#anyway. aside from that. lack of need for prep and general lack of worry when it comes to sanitation or safety

[edwinisms]

kind of jealous of ghosts and the concept of ghost sex. the complete lack of need for prep or cleanup? what a dream

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 2

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break.

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

The hardest part is over, then. Suna was wrong. 

Kita rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands harshly before sighing and setting his phone aside. Y/N was returning to Hyōgo. Not only that, but she was planning on returning to her hometown. Their hometown.

Kita stirred the miso paste into the pot of water, deep in thought. The last 24 hours had been spent in a daze. Really, he was supposed to have been sleeping at 12 in the morning, but the notifications on his phone had woken him up. Granny’d said he’d always been a light sleeper. And any interest in sleeping had been completely dispelled when the group chat with some of his high school buddies blew up. Contrary to the others’ belief, he had been up, scanning the back and forth conversation happening in the group chat, read the encouraging texts. How was he supposed to go back to sleep when Osamu had dropped that knowledge on all of them so suddenly? Kita had slept poorly last night, tossing and turning in his futon, his mind only occupied with thoughts of Y/N. Even counting sheep or focusing on breathing evenly had failed to calm his racing heart, to his dismay. 

Y/N was coming back home.

The smell of something burning caught his attention, and he suddenly remembered the mackerel he had been baking. If the gods were truly watching Kita, they would be laughing; enjoying his currently sporadic behavior the way Granny guiltily enjoys watching what she dubbed “trashy shows”.

He ducked and pulled out the pan from the oven, sighing in relief when he saw that the fish weren’t too burnt. Perhaps the gods were feeling generous today, Kita mused, setting aside the miso soup and then ladling out portions for him and Granny. 

“Shin-chan?” Granny shuffled out into the kitchen in her house slippers, peering over her reading glasses at him. 

Kita looked up, a soft smile settling over his features. “Dinner’s almost ready, obaa-san. You can sit at the table; I’ll set it.” Granny Yumie nodded and then smiled sweetly before hobbling into the next room to wait for him.

Kita exhaled softly. If Y/N was coming home and there were going to be hangouts, then he would just have to make time. Yeah, that was it. He’d just have to work hard to prep the fields and sprout the rice this week, so he would have more free time when she came. He would work extra hard, Kita promised, diligently serving two scoops of rice into each bowl. There was nothing to worry about; no need to think any further on it.

Hard work always felt the best, anyways. It made him feel safe. 

“Kuroo?” You wrinkle your nose, remembering how he had left you on read for basically the entire day.

“Y/N?” he mimicked back, making you roll her eyes. After a beat he kept talking. “I thought I should probably call since you were in peril,” Kuroo teased. You could imagine the smirk on his face.

“What, you’re done facetiming Kenma?” You sat back on your couch, in your Tokyo apartment. The living room was simply furnished but had an elegant and tasteful selection of furniture. When you had first bought them, the small voice in the back of your mind had cried over the price alone.

“I am, actually,” Kuroo replied. You could imagine him lounging too, probably changed out of his business suit by now. Life had been kind to Kuroo, as it had been to you. He was living comfortably in Tokyo as one of the higher-ups in the JVA’s promotion division, with a spiffy apartment which was a twenty minute walk from your own.

You rearranged the stiff pillows that were poking your back uncomfortably, and lied back on the couch instead. This was probably the most downtime you’d had in a long time. “I don’t understand why you can’t just hang out in person like normal people,” you muttered, putting your phone on speaker and then closing your eyes to rest them.

Kuroo only snarked back and then began speaking of his recent work projects and his excitement towards them. You only half-listened, slowly falling asleep. Your head jerked back up and you regained a sense of clarity, catching the last bit of your friend’s sentence. “…Kenma and I’s friend, the little redhead with the Black Jackals… uh, number 21, yeah, I’m having him and Kenma do a video collab for a promo.” After a moment of silence and lack of reaction on your part, Kuroo asked “Y/N?”

You struggled to keep your eyelids from drooping down. “…Kuroo?” Your head nodded off, trying to fight falling asleep.

“Yeah?” He seemed to have picked up on the change in your attitude. You could hear soft rustling on the other side, and imagined him sitting up or standing. “What’s up, Y/N? Is anything wrong?”

Your voice was a lot smaller than usual. “…what should I do about Kita? I don’t know if I wanna see him,” you mumbled. “It’ll hurt a lot.”

“Well, Y/N…” Kuroo hesitated. “Maybe you need to confront the past. You’ve never really told me what happened, but it sounds like you haven’t had time to think about it…” He trailed off and said something else, but you hadn’t caught it. You were too busy, already fast asleep.

a/n: the next part will probably have less words idk-

some ~fun facts~

- granny’s “trashy shows” are reality tv like kuwtk or the bachelorette… she gets together with her girlfriends once a week to watch it

- in japan you ALWAYS do two scoops of rice for each person. it doesn’t matter if you don’t want a lot; just do two little scoops. (according to my mom, who is japanese, born and raised)

- kuroo fuckin LOVES his job

- JVA stands for japan volleyball association

- miss rona, like in the haikyuu universe, does not exist here either ❤️

[makowo]

Forever Deep Below Creation

This is still a work in progress, but due to my lack of posted writing in the past 3 months, I thought I'd give a sneak peek at the beginning of the fic.

Warnings: None

Characters: Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyoko

Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto

Words: 3k

It’s another warm night in the woods. Cicadas cast their calls to the air, and while some creatures tuck into their nests and dens, others rise to greet the darkened sky. Wing and hooves and fingers and claws grazing the sky, Brushing against the stars and cupping the face of the moon.

And here Makoto is, prepping dinner in the cottage he calls a home. His home. Their home.

He pulls out a knife from the block by the counter just as he hears the front door’s lock click. He can almost feel the burst of warm night air flooding their living room, though it is little to the warmth of the stove as it works to bring water to a boil.

He blinks, dropping his focus to turn towards his wife with a grin. “Welcome home honey!”

“Honey?” Kyoko echos, placing her bag on the coffee table. She leaves her holstered gun beside it, walking into the kitchen to check on him. “It’s unusual for you to use pet names.”

“Only if I wanna tease you.” He chuckles, and she does it right back. “Unless you prefer stuff like “babe” or “sweetheart”?”

Arms wrap around his waist, Kyoko resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

She avoids the question, and he saves that tidbit of info for later. Avoidance is not a no, after all. “Yakisoba.” He nudges the noodles around with a spoon, half-focused on it as he leans back against his wife. “Thought it might be good to have something quick tonight, y’know?”

Kyoko merely hums, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Shouldn’t you turn up the AC? You’re cold.”

“Means I can cuddle up to you to stay warm tonight though.”

“As if I’ll let you do that.” She scoffs. He can feel her smile against his skin.

“Ohh?” He goes through the motions of prepping their dinner, Kyoko stumbling along with his hasty steps with a steadfast grip. “And how are you gonna stop it?” Even if they’re on opposite ends of the bed, they always wake up with one clinging to the other. Hard not to cuddle.

She takes a minute to ruminate on it, before managing an answer. “Heater. Right between us.”

Makoto laughs. “Won’t that burn?”

“If it keeps your ice hands from touching me at 2 in the morning, then ‘m fine.”

His whine of objection couldn’t be more fake. “That’s mean.” He quickly nabs the pair of bowls set aside early on, tracing the grooves of their rims with his thumbs as he sets them out side by side. “You’re mean.”

Finally, he’s released from his lavender-scented prison as Kyoko reaches for one of the bowls, unsubtly nudging him in an attempt to get him out of the way. He stays still however, nudging her right back. “It’s still hot, Kiri-san! Gotta let it sit for a bit.” He warns with a frown.

“It can sit for a bit in my bowl.” She replies deadpan, still urging him away. And he relents, because it isn’t that big of a deal anyway but he doesn’t want to watch Kyoko burn her mouth while trying to eat again. Or just forget about it while she works.

“Then eat with me in the living room.” Makoto grabs his own bowl, getting what yakisoba she leaves behind in the pan. “And after it, we go straight to bed.” He’s not risking his work going to waste, after all.

Even with these tough terms he’s set up, Kyoko lazily nods, most likely due to still suffering from sleep deprivation. Maybe she’ll decline when she’s woken up a bit, maybe she won’t. Makoto decides to settle down on the couch and put on a movie that might distract her from it anyway.

It’s more background noise than anything, though; something about an escape room? Pretty sure he put on a sequel movie too, which turns their interest only to one another. Not that he minds.

“Would you like to go on a trip sometime in the next month?”

“Mmh, yeah?” He replies through a mouthful of food, quickly swallowing it before continuing. “What case has you going out of the country this time?” It’s not odd for Kyoko to ask if he wants to travel with her if she knows it’ll take too long for Makoto to bear.

She shakes her head, taking a bite of her food before answering. “I mean as a vacation, actually?” She replies with a tone implying that she’s questioning her own words already.

“Vacation?” He can’t help but echo, because… well, Kyoko never takes vacations! He can imagine she has a lot of days saved up because of that, but it never seems like she plans to put them to use other than for emergencies. Guess he read her wrong on that part, even if this is the first time she’s planning a legitimate vacation herself in the four years she’s been working as a detective again.

“Is it a bad time?”

“No, no!” Makoto shakes his head, not daring to let this slip by. “I’d love a vacation! It’d be nice to get out of the house.” He doesn’t really have much going on anyway, since the whole school idea didn’t really pan out. He’s just a stay at home husband now, and since Kyoko still makes enough money to support them both, he’s not actively seeking a job right now. Thus, he’s perfectly free.

Kyoko smiles. “Good. I’ve made sure to go ahead and clear up a week for ourselves, but I need to know what you might want to do.” She glances at him curiously, before quickly adding on. “Preferably not something that’s outside of Japan, I’d have trouble paying for that right now.”

Well that’s a no brainer for him, but it does narrow down his options significantly, which he happens to be thankful for. “Do you have anything in mind?” For a fleeting moment, Makoto recalls his dinner, taking a bite of it before he looks away from it and thus forgets it even exists. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really have anything in mind…” Never been one to aspire for once-in-a-lifetime thrills, like skydiving or something. He’d be happy just lounging at home the whole week, despite his earlier comment.

“I thought we could go to a nearby city then, and go sight-seeing.” Kyoko spares a glance towards the movie playing, before interest in it is once again immediately lost “Maybe in Seoul? There’s a large cave system there as well, and they’re open to caving this time of year.”

