement in the usually vacant house in a small neighbourhood on the outskirts of Philadelphia. The door opened with a loud squeak. You made a mental note to remind Cooper to oil the hinges, again. 

As if on cue, you could hear chains being dragged across the concrete floor and frantic rattling of metal against metal. 

Carefully, you went downstairs to the basement, where a woman in her thirties was held captive. She sat on the ground in the middle of the room, and the chains of her cuffs were attached to the far wall. 

“I’m a little late today, I know. Sorry,” you told her gently, shooting her an apologetic smile. 

For a long moment, she just looked at you, while you were walking over to her and then crouching across from her. And just like you did the previous times you visited her, you retrieved a protein bar and a small bottle of water from a bag, handing each item to her. 

The woman, Anna, ripped them out of your hands, scooting further away from you when she did, like a small, wild and scared animal. It was almost amusing to you. There was no reason for her to be scared of you, after all.

In silence, you watched her devour the protein bar and down the water in one go. You really had been late that day. 

Once she was done, you stood back up, picked up the trash and put it back into your bag. Cooper didn’t like to leave it there in the basement, and so you didn’t either. 

You were about to start your way upstairs again when the woman called out to you, “Wait!”

Turning around to face her, you made a small noise, indicating that you were listening.

“You don’t have to do any of this… please… just let me go. You could just unlock the cuffs and leave the door open. He doesn’t have to know! Please!” she pleaded with you, tears in her eyes and desperation clear in her voice, “I won’t tell anyone, okay? I promise. I won’t tell anyone that you’re involved.” 

This was the fifth time she begged you to let her go. She was more persistent than most of the others ever had been. Or maybe she’d just been there long enough to come up to five separate occasions of pleading for her life to be spared. 

Sighing softly, you shook your head, “No. I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” You crouched down across from Anna once more, making eye contact with her. Then, you pointed to the far edge of the ceiling above and behind you, looking back at her. “He has a camera here. He’d know if I helped you. And even if he wouldn’t… I’m not ruining this for him.”

Sometimes, Cooper liked to take his time with them. This having been one of them. Although, you knew that a lot of it had to do with his work. He had to do extra shifts and stay on call these past two weeks because they were short staffed at the firehouse, due to injuries that affected half of the regular team and rendered them unable to work for a while. 

It was only a matter of time until Cooper had the chance to commit several hours to this woman in front of you. But for the time being, you had to keep paying her visits to bring her snacks and drinks, and let her use the toilet in the back of the basement, just so she’d stay alive long enough. 

To keep them for more than a week was risky, though.

“Why are you doing this?” Anna asked you after a beat, changing tactics apparently, because this question was new. “I recognise you. I saw you on the news a few years ago. You went missing, too.”

Frowning, you let out a deep exhale, “I know what you’re trying to do. It’s not gonna work, so stop it.”

“What did he do to you? Is he forcing you?” she pressed anyway, unsurprisingly ignoring what you said.

Groaning softly in annoyance, you got up, stretching your back. You looked down at her, seeing nothing but a desperate woman, who was grasping at straws to ensure safety. Unfortunately for Anna, her pleas would only be ignored, since you had no interest in helping her.

“He’s not forcing me. I chose to stay and help,” you told her, then. 

For you, this was the end of this conversation, but Anna clearly wasn’t ready to let it stay that way, reaching out to you and gripping your wrists tightly, her chains clanking loudly. At the suddenness of all this, you flinched, trying to shake her off of you. 

“Let go of me!” you hissed at her.

“No! Listen to me,” she urged you, her grasp unexpectedly strong, “I don’t believe you. He must have convinced you that this is what you wanted, told you things, threatened you. Why would you ever willingly stay with a monster like him?”

“He’s not a monster!” you interrupted her, raising your voice at her.

Anna wasn’t deterred by it, though, “He kills people! Keeps them in this crappy basement until he’s done with them. He’s a monster. People don’t do that. And you know that he’ll get to you at some point, too.

“Do you really think that he’ll spare you forever? You might be useful to him now, but there’ll be a point where you make a mistake or he just gets bored of you. And I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re nothing to him! He’ll find somebody else, somebody less damaged than you. And when he does, he’ll discard you, like you never meant anything. Because you don’t. Not to him.

“But if you help me out of here, we can go together. And we’ll get help, okay? He won’t hurt you anymore. You’ll be free, we both will,” she finished her little speech, breathing heavily, frantically, once she was done, and looking up at you with wild eyes, just hoping to get through to you.

There was no denying that she’d hit a nerve in you, but not in the way she had hoped.

Your brow twitched as you tried to keep your immediate rage at bay. 

Instead, you composed yourself with a couple of deep breaths, feeling Anna let go of your arms when she seemed to think that she was starting to achieve her goal with you. 

With a flourish, you pulled the long sleeve of your jacket up, exposing your inner left wrist to Anna’s questioning eyes, which widened almost instantly when she saw the tattoo on your skin. It was a black thin lined tattoo of a meat cleaver in front of a background that appeared almost ethereal, despite how minimalistic it was. But she quickly connected the dots. Cooper had a tattoo just like it, only that instead of a meat cleaver, it was a lamb at the centre. 

“I’m his favourite, you know? We got these tattoos about a year ago. He told me that he wanted something to represent me on his skin, as well, when I begged him to let me get a tattoo that would remind me of him. I didn’t ask him to get one, or make any sort of suggestion to wanting that. But he did it anyway. Because he wanted that reminder of me,” you explained the tattoos to Anna, who just looked at you in disbelief. 

With a pleased smile on your lips, you slid the sleeve back down to cover your arm again. 

“‘The Butcher’s little Lamb’ is what he told me when we got home after the tattoo appointment,” you told her softly with a wistful smile as you reminisced, “He let me go. But I stayed. I begged him to let me be useful to him. And he did, because I’m special to him.”

“You’re crazy,” Anna spat out in disgust at what she was hearing.

“And you’re nothing. To him, or me. Or anyone,” you retorted easily, “You see, in a few weeks, you’ll be nothing but a faint memory. And in a few months, you’ll be nothing but another number. And for me, you’ll be nothing but that beautiful bracelet you wore when he abducted you.”

This time, Anna had nothing more to say, it seemed, as she slumped back in defeat. You took the chance to finally pick your bag up again and go back upstairs, locking the door behind you to the sound of faint cries.

When you arrived at yours and Cooper’s house, you already saw his car in the driveway, making you feel excited to see him again. It was tough for you to be apart from him while he was working. 

Inside, you came to a sudden halt, though, seeing Cooper lean against the doorway to the foyer of your house, idly playing with his phone in his hands. You didn’t expect him to wait there for you, but instantly relaxed when you saw that he was smiling at you. It was one of his gentle smiles that always melted your heart, just like it did now.

“Hey, little Lamb,” he greeted you softly.

Feeling your heart flutter, your face brightened as you beamed at Cooper, walking over to him, as he pocketed his phone and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with a pleased expression.

“I heard what you were telling poor Anna there,” he whispered, “I thought I’d check on you two when I got home earlier, seeing as you weren’t here when you should have been.”

Averting your gaze in shame, you apologised, “I know, I’m sorry. I was cleaning the house and lost track of time, so I left later than usual. It won’t happen again.”

Cooper clicked his tongue quietly, using his left hand to gently take hold of your jaw and move your head to make you look back up at him. “Hey, it’s all right. I was just worried that something might’ve happened,” he told you soothingly.

There was nothing in the world that could compare to the feeling you got when Cooper showed that you were important to him. 

“You did a good job, you know?” Cooper continued, then, still speaking in a soft, gravelly tone, “She was out of line with all those cruel things she said to you. And trust me, I’ll make her pay for it very soon. I promise. I’m proud of you for handling it the way you did.”

Those words had such an instantaneous effect on you, causing you to feel hot all over, warm and fuzzy inside your chest as your heart seemed to swell with pride. 

“Thank you,” you giggled happily, unable to contain your giddiness. 

Praise such as this wasn’t something you were used to, and Cooper wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t meant every word. You felt like you were on top of the world.

Cooper’s fingers were still gently wrapped around your jaw, now moving upward, his fingertips grazed your lips and cheeks before his palm settled and cupped your face. His dark eyes met yours. His gaze was soft, yet piercing nonetheless, and it took your breath away, just like it always did. There was no escape from his all-consuming presence. It was dominating your every sense.

Leaning his head further down, Cooper’s lips hovered above yours. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours as he spoke.

You couldn’t do anything but make an excited sound in the back of your throat, while your hands were tightly gripping his shirt, where you held onto him on his chest, right below his shoulders. 

Amused, Cooper breathed out a small chuckle before pressing his mouth against yours in a lovingly heated kiss that conveyed just what kind of reward he had in mind for you. You instantly melted into the kiss, reciprocating it as best as you could while your entire body and mind felt like they were on fire. Even after a couple of years of this, it never ceased to amaze and overwhelm you. 

And when you later lay in bed, bodies intertwined and in their most natural states, your finger was lazily and gently tracing the lines of the tattoo on Cooper’s right wrist. The tattoo that was a reminder, a representation of you, for him. You couldn’t suppress the smile when the happiness you associated with that rushed over you.  

“My special little Lamb,” Cooper whispered, watching your dreamy face as you kept tracing along the tattoo, and pressed another kiss to your temple and then your cheek and your lips again. This time, it was a gentle show of affection, which you happily accepted, soaking up every moment of it.

Soon, Anna would realise just how wrong she had been about you and Cooper.

[yayll]

~ a little something about the unfathomable history between you and Dazai ~

"Shit..."

It's raining, and you're trying to light a cigarette in the rain. How banal, and yet, it was comforting to you. That's just who you were, trying to change the outcome of things that were doomed from the start... Like your past relationship with Osamu Dazai. It was a strange little bond, a rhythm only you and him could follow even if it was almost impossible to truly pin his true emotions down. To really feel him as yours. If you were attracted to danger and misfortune, he was a goddamn car crash. Still, that never stopped you from dreaming of a life with him, a real one. None of this inconclusive and melancholic back and forth, cowardice is what you really called it.