“Hm?” Makoto tries to recall what exactly that is, but he’s drawing blanks. “What’s that?”

“Well, Seoul is-”

“I know what Seoul is.” Makoto deadpans, though completely understands why she thought that was what he was talking about. He’s not the most educated person, what with the whole memory loss thing. “”I mean caving! I’ve never, uh, heard of that.”

“Ah.” Kyoko nods, setting down her bowl on the coffee table. “Apologies. It is rather self-explanatory however; we just go and explore a cave system with a small group.” She shrugs, stifling a yawn. “I thought it might be fun to do something like that together. It’s rare for a person to do, wouldn’t be too dangerous, and we’d be together the whole time.”

That does sound pretty cool, he’ll admit. He’s never really gone into a cave before, if he excludes the ones that they’d have to hide in during… ah, well, it’d just be nice. Doing something kind of thrilling. He imagines it’s thrilling, at least.

“I think it’d be fun!” He finally chirps, leaning over to rest his head on Kyoko’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something together, I’m sure it’d be a good time for us both.” And he’s pretty sure they don’t have any trauma tied to caves, which is a definite plus! Unless they count claustrophobia? Neither of them have shown signs of that though, so they’ll hopefully be fine. Hopefully.

As if she were able to sense his worry (which he doesn’t doubt that she can), Kyoko places a hand on his leg, stopping its worried bouncing. He hadn’t even noticed it doing that. “Are you sure?” She asks lightly, brow furrowed with worry. “”It can be dangerous, you know. There’s only so much a tour guide can do to make naturally made caves safe to enter.”

Makoto frowns, now actually worried. “Then why would you recommend it?” He asks, very quietly.

Kyoko takes a while to respond. In fact, she doesn’t respond until she’s actually finished her dinner, as well as his. It was getting cold so he may as well let her have it. “Do some looking, and if you have a better idea, tell me.” And then she heads to bed, because that’s just. A perfectly fine way of ending a conversation.

Makoto trudges on after her after about an hour of thinking (mostly lack thereof, with the television being such a terribly convenient and easy distraction) on the couch. Unlike most nights though, where the room is pitch black, her back turned from the door so as to not catch the stray rays of lights that he’s forgotten to turn off, it’s… actually still pitch black in there. But after a moment of letting his eyes adjust, he catches Kyoko’s alarmingly bright gaze cutting through the gloom.

“Can’t sleep?” He mutters as he stumbles through the dark, going off of his recollection of the room’s layout, reduced to something of barely any use through the haze of sleepiness tugging at his being.

“I can.” She replies slowly, watching him not unlike how a cat would watch their owner. Not that she or their relationship in general compares to that; she just has that… “look”. Like she knows everything. “Was just waiting for you to come to bed.”

If he’s being honest, it’s kind of exciting. It’s the look she gives when her interest is upon him entirely, something that earns a flattered blush every time. “Thank you then.” He chirps, before crawling into bed like a lizard wriggling beneath the warm sands of a desert, except much less gracefully.

He almost expects nothing to happen, oddly enough. He should have known Kyoko was waiting for a reason.

A warmth presses up against his back, and a hum against his ear. “Don’t have to go in until noon tomorrow.” Kyoko huffs. He can just sense her smile when he shivers. “So… we could…” something presses between his legs, and teases just the right spot, “have some time to ourselves, maybe…?”

Makoto is a weak man, and especially weak for his wife. And thus, all he can do is scrounge up what remains of his energy, roll over, and let the franticness of their motions do the rest. ------------------------------------

It’s quite a hike to get to the cave they’ve been looking at. The route is safe, spacious, and short for the most part; it’s apparently a tour “good for beginners”, and while Makoto believes their caving adventures will begin and end with this one, it’s nice to know that this place doesn’t have any curveballs. Or spike-filled areas. Or tunnels one can only crawl through. Or maybe even fractures.

“Stop worrying.” Kyoko demands, his thoughts coming to a harsh stop. He manages not to be totally thrown off, following hastily after his wife as they trudge along a pebble-filled path.

He sighs when he catches up, glancing around. Just west there’s Tokyo, bustling with life, but it’s far enough only to serve as a backdrop to the hill-covered fields they’re in. They follow a path lined by thin ropes tied to sticks in the ground every other step, as despite the lack of actually dangerous areas nearby, there’s a lot of… well, area. The Tragedy changed a lot of the landscape, more so than most would believe.

Stopping his mind from wandering too far again, Makoto directs his attention ahead. They have a few other people with them, much more diverse in their body type than he assumes the average would be for much more difficult to traverse caves. They talk amongst themselves, all of them clearly going with someone they know for the trip. Ahead of them, the tour guides walk, though he can’t tell what they’re doing. He doubts it to be much at all, really.

“Are you excited?” He finally asks, careful not to speak loudly. He doesn’t want to draw much attention from their peers here, they’re lucky enough to have only garnered a few curious looks.

“Of course.” Kyoko replies, just as quiet. “I’m sorry it had to be delayed so much, cases just kept piling up.”

Makoto scoffs. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re able to help people.” Adjusting to keep a good hold on his backpack, he reaches over to grasp Kyoko’s hand. She’s changed her gloves today. Much rougher. “Even if it’s not another year until we get a chance like this again, I’m satisfied.”

He hopes for a smile, or the most likely quirk of the lips she gives when beyond the walls of their home. He earns neither.

“I’m not.” She tightens her grip, tugging him forwards. “Come on. We’re falling behind.”

Makoto nods, silent as he follows her up the steep incline, and silent still until they come to the entrance to the cave.

He can only think of an open maw when he sees the entrance. It sits neatly above the ground, embedded into the side of the hill’s peak, moss creeping over the exposed rock. Various plants and flowers bloom from cracks in the walls he can see, reaching out towards the sunlight beyond. But as he looks upon the entrance, the teasing glimpse it shows of its surely vast depths, he can’t help but think they’re trying to escape the dark rather than gain any sunlight.

The heat must be getting to him.

“Alright everyone!” One of the guides chirps, clapping their hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s do a quick check to make sure everyone has what they need!”

Makoto remembers all their supplies, and part of him knows that he has everything, but anxiety urges him to check once more. Plus, he needs to actually put some of it on now. That too.

He crouches down and pulls his backpack around, trying not to focus on the cave. Instead, he mentally lists off each item as he finds it; helmet, gloves, boots, first aid kit, and a flashlight. Not much really, and he’s more than happy about that fact.

Makoto sighs, putting on each item he needs and putting away the rest. He’s careful about the gloves in particular as he puts them on; the helmet may have a light that could break if he’s not cautious, but Kyoko picked these out for him specifically before this trip. She has very strong opinions about them, and apparently these are the best pair for this sort of task that she could find. And they must be, they’re very comfortable! A perfect fit even, despite the fact that she gave them to him on the way here without any warning. He can’t imagine what they must have cost.

After checking for his caving suit and quickly realizing that he already put it on before making this trek, Makoto shoves his old shoes and socks into the back, hopping back up just as everyone else seems to be handed something.

“Now, before we head in, I want you all to get a good look at this map.” The guide says as they hand a sheet of paper to each group. “Even if this is a short trip, and we know this place like the backs of our hands, there’s a few turns here and there!”

Kyoko takes the map they’re given, Makoto peering at it from over her shoulder, having to crane his neck to get a good look. It doesn’t seem like too much, thankfully; there’s a meander or two, but none on the main path, thank the gods. He’d prefer not to have to do any crawling during this!

“It’s a straight shot, huh?” He comments absentmindedly, resting his chin on his wife’s shoulder.

She merely huffs, reaching back to thread her fingers through his hair. Despite the unsatisfying feeling of the gloves she’s wearing right now, he eagerly leans into the touch. “Yes. I’ve seen pictures of the cave as well, and it appears to not be very dangerous, unless one was actually being reckless. Should take about twenty minutes, at most.”

Makoto grins, wrapping his arms around Kyoko’s waist. She makes another sound, something like a noncommittal grunt, but doesn’t nudge him away as he expects. It’s nice. “And after this we go eat at Stellar Cafe.”

“We ate there last week.” She quickly reminds him, paying only a partial bit of attention to what those in front of them are saying. Something about the first aid kits, nothing very important.

“Too bad.” He gives her a quick peck on the cheek. “I like their food, and the service is nice.”

He can hear her stifle a laugh as she pulls away. “You like their curry. There’s perfectly good curry elsewhere.” She reaches into her own backpack, pulling out a walkie talkie. “Now get your radio out.”

“Don’t you think this is kind of overboard?” He pulls it out anyway of course, making sure his is connected to hers. “They never recommended these for caving, at least not on the sites I looked at.” Seems that most of the time people are expected to stay together anyway, if there’s more than one person at all. He’s surprised Kyoko decided to do this.

“Can’t ever be too safe.” Is all she says, before looking to the cave. “It’s time to go.”

Makoto follows her gaze, and sees the rest of the group already clambering over rocks as they enter the hole. “Ah.” He pauses, choking on nothing for a moment so fleeting he can’t even react. “Yeah.”

If he showed any hesitation, Kyoko does not acknowledge it. Instead, she walks ahead, and with heavy steps he pretends are eager, Makoto follows her into the dark.

------------------------------------

and that's it! quite a bit, and definitely not the best writing in the world, but im very proud of it so far! if you can then please rb this and give your thoughts, i do this for free but there's a reason i post my fics at all, which is validation <3 basically what keeps me going and able to continue writing at all, actually.

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] Honest to Goodness

Title: Honest to Goodness Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Somewhere Post Episode 70, Close to Home series Characters: Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast Rated: K+ Description: Caduceus has never been talented at finding the right words for anything, but thank Melora, actions speak a lot louder. For @claylebweek​

There was something oddly soothing about the clean-up post dinner. Stowing his ingredients in their proper place, wiping down the kitchen of all detritus, doing the dishes, restoring his workspace to a pristine condition. Caduceus hummed to himself as he worked, washing and drying and stacking, letting his mind wander but not linger on anything in particular. He felt far too restless to retire, though he knew rest was sorely needed. They’d leave again in the morning, perhaps to Nicodranas, perhaps elsewhere.

The Mighty Nein had a peculiar habit of deciding a course of action, and then changing it at the last minute. Caduceus had learned to match the sporadic flow, rather than harbor frustration. He set a plate to the side, covering it with a cloth. Caleb had still been gone by the time Caduceus served dinner, but their wizard missed too many meals as it was. Caduceus would try to catch him on his return, encourage him to eat. Caleb had not seemed well, last Caduceus saw him, though honestly, he’d been seeing less of their wizard as of late. Granted, they’d not had much downtime, but still. Their reading lessons had been few and far between, and Caleb hadn’t joined him for evening tea in quite some time. Caduceus assumed he had erred in some manner, but no matter how often he turned their interactions over in his head, he couldn’t identify why. He considered asking someone else in the Mighty Nein for advice, but couldn’t decide who. If another week passed of Caleb avoiding him, for lack of a better word, Caduceus would start with Fjord and work his way around, leaving Nott for last. Surely someone could offer him an explanation, since Caleb seemed uninterested in providing one himself. Caduceus put the last clean plate into the cabinet and shut the door. He cast a glance around the kitchen -- completely tidied with Caleb’s dinner waiting on the sideboard -- and untied his apron, hanging it on the hook. He supposed he’d go to his tower and see if he could spot Caleb’s return from there. Caduceus turned around and blinked with surprise. Caleb stood in the doorway of the kitchen, looking in on him with an expression Caduceus was unable to read. He must have been deep in his own thoughts not to hear Caleb arrive. Nott snuck up on him frequently but rarely were other members of the Mighty Nein capable of such a feat. “I saved you dinner,” Caduceus said when it seemed Caleb wasn’t going to speak up. “Oh. I -- thank you,” Caleb said, his voice oddly quiet, his brow pinched as though he were troubled, and perhaps he was, given the revelation about one of his former compatriots being in the grasp of the Dynasty. “I appreciate it.” “It was no trouble,” Caduceus said. Caleb nodded, and chewed on his bottom lip. He lifted his gaze from the floor as though it took great effort before he said, “I owe you many things. An apology, to start, and then an explanation.” “All right,” Caduceus said, cautious to his core. This felt like one of those conversations he didn’t want to have, although he wasn’t sure why. “Though I’m not certain what you need to apologize for.” Caleb fidgeted. He moved further into the kitchen, drifting toward one of the tables Caduceus used to prep food -- and the table containing the reserved meal. “You may have noticed I’ve been avoiding you lately.” “Yeah. Noticed that. Hoped you’d tell me why eventually,” Caduceus said. Perhaps now was the ‘eventually’. “It’s complicated,” Caleb said, his accent thicker than usual, perhaps because of the fatigue cloaking him, the overwhelming emotional wringer he’d pushed himself through today. “But I will explain. And I am sorry.” Caduceus nodded. “I’m listening.” He moved toward Caleb, tried to usher him in the direction of the chair, of the food, because it seemed as though Caleb would topple any moment, but the wizard shook his head. “I have to say this first, and say this now, before I lose my nerve.” Caleb looked up at Caduceus, the space between them little more than an armlength. “Because if I don’t, then I’ll keep losing my chance. We almost died. You’ve already died once, briefly if not for Jester. Now Yasha’s gone, the danger has only magnified, and…” He paused and sucked in a sharp breath, face wrinkling. “I’m running out of time,” Caleb said. “It’s not as though I thought I had all the time in the world. I’m conscious of how short my life is, and shorter still with the danger we put ourselves into. And there are things I want to do, things I want to see done, I have a purpose. I have a wrong I must right, but…” He trailed off again, frustration leeching into his voice. Caduceus waited. He sensed there was something important in the babble, something Caleb struggled to find the words to say, whether it was because he was speaking Common, or because he spoke to some emotion he rarely shared, Caduceus didn’t know. “I am not a good person, Mr. Clay,” Caleb said, and his voice was thick, like one who was fighting back tears. “I am a garbage person, and I have no right to do this, but because I am selfish, I am going to do it anyway. I must because if I don’t, time is going to run out, and I’ll never know, and isn’t that the worst? Never knowing?” Caduceus tilted his head, a tightness in his chest, an ache to pull Caleb into his arms and soothe whatever emotional turmoil had taken their wizard. But Caleb, more than any other in the Mighty Nein, kept his physical intimacies to himself, and Caduceus didn’t know if such a thing would be welcome. He didn’t know anything. “It is often better to take a risk then be left wondering. At least, that’s how I’ve always believed,” Caduceus said quietly. He looked down at Caleb, trying to catch his wandering gaze. “I am listening, Mr. Caleb. Whatever burden you carry, I am listening.” Caleb gave him a sad, gentle smile. “Oh. It is as much a burden as it is not.” He took in a long, slow breath. “I care for you, in a way I probably should not, but I can’t shove it aside anymore.” “I care for you as well,” Caduceus said, only partially confused. He was aware Caleb wrestled with his affection for the Mighty Nein, considering it a burden as much as he did a boon. “You are all very important to me.” “No, that is not what I meant.” Caleb’s forehead wrinkled, and he exhaled sharply, as if he were frustrated. He reached up. “Please, bend down for me, Mr. Clay. I can’t reach you.” Caduceus blinked. Bend down…? It was an odd request, but he complied, and once he did, Caleb’s fingers threaded through his hair, cupping gently around the back of his head. “Please don’t hate me,” Caleb murmured, and he rose up, leaned in toward Caduceus, cradling Caduceus’ head as if he were a treasured item. Their lips brushed. At once, Caduceus understood, and then the kiss deepened, Caleb’s mouth moving over his, their lips skimming together. Caleb’s lips were chapped and swollen, perhaps he’d been chewing on them in his anxiety. Warmth flooded Caduceus, from where Caleb's lips touched his, spreading throughout his entire body. His heartrate fluttered. The sensation of butterflies in his belly turned into a whole flock. And then Caleb drew back and looked up at him with worry in his face, his hand sliding away from Caduceus, trailing briefly through his hair. Caduceus blinked. "Oh," he murmured, a slow smile curving his lips, which tingled in the aftermath. Revelation was a warm pool in his belly, a tingle dancing over his skin. "Oh?" Caleb echoed, his voice thick with anxiety. Caduceus smiled and touched Caleb's face gently. "Oh that's what this feeling is. I like you." Caleb's face immediately burned bright red, his freckles standing out in sharp relief. He sucked in a breath. "I don't think I'll ever get over how abundantly honest you are," he said, and knocked his forehead against Caduceus' chest. "It's startling." "I think that's because you're so wrapped up in your secrets, Mr. Caleb. You and Miss Beau are both like that," Caduceus said. His lips tingled. He wondered if it would be weird to ask Caleb to kiss him again. "That is probably true," Caleb said, muffled against Caduceus' shirt. Caduceus chuckled quietly. He stroked Caleb's hair, because Caleb was still hiding his face. "I, uh, you'll have to forgive me, Mr. Caleb, but I don't have a lot of experience with this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do next. Is this where we take our clothes off?" Caleb bolted upright, and his face was as red as a tomato, all the way to the tips of his ears. "Caduceus!" he gasped, and my, but the sound of his given name in Caleb's voice was music to Caduceus' ears. "That's, I think, a little fast." Caduceus tilted his head. "Is it? I mean, that seems to be the standard as far as I can tell. Beau--" Caleb shook his head, hard enough to dislodge some of his hair from the tie. "Beauregard's, ah, intimacies are not to be taken as the standard. This is different," he said, and seemed to gather himself, straightening his shoulders. "I would not have this be a... a fling. You know?" Caduceus nodded, but then shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't know." Caleb sighed and kind of scratched at his chin, where a bit of stubble was making a strong effort to dust his cheeks. "A fling is, you know, temporary. It is a one time thing. That is not what I am after, though I know I should probably be content with that, but I am a selfish man, Mr. Clay. I want more than I should." He paused and peered up at Caduceus. "Or is that what you want?" "I'm not sure. This is all very new to me." Caduceus hummed and considered it. "The idea in general sounds nice. Especially with you. Not, I mean, the fling part, but the other part where we take off our clothes. It sounds like it could be nice." Caleb's red deepened. He coughed into his hand, and for a moment, looked as though he had shed ten years worth of exhaustion and anxiety. "That is good to know, but maybe we can wait a bit for that part. I mean, I am in no rush, and it doesn't seem as though you are either?" "Sure," Caduceus said, easily agreeable. He had no source of comparison. He couldn't miss what he had never experienced. He touched his lips. "Should I wait to kiss you again, too?" Caleb's lips curved into a genuine smile. He breathed a soft laugh. "Come here," he said, gesturing, and Caduceus leaned down, into the gentle cup of Caleb's fingers, threading through his hair as Caleb pulled him into a kiss. It was firmer this time, more sure. Caleb touched him with confidence, radiating satisfaction and relief as opposed to an anxious trepidation. Caleb's mouth moved against his, and then his lips parted, and the tip of his tongue traced the seam of Caduceus' lips, warm and wet. A thrill danced down Caduceus' spine, pooling at the base of it. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so they hung awkwardly at his sides, until he rested them on Caleb's shoulders. He opened his mouth to Caleb, and shivered at the first touch of Caleb's tongue to his. It was an odd sensation, indescribable. Even with Caleb's lessons, Caduceus still couldn't find appropriate words, save that he enjoyed it, and wouldn't mind more. Caleb must have understood, because he carded his fingers through Caduceus' hair, scrubbing gently at his scalp, and the kiss continued, softer and wetter until the low growl of Caleb's stomach shattered the moment. Caduceus chuckled against Caleb's mouth. "It's a good thing I saved you a plate," he said. Caleb breathed a laugh and tucked loose hair behind Caduceus' ear. "Sometimes, I think you are too good for us," he said, and there was a quiet fondness in his eyes. "I don't know where this is going to go, and gods know, I do not deserve it. But if you'll have this broken man, I would like to see." "We're all broken, Mr. Caleb." Caduceus took Caleb's hand, tangled their fingers together, and rubbed his thumb over Caleb's scarred knuckles. "And I don't know how to do this, but I'm willing to learn." "And you learn very quickly," Caleb said. He watched Caduceus' thumb stroke his knuckles. "I will do my best not to withdraw. I'm sorry for doing so before. I wasn't ready to face... myself, I suppose." Caduceus followed through on impulse and brushed a kiss over Caleb's knuckles. "Apology accepted," he said as Caleb's belly rumbled again, and the wizard's face returned to the tomato-red cast it had earlier. "And now, you eat." "Now, I eat," Caleb agreed and withdrew from Caduceus, though there was reluctance in the lingering brush of his fingers. "Read to me while I do? We can make up for the missed lessons." Warmth remained where Caleb had touched him. His lips yet tingled. He would like to kiss Caleb again, perhaps after he ate, or before bed, or in the morning. "Sure." Caduceus put the kettle back on the fire, preparing two cups of tea. It was late, but this was worth missing a little sleep for. Caleb was worth a lot.