Though you could never tell that to his face, because then, you'd call it love. Love you had no problem showering him in, love you ultimately felt pushed him away when he decided to stop seeing you, disappearing with that very love... with all you had. That was a year ago. So now you're a little tipsy, and trying to light a cigarette in the rain because you don't have anything else to waste your time on. Or rather, someone to waste it on. You take out a flask, and chug down cheap whiskey, grimacing immediately after you swallow it down.

"No need to choke down that disgusting stuff on my behalf,"

A familiar voice calls out from the darkness of the street corner, where the lamp's flickering light threatens to black out in an instant. A dying flame, just like your lighter. You're already frozen, and stare at the void where the voice came from, telling yourself this can't be... not after all this time. You get a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You reply, voice meek and slightly slurred.

".. What?"

"What about what?" He mockingly calls back out, refusing to show himself just yet. In all honesty, he had been watching you from the corner for a while now, feeling a sense of sick satisfaction at the way you stupidly put any faith in that lighter of yours. Just like how you put your faith in him, and he squandered that as quickly as possible.

You look down, shaking your head as the rain washes over you, dripping down from your chin to your shoes. Every bit of your constitution is shattered when you realize you were a fool then, and you're a fool now. You tell yourself you can't let your heart warm up again, it needs to stay ice cold... What a joke. You scoff,

"Spare me the bullshit, Osamu"

You hear a soft laughter come from the shadows, and you wish you were six feet underground.

"Mm, I missed hearing you berate me~"

He says that so casually, and when his laughter settles, the rain takes over again. You look over at the flickering lamp post, as if you could see him directly, and roll your eyes, sighing. You call out, bitterly.

"Well I don't think about you at all."

And as you say that, the painful little ache between your brows walks out of the shadows and into the broken light, hands in the pockets of his tan coat, and soaked hair that somehow looked even better when it was disheveled. He clicks his tongue, and speaks in a low voice as he strides towards you, making your heart beat right out of your chest.

".. You should."

He says that like it's the most natural thing, a sly smile on his lips as he stares you down. He thinks you look utterly breathtaking even in your pitiful state. He thinks maybe he should kiss every little inch of your body for the rest of his life.

"Shut up."

"Oooh, that's the best you can do? Tell me to shut up?"

"I don't want to slap you in public, so this will have to do."

You spit back, your face twisted into a frown, one that's already stinging with the threat of breaking down into tears. You hate feeling something that's impossible, hoping the rain will wash it all away. Dazai smirks and raises a brow, his eyes are dark and knowing as he studies you.

You're exactly the same as you were a year ago. Full of life, even if you can't see it now.

"You're still so hot in your coldness. Predictable, but I love it. It reminds me of the time you and I-"

"What do you want, Dazai?"

Oh the way you switch to his last name makes his chest ache. His smile drops just a tad, and he looks down, looking like a wet cat as he clears his throat. His tone is sardonic, once again breaking you down as if you weren't the one making his hands tremble in his pockets. But he has a game to play...

"Just passing through, obviously. What could I possibly ever want from you?"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You feel yourself swaying, as if the rain was quite literally dragging you down... or maybe you were just drunk. Dazai finds it endearing how you ask such idiotic questions, that after all this time you still feel the need to know him. He slowly walks even closer to you, until he's inches away. His eyes soften, along with his voice, and a pang of bitter nostalgia hits you both at once. He reaches a hand out from his coat pocket, and takes the metal flask from you, his cold slender fingers dusting lightly over your knuckles for a second too long. He thinks you look even prettier up close, and decides to put you out of your misery.

"You want me to be blunt I suppose? Hm, that's awfully dull... I love you, silly."

It's like being staked through the heart when someone like Osamu Dazai says that to you. Your throat feels like it's closing, and your lip quivers ever so slightly.

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have time to love."

A scoff escapes him, and he finds it irritating that you would say that, despite him knowing he's more than at fault for that very resentment you hold. Still, it doesn't make his own words any less true. He exhales, and looks at you with those cruel eyes, the ones that burn into the back of your head with scrutiny. He feels hollow, and it hurts deeply to feel this again after he swore he wouldn't let himself crave you. He shouldn't get what he wants, or else he'll wander the streets at night like a starving dog hoping he catches you at your lowest so he can pick up the pieces, and maybe one day not leave right after. Maybe he'd finally follow you home. You're weak, and it's rubbed off on him.

His voice comes out too pleading, too desperate, and too damn sincere. He's fucked.

"... Ah, you wound me... I'm making time on this lovely evening for you, no? Even if it's just for one ridiculous night, I'd like it to be with you. If you want to do worse things than just slap me you can do that too if it makes you feel any better. Kick me, scream at me, I don't really care. I have the time right now and we can do this."

You didn't even register when the tears started streaming, and you definitely didn't think he would know to tell them apart from the rain streaming down your flushed cheeks at the same time. Yet here he is, using his thumb to gently wipe them, the feeling of his skin against yours for the first time in a year is searing... It's punishing. You sniffle.

"Stop- Don't do this to me... Stop talking like that when I feel so empty...."

He flashes you a sad smile, a repenting smile. He almost looks human as he stares at you, searching for something. Anything.

"Then let me fill you."

He leans in, his nose touching yours, and his whisper sends chills down your spine. It's poison.

"Say you love me too. Like you used to."

"... I-I refuse to say it again. Especially in public."

"Say it in private, then. Say it hundreds and thousands of times for me. I can beg."

He nuzzles into your face, placing the lightest kiss on your cheek, and you can feel the way his lips curl into a smile against it. He wants to give you the kind of hope you only see in movies, but all he ever delivers is the carnage of a greek tragedy. Still, he wants you claim him as yours forever, even if he is a doomed man. Even if all you did was stick your finger in his wound he called a 'heart'.

"You always reduce me to nothing. It's exhausting." You mumble, pathetically.

"Nothing? Is that how little you think of yourself when I'm with you? Not only are you drunk, you're dense."

"I'm just saying. Us. Whatever we were. It was over before it even began."

Dazai interjects, bitterly.

"Don't say that, you're sounding too much like me."

"I'm just imitating you."

Oh, bless your inebriated lovesick little heart...

"You're nothing like me."

He speaks in a low and bitter murmur, as if not wanting to be heard at all. You could never come close to the atrocity that he is. The past was his mistress, it's why he left. But even in the past, he saw you too. You were there, you're always there.

He drops the flask, and it makes a loud sound as it falls to the floor, the rain pattering onto the metal making it echo. Before you can chastise him, he gently tilts your chin up and catches your soft petal lips in his, pressing into you as much as possible.

He wants to be so immersed in your essence that you become a part of him, selfishly so, and he wants to be a part of you. His tongue softly begs to enter your mouth, and the beautiful whimpers you make that reverberate against his lips cause him to wrap a hand around your waist and bring you closer, hold you tighter, as if you'd dissipate into nothing if his grip even remotely loosened. He needs to hear more of it, remembering how you used to be so embarrassed by how vocal you were with him before. He didn't mind it back then and he doesn't mind at all now, it is the most adorable sound he's ever heard in his miserable life.

You pull back from your kiss, a small string of saliva connecting your lips, and you look up at him, muttering as you try to catch your breath. You'd go to hell for that face alone.

"You'll stay right? You'll stay this time?"

Dazai looks down at you, eyes half lidded and breathing shallow. He smiles faintly and tilts his head to the side. He wants to crush that little dream of yours but he can't find the strength to slam his foot down. He knows he should pull away, he should leave and break your heart in hopes that you'll move on from the disaster he is, but he knows what you're pleading for. You're so naive, so goddamn perfect, he wants to laugh at the thought of him ever leaving you willingly again.

The overwhelming ache in his chest makes him realize he no longer has the upper hand in these games.. That he would rather make your dreams come true than to steal the light in your eyes... It's imperative. That as much as he denied it a year ago, he no longer has a game to play. He'll gladly suffocate in the warmth of your embrace, just how he imagines it every night before he falls asleep. He cups your face, and whispers with a familiar wink,

"... I'll tell you in private."

[laurenttheninth]

Eyes meeting from across the room and buddie (or buddietommy) from the prompt list 👀👀👀

pick a prompt any prompt

[buddietommy - an alternate version of the bachelor party, ~2000 words, rated E]

Tommy had been officially released from standby at midnight, and half an hour later, the bachelor party was shaping up to be the best night of Buck's life.

Now that his boyfriend - his boyfriend! - was matching him and Eddie drink-for-drink, Buck's burning-in-the-background anxieties about planning the perfect party had melted away. Sure, Chimney wasn't there, but Tommy was, and Eddie was, and all these random strangers were, and no one was mad at him. No one was disappointed in him. No one was saying he Bucked it up. In fact, no one was calling him 'Buck' at all - Eddie had been calling him Tubbs all night (excluding the third round of shots, when he'd called him 'cowboy' with a dopey grin), and Tommy was, as always, calling him -

"Evan," Tommy groaned, his breath hot on Buck's neck. "You're killing me, kid."

Buck grinned. They were in the middle of the dance floor, being bumped into on all sides, and Buck had his arms wrapped around Tommy's neck, his suit jacket lost somewhere between drinks six and ten. Buck had dragged Tommy through the crowd, pulled him close, slipped his thigh between Tommy's, and danced the way Buck 1.0 danced. Slowly, purposefully grinding his hips to the baseline, letting his chest brush against Tommy's teasingly, refusing to break eye contact while letting every lascivious thought show plainly on his face.