***

Feedback, reblogs, comments, all are absolutely welcome! 

[evilqueens]

Happy Valentine’s Day to @InsideParrilla on Twitter! Sorry for the late posting, I had school today. 

This whole thing became a monster, so I guess this can be considered the start of a new verse for me. It’s based on one of my favorite book series, Delirium.

I really hope you enjoy the beginning, and I will be posting the entire first part this weekend. (: I hope you had an amazing day today, and many thanks to @lovefromoq for putting this event together! 💕

(link for ao3)

Regina still cries sometimes. The anniversary of her father’s death is one of those times.

She wonders if that’s something that would upset him. Anyone else would find it alarming, perhaps even enough to report her. But her father had always been a bit more lenient about these things than anyone else, despite the surgical procedure he’d had that was supposed to make him feel otherwise.

It was twenty years before her father had been born when the government had identified love as an official disease. An umbrella disorder under which many other disorders had been reclassified as symptoms, like depression, anxiety, insomnia. And by the time her father had turned eighteen a cure had been all but perfected to keep the public safe against love.

It’d become a mandatory operation — a surgery on the brain, performed on the spot of the head just behind the ear. It was a clean procedure by the time her father had gotten it, leaving behind nothing but three small dots as evidence. A scar most people wore proudly as the mark against amor deliria nervosa.

The wind picks up as Regina stares out at the tides, stinging her tear-stained cheeks and making a mess of her hair. She takes a quick glance around to make sure no one’s there to witness her crying. But she knows she’s safe; it’s too cold to be at the beach. She used to complain whenever her father would drag her out here during temperatures like this, claiming the cold air was refreshing for the mind.

And detrimental to the immune system, she would argue. Then he’d wrap an arm around her — unusual for Cureds, to show any sort of physical affection — and make some sort of teasing compliment about how good a doctor she is. Usually followed by some ridiculous quip of him having learned not to fear everything in nature just because it might pose a danger to him.

The longer Regina has thought about that, the deeper it seems to ring true.

Her father had never outwardly supported the cause against the deliria — not the way most everyone else does. He didn’t cringe away from talk of the deliria the way most people around Regina do. He had secret stashes of banned books and music that Regina had rifled through on more than one occasion when she was younger. The bulk of it had been made well before the official classification of the disease, and the books glorified it, their authors unaware. And the music was full of haunting melodies belting the ugly effects of the deliria that still send a shiver down Regina’s spine whenever she thinks about them.

She never knew why her father held on to those items. It wasn’t safe by any means, and had anyone else ever come across the stashes Regina’s sure he would’ve been accused of being a Sympathizer, a resister to the fight against the deliria.

She brings a hand up behind her ear, rubbing at her procedural scar. She’d gotten the cure two months after her eighteenth birthday. Procedures before the age of eighteen aren’t generally allowed — too many dire side-effects can occur. Though doctors are working hard to make the cure safe for everyone, for now people have to wait until at least eighteen — sometimes older, depending on results of a mandatory physical — unless under extreme circumstances.

Regina used to fear getting the cure when she was younger, more than contracting the deliria itself (though she’d never admit that to anyone). Though she’d never fallen victim of the deliria, her anxiety before the cure had been through the roof, and it had taken everything in her to suppress the panic that had welled up in her the day of her procedure.

She remembers one of the nurses helping her that day had caught a stray tear before Regina could wipe it away, and had tried to ease her worries. “After this, you won’t have reasons to cry again. You’ll be safe.”

Regina scoffs now at the memory, wiping away another tear. Out in the cold, deserted beach, with nothing but sad memories to keep her company, she wonders what she’d done to warrant being so unfortunate.

She also can’t help but wonder what that nurse’s misconception means for her safety.

—

Regina’s first thought about the new nurse on duty is that he’s gorgeous — and she’s immediately alarmed by it. It’s not the first time she’s had that thought about a person, but it is the first time it’s felt anything but objective. The first time since having been cured, anyway.

He’s not very tall. On the days she wears heels (which is more often than not), she’s almost eye-level with him. She thinks this makes things more difficult for her. It gives her a better view of his blue eyes, and the dimples that often peak out when he speaks or smiles (and he smiles a lot, more than anyone else around here).

The tingle she’d felt shoot up her arm when he’d shaken her hand and introduced himself as Robin was one she’d had trouble shaking off for the rest of the day.

She avoids him at first, irritated at the way his gaze leaves a warm feeling in her chest. She’s dismissive, and doesn’t let herself spend more time than she needs to in his immediate proximity. She cuts any conversations with him short at the first opportunity. She doesn’t meet his eyes when he speaks to her, opting to busy herself with whatever’s close by. One day he catches her without anything around for her to toy with, and she finds herself mentally connecting the dots of his procedural scar as he goes over a form with her.

He calls her out on her elusiveness one day.

“I’m cured, you know,” he comments out of the blue while she fills out a prescription form.

She looks up in confusion as he leans an elbow on the counter next to her. “What?”

He smirks at her, the appearance of his dimples causing an unwanted distraction. “Ever since I started here, you’ve been avoiding me like we’re a pair of teenagers. So I just wanted to let you know that I am cured, and you have nothing to worry about.”

She fights down a blush, bristling at his accusation, even though it’s more or less true. She bites back, “I’m perfectly aware.”

“I don’t have any other disease either, for the record,” he quips before she can say anything else. “I was cleared before being allowed to work here.” His smirk doesn’t let up.

“I’m sure you have a clean bill of health.” She glares at him. “And I’m not avoiding you,” she lies. She rips the prescription form off its pack with more force than necessary.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he mutters as she moves around him to get back to her patient’s room.

She throws another glare over her shoulder. “Well you’ll have to excuse me if I have better things to do here than stand around and chat with you.”

She leaves before he can respond, unwilling to give him a chance to point out that her hasty retreat helps his point more than hers.

Determined to prove him wrong, Regina stops dodging him after that. Robin notices, she can tell by the amusement in the smiles he gives her for the following week, but he thankfully doesn’t comment on it. He takes full advantage of the end of her evasiveness however, engaging her in more conversations. And she wills her heartbeat to steady when he’s standing too close, or when his voice lowers to throw a joke or a light tease in her direction.

She watches him, in spite of herself. He has a warm demeanor, one the kids he tends to pick up on immediately. He doesn’t cross the line of propriety, but he tends to near it more often than not; comments here and there that one might consider more playful than than what’s considered normal. He’s drawn a giggle or two out of children before — but aside from a sideways glance from uninterested parents, no one seems to notice anything particularly out of the ordinary. And it occurs to Regina more than once that the only reason she’s noticed it herself is because she pays him too much attention.

And he’s noticed, she thinks. Or perhaps, he also just pays her more attention than he should. In any case, he takes any opportunity he can to talk to her. From often needless information on the children he’s prepped for her to see, to offhand comments about the weather, not a day goes by that he doesn’t attempt a conversation while they work together.

She thinks it should bother her — she’s never been one to have patience for those on the chattery side, her low tolerance for the secretary Ruby being a good example. And as it is, her encounters with Robin do leave her annoyed — but not so much with him. Instead she’s irritated at how unbothered she is by his presence, at how she might even like it.

She’s too aware of him when he’s near. Aware enough to become familiarized with the timbre of his voice, and the shade of blue his eyes are. Aware enough to know that he smells of pine trees, and that the bottom circle of his procedural scar is a just a little bit crooked (and she wonders where he got his procedure; were they careless about it?). She feels his absence more than she thinks she should on his days off, and it leaves her feeling a little off-kilter going those days without talking to him. She’s too aware.

She’s treating a little boy with an ear infection one day, a particularly bad one that she can only assume worsened due to negligence. Her guess is all but proven when Robin exits the examination room and tells her that the reason the boy wasn’t brought in sooner was because his mother had a short business trip to make. The lack of interest from the mother in question is apparent when Regina enters the room and barely receives a reply to her hello.

It’s one of the most common side-effects of the Cure — for people to be unable to form a parental attachment to their children. It’s not new for Regina to come across parents who aren’t particularly worried for the well-being of the children they bring in. There are extreme cases, of course, ones she’s allowed to report if the child’s life seems to be in imminent danger. But those are rare, and despite the unwanted tug in her heart at seeing this little boy feeling so obviously miserable, she knows there’s not much she can do besides prescribe him his antibiotics.

She can’t help casually asking for assurance from his mother that the boy will be monitored and given his medicine, however. She’s told that the housekeeper will be put in charge of administering the boy’s medication, but the answer doesn’t do much to relieve the tightening of Regina’s chest as she clears them both to leave.

She fills a paper cup with water she doesn’t think she’s gonna drink, trying to buy herself time to better compose herself.

“I would assume the housekeeper will be diligent about the medicine,” she hears Robin lightly say. She looks up to see him reach for a paper cup of his own as he continues, “If only to make sure she keeps her job.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She tries to school her face, but the way he looks at her tells her she doesn’t succeed.

He gives her a smile. “He seemed like a trooper,” he agrees. “I think I even saw a bit of a smile when Ruby handed him his lollipop in the waiting area.”

The corners of Regina’s mouth twitch up despite herself at the notion, and the invisible weight on her chest lightens up a little. It’s replaced with a different form of anxiety at Robin’s next words, however.

His smile fades, and he studies her for a moment before softly declaring, “You care about these children.” There’s a certain weight to his words that Regina can’t discern, but it leaves her feeling uneasy.

She stays silent, unsure of how to respond without sounding defensive. Because she suddenly feels defensive — the unidentifiable meaning in his comment has her feeling almost accused. And though she’s not exactly sure of what, she’s also not sure she can truthfully say she’s not guilty.

The corners of Robin’s mouth twitch up again. “It’s refreshing,” he tells her. “At least someone around here is good at their job.” He gives her a playful wink.

It doesn’t fully ease the anxiety of his earlier implication, but the compliment still warms her. The anxious flip flopping in her stomach takes a lighter tone. Almost like butterflies.