It felt weirdly good, surprisingly easy, to slip back into this - but it was better now, because he was older, and knew so much more about who he was and what he wanted, and because it was Tommy. Tommy, who wasn't a petite woman interested in Buck's bulk and little else - it was Tommy, who was even bigger, who could haul Buck into his arms without a sign of exertion; Tommy, who had been interested even when Buck was a babbling, awkward idiot who made a fool of himself on their first date. Tommy, who was attracted to him before he even knew Buck was practically a sex god.

And now, he got to remind his super hot pilot boyfriend that Buck was, in fact, something of a sex god.

Buck leaned in, letting his whole front plaster against Tommy's, running one hand through his hair and licking a long stripe up the side of his neck; he could feel more than hear the low hum of pleasure deep in Tommy's chest.

"I'm killing you, huh?" Buck murmured into his ear. "I'm not even doing anything. I'm just dancing." And as the chorus hit, Buck ground into the crease of Tommy's hip, making no effort to muffle a breathy gasp of pleasure at the delicious friction.

This was fun - this was what Buck was used to, in some ways. He was used to being the one to drive someone else crazy, to take control, to set the pace - but at the same time, this was all new.

Because Tommy loved to let Buck take the reins, but he also loved to take them back.

His hands tightened on Buck's hips, and he spun him around without letting him pull away - Buck's arms slipped from Tommy's shoulders, and suddenly his ass was pressed against Tommy's hips, and Tommy's mouth was on his neck, and Buck felt very exposed.

"Just dancing?" Tommy growled. "You're practically humping my leg, baby. You're showing off. Putting on a little show..."

Buck bit his lip, tilting his head, silently begging Tommy to go to town on his neck the way they did when they were alone. Tommy, never one to miss a cue, immediately pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses over his pulse point, which got Buck from mostly-hard to diamond-hard in the span of five seconds. The Buck 1.0 reflexes had him still grinding to the beat, his hands resting on top of Tommy's, and he could feel the hard line of Tommy's cock through all the layers of fabric.

"Show off," Tommy breathed, dragging his nose along the shell of Buck's ear. "Come on, baby, let's show them how pretty you are." And then his hands were slipping off Buck's hips to grab his wrists, and then Tommy was lifting his arms up, bringing his hands up to tangle in Tommy's hair.

Buck thought he felt exposed before, but it was nothing compared to this. Tommy dragged his hands down Buck's triceps, skimming along his armpits, and Buck gasped, half-ticklish, half turned-on.

"I'm so sweaty right now," Buck said, not yet drunk enough to forget that he was wearing a white t-shirt and had been drinking and dancing for hours and a quick glance down at himself showed that the sweat was soaking through in a line between his pecs - he could only imagine what his underarms looked like.

"You are," Tommy agreed, his hands splayed high on Buck's ribs, his hips driving them along as one song morphed into the next. "And you look so fucking pretty like this... Hard and sweating and desperate..."

Buck bit back a moan, eyes rolling back as he let his head fall back onto Tommy's shoulder.

"I'm not the only one who thinks so," Tommy said, skimming his teeth along the corner of Buck's jaw. "Look at him, baby. Look at the way he's watching you."

Buck forced his eyes open, blinking in confusion, scanning the dance floor -

And then he saw Eddie.

Eddie, across the room, leaning on the bar, his beautiful brown eyes locked on Buck's. And the look on his face...

He looked like he wanted to eat him alive.

"Oh fuck," Buck gasped, his legs going weak.

"Mhm," Tommy hummed. "He's been staring at you this whole time, baby. I don't think he could look away if he tried."

"That's - " Buck swallowed. "That's not - Eddie doesn't - "

"Doesn't what?" Tommy asked innocently, and one of his hands slid down, down Buck's side and came to rest on the front of his hip, drawing the eye to where Buck's cock was straining against his zipper, and fuck, Eddie's eyes dropped down to follow the hand, obvious even across the room. "Doesn't want you like that? Oh, Evan. Baby. Don't be silly. Of course he does."

"He's - " But Buck couldn't get the words out, because Tommy's other hand was dragging across his chest, palm and fingers dragging along his nipple, and he was twitching under Tommy's hand, losing the rhythm of the music, and he couldn't look away from Eddie, from the way Eddie was biting on the inside of his cheek, clenching and unclenching his fists, gaze fixed on Buck's hips and Tommy's hand - "He's straight," Buck said automatically, because Eddie had to be straight.

It turned Buck's whole world upside down if he wasn't.

Tommy took Buck's earlobe between his teeth and pinched his nipple through his shirt at the same time, and Buck jackknifed in his arms, fists tightening in Tommy's hair, back arching, driving his ass back towards the pressure of Tommy's hips, and Eddie -

Eddie's mouth fell open, and his chest heaved, and holy shit. Holy shit.

"Hm," Tommy hummed, all faux-innocence, too composed, far too composed for what a mess he was making of Buck. "I'm not too sure. But hey, why don't we find out? Why don't you go over there, and you ask him to join us."

"I - " Buck's brain was offline. "What?"

Tommy nuzzled his neck, the hand on his hip drifting below his navel, the hand on his chest coming up to hang, loosely, around the base of his throat. "You're going to walk over to him. And you're going to lean in close, so he can hear you. And you're going to say Eddie, do you want to join us?, and when he says yes, you're going to bring him over here to me, and then I'm going to let him take you apart."

"Oh my god, Tommy - "

"Go on, baby," Tommy said, slipping his hands off of him and untangling his hands from his hair. "Go get him." And he gave Buck a gentle but firm push.

The Buck 1.0 swagger was gone. This Buck - 4.0? - was dripping with sweat, hard enough to cut glass, and could barely hear the thundering beat of the music over his own pulse ringing in his ears. His legs felt weak beneath him, and he all but stumbled over to Eddie, who was watching him the whole time, not moving.

Buck stopped less than a foot away.

God, Eddie was beautiful.

Even like this, even drunk and probably exhausted, he was the most beautiful person Buck had ever seen. That realization had struck Buck the moment he laid eyes on Eddie, half-dressed in the 118 locker room, and had struck him again and again and again over the last six years. Buck had seen this beautiful man clean-cut and well-polished, he'd seen him covered in soot and mud and blood, he'd seen him asleep and drooling, bruised and battered, dressed to the nines - Buck had seen it all.

He'd never seen Eddie look like this.

Eddie Diaz was staring at Buck like a wolf stared at a lamb. His pupils were blown wide, making his bright brown eyes look dark and bottomless, and his lips were softly parted, a gentle expression that was in direct contradiction to the way his fists were clenched so tight Buck could see the veins popping on the backs of his hands. He was still leaning on the bar, but every line of his body was tense, ready. Waiting.

Buck couldn't do this. He couldn't cross this line. This was Eddie, his Eddie - he couldn't risk this. Couldn't handle it if he made this offer, and Eddie turned it down, turned him down.

But the way he was looking at him...

Buck just stood there, pulse racing, mouth dry, making no effort to hide what he was feeling. He knew Eddie could read him like a book anyway.

After what felt like an eternity, Eddie closed his mouth, and swallowed. "Hey, Buck," he said simply.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck managed.

"Do you need something?"

And Eddie was asking so much when he asked that question.

And Buck just - answered him. "Yes," he said, barely audible over the music. "I - I need you."

Eddie took in a deep breath - Buck could see his chest rise with it. "You have me," he answered.

And then Buck was leaning in, taking another step forward, and he could smell Eddie's sweat and deodorant and traces of the cologne he only wore on special occasions, and when Buck put his mouth next to his ear he could smell Eddie's skin and his shampoo, and it was so easy, standing that close, to say "Do you want to join us?"

And standing that close, it was impossible not to get closer - it was like a magnet in his chest, pulling him in, and he was bracing his hands on the bar on either side of Eddie and he was pressing their chests together, and when Eddie nodded, Buck couldn't see it, but he could feel his chin against his shoulder, could feel Eddie's ear against his cheek, and then Eddie was gently, tentatively putting his hands on Buck's waist.

"Are you sure?" Buck asked, because he had to know, because he needed this to be real, not just the tequila or -

"God, yes," Eddie said, so earnestly that it shattered every last wall Buck had built around his heart, and god, he loved him. He loved him so fucking much, and he'd loved him for so fucking long -

"Can I - ?" And Buck turned his head, and it was magnets again, and he was kissing Eddie Diaz.

And he was home.

Even with tequila and beer on their breath, even in this noisy bar under neon lights, even though the bachelor never showed up to his bachelor party, even dressed in their cheesy pastel suits - it was perfect. They fit together the way Buck's bones fit under his skin. Eddie's mouth was hot and soft and his hands were gentle and sure and Buck clacked their teeth together because he couldn't stop smiling because it was Eddie, and he loved him.

Eddie pulled away first, breathless, dragging his mouth away but trying to press his body even closer, but Buck had him pressed tight up against the bar and was not about to let him go anywhere. Eddie mouthed along Buck's jaw, panting against him, and Buck was just about to tilt his head, to offer up that sensitive spot under his ear, when Eddie froze, and his already-hard cock twitched against Buck's hip.

Buck leaned away, slightly, and saw Eddie staring, wide-eyed and flushed, at something over his shoulder.

He turned, twisting in the circle of Eddie's arms, and saw Tommy.

Tommy, leaning against the second bar, drink in hand.

Tommy, sweat plastering a single little curl onto his forehead, smirking that same knowing smirk that he brought out when he pinned Buck down and made him beg.

Tommy, his boyfriend, who was so beautiful and kind and patient and sexy and confident and honest and -

Tommy, who had locked eyes with Eddie, and slowly, clearly, lifted one hand to beckon him over.

[old-skyguy]

Look.

Ace Attorney fandom.

I know why people don't like Turnabout Bigtop. I am among the people who dislike Turnabout Bigtop.

But I GET why people like the case. I'm not going to be one of those annoying people who just blindly dump on it because I hate those mfs too.

Thing about Bigtop isn't that it sucks. Thing isn't the weird grooming stuff (though that is a huge part of it). It's not that it could've been good.

It's that - in my personal OPINION - it could have been *great*.

I think it had the potential to be one of the best third cases in the trilogy. It had everything; a fun and goofy setting fit for a pretty dang goofy lawyer game - where the environment itself had jokes and quips and one-liners and mishaps and tomfoolery written all over it, it had the previous case introducing a very interesting and important plotline that gave background for one of the more well-loved characters while also introducing an equally fucked up and lovable new one who was a child forced into a shit childhood of naivete in a CIRCUS with another character who was very naive and childish - whose interactions could have been funny and cute and reflective of said shit from the previous case (seriously she becomes such an important character in the 4th case, WHY would they not include her in this one for some character development? How did they fuck up letting a CHILD explore a CIRCUS?? That would have made the interactions flow MUCH better).

They had a pretty good, sympathetic killer imo, a morally dubious victim, an asshole of a client (who was pretty flat admittedly in-game, but I like his weird, topsy-turvy reasoning for it in the anime. Also, I think Max being kinda a dick would have bode well for the themes of Farewell since most of his clients up to this point have been like...nice? Not nice, but sympathetic, but him having to defend someone who's innocent but a prick would have shown him that just because someone is an asshole, doesn't mean they deserve to suffer for it and that they have the potential to grow as people, which is almost a complete foil to what Matt was. Ultimately, I would have loved the contrast of them as clients and I think it would have also served as character development for Phoenix, especially with his low-empathy tendencies).

They just didn't think that far ahead. They just didn't execute it well enough. They just decided to make three of the adult characters fight for the hand in marriage of a teenage girl. (Bat's part of the story was actually kinda good if he was just YOUNGER, I think him doing that for Regina would have been a stupid thing someone in the circus would do to impress their crush. Damn you Ace Attorney and your weird treatment of underage girls!!)

It just flopped and that's ok.

Even though it kinda sucked, it can still mean something to me.

Also I'm a Moe Curls apologist. I liked him, shut up.

[goldentigerfestival]

Genealogy of the Condemned/Convicted novel manga first chapter is done and ready to go!

You can read it here and here (second link is recommended for the notes page specifically).

Things to be aware of with this manga:

This is a short manga of six chapters. It doesn't cover even the entire childhood arc, let alone the whole novel.

Some lines are taken directly from the novel, while others were similar but not identical, and others were changed to fit manga style dialogue bubbles.

Not everything in the manga is 1:1 with the novel, but it's all pretty close.

I hope you enjoy!

Translation by me.

Scans by @suguelya.

Cleaning by Jenners and myself.

Typesetting by me.

[nguyenfinity]

Switch is back after their Valentine's event for White Day to bring you Magic for your special someone(s)! Show your friends and fans a little appreciation in return, whether you're sailing for a Romancing Cruise or just for lifting their spirits A little bit UP!!

art-only below the cut!

[silenceaartist]

Insane late night theory

In the midst of my random thoughts at dawn I was genuinely thinking that Nuzi could become canon at the end of the season

Why? Well, remember that drawing of Liam that had several foreshadowing from each episode?

The backpack from ep 4 along with the robot bug, Nori's necklace, the claw with N's plush (I think this must refer to that scene we saw in the trailer?) etc.

Anyway, everyone knows about the botton that says “I love N” (which I know was written “I love NY” but at this point we’re out of denial lol)

Well, my “theory” (or insane rambling) is that as all the elements of the image are either important objects to the plot or indicative of scenes that take place, then perhaps this is an indication that will we have nuzi canon at the end of the season???

I know they are in a dystopian setting where everyone can die but maybe the emergency situation makes them eager to confess before the planet explodes??? Idk I'm not the screenwriter here

A confession, a kiss or spark anything would make me kick my feet and scream around the house

Well that was “My nonsense theory at dawn” does this all make sense or I'm delulu?😭

I totally ignored the cut heart for this theory because I was too lazy to think 🧍🏾‍♀️

[watsername]

ok. the mcc misogyny doc.

[mizukiprsk]

Heat levels with MORE MORE JUMP!, WONDERLANDS x SHOWTIME and 25-ji de, Nightcord de.

(i thought i had already made something like this, but i can't find? so here goes i guess)

Heat source: Airi, Mizuki, Emu, TSUKASA Average heat(switch): Mafuyu, NENE, Minori, Haruka Heat seeker: Shizuku, Ena, KANADE, RUI

EXTRA:

Kusanagi Nene

Nene is the true heat switch. There is days that she can barely be near you, claiming you emit too much heat. And other days she is snuggling next to you, like a cat seeking the heater's warmth

"Uh? didn't you say I'm too warm?" "That was yesterday. Today's colder"

Hinomori Shizuku

Now, Shizuku is kind of cheating here. She is technically a switch, but since physical touch is one of her main love languages, she might claim that she is just cold to be closer to you.

"You are so warm~" "Are you really cold?"

Kamishiro Rui

It can be a little surprising that Rui is actually cold most of the time. Since he is tall, you could think he has lots of body heat, but since he is usually stuck working on his machines, his body might forget to reheating itself, sometimes.

"-woah! Your hands are very cold!" "Oh, are they? Could you help me warming them, then?~"

[b1gwings]

today's dndads was so fucking good and people are making good points about the parallels and cycles of Henry not being proud of Sparrow, and then Sparrow not being proud of Normal which is all so real and heartwrenching. I also noticed something in addition to that when they came back from the past and he started to walk into the woods.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about last episode when Normal said something to Scam about "I can't be around another adult who thinks they deserve to die." The twins are the main adults in his life that think like this, especially with Lark's whole "if someone's going to die for this, it's going to be me" attitude. One of my friends told me about a really good post they saw (although they couldn't find it :( ) about how this is an effect of the adults in Normal's life not wanting to take accountability. They want it to be fixed, but they'd rather die to punish themselves instead of stick around to help fix it.

Normal is sick of this behavior and this seniment. Lark, Sparrow, and the other kiddads ROYALLY fucked up everyone's life -- even though it's their fault Normal would rather see them do something about it. Which makes a lot of fucking sense? He's been around this his entire life, and since learning about Code Purple it's just gotten worse.

Which is why him trying to just walk out into the woods struck me as so interesting. Obviously, baby Normal was not responsible for releasing the flesh monster onto D.A.D.D.I.E.S HQ just like Lark was not responsible for releasting the Doodler. The way I see it, Lark blames himself wholeheartedly for this whole mess. Sparrow too. Their self-hatred only festers into an immensely heavy guilt. It's hard to get out from under those huge feelings. And, yeah, it would be easier to just die -- to punish themselves for fucking up so bad -- than having to figure out a way to fix it. It feels hopeless.

Normal has a moment with that guilt in this episode. He fully believes that it's his fault Code Purple ever happened, and that guilt makes him feel like he needs to isolate himself. It's the same principle of wanting to avoid whatever fucked up shit comes after. Normal can't help but feel that hopelessness that runs in his family -- he's not good enough for these awesome, helpful people because all he's done so far is fuck things up. And despite resenting this behavior from the adults in his life, he falls back into it. Because what is he supposed to do? He's just a kid who messes things up no matter how hard he tries to fix it. Why would his friends even want him around anyway? They're the ones who are actually saving the world.

I just really love the way dndads works with cycles. There are so many and they're all so good (and heartbreaking).

[parkitaco]

The sun is warm on Mike's face, and Will is warm against his side.

As far as dates go, Mike has to admit he did a pretty solid job with this one, even if he can already tell that his skin is going to be sunburnt tomorrow and Will won't stop whining about the little pebbles digging into their backs, and yeah, maybe bringing a picnic blanket might have been helpful, but- whatever. He's pretty proud of himself, both for finding this abandoned field on the outskirts of Hawkins and correctly pegging it as a good evening hangout spot, and for managing to get Will out here with him in the first place - it's been a bit of a chaotic summer so far, with the Party preparing to go into their senior year and Hopper and Joyce planning their wedding and Nancy and Jonathan and all their dumb friends visiting from college.

Anyway. The point is that evenings like this are far and few between, and have been for a while, because if the summer has been chaotic, the months leading up to it were nothing short of hectic. The SATs and AP exams and final projects had been brutal, and, like, yeah, the Party is together constantly, and Mike and Will have been joined at the hip since far before they started dating, but it's- nice. That's all.

Will shifts where he's pressed against Mike's side, head tucked against his shoulder and fingers tracing a gentle pattern over his chest. "Ow," he mumbles into Mike's neck, wincing as, presumably, one of the ever offending pebbles digs into his back.

Mike smiles, wrapping a gentle arm around his boyfriend's shoulders as Will wriggles around, trying to get comfortable. "Too many rocks?"

"Yeah," Will huffs, squinting up at Mike accusingly, "Are you sure we can't sit in the car?"

"We're experiencing nature, Will," Mike says for the third time, exasperated. "Plus, I told you, my A/C is broken. We'd overheat and die."

Will rolls his eyes. "You're so dramatic," he grumbles, rolling over onto his back and gazing up at the sky. Mike smiles, letting his head fall to the side so he can watch Will's profile, lit up by the golden glow of the sunset.

He's so beautiful, looking happy and flushed despite all his griping, the sun casting dramatic shadows over his cheekbones. It's stupid, but Mike's missed him these last few weeks, where they've had less time to see each other, lost in the shuffle of visiting family members and summer jobs and everything else. He misses Will a lot, which is stupid and ridiculous, because they've been dating for a couple months now and had been dancing around it for a few months before that, but it's true. He'd missed out on time with Will, that year that he was in California and the months leading up to it, and it had been his fault and he knows it doesn't matter anymore, but it's just- it's something he thinks about, sometimes. How easy it would have been to have lost Will completely, and how lucky he is that he didn't.

Plus, Will is just- nice to have around. Objectively speaking.

Whatever.