[floralkittygambler]

Return of The Thing

Sort of. By thing, I mean me. But I love this movie and the meme. Ok, context for this post: - Where I’ve been - Why I left - Whats hip happening -  Where I’ve Been:

Long story short, I’ve had real life matters to deal with. Firstly, my entire household contracted COVID. Well, *almost*. We’ve been through constant testing, quarantine zones, and had the ambulance up numerous times. My parents and 2nd oldest sister were hit the hardest. My 3rd oldest sister was positive and asymptomatic. Now something none of us could predict that I would be completely COVID free despite my compromises. Despite that I was in close contact with them all, including the 2nd oldest who contracted it first and accidentally being coughed on a few times lol. I went through the exact same testing and yet nothing. No symptoms. No presence of COVID. And I took no precaution to isolate from my family as I presumed in our small house we’d all get it, so I was more preoccupied with caring for the sick. Ultimately, I’ve either gotten off scott free this time or there’s a chance I may actually either be highly resistant or even immune. Even then, I WILL be having the vaccine as and when my family are eligible. And we all still follow regulations set.  I’ve also had other real life obligations, much of it either mundane fixing up my living circumstances to more personal matters. Overall, I have been extremely preoccupied.

A mini update, the stray cat Big has been in our porch a lot more in recent times due to the snow as well as being even more affectionate. And Queefster passed away after a good life and a full tummy. Why I Left:

Aside from COVID, business, and my own health declining, I’ll be blunt. I left because of how disgustingly toxic most fandoms are nowadays, but Hazbin is one of the WORST for it. That includes harassment, death threats, mocking MI and triggering an ED. In fact, I’ve even seen others get rape and death threats. So yes, even if YOU are a decent fan, collectively most of you arent doing any favours. Even some critical blogs seem to be overtly catty in ways no one else seems to pick up on under this ‘look how blunt I am’ look and it’s just... You dont have to be a prick to have your say, to be honest and to disagree with the trending. That’s a few on and off of tumblr, and no one I follow anyways. 

In regards to my ‘sensitivities’ - two things: 1) Of course trauma is going to hurt, 2) Im fully aware of kids doing and receiving much of this, which hurts MORE. I have my own lil squids and Im worried of them eventually having to deal with this shit. And no, no one SHOULD have to put up with such rude and poor behaviour. Agree to disagree doesnt live in some people’s realities, but by God harassment and bullying seems ok if YOURE doing it or enticing it. That ISNT ok. Even if it seems like nothing to you it could kill another. I certainly will not take your shit. 

On huskerdust I STAND by my words. It’s fucking creepy and there is sexual harassment and obsession. And there are large triggers. I will not go into detail here because Ive done that dance before and I’ll be refining it again. YOU may like it, however it triggers my very real traumas as well as those in my bloodline. Be respectful and keep that shit away from me. And for goodness sake, parents PLEASE dont raise your children to behave as such online. And no, being anon isnt actually fully anonymous. Also to send hate and threats anon is not only traceable but also cowardice. Grow a pair and find a hobby. I avoid my traumas for the most part. I will not allow you to weaponise or diminish my own or others experiences for your fictional based gratification. Likewise, if it becomes canon, I’ll just make an AU where it is not. Simple. You can hate it but Im not your personal circus so go be toxic elsewhere. IF you like HD and follow me, honestly... Youre probably better to unfollow as I am deeply and passionately against it and stolitz, and valvox, and am very vocal on that. Dont mistake my traumas and discomfort as a personal attack - and dont personally attack me over it either. And before anyone claims homophobia, no. This is nothing to do with sexuality. You arent the victim. If you love these pairings with your soul to the point of a ‘stan’, then youre best off unfollowing because I really am too old for extremists and rabid fans more crazed than the infected in REC. Also I never used to hate angel but now... Fans behaviour is abhorrent and hes so over saturated that I honestly really dislike him now. Doesnt mean you have to hate him too, but just bloody respect that angel isnt loved by all, he can be triggering to some as well as toxically enabling [incl. past addicts], a vile homophobic gay stereotype and just overall a lack of knowledge and respect of sex workers as a whole. When you know a lot of the ins and outs and victims, it’s hard to overlook. I respect your triggering ships by avoiding that mess. Respect others.  The problem with Viv - and I will elaborate in the future - is that your audience is often a reflection of your work and it’s message/presentation. And most of the fandom Ive met are awful. Honestly, though lonesome I find more comfort keeping distant from fandoms because yall often extremely toxic and petty. Perhaps others have had better experiences than I however Im drawing a line in the sand. For MY sake. I’m annoyed with virtually anyone I sense great potential in that becomes wasted. Im angry at Viv because she can do so much better but is blocking HERSELF. This is from a creative and business mindset. When someone has potential that gets wasted - especially creatively - it burns me. Im just passionate on artistic fields. It doesnt mean I hate them. I hate the waste of full potential.

I’ll state things here people disagree with but encouraging harassment, hate or just being an overall cunt just aint on- It’s like people charade as being this fair being but its all bullshit. Self improve and sod off, I do NOT have time to parent you online. 

And obviously there are RL duties I must fulfil. Some in which I will need the publics assistance for if you can spare it. Overall, Im just... Fandoms behaviour generally disgusts me. Disappoints me. We SHOULD be better than this. It’s like listening to bloomin incels rant on fuckin chad or some bullshit pill theory instead of looking to improve themselves too. Honestly... I do mostly acknowledge my own flaws and faults and try to improve each day. It just feels fewer folk see that in themselves and do the same. And that’s coming from an old cunt whos far from fuckin perfect. Also, my fuckin laptop broke so I waited a week for a bloke nearby to fix it. What a fuckin lifesaver, he’s the real mvp!

Also Also, one of you did privately apologise and I appreciate that. I certainly hope we agree to disagree and continue to grow as people on our separate ways. Trust me, I dont forget small acts like this. Even the trauma that caused and the aftermath, please dont think I dont appreciate the apology. However you’re also entitled to know that the forgiveness and healing side may take longer for me due to various factors that occurred - much that few are aware of, including yourself especially. I wish you well and safety.

Hip Happenin Now:

Still busy but slowly visiting. I’ll reply and reblog soon, be patient please. Ive still many things to sort which take priority as well as other things. Im trying to get money n shit for a future and whatnot. Health issues are strong in the blood rn and Im spending extended time with both Big and the other pets to keep up harmony, especially now that Big is accepting slowly that our porch is a welcome shelter for him and he’s free to leave and stay whenever. Trust me, overloaded isnt even the word. Im prepping shit early this year and from now on. Also, my God Ive been dealing with more physical issues as well and had to play doctor. May even need medical interference but holy shit I could never see this coming. Still... It’s... An experience- If you could call it that. Staying more active and healthy. Cat’s nearly clawed my eye out in my sleep (to which I can only presume Billy got too close or hyper) but it’s fortunate placement so Im alright. Most of my body is in pain to the point of absolute normality at this rate. And I plan to make space for a better altar. Future of the Blog: 

Errr, it’s my fuckin space so it’s whatever I want really. Ill still have my Viv rants (ie, pros and cons of her work, HH/HB, other shit like that) however I just really dislike most the fandom at this point as well as the poor management and lack of professionalism and attitudes of staff. It’s just draggin me down and making me ill. I also want to showcase more of MY work (from redesigns to projects to some dumb 2am shit), cosplays, fashion, hobbies, spiritual practises - MY. SHIT. I feel like Ive strayed slightly. But I WILL be honest. And damn well will it upset people. And if it does and I’m genuinely ding something wrong/harmful - guide me patiently. Educate me. If it’s like this HD shit where Im not only allowed my opinions but justified on my traumas or mocking my disabilities or features, then just yeet yourself elsewhere. Also some of my gaming shit too. Getting to know folk who interact with my stuff and just... Create my space. For me. Something hopefully others can enjoy. Something that can function as a bit of an art portfolio as well. Critiques and whatnot.  But I will continually not stand for anyone’s shit or poor handling of serious matters. You will not cause me to doubt and invalidate my experiences like you have to others.  For now, Im tottering but slowly returning. For those who I previously and daily interacted with, I will get back to you. And Im sure you’re patient and understanding of my situation - it’s appreciated. But in terms of any fandom, more so if it’s known to be as hostile, I’d rather keep a healthy boundary between us. That’s for newer folk. Perhaps we may bond further and you’re welcome to try, however I do feel far safer not getting involved into other people’s shit any longer. I will put anon back on but any toxic shit will be reported as well as compiled so at least I have a reference on the actual toxic nature of fandoms. Likewise, Im slowly getting there but god theres a lot of fuckin work. So much that not even my closest friend has heard too much from me until recently. I’ll be returning to the grind for now as I have duties, as well as many demanding felines for my attention. Alongside some physical medical concerns which require additional care, I’ll be popping off now.  Im thankful for those who have checked in on me. I will reply shortly. Take care

[gascon-en-exil]

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Jugdral: Part 3

Part 1: FE4 Gen 1

Part 2: FE4 Gen 2

Last and least (least filled-out on average, anyway) there are the men of Thracia 776. Unlike the epic breeding fest that is its predecessor, FE5, like the Archanea games before it or FE6 after, pads out its roster with filler recruits devoid of any character beyond a portrait and a line or two of dialogue. As such I have no choice but to keep this post to a filthy highlights reel of Thracia’s men. Playables not included here may be assumed to be like those guys you skim past all the time because there’s nothing eye-catching or memorable about them; given enough alcohol you may end up messaging some of them and maybe even come away with some photos of varying quality, but men who make such little effort to express themselves can’t possibly expect to leave much of an impression…or to get laid with any regularity.

(Also note that, as mentioned previously, characters who are playable in FE4 as well don’t get an additional entry here. As such we may enjoy the fitting irony of Leif not getting a profile in the post for his own game.)

Rash and impulsive, he’s quick to indicate interest in any guy he finds hot - generally with dick pics - but just as quick to stop responding once he’s finished jerking off or, more rarely, is actually successful in securing a hookup. Never remembers to bring condoms or lube, but it’s not much of an issue for him since he’s happy with trading handjobs and getting sucked off. He’s tried giving head and even anal whenever he happens to meet a guy prepared for a full encounter, but anyone who takes longer to cum than he does frustrates him and makes it tough for him to keep up the pace. Not looking for anything beyond quickies since he’s already got a reliable FWB or two and he’s some years off from having the dedication for a serious relationship. He’s got a soft spot for twinks and might eventually date a nice one once he’s matured a bit, but since they tend to make him uncomfortable in person this currently only manifests in his preferred porn tags.