"You're staring," Will says softly, and he doesn't look at him directly but his mouth tilts into a small, wry smile. Mike flushes, and is entirely uncompelled to look away.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he teases, nudging Will gently. He scoots closer, lifting his hand from where it rests in the grass to brush lightly through Will's hair, and Will hums appreciatively.

He reaches up and catches Mike's hand, pressing his lips to Mike's fingertips, soft and feather-light. Mike's heart flutters, and he rolls over, leaning over Will and staring him down with a goofy grin on his face.

Will meets his gaze, one eyebrow quirked. "You're pretty," he sing-songs, grinning all teeth, and Mike laughs even as he feels heat rush to his face.

"You're a dork," he returns, and dips down to press his lips to Will's before Will can argue. He can feel Will's smile against his lips, sweet and summery, and it makes something click into place in his chest. I missed this, he thinks hazily, which is still stupid and ridiculous because he sees Will every day, gets to kiss him like this basically whenever he wants, but it's true. This need inside of him runs deep and terrifyingly intense, and he'd always sort of thought it would mellow a little once he was actually dating Will, but apparently not. He just wants- needs Will here with him like this, all the time, forever.

Jesus Christ. Mike can never say any of that out loud. He'd die of mortification on the spot.

But if the way Will is kissing him back is any indication, the feeling is at least halfway reciprocated. His hands are pressed firmly into Mike's back, pressing him lower as he kisses him carefully, slowly, like he's relishing the feeling of Mike against him like this. For someone who, at least as far as he's told Mike, had had little to no experience with kissing before they got together, he's learned far, far too quickly. It's a little unfair, in all honesty, that Will can be so effortless like this, matching every ounce of Mike's crazed intensity with his own.

They even each other out. They work, like this.

After a long moment, Mike pulls back, nuzzling his nose into Will's cheek before settling back down into the grassy slope of the field. Will smiles, slinging an arm over Mike's stomach and returning to his original position - face pressed into Mike's neck, curled around him with their limbs hooked around each other.

He's so warm, rivaling the sun itself, and the air smells like freshly mowed grass and flowers and the faint traces of Will's shampoo from where his hair brushes against Mike's cheek.

And there's that other thing, the thing that occurs to Mike in moments like these, the reason for this deep-seated neediness and want in him, the thing he's known for years now, since before he could even properly put a name to it. He's been thinking about that thing a lot lately, because he's known it all this time, sure, but there's a big difference between keeping something like that tucked away in the back of his brain with the vague idea of getting around to dealing with it some day, versus knowing it with such constancy, with such regular reminders, now that he actually gets to be with Will in this way.

Will shifts against Mike again, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone, and Mike- might as well admit it, at this point.

"Hey, Will?" he asks softly, dragging his fingers through his boyfriend's hair again and turning his head, nosing against the side of his face and kissing his jawline lightly.

There must be something in his tone, something that gives him away, and he kind of figures Will knows what the- that the thing is anyway, but it still manages to settle his nerves when Will tilts his head up to look at him, smiling sweetly.

"Mike," he replies, lightly teasing and honey-sweet, "I know."

Thank God, Mike thinks, and his face splits into a smile. "Can I," he says, swallowing back the unwarranted nerves that are still humming through his veins, "Can I say it anyway?"

Will's eyes widen just slightly, and he flushes, looking embarrassed and a little shy. "Y-yeah," he says, his easily confident demeanor slipping a little, and he looks endearingly nervous, biting his lip and nodding once.

It's this, combined with the sun on their cheeks and the warmth between them, that makes the words slip out. "I love you," Mike whispers, heart beating fast in his chest and a giddy feeling overtaking him. He dips down, presses two quick kisses to Will's cheek, and a slightly hysterical giggle escapes him. "I love you so much," he whispers, face tucked in beside Will's and lips brushing his jaw.

Will's eyes flutter shut, and a smile steadily spreads across his face as Mike continues dropping little kisses to the side of his face and neck. "I love you too," he hums, as Mike ducks his head lower and kisses his neck, "I really- Mike, that tickles!"

"Don't care," Mike murmurs, kissing the junction between Will's neck and shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love-"

"Okay," Will cuts in, laughing, "I get it, Mike."

Mike reluctantly detaches himself from Will's neck, nuzzling his face against Will's one more time before rolling over onto his back and bringing Will with him, an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. Will laughs again, quiet and warm, and his head settles heavily onto Mike's chest. "I love you too," he says again, and Mike's entire body floods with warmth. "I really do, Mike."

This, too, Mike had known - almost in the same way he'd been aware of his own feelings, a quiet sort of knowledge that he'd been putting off confronting. "I know," he hums, just to be annoying, and Will reaches up with a lazy hand to flick the side of his face. "I'm- stop it, I'm just saying."

He can't see Will's face, but he'd bet good money that Will is rolling his eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and then, voice softening as his fingers find their way to Mike's waist and he begins tracing gentle circles into the exposed strip of skin there, "I missed you, you know."

He missed me too, Mike thinks, wildly, and it shouldn't please him so much, the knowledge that his boyfriend is just as deranged and insane and nonsensical about this relationship as he is, but it's oddly gratifying. He hugs Will closer, enjoys the steady weight of him against him as he asks, voice warm, "When did you miss me?"

Will shrugs, the grass shifting beneath them as he scoots closer and continues tracing his fingertips into Mike's skin. "I don't know, just- recently. It's stupid, I know."

"No," Mike says quickly, pressing a kiss to the top of Will's head, "No, I know what you mean. I- I miss you too, sometimes. Whenever you're not around."

Will lifts his head, peeking up at Mike with a shy smile. "Yeah?"

Mike laughs, a little incredulous and a little giddy and a lot in love. "Will, I just told you I loved you, like, ten times-"

"Three and a half, actually," Will points out, and Mike giddily thinks he's counting, "And- I mean, that's good. Not that you miss me, or whatever, but. Just, sometimes I think I'm going crazy about this, about you, and it's just nice that you-"

"Crazy together," Mike interrupts, reaching for Will's hand where it's still pressed against his side and lacing their fingers together. "Right?"

Will laughs, settling back into him and squeezing his hand. "Yeah," he agrees softly, the sound reverberating through Mike's ribcage where Will's face is pressed into his t-shirt. "Yeah, crazy together."

Mike smiles, running his free hand over Will's back and letting his eyes fall shut contentedly. It'll be dark soon - the sky is turning a fiery red color as the sun dips lower still in the sky, and Mike had sworn up and down to Hopper that he'd have Will home by ten, which is a ridiculous curfew but tolerable for the simple fact that it's Will, and Mike will take whatever snatches of time with him that he can.

"This was nice, by the way," Will murmurs into his shirt, as Mike's hand brushes through his hair again.

"What, the date?" Mike asks, and he feels it rather than sees it when Will nods, cheek brushing against him.

"Mhm," he hums, sounding just as contented as Mike feels. "Thanks for- yeah. Thanks."

"Anytime," Mike says warmly, as Will's breathing evens out and both of their eyes flutter shut again.

The air is warm and alive with the sounds of birds and crickets chirping. Summer is just beginning, and Mike, for the first time in a while, feels like he has time - time with this beautiful boy, and his friends and everything important to him. Here, in this empty field at dusk, everything has come to a standstill, and the neediness and desperation that's constantly clawing at him has subsided, overpowered by the feeling of Will wrapped around him.

Mike breathes a soft sigh of relief, and the sunlight washes over them.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 9 thoughts

this day had aspects which i did not care for, which is why i am hoping that the thrilling tale of mulder escaping a gulag will bring light and warmth to my heart.

author’s note, post episode: i need answers i need answers i need those slugs destroyed. this episode vastly improved my day and i remembered the simple joys of being alive, such as watching silly TV shows where the characters have an indescribable bond. truly a pleasure to be alive despite it all. scully and mulder, you have shown me such wisdom.

excellent moments for both scully and mulder in this one, which i treasure deeply, and also their together moments made my heart soar. genuinely a good ep!

let us gather to watch this tale!

we begin with a “previously on the x files”. i really hate that shot of mulder squished under that wire cage; it’s deeply unpleasant and i imagine so was the filming experience.

after that, we journey to a convalescent home in florida. now. the last time we went to a convalescent home, i have tried very purposefully for forget what went down. so my expectations here are low.

someone just waltzed in at night and is looking at the old people sleeping with a flashlight.... is this allowed? it probably shouldn't be. is she looking for someone in particular? 

she finds auntie janet and says it is time, he is waiting. now what does that mean?!?!

so she takes auntie janet out and there is some man that she’s in the car with?? he’s hooking auntie janet up to various chemicals. she says she’s tired of the pain and the doctor-y figure puts the green stuff into her. ah, i see what is going on here, as auntie janet hugs this woman and says she is her angel of mercy. 

so it looks like she died, but instead of just dying and that being it, there are oily slugs coming from her nose and mouth. which…. i mean, it’s better for them to come out in a controlled environment and after her passing, right? that seems ideal, all things considered. except for the fact that the oily slugs will now crawl into these people, so that’s a bummer.

HEY! the changed the text after the intro. “E PUR SI MUOVE” <- is that latin? hold on

i didn’t want to figure out what the whole phrase meant because that was part of the fun!! but in trying to figure out if “muove” was latin or italian or portuguese or something, i learned what the whole phrase meant and that it is significant for being uttered by galileo. darn! well, if i had to learn it before i wanted to, you shall too, i suppose. although i imagine if you read this blog, you’ve seen all this before. hmm.

we are in st. petersburg. FORMERLY LENINGRAD! but no longer at this point. someone is knocking at an old russian guy’s door. a young gentleman tells this old guy that “the cold war isn’t over” 

damn. still rings true in 2024. 

and also he gives the old guy an envelope. 

mulder is sleeping in a jail cell. he’s very tucked into that corner. it's adorable, in a certain way. someone is whispering to him. mystery other prisoner guy who can speak english said that he has been lying there for hours, and that the first time (referring to his alien injection) is “bad, very bad”

he calls this alien injection the “black cancer” that lives in the rock. this mystery man used to be a geologist! he was there when they found the fragments! woah... a rock guy... and look what they have done to him :(

okay, so this black cancer comes from the tunguska rock. got it. i am tracking the lore.

so at least hundreds of people have died here, and they seem to be searching for a cure to the black cancer after they inject it into their test subjects.

well! it is almost comforting that maybe both scully and mulder will die horrific early deaths, but at least together, right? because. the actual cancer that she probably has. and the weird creature in his veins now. they’ll have each other, i guess?

sighs. this is not providing me much comfort.

“i’m not gonna die. i have to live long enough to kill that man krycek” <- YAAAAAS i cheered!!!! his dogged determination has now been set to bloodlust mode!! hey, whatever keeps you alive!!!

mystery man sneaks mulder a shank he made over two weeks. that is a very dedicated thing to do, and even more profound to spend all that time and then give it to someone else. “it is wonderful- the persistence of life” damn…. bro has me thinking…. life really IS a gift, huh

back to the USA, where scully is tending to the mysteriously ill dr. sachs, who if you need a refresher, was the guy who was cutting into the mystery rock before he was mysteriously paralyzed. his blood looks a bit thickened (gag) and also there is something in there. EW!!! EW 

EW NASTY WORMS ATTACHED TO A GLAND IN HIM?!?!?!?!

no no no don’t care for that thank you!!!

in virginia, some people get on a bus, including an old man who is eating an apple. they are going to charlottesville. 

also there are some horses. the apple man snuck onto a farm with horses. IS IT GONNA BE THE WELL-GROOMED MAN’S FARM???

is it the russian guy??? well, he introduces himself as “vassily peskow” which seems to answer that question. 

(in googling this to make sure i spelled his name right, i saw that he has something to do with "the syndicate"- is that the official name of the group i have been referring to as the UN alien people for 3 seasons now?!)

he is speaking to the woman who we earlier saw give that stuff to auntie janet, but he has come to see her! her name is dr. charne-sayre, and while i know nothing about her besides her willingness to euthanize her aunt, she seems to have handled a strange old man showing up and touching her horses quite well, because personally i would be throwing hands.

OH!!! HE STARTS CHOKING HER?? the horses are neighing with fury. 

what… did i just see…

scully! at home!!! so pretty….

skinner is behind her!!! he is MAD! he has been trying to get ahold of her all day! well, she was busy??? cut a girl some slack???

he says she owes him some answers about this mystery pouch. he is maaaad! he has to testify tomorrow!! he harbored a known felon!!! ooo he’s gonna get in troubleeeee

she very calmly explains that the pouch has a rock with some sort of creature in it that she has been trying to figure out all day. she handled his anger quite, well all things considered. never forgetting to say “sir”.

but she doesn’t know where it was supposed to be going. HOWEVER…. skinner does! it was going to dr. charne-sayre!!! 

scully knows who this is!! because she is a nerd. said with heart eyes. dr. charne-sayre is a virologist, who has looked in on presidents and also is an authority on “variola viruses” which means something i’m sure, but it’s a mystery to me

OH! it means smallpox! she has been trying to get people to destroy the last remaining smallpox vials. 

(WAIT IS THAT A THING?? is humanity really keeping some smallpox in some bottles somewhere???? i need to look something up after this and the adjust my levels of panic for biowarfare accordingly.

GOOD NEWS! wikipedia says the last vials were finally destroyed in 2015! that feels like it took too long...

wait. just kidding. it highlighted an irrelevant part of the article. another page says they are still out there, the ones in atlanta and russia that scully refers to in the episode. i feel no relief after all.

the ones that WERE destroyed were 350+ vials of smallpox that had just been lost????? HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN???

damn. i need to go down a rabbit hole later that is going to teach me some unsettling things)

anyway, skinner breaks the news that dr. charne-sayre was killed, but blames it on a horse. and i saw what went down and it did not look like any hooves were involved, so idk how tf they came to that conclusion. a choking and hoof marks are not at all comparable??

back to da gulag. a guy kicks mulder and leads him out with a bunch of other men. i find myself wondering about all of the extras there that day, how the filming went. 

UH OH! krycek is up smoking with one of the bigwigs of the gulag!!!! what is he DOING??? the geologist prisoner who gave him the shank says mulder has one chance to kill him, and he pulls out his weapon. OMG HE’S RUNNING FOR IT!!! does he stand a chance?!?

that dude is absurdly fast bro. he gets two solid punches into krycek and steals a truck!!! where is he going!!!

horse vs truck race!!!! who will win??? i hope it’s the truck!!!

so he knocked krycek tf out and took him on the bed of the truck... that is hilarious

i hope all the other prisoners break out too :)

okay, the men on horses are shooting at mulder. krycek wakes up and is slamming the back of the truck. what i want to know is where mulder, who has a famously terrible sense of direction, is driving!!!

he’s trying to hit the brakes but it’s not really working!!! and krycek jumped off!!!! where does he think he’s gonna go 😭😭

no!!! mulder crashes the truck!!! ouch ouch ouch!!

well, instead of resolving that plot line, we jump to the well-groomed man (am i using his name right?) chatting with cancer man in the dark. cancer man bullies him for smoking, as if we don’t only know him as cigarette smoking man or cancer man, but well-groomed man is pissed at cancer man’s various failures!! and wouldn’t you be??

oh!! that person riding the horses- dr. charne-sayre- was well-groomed man’s personal physician! there’s some weird tension between these old men now that he needs the help of cancer man to figure out what went down

“were you sleeping with her?” csm asks, making us all uncomfortable. and well-groomed man doesn’t answer!!!!!!!! EW!!! nasty!!!! he put the mission at risk for his personal pleasure!

damn. hate when cancer man is right about things.

well, i guess they’re both flops at their job. that should unite them rather than pull them apart. 

cancer man asks well-groomed man (and that is definitely going to get confusing quick) to call off "the investigation", which he says he cannot do. but senator sorenson is an honorable man. do we believe him?

i do not. 

somehow, cancer man knows mulder was captured in tunguska and has escaped. i don’t know how this plays into their plan, but cancer man is smirking. suspicious... i hate his creepy smirk.

okay, back to russia. we see the truck that mulder crashed and a bunch of blood on the window, which are not auspicious signs. but no one is in there!!!! the men on horses are baffled!!!

krycek is in the woods, being surrounded by a bunch of people and speaking in russian, claiming to have escaped from the prison camp. they realize from his clothes he is lying about being a prisoner, but they believe that he was accused of spying and take him in?? i guess??

OMG!!! mulder was hiding under a ton of leaves while the men on horses looked for him!!! it was giving a real peeta in the 74th hunger games moment.

so, now we are where we started last episode, with scully swearing to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her god. and she is reading her prepared statement. people are passing notes as she does so. and then they are rude as hell and cut her off. 

skinner is watching all of this go down, and as she tears into the culture of lawlessness, he does look like he kinda wants to die. but i think she’s serving. 

OMG!!!! they’re taking her to jail!!!! she said idgaf i am NOT giving up mulder’s secrets and that is a REAL ASF FRIEND!!! she’s in jail in her kickass outfit and omggggg what a queen… crossing her arms as she stares out the window…. i love her so deeply 

back to russia, where some guy finds mulder under a ton of leaves, and yells at him for breaking his truck. sorry!! it was an accident. he didn’t mean it :(

the woman he is with is gonna tend to him though, because mulder has that sad puppy dog thing going on. 

she knows some english!!! woah!!! this is convenient for plot reasons and also fuels my determination to keep learning another language so i can be the cool side character that saves the day at least once.

she says that they kill everybody for “the test”, and that her husband makes deliveries, so they spare their lives. but now, no truck…

mulder says we need to get tf out of here, the smallpox scar is tracking you. she says there is an alternative, and gestures to her son with no arms. i do not think this is a good alternative. and the husband comes back in with a knife!!! are we gonna have some hand to hand combat…….

krycek is sleeping by a fire, but then a bunch of people come and get him. one of them has a heated knife!!! are we in amputation mode…

oh. he sure is screaming as that knife is going in… yes, it appears we are in amputation mode

scully is in jail, reading the works of dr. charne-sayre, because she is studious even behind bars!!!! i love that about her. highlighter in hand as she ponders. 

skinner comes to see her! “you holding up?” “i’ve got plenty to read” awwww :( skinner cares about her :( big old softie :( and she is gonna read her way through jail :( she’s just so :(

she clarifies that this is NOT just about mulder!!!! this idiotic commission is wasting time asking about mulder and not about the pouch, the murder, the rock, or anything ACTUALLY RELEVANT at all!!! 

“it is my experience that lawyers ask the wrong questions only when they don’t want the right answer” DAMN what kind of lawyers has she dealt with…? probably plenty in her FBI time. but still. she has seen things.

“it is my natural inclination to believe they are acting in the best interest of the truth” aww… she wants to assume the best of these obviously very shady men

“but i am not inclined to follow my own judgement in this case” <- she said y’all are so god awful not even my natural optimism can salvage this (and i love her for knowing her limits)

skinner makes a remark about following mulder’s judgement instead and i can’t tell if he was trying to be hurtful or not…

back to dr. sachs, dealing with his rock induced injury. NO! the russian guy vassily is here! with a needle!!! what does he need that for??? go away!! i like that rock scientist!!

he’s getting this orange fluid in a syringe and he sticks it into dr. sachs and BLEH i cannot look…………. but the slugs!!! the oil slugs!!!!! 

NO!!! he takes the rock and unplugs the machines dr. sachs was on!!! HE CAN’T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS 💔

cancer man is explaining that vassily was in the KGB… “how could this be? how could the russians know we were working on our own inoculation?” asks well-groomed man, “six of us knew!” 

an anti-alien vaccine! this could be useful,,, maybe? idk.

cancer man is tasked with finding vassily… but he says someone might save him the trouble

cut to scully back in front of the fancy congress slash senator slash corrupt government people…. she has had time to think about the question she was asked.

and she says she cannot answer! she keeps listing off things she can answer instead, but not about this!