Is used to being “the average guy” in his group of friends and, to his credit, has probably stopped a few drunken benders from turning criminal and/or lethal. As such he’s not very accustomed to having guys hit on him, but he’ll surprise everyone by immediately going after anyone who expresses a passing interest. Whether that reads as assertive or desperate will vary on the person, but any guy looking for a steady boyfriend with some bulk - a little less glam and a little more pudge if he’s being honest, but then he’s not one for sugarcoating - won’t be disappointed. An experienced top with enough stamina to go for multiple rounds and enough flexibility and cushion on the back end to take a turn bottoming if so desired. He’ll be often overlooked like so many of the other guys in Thracia, but his friends are just crazy enough to keep him from looking too boring.

Unusually involved for a late-in-life gay, he can always be relied upon to be organizing something within the community, whether it’s an amateur sports team for his favorite bar or a drag show for charity. He’s more likely to meet guys at such events than he is on hookup apps, though he does put in a token appearance on all the ones friendly to more hirsute men. Doesn’t have a problem with femme guys but isn’t likely to get naked with them either, and if he finds his (second) better half it’ll most likely be with a good-natured cub. The Bear flag hangs prominently in at least one of his offered selfies, which also include close-up action shots of him breeding and/or getting bred by someone just as hairy as he is (but don’t worry, he’s on PrEP and has all the relevant links and pamphlets on hand to encourage you to get on it too).He may be a bit short and stubby below the belt, but his gut isn’t as pronounced as it often is for men of his build so there won’t be too many problems with maneuvering at least. Likes to fuck long and slow for hours, but he won’t push his partners if they can’t keep up with his pace.

Deceptively hairy, as anyone will discover once he starts sending pics, but aside from that he seems like a typical gym bunny at first glance. It’s only after getting to know him through conversation - generally after exhausting him via a lengthy session of circle jerking and oral - that he reveals that he’s been recovering from a reckless past of partying and drug use. Has unquestionably engaged in PNP, possibly with meth, but if nothing else he deserves props now for making an earnest effort to clean up his act. Is not really that much of a top - after being dependent on alcohol and drugs to get in the mood he doesn’t stay hard for long - but this will work out in his favor since what he really needs is a strong guiding hand from an older man. As a power bottom he’s both loud and sloppy; his aim is terrible even when sitting on a dick. Even so, he’s a dream come true for a bear looking for a beefy young man and/or a good project.

Still in some equivalent of a teenage mall goth phase, though in his case it’s more like a pirate phase what with the piercings and tattoos and overall swarthy look. Not very secure in his sexuality, but he’ll angrily rebuff any attempts at playing therapist or any requests from guys looking for something more than a blow-and-go. Will open conversations with a dick pic and precise stats, and if that proves enticing he might be feeling risqué to show off his (underdeveloped) torso. May never progress beyond the level of glory holes and handjobs with no eye contact until he addresses his myriad hangups, which range from a deeply embarrassing crush on a guy who used to bully him in school to an even more embarrassing diaper fetish - any evidence of which he’ll immediately scrub clean from his internet history after each guilt-laden wank. In the end he’s probably best off being left alone, though it’s anyone’s guess what amount of trouble he could end up in on his own.

He can always be counted on to spend most of his time at bars hanging outside by the door, greeting all the twinks with a winning smile and heckling any homophobic passerby with taunts and poses that he assumes look more threatening than silly. His white knight-ish behavior has indeed gotten him laid on more than a few occasions, but he’s got just as many rivals as he’s got satisfied fans. Buffed up to full-on twunk shortly after hitting the scene for the first time when he realized that no one was going to take him seriously as a Dom otherwise with that face. Flexible enough to work with ropes, leathers, blindfolds, or simple hard vanilla fucking depending on what’s being asked of him, although he does get an extra thrill out of the kinky stuff. He’s got a good sense for when he’s worn out his welcome and would be better moving on, something he can accomplish with ease thanks to a lack of serious career aspirations and his ability to charm his way into hearts and beds no matter where he ends up. It’s unlikely he’ll ever return to his hometown, after an incident in which he drunkenly made a pass at a guy that he later figured out was his own brother.

Still a few years away from being old enough to drink - and about fifteen years away from looking old enough - but he gets in anyway since he has a tendency to hang around upperclassmen. Unironically wears booty shorts and flashy scarves and sometimes glitter because he’s a twink and knows it, and even though he gets all the tops in the place hot and bothered he’ll swear up and down that he’s never danced on top of a bar and never plans to. He’s actually quite faithful to the aforementioned older friends, to the extent that he may list himself as in a relationship on hookup apps even if he’s not technically dating any of them. Likely feels this way toward the guy who took his virginity, specifically. Still a little willowy to really bottom well, and with his intellectual interests and career aspirations that’s unlikely to change much as he gets older. Maybe once he hits college the freshman fifteen will give him a little more cushion. Expect to see him settled down and at “we only play together” status a few years down the line…unless the object of his precocious affections happens to be looking elsewhere, in which case expect to find him one night bent over a desk by one of his professors.

His entire personality may be perfectly summed up by the word “surly.” He expresses non-verbal interest often on apps (i.e. he’s a “serial woofer”) but never initiates conversation, and on the rare occasions that he goes out he’s the type to hang out against the wall by himself nursing a beer and watching the crowd. He almost never responds to attention either, though he’s got a hidden soft spot for wide-eyed types who seem just as out of place as he is. As might be expected of a guy who rarely hooks up and whose idea of a good sex partner is just that - an idea - he feels more comfortable pleasuring himself in solitude than in performing the act itself. It’s a shame, too, because he’s got a pretty nice dick and naturally high skill and stamina to put it to work. He’s even bottomed a few times though he’s loathe to say he liked it, not because he’s got any problems with that but because his sex life is one of the many things he never likes to talk about.

His profile is fully descriptive but not all that interesting - looking for friends and good conversation, not willing to hookup or jump into anything too quickly, goal-driven but not pushy, and so on. He’s the perfect guy to bring home to your mother, and on the surface he really does seem as dull as that entails. However, he’s benefited from a surprisingly thorough education courtesy of an older friend and longtime community member, and after he’s gone on a few dates and gotten comfortable with someone he’d be more than happy to show off everything he’s learned. Fully vers but still inexperienced with taking charge in the bedroom, he’ll be happy to follow his partner’s desires wherever they may lead. Quite a nice package too; it’ll be worth the wait to see it since he doesn’t take naughty selfies as a rule. At or just before his eventual wedding he’ll introduce his new spouse to his friend, a meeting that will lead to many warm and companionable nights together that may optionally end in orgies.

By all appearances he’s your average clean-cut mild-to-wild twenty something, looking for casual dates and maybe a little fun while he finishes up school or ascends his chosen career ladder. He has a weakness for younger guys though…including those who are clearly falsifying their ages to be on the apps in the first place. It’s no big deal now - who doesn’t understand the appeal of a twink who knows how to work it? - but in a decade or so he’ll be decidedly in creepy sexual predator territory. As his current trajectory seems to be setting him up for a high profile position it’s probably best to stay away or risk being caught up with him when the shit hits the fan, but then again he could find himself a nice stable boy to date and settle into the comfortable and mostly-monogamous role of sugar daddy. His biggest fantasies involve electroshock kink, so his greatest challenge will be finding a twink who’ll get into that too.

Still bears the remnants of a tragic emo phase that he hasn’t quite left, but to his credit he can take (some) jokes about his weird hair and makeup choices. Pot and hallucinogens used to be his scene, but he’s been trying to get clean for a little while now. Unfortunately he’s still the type of guy who’s best dealt with through a phone or in the dark and smoky atmosphere of a bar, because he smells horrendous up close. Hookups are surprisingly fun though they come with the challenge of sneaking into whatever sober living community he currently calls home, and with that environment if he’s hit it off with anyone there odds are things will get awkward if he’s discovered playing the field. He’s quite aware that he’s not boyfriend material in any sense to anyone who’s not as screwed up as he is, but he’ll still smile and give his partners a warm hug and a reminder to come back anytime after they’ve gotten dressed. He just really appreciates the company. Has an interesting selection of cock rings, up to and possibly including a Prince Albert.

His selfies surprise in their quality and variety, and it takes only one meeting with this guy to figure out that the serious tone of his profile regarding community outreach and sex positivity belies his dark sense of humor and even darker bedroom proclivities. He’s enjoyed the company of numerous call boys and amateur porn stars and will let anyone know it, though he’s not enough of a dick to be the kind to expect that level of performance from anyone. All the same he’ll be more engaged in conversation with a guy he can sense is experienced, as he doesn’t get much out of training untried virgins (or claims he doesn’t, anyway). Can go either way - he loves to take bottoms hard and fast just as much as he loves to take huge uncut cocks (more than one at a time if he can get it) himself. He’s by no means hardcore femme, but he wears the reclaimed labels of effete gay stereotypes with pride and won’t hesitate to throw them in anyone’s faces if they take issue with that. It’s doubtful anyone’s seriously looking to date him given how rough around the edges he can seem, but he’s got a little something lowkey romantic on the side of all the wild fucking so he doesn’t much care if his unconventional life choices raise any eyebrows.

His marriage is happy in spite of its conventionality, and he only found himself making a profile on the apps after he shared with his wife the story of the college roommate he had a massive crush on but never had the courage to approach. He’s just as painfully earnest online about his situation: he’s just looking to experiment with something he’s not yet experienced outside of his own fantasies and the occasional foray into the equivalent porn. Can’t take a selfie for the life of him and his looks are just starting to go - maybe he’ll try growing a beard at some point once he learns about bears and such - but there are still a few friendly and open-minded men willing to take him up on his offer of mutual masturbation and possibly some oral. Anal play of any kind is still a pipe dream for the moment, but one has to give him points for trying…and his wife for being so understanding, even if after cumming with someone he might quietly intimate that things weren’t always so peaceably open between the two of them. Never blocks anyone, but all his hookups tend to forget about him shortly thereafter anyway. His wildest dream involves meeting his roommate again somehow, having a few drinks and seeing where the night takes them, but what are the odds of that?

He may no longer be on active duty, but he maintains the strict sense of duty and regimentation that comes with the “military” tag on his profile (though this clearly does not extend to his personal grooming). Is one of those guys who’s really into exotic pets, but at least his favorite reptiles are low-maintenance and won’t interrupt foreplay by demanding cuddles. Shies away from rough types like himself, preferring the company of twinks who love to ogle his biceps and make him feel needed and important even if it’s just for the few minutes it takes for him to fuck them to an explosive prostate orgasm. Tends to get wistful after sex, and some prodding will reveal that he’s still holding a candle for someone he knew back in his service days who ended up marrying someone else. It’s exactly the sort of thing to ward off more vapid partners from looking for repeat visits, but a sufficiently sensitive touch may just be able to help him move on and turn him into long-term relationship material. The dick alone would be worth it. 

Is a known regular at every bar, strip club, and urgent care center (for gonorrhea, and hopefully nothing worse) in the area. Perpetually drunk, frequently high, and willing to hit on anything that moves, even high school students if he thinks he can get away with it. His hookup space is casually enticing for seekers of NSA, and he’s got a fully-stocked album and a range of videos showcasing everything on offer. Likes to manspread in public to show off the goods, not that he’s packing anything huge down there. Similarly, when not performing for the camera his skill in bed is more imagined than actual, even on the rare occasions when he’s actually sober. When he’s not indulging his vices he’s busy composing filthy poems of questionable quality and writing half-formed sentences for a novel that may surprise everyone by actually getting written one day, assuming he doesn’t OD or get himself murdered first. No one knows what he does for a living and he’s not telling; the best guess anyone has is that he’s a humanities major dropout and either a trust fund baby or a prostitute. Possibly both.

Never uses a face pic and gives out a pseudonym when asked, which he explains by telling guys that he’s a politician. Dreams of silk sheets and caviar and a media circus should things go south are quickly dashed before the first date even begins however, because in fact what he really means is that he’s a working-class aspiring politician with a massive chip on his shoulder and a hunger to work his way up through whatever menial government post he can manage. Resents anyone with more money than him and will angrily rebuff offers of compensation for his time *ahem*, and the sex that he does have is stiff and almost never ends in orgasm for anyone. Very few guys will come back for seconds, particularly since his political views lead toward establishment conservatism and as such he’s almost certainly got some internalized homophobia he’s making a powerful effort to ignore. Everyone may at least take comfort in the fact, should he ever actually get elected anywhere, his stubbornness and various neuroses will ensure that he’s terrible at the job.

Forget about asking for stories of wild nights in the seminary, because he’s always been a priest on a mission. He’s not on any hookup apps and rarely goes drinking, but he’s met his share of guys nonetheless doing community outreach or missionary work. Is usually too busy and too dedicated to even consider being fun in bed, but he’s not bad to look at for a little clerical fantasizing and makes for a fascinating conversationalist for all manner of theological and philosophical discussion. His political sympathies are just slightly radical for his order so it’s not entirely out of the question that he might one day be tempted to indulge himself, but lacking experience it would mostly come down to affectionate cuddling and cute fumbling with the logistics of the serious stuff. No one could keep up with his lifestyle of wandering service, but he doesn’t mind since he can make sincere friendships and encourage guilty boners wherever he may happen to find himself.

By a combination of good fortune and deliberate cultivation he’s a near exact likeness for a celebrity much lusted-after by the gay community at large, a point that he exploits to his advantage whenever possible. Protects himself from the possibility of lawsuits and the strong likelihood that his doppelgänger is straight by using the classic headless torso and genitalia close-up approach to serve for introductions and only agreeing to discreet NSA hookups in semi-public places. He can only maintain the façade in the digital space however, as anyone who meets him in person will instantly note that he sounds and acts nothing like the man he’s impersonating. He’s unskilled and clumsy during sex, but bizarrely he makes for an excellent teacher and has successfully helped many a hapless kid hone his technique at topping or giving head or taking a dick…or a dildo rather, since he can’t be relied upon most of the time to aim himself properly. His world will implode if he’s one day rebuffed by a guy who claims adamantly that he’s not who he says he is because the actual celebrity’s dick is bigger - and he’s got the photographic evidence to back it up.

Seems innocuous at first glance, a kindly older bear with some mildly interesting conversation and a handful of tame pictures of himself at home or out with friends to offer. He’s been through some rough patches but lives quietly and comfortably now, and while he’s a bit past his prime he’s easily pegged as a dream daddy, with or without sugar. It’s after the night’s wearing on and the foreplay has moved into a horizontal position that a major problem presents itself - this man will not cum. Suck him until your jaw locks, ride him until even he can’t handle the strain anymore, tongue him and fuck him until you can’t stay hard, leave hickeys all over his neck, massage his balls, nipples, ass, feet, and wherever else he can think to point out…nothing will get him off. It’s not because he doesn’t want to and isn’t trying either, but whether it’s because the years have taken their toll on him, he was never very sexual to begin with, or he has a crippling porn addiction you’d practically need to host a sixteen-man orgy with the wildest, dirtiest fucking anyone could conceive in order to get him to blow his load. He’s bound to lose interest eventually in anyone who can’t satisfy him in bed too, so there goes those ideal daddy fantasies. Would it even be worth all that effort, though?

He’s very well known for his charisma and presence, and not just to the local community. He makes friends easily on apps not by trading pictures but by engaging in extended, thought-provoking conversations that get gently steered away from sex at every opportunity. Larger than life he may seem, but he tends to underwhelm on a first real meeting; he’ll come across as aloof and distracted, and he doesn’t seem to have a very good grasp on how to progress a relationship beyond cocktails and warm glances. Presumably he’s never had much in the way of sexual mentorship, but whatever the explanation don’t expect too much from him once his clothes finally come off. Oh, he’s surely very well-endowed and well-formed in general, but it would be better to look elsewhere if you’re in search of someone who actually knows how to put his good genes to work. He’s got a nice selection of toys though, particularly for anal play, so those might work as bedroom icebreakers.

He’s downright grungy from the state of his appearance and the dingy backdrops of his selfies, enough to where the aged bad boy charm might not even be enough to carry him. He spends his life floating from one dive bar to the next, a recovering something or other who’s fallen off the wagon so many times it’s a wonder he’s not dead in a ditch. He’s even paying child support for a kid or two, a result of either youthful experimentation or genuine bisexuality that was poorly thought-out regardless of its cause. Skilled and domineering in bed, but won’t be into breeding guys since he’s just now learning to be responsible with condom usage…not that those will stop him from occasionally passing on his crabs or his herpes. He’ll never be a reliable father, husband, or partner on any level, but under his gruff exterior there are a wealth of stories to be teased out of him during whatever pillow talk he’ll allow, poignant and bittersweet and most shockingly of all reaching back to a past life of wealth and privilege when he was (comparatively) sober and washed his clothes more than once a year.

[spaceorphan18]

Finding Kurt Hummel: Movin’ Out

Masterpost

5x06: Movin’ Out (5x06)

Hey, it’s the Billy Joel tribute episode (I kind of forget that it’s a tribute episode).  It’s also the first time Klaine’s been together since episode 1 - so it had a ton of pressure on it to be, well, more than it is.  The episode makes a few strange choices, but I say it still works in the overarching theme of what they were trying to achieve.  

Welcome to New York Blaine and Sam

You know I have some nitpicks about this episode.

Nitpick #1: The directing.  Brad Falchuk directed this episode - and he usually isn’t making strange choices, but this one kind of cracks me up.  

Why is Kurt so shocked to see Blaine and Sam enter the loft? Especially when the previous scene sets up the fact that the two of them would be hanging out in New York for a while.  Are you really going to tell me Blaine didn’t text every five second of his journey to Kurt?  And what person in general doesn’t have their cell right next to them? And - idk, it’s not how I would have done it.  

It’s not just Kurt - Santana and Rachel both seem overly surprised by their guests -- and do you think Santana would have been all smiley if someone interrupted her in the shower?  The over-enthusiasm of this scene cracks me up.  

Okay then the whole Kurt hugs Sam first thing.  Which is entirely a blocking issue.  I thought about it -- why not just switch Darren and Chord? Because Rachel has to come into the scene and hug one of them, and height wise Blaine and Rachel match up and Kurt and Sam match up better than vise versa?  Idk - but the whole thing seems like a blocking issue more than any real issue within the narrative.  

If you watch carefully, Blaine does kiss Kurt on the cheek upon embrace, and Klaine holds each other longer and tighter than Kurt’s hug with Sam.  

SO - you’re totally nitpicking a two second moment.  Yup.  Because fandom ripped this episode to shreds, and I don’t really think it deserves it.  Pretty sure the general audience, or those binge watching it for the first time noticed or cared thew weird blocking issue of this scene.  

However - the scene change from the loft to the Artie scene is kinda cool, actually.  

Anyway.... 

So, let’s talk about the fact that while, presumably, Kurt’s going to class and working, he sends Blaine (and Sam) on a little tour of New York -- which includes a bathhouse where Tennessee Williams once frequented.  Lol. Did Kurt learn about this during one of his meetings with the Tennessee Williams playwrighting club? And you say Glee lacks continuity.  

So - Blaine talks about looking at other campuses like NYU, and Kurt’s all - nope. you’re coming to NYADA cause a) I’m pretty giddy at the thought of having my fiance go to the same school as me and b) I totally talked you up to Carmen Tibideaux and you’ll probably get in just so she can shut me up.  

So.  Not getting into the Blaine side of things -- Kurt’s pretty excited that Blaine is in NY, he’s super excited at the prospect of Blaine going to the same school as him, and isn’t sure why Blaine’s doubting himself because Kurt thinks he’s pretty awesome.  I mean this entire scene episode is Kurt recognizing that Blaine’s overly critical of himself, and wants to give him support that he is an awesome person and performer.  

While I do think it’s better for the both of them to be going to different schools (as we see in the later NYC arc), here’s nothing but optimism and joy about his future from Kurt.  

Nitpick #2 - The writing.  Kurt’s line: She’ll give you a spot on the spot.  OMG - what an awkward sentence.  This script needed, at least, one more final edit.  This episode was written by the same guy who wrote The First Time -- though that original script was terrible, but the editing of the episode was awesome.  So yeah - maybe in season 5 they were rushing through things and not taking the care they used to.  Makes sense.  

Kurt wants to make sure that Blaine’s fully prepared to go into his NYADA audition (and how much off screen prep happened because it seems like Kurt’s been pretty active once they’ve gotten back together in helping Blaine prepare for his future) and has Blaine do an impromptu performance.  He’s not only trying to help Blaine, but being supportive and excited for the world to see Blaine.  

Look, okay.  So, it does make me sad that we don’t get to see more of this throughout the show, especially in season 5 -- but it is here -- Klaine happy and supportive and loving of each other.  Believe me - I wanted more of this, and would have watched an entire show of happy moments, too (and I agree that one drawback of the NYC arc is that it’s lacking in many of these happier moments).  But they are here.  

So yeah - Blaine sings Piano Man -- and that’s essentially his NYADA audition -- because apparently, we need to spend more time with Sam flirting with Rachel and kicking off his modeling career.  

I don’t have a whole lot to say about the performance - other than they’re cute all dancing around the diner.  

So, interestingly, Kurt exclaims that Blaine will get into NYADA - and then all their dreams will come true.  Which -- is a little bit of a weird thing to say.  But, what I find interesting about it is that at the end of this season, there’s a conversation there - more noticeably in Rachel’s story (and I’ll argue they’re in Sam’s and Artie’s to a minor degree), but also in the Klaine story that dreams come true but they aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be.  So a lot of this episode feels like set up for things not being as fully perfect as they thought it’d be when they finally get (one of the) thing(s) they’ve been wanting since season 2 - to be together, living their dream, in NYC. 

Nitpick #3 - The acting.  So, Chris gets a lot of shit for his acting in this episode.  And mostly, I think it’s unwarrented.  Except this scene.  It’s just over played - as if Chris had forgotten how to make Kurt genuinely excited about something.  I’m not going to speculate as to why (it could be a huge number of things, but no I don’t think it has /anything/ to do with hating Darren) but yeah, it’s a little awkwardly over-the-top.  But you know what, that’s the only time in the episode where anything feels /off/.  Sorry dudes. 

Doctor Blaine

**sigh** This scene.  This poor, little scene that had the weight of a thousand things on it -- the rumors that Blaine wanted to be a doctor, people speculating about Chris’s acting, the fact that there’s no kiss in this episode, the frustration that Klaine hasn’t had full focus since Love Love Love The First Time Season 2, the awkward directing and slightly awkward writing.  You know what I’m gonna say about it? It’s Not. That. Bad.  Take off all that weight, and it’s a fine little scene that I don’t think deserves as much crap as it gets.  So here we go. 

We open with Kurt helping Blaine pick out his wardrobe for his audition - it’s been speculated before that Kurt helps him with this, so I don’t think this anything out of the norm, tbh.  And then Blaine gets weird - and Kurt notices.  

It’s a little strange that Kurt jumps straight into thinking Blaine might have cheated on him again (though I don’t think this is as serious a worry) the sex addiction joke is indeed a joke.  (Though can we talk about the fact that he went straight to sex addiction - how much sex do these two have?) But I do think regaining trust is still a little bit of an issue with Kurt.  No, they didn’t fully talk through their issues with the first break up.  (I mean, this baggage does carry through the season.)  Sometimes the pull of -- I wanna be with you again doesn’t fix things that went wrong in the first place.  

I will say, though, that throughout the first part of this season, Kurt does make an effort to support and communicate with Blaine - something that was missing in the beginning of season 4.  

Alright so Blaine talks about maybe doing something else with his life that isn’t about performance.  (Which as an aside I think is an OKAY thing to do.  If Blaine wanted to be a doctor, he could have been a doctor -- I’ll argue with y’all about it on the podcast.)  

But Kurt here is not trying to push Blaine into anything.  He’s reminding Blaine that they’ve both talked about being performers since forever.  And he knows Blaine well enough that he knows when Blaine is nervous or scared about something.  So what does he do?  He tells him how awesome he is.  

I mean really.  Besides being a little Full House-cheesy, it’s a nice little speech from Kurt to Blaine -- about how even if Blaine fails, Kurt will be right there with him, and they’ll support each other, and Kurt tells Blaine how amazing he is no matter what he does.  I mean, that’s pretty sweet, right?  

But SO - what about in Tested when....you know what, I’ll talk about that when we get to Tested.  But SO what about the second break-up....I’ll talk about that in Loser Like Me.  

Listen - right now, in this scene, I believe everything Kurt’s saying is sincere and from the heart - there is no reason to doubt that.  And what Kurt says to Blaine is that they’re in this together, and they’re certainly going to have various fuck-ups along the way still, but they love each other and that will always prevail.  Okay?

[Okay I couldn’t get a nice shot of the hug so this is after.]

Okay, so the lack of kissing in this scene.  **sigh** Okay.  A) there’s not a lack of physicality -- Kurt hold’s Blaine’s hand, they hug, the whole shoulder rub is slightly weird, and I would have blocked the scene a little differently to make it slightly more intimate, but I wouldn’t say this is bad B) narratively - the lack of kissing doesn’t seem out of place.  I wouldn’t even say this was like Dance With Somebody, which did feel like it needed a kiss to resolve the relationship issue. This isn’t an issue with their relationship - it’s an issue with Blaine’s insecurity about his future.  

And I mean look at how this scene is laid out - they’re prepping Blaine’s audition, stop to have a heart to heart, and then continue prepping Blaine’s audition.  That seems pretty normal to me.  Stopping in the middle to go have sex seems -- a little like fanfiction. 

Okay, so unpopular opinion time -- I didn’t need every Klaine story to be about sex - and sometimes I feel/felt like fandoms sole focus was on sex and physical attention.  Look, I’d be right there enjoying myself popcorn and all if they had a full episode of making out -- these boys are hot, yo.  But I do appreciate when we get story lines and stories about Kurt and Blaine dealing with their individual issues together (which we really didn’t get a whole lot of in the entire series).  

I get the frustration of the time, I do.  And I always want more everything - but I can see why this scene and episode are the way they are and I don’t hate it for it.  

Anyway -- they pick back up with the audition prepping and Kurt’s gonna have Santana do Blaine’s make-up.  Which leads to a minor lament from me.  This little beat is so hilarious - I wish that Chris and Darren had been able to do more funny Klaine scenes, because both boys are excellent with comedy, and there’s just not enough of it in the show.  

Just the Way You Are

Let’s take a second and think about the fact that Blaine bought a piano for the loft.  I mean what?!?  Also hilarious is Santana’s reaction -- and the fact that Kurt’s not having any of her shit -- that piano is staying.  

Also - Kurt is supportive of just not Blaine in this episode! He also tells Sam he’s concerned about this whole House of Bichette thing - and that he should be healthy even if he wants to be a model.  

Which of course leads to the theme of the episode -- being who you are, and what’s a perfect song for that? Well, Billy Joel’s Just The Way You Are - of course! 

I love how excited Kurt is when Blaine gets up to sing.  

How Kurt looks at Blaine while he’s singing.  

Their lines together: 

Blaine and Kurt: I said I love you Blaine: That's forever (Kurt: Forever) Blaine and Kurt: And this I promise from the heart Hmm, hmm, hmm

I mean - that speaks for itself, right? 

They are all so adorable on this song.  It’s one of my favorite minor group songs because they all sound so good on it. 

Look - I do wish there had been more than three Klaine scenes in this episode (I mean, that’s it for Kurt in this episode).  I wish Kurt and Blaine had gotten way more in terms of story throughout the show (no one but Rachel really had solid, full stories in the show).  I do think some criticisms are completely valid (looking at you second break up resolution).  But I also still enjoy the show, and even though I can nitpick all the tiny things, I can’t really change anything so I’m just going to sit back and enjoy the show just the way it is. 

See what I did there -- har har I’m so clever.  ;) <3 

[emulatingrizal-blog]

Silent Night

2015-46154 | Section MHD

           Waking up, I find myself amidst the abyss.

           Cold sweat runs through my face.

           Somehow, I feel a sense of urgency and danger.

           “This is bad…”

           I start running aimlessly into the darkness.

Each step, I can feel something relishing in my struggle. My feet begin to feel sore. It’s becoming unbearable to run.

I take a breather to relieve myself.

           All of a sudden, a cold hand clasps on my shoulder.

           Tense electricity fills the air,

           I slowly looked back to receive the haunting gaze of someone, or something.

           A bloodcurdling shriek filled the air.

           In that instant I reawaken. Greeted by a distant gunshot. Again to this living nightmare. San Diego, the place I call home.

It was still dawn when I woke.

           “You’re having those nightmares ain’t ya kid?” asks the old man coming into my view.

           “It’s fine I’m used to it.”

The old man proceeds to prepare the now finished tinolang manok. Looks like breakfast is ready. I help the old man set our table.

Name’s Raphael by the way. Folks ‘round here know me as Raffy.  The old man here who’s prepping the dishes is Tandang Selo.

We sat down on the table and ate.

“Time’s have been rough nowadays huh…”

“You can say that again.” I replied.

“Better stay up here and keep safe don’t ya think? There’s been reports that kids your age are being killed off as well.”

“I’ll keep a low profile, the Guwardiya Sibil are acquainted with me anyways. I won’t be letting something of that scale happen again.”

“Are you still feeling guilty about it? It wasn’t your fault kid and you couldn’t have done something about it.”

I feel a sharp pain welling in my stomach.

We continued to eat our meal in silence as we pondered over the killings that occurred last night. Would be nice if it was just tonight though.

I waved him farewell as I head down to town.

Growing up wasn’t extremely hard. The good folk around the fringes of the town would always give me what I needed.

Not that I forced them for it of course.  

I may sound like some hoodlum but I’m just a kid. Around 12 or so? Never really cared about my age.

This is what living in the streets does to you I suppose.

It wasn’t all bad. Folks round here would give you a hand or two, regardless if you know em well or not. Such was my case when Tata Selo took me in when he was in town.

I never really knew my parents. Not that I care for them though. Tandang Selo said he heard me crying and then he saw me, inside a trashbin in town. He took me in ever since I was a kid.

When he told me the truth I never really questioned it. We looked far differently to be considered as father and son but he treated me as his own nonetheless.

When I ain’t roaming the streets of San Diego looking for odd jobs and supplies back home, I’m assisting Old Man Selo in the mountains. He basically became my old man and provided me a home.

I often go to town working for my clients. Most of which involved running errands for them as they were all small businesses. Bring stuff here, carry stuff there. Just the clean stuff with no dirty penny involved. They also spared food along with the payment as well. Feels nice to have good folk thriving.

Recently though, most of them are laying low.

Once Governor-General Dutierto succeeded Aquenas, everything went south real quick.

He had this vision of a holy war, one which fought against drugs and their users.

The parians were hit the most, legal at first, their were patrons shot down along with it. Those who’ve triggered slight suspision of being under the influence of drugs were persecuted. Some were never seen again.

Small