OH! MULDER APPEARS!!! “answer the question miss scully!” (mulder voice) “what is the question?”

YEAHHHHH THAT’S MY GUY!!!

HER REACTION TO HIS VOICE… the little orchestral flourish… his beat up face… his stupid smirk. wait i have to rewatch this. LOOK AT HER FACE WHEN SHE SEES HIM!!!

she says that the death of the doctor was connected to the death of the man in skinner’s apartment, and dr. charne-sayre FOR SURE knew information about the virus. and while i am happy for her triumphant moment, skinner walks in and whispers something to her….

dr. sachs has died under suspicious circumstances!!

this is obviously very important, but in the background you can see mulder say something to skinner, and he reacts as if deeply annoyed. lmaoooo we are soooooo back!!

the bigwigs on the council go to recess, and the absolute MILLISECOND that gavel is slammed, these two nerds JUMP UP to see each other, it’s so cute oh my goshhhh it is for sure making my list of favorite moments this season

AWWW AND THEY HUG AND HE SAYS “good to put my arms around you” OHHHHH MY GODDDD OH MY GOOOOD THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER (and the remark about still having both arms she obviously doesn’t understand yet!!!!)

(screaming into my pillow for a solid 30 seconds before composing myself)

skinner jumps in and says “some other time” when she asks how he got back LMAOOO he has had ENOUGH

scully says please skinner let us go to florida for 15 hours please 🙏 it should be quick but if it isn’t please stall for us please sir…. and he’s all “girl just go and be fast about it” (sternly)

okay! so why florida? because that is where one of dr. charne-sayre’s patients at a convalescent home died of a mysterious virus! yes, as we saw in the very beginning!!!!

NO!! vassily is here!!! can he just wander in?? is that allowed? why are people coming and going from this convalescent home…? is there not a sign in process…?

he’s going for the meds. he pockets some meds and replaces them with a decoy. 

“may we come in ma’am?” mulder asks, shoving his way in <- LMAOOOO god that gag gets me every single time 

so they need to look at the elderly, and scully reports that this dude she just walked up to is dead. and he sees another one with the slugs!!!

these people are test subjects, he says!!! and they have to deal this building right now!!

no!!! vassily was laying in a bed and heard all of this!!! what is this mischievous fellow up to???

mulder says all of this can be traced to one man. and scully…. oh my gosh, the side profile, my heart…… 

IS KRYCEK WORKING WITH VASSILY?

scully and mulder go to visit the leader of the militia they busted krycek with at the beginning of last episode. scully looks so good i’m actually going to gnaw my own arm off holy fuck. that blue trench coat and grey suit combo is lethal.

so this criminal is denying finding krycek in a missile silo, and said krycek came to him. looking for help to make “devices”, and talking about this black cancer developed by the soviets, and used in the gulf war. so how did he get out of the silo....

OH! mulder asks where the other “device” (bomb) ended up, and when the militia leader says “i ate it”, he punches this guy in the stomach and puts him in a headlock. and then he says some very out of pocket things i am not going to repeat, but the point is: krycek took the bomb and put it in a storage garage somewhere in terma, north dakota. ah! the name of this episode is finally understandable!

“scully, get on the phone and get the license numbers for any two-ton trucks stolen in north dakota in the last six months, then call canadian border authorities and have them stop any vehicle fitting that description” (said while gazing into her eyes)

(this line killed me for some reason and i can’t even explain it… just such an odd series of commands out of context!)

“someone used krycek, then krycek used us; someone who didn’t want that rock in american hands” ah. so this whole thing has been a set up. you see, i was too busy thinking thoughts like “i hope he gets out of the gulag” and also “man, i hope scully doesn’t go to jail” and “look at how they hugged!” to put that together. sometimes i am a simple viewer making no conclusions about the grander plot at hand! sometimes i am surface level! i am multi-faceted!

vassily is gonna put the rock back in the ground under the guise of fertilizer for his tomatoes 

WOAH!!! agents in a helicopter :0 they look so good….

mulder is trying to scream over the loud noise of the helicopter doing its thing, which i imagine had to be an awful time to film. scully wisely just nods her head instead of attempting to communicate with words.

haha his hair is all messed up from the helicopter… hehehehe…

so he’s looking in the truck for any sort of rocks or bombs or whatnot. he sees some pipes… he is forming conclusions…

scully disembarks from the helicopter, and her hair is all messed up too (my heart!) as she climbs over a fence to get into this refinery. one thing about these two is they are gonna climb some fences!

vassily sees this going down and hides…… mulder is reaching into the pipe…. trying to grab the hidden rock… he is covered in oil!!!!

and it blowed up!!!!!!! 

no!!!! scully sees the explosion,,, and vassily sneaks up behind her and puts her in a chokehold!!! he grabs her gun!!! he says he will kill her but he doesn’t want to? and that his work is done. 

damn, now she’s gotta get a new gun……

she’s RUNNING to mulder who is soaked in oil and has barely escaped the explosion. she is picking him up and then… cutscene to more testimony stuff.

GIRL IS HE OKAY???

i love when they save each other <3 i love when they have to pick each other up and drag each other to safety <3 i love the panicked screaming of the other’s name <3 i love the fast and furious assessment to see if the other is okay <3 i just love these things <3

scully has evidence to present: linking a number of deaths to a biotoxin brought onto US soil! and the man who delivered it also died! and that guy was the man who krycek pushed off skinner’s balcony!

“alex krycek, who is missing and possibly deceased” oh i know better than to believe his ass is dead

the council is whispering… 

they laugh at the idea of extraterrestrials, and mulder also comes to the stand… what is he gonna do…

“why is this so hard to believe?” he asks. hey i know you’ve had a rough go of it man, and there is literally an alien slug in your body, but she was doing so well…

oh! he’s going on and on about how obvious it is that extraterrestrial life forms exist!! and you need to understand this or else you are denying crucial evidence!!!

ah, i see now why the opening text. just as galileo spoke of the earth rotating around the sun but was scorned, so mulder speaks of aliens and is met with disdain. and yet, the earth continues to spin, and the aliens continue to be in his bloodstream.

“this is not why we are here today” “then why ARE we here today?” okay parallels i see you!!!

they recess… and cancer man stands up in the back……..

back to russia, where vassily is returning home, insisting he is retired to someone in his room.

OH! IT’S KRYCEK! WHO IS ADDRESSED AS “COMRAD KRYCEK” bro… he is congratulating vassily on a great job 

and omg… he’s got a prosthetic arm… they really sawed his arm off…

back at DC (home) the senator is reading files and passing them to cancer man, who is tossing them in a bin??? presumably to burn??

HUH! so much for an honorable man.

okay, so much happened here. let me go in order of which thoughts are loudest.

first of all… did they know this was gonna be what they did with krycek from the start? just asking because i want to know if “needs to be fluent in russian” was on the casting call for that role or if they sprung it on him later. because that would be wild.

krycek, working with the soviets… huh. interesting implications.

second. the alien!! there is alien oil slug in krycek AND mulder now!!!! what is that going to do to them? are they gonna turn into living flash bangs like that one lady did in that one episode?? is it gonna slowly kill him? will be and scully slowly die together? i can’t imagine such a horrible thing….

third. their reunion…. damn it, it was so sweet. the way they INSTANTLY got to their feet when the recess was declared… the way he wrapped his arms around her…. oh man. oh man. and the smiles… the smiles……..

so far, s4 has not really been my jam. but this episode was really good and has given me hope that soon we shall be cooking with gas, in terms of both very juicy plot advancement and special agent bonding moments. i mean, come on, lifting him out of that explosion while he was covered in oil??! i cannot get enough of that!!!

is he going to hide that he has an alien slug in him?? is he going to be that guy in the zombie movie who acts like he didn’t get bit?? or is he going to be honest and tell her?? will she try to find a cure? wait, does he even know what happened?? because he was knocked out when all of that went down…

and what about scully’s mystery illness!!!! is she going to be okay?? are they going to be terrified for each other??

okay, okay, one thing at a time.

so, there’s an alien virus in a rock that landed on earth during the tunguska event, and the americans were working on a vaccine to protect against it. but somehow the russians knew about it, and that is likely due to krycek, who was a double agent on like three counts. they killed the leading expert on the virus in order to prevent a vaccine from being developed, and have previously used the virus in biowarfare (so i guess gulf war syndrome is alien slugs in this universe?). the guy that krycek threw off of skinner’s apartment was the one who was meant to receive the rock containing aliens, but was killed, and said virus rock was intercepted by the russians, who are having a sort of cold war 2.0 moment. over alien slug virus. which, if exposed to, will eventually kill you; why it killed dr. sachs and not all of the other men who were at the gulag is a mystery. and to try and protect the americans against this virus, the leading expert, dr. charne-sayre was testing on the elderly. and cancer man wants to cover up all of the evidence which scully and mulder have presented linking all of the deaths to the rock. 

okay. i think i got most of the lore down.

i want to know what happens next!!! but i am no fool!! i know we will be given random monster of the week episodes which are also excellent but tell me nothing about the plot!!! and now that we’re dealing with alien slugs, i’m wondering, what about the actual little green men? where do they come in? is this a third type of alien? because we have the little green men we’ve seen glimpses of, sometimes mixed with human DNA; we’ve got the aliens that were clones from that species with the poison blood and can only be killed with the needle to the neck; and then these alien slugs. and also a few other random non-central to the plot alien life forms, like the ones in firewalker and ice.

where is the common thread?? how can they tie all of these up?? would tying all of these mysteries up even be satisfying?? or is it better to let some things be a mystery?? did chris carter have plans for all of this overarching stuff, or was he making it up as he went?

so many questions! but for me, basking in the warmth of their hug is my highlight 

[mushroomsie224]

So I reread The Wishing Spell by Chris Colfer a while back. I don't think I made a post about it, but uh. I am now.

While I do have a few issues with the book (which I shall not discuss now), I do love the main characters (Alex and Conner) a lot. I identify with both of them in many ways. In fact, I used to be a lot like Alex! Maybe too much like her? I was a bookworm and I always liked to please the teachers (although I did also rebel at times...in very weird ways). I still am a lot like her, ESPECIALLY with how much trouble I have with making friends (although I do have them—unlike Alex).

However, while rereading, I realised I also related to Conner! I have trouble concentrating in class and keep falling asleep. Ouch. I have a similar sense of humour to him (kinda). I also like writing stories like Conner (although I'm not really writing any these days, and that's partly because of my perfectionist tendencies...aha). Oh, and the fact that he has trouble listening in general. That's...literally me? And it's also why I don't fare well in social situations. Sigh.

Also. The scene where Alex is talking to Conner about her day, while Conner is trying to listen because he knows Alex has no one else to talk to? That scene was SO relatable. I don't know if my friends are only pretending to listen to me or what, but I really appreciate them. And I try to listen to them when they want to talk about something they like too.

I have yet to reread the rest of these books and I hope to do so eventually. It was nice to revisit this one, since I do have particular memories attached to it from the first time I read it.

(Random fun fact: I got the idea for my OC Connor's name from this book. I did change the spelling because of personal preferences but eh.)

[becca-alexa]

Movie Magic

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're at Steve's for a movie date - what could go wrong?

Word Count: 1.7K

Content Warnings: fluff, fingering (f receiving), no use of [Y/N]

Author’s Note: bored and overwhelmed with school!and what better way to work off my stress than to keep writing this stuff? feedback and comments appreciated!💗💗

    In any and every situation, Steve Harrington loved to touch you.

    Steve had been starved for affection since his childhood, his parents oftentimes never present enough to give him the love he ached for, the love every child deserves to receive from their family; he’d taught himself to live without such things, believing that their behavior was the norm, and that it was those he considered to be overly-affectionate that were strange. 

    As a teenager budding into young adulthood, he’d finally discovered how wrong his family had been.

    The first form of love he’d found was with Nancy - an eros love, however fleeting their relationship had been. He’d also learned of heartache, which made the love all the more powerful.

    The second form, he’d found with Robin - philia, or ‘platonic with a capital “P”’, as she would so often tell everyone. It was a warm kind of love, a safe love, a nonjudgmental and welcoming love that he basked in whenever they were together.

    The familial love - storge - he’d been searching for, he’d found in the kids - and in Eddie, of all people, although he’d be loath to admit it. Their friendships meant the world to him, and if it meant putting his own life on the line a second time to guarantee they’d all live to see tomorrow, then so be it.

    And the fourth kind of love, pragma… Well, that he found in you.

    Steve had been smitten with you since the first time you’d wandered into Family Video.

    You’d walked up to the counter; Steve, sorting through stacks of cassettes underneath, sprang upright at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide at the sight of you - a new face, a breath of air in the occasional staleness that came with living in a small town. You smiled at him, and he smiled in return; to his surprise, you asked him for directions, still too new to Hawkins to know which way the local Piggly Wiggly was. Steve had done his best explaining things to you, and you had thanked him as you left, giving him a shy wave goodbye through the store window.

    Robin nearly gagged at the way he’d melted after you’d left - and she’d teased him mercilessly for months about it.

    About you.

    You’d gone back the next day, this time actually in search of a video, Steve nearly leaping over the counter in his haste to get to you.

    “Hi.” he breathed, his smile more lopsided than debonair, hair falling over his forehead.

    “Hello again,” you replied, eyes clear and bright as you take a step closer to him, pointing at the rack of recent releases behind him. “Any recommendations?”

    He explained every movie, every plot point, every surprise twist or frightening scare that might deter one from renting a film - and Robin, looking on, arms leaned over the counter as she pretended to flip through a catalog, swore she’d never seen Steve do so much work.

    He pulled a few boxes from the shelf - his favorites, since you’d asked for suggestions. You stared at the boxes in his hands, lip caught between your teeth as you tried to decide which one to pick - and when your hands brushed his, he nearly jumped at the jolt of electricity that shot through him.

    Judging from the look of bewilderment on your face, you’d felt it, too.

    In any and every situation, Steve Harrington loved to touch you.

    Whenever he saw you, he’d long for some sort of contact with you; with your frequent visits to the shop, it was only natural that you’d befriend them, and eventually you just started spending your free time with the pair. It began with a poke; Steve had leaned his hip against the counter, listening to your excited raving about Cyndi Lauper’s newest single, nodding every once so often. He stared at your hand, at your seafoam green nail polish, and he couldn’t help himself.

    He poked your finger.

    You didn’t miss a beat, your conversation continuing on as though nothing had happened. But, much to Steve’s delight, you’d poked him back.

    And, from that point on, you were both inseparable.

    Poking turned to tapping, which turned to grabbing, then holding. As the scalding summer days drawled on, your friendship with Steve deepened - perhaps a bit too quickly to some, but perfect for the two of you. One day, working alone at the store, he had sworn to move things forward - to take the risk, praying you wouldn’t turn tail and run.

    He asked you out.

    You said yes, much to his surprise - and unsurprisingly to everyone else.

    As a friend, Steve Harrington was caring, kind, warm; his comforting aura was what had initially attracted you to him. But, as a boyfriend? 

    In any and every situation, Steve Harrington loved to touch you; to hold you, to brush his hand against yours, to press the softest of kisses onto your hair, your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

    But, you quickly learned that he especially loved to touch you.

    Seated between his legs atop his couch, you leaned back against his chest, head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, the movie you’d picked out playing on the large television. You try to focus on the movie - God knows you try - but the feeling of Steve’s rough hands moving over your thighs dominates your mind, your thoughts. You sneak a look at him, only to find him actually watching the movie; his hands continue to move over you, squeezing your softness, fingers wandering beneath the hem of your skirt, moving higher… Higher…

    “Steve?” Your voice is hoarse, your mouth dry, tongue sticky. “What are you-”

    “Just watch the movie.” His voice is soft against your ear, low and rumbling in a way that vibrates through your chest. You nod, swallowing against the tightness in your throat as his touch burns trails over your skin.

    You feel his fingers brush over your underwear, and he makes a quiet noise to get your attention.

    “Can I?” Steve asks, fingers tugging at the elastic hugging your body; you nod, face aflame as you lift your hips, pulling off the offensive thing in a single motion. And, unsure of where to put it, Steve takes it from you, sliding the lacy things into his pocket - for later, he answers with a kiss to your cheek before turning you back to watch whatever scene was playing out on the screen.

    You feel his hands roam over the inside of your legs, trailing close to your core. With a quiet gasp, your eyes flutter shut as you feel him drag a finger between your folds - up, down, up, down, stopping every few strokes to rub agonizingly slowly over your clit.

    “S-Steve-”

    “Keep watching.”

    Your body thrums in anticipation, and you have no choice but to do as he says.

    He continues on with his teasing - there’s no other way to describe what he’s doing - and you quickly feel yourself melting in his arms. As he kisses the shell of your ear, lips trailing over your flushed skin, his other hand moves to join the first, working in tandem to unravel you. You catch yourself grinding your hips up into his hands, and you barely catch a moan before it slips through your chapped lips.

    He rolls your clit between his fingers, maddening, electrifying, while his other hand presses into you, his fingers coated in your essence. Soon enough, the quiet, wet sounds of his fingers working your pussy fill the room, a sinful backing track to the movie you were supposed to still be watching. Your head rolls back against his shoulder, your breathing heavy, eyes fluttering closed as waves of warmth crash over you.

    “Eyes on the TV, sweetheart.”

    He pumps his finger into you, adding another, and you hear the softest of groans from him at how you squeeze around him, pulling him further into you. The hand at your clit speeds up, slows down, stops altogether before picking up at a dizzying pace - and the feeling drives you nearly to the brink of insanity, the familiar tightness of your release already coiling in your stomach.

    “You like this, don’t you?” Steve huffs against your ear, his own breathing labored as he works you toward your peak. “You like it when I touch you like this? When I get you soaking wet?”

    You nod, your mind a haze of pleasure; you moan aloud as his fingers curl themselves inside of you - and you know you won’t last much longer.

    “S-Steve, fuck…! I-I’m-” You cut yourself off with moan, one loud enough to be heard over the rising action of the film - rather, what you assumed to be the rising action.

    Neither of you were paying attention, anyway.

    You’re panting now, Steve’s name a prayer on your lips as your nails leave crescents in his arms, your eyes clenched shut as you feel yourself begin to come undone; the feeling of him everywhere is too much, too intense, and you let yourself fall into him.

    “C’mon, baby, cum for me. Cum on my fingers.” You feel Steve lick a stripe up your neck, kissing you, his words burning themselves into your flushed skin. “I want to feel you - please, baby…”

    You scream as the thread snaps, your body arching off his, his thick fingers buried deep inside of you, working you through the ecstasy. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, whispering praises into your ear; you can hear the smile in his voice, the pride he reserves only for you.

    “So good to me, baby… So sweet…” Pulling his hand away, he makes quite the show of licking his fingers clean, your flushed face burning impossibly redder, the sight making him smile as he readjusts you against him. He pulls out your panties, offering them back to you - of course, he does so purely out of courtesy, already knowing you’d refuse them. You settle yourself, burying your head in the cozy warmth of his chest.

    “Should I rewind the movie?” Steve asks, sounding almost sheepish as he reaches for the remote - and you laugh, taking the remote and tossing it aside before jumping to your feet, pulling him up with you as you lead him to his bedroom.

    “I’ve got a better idea…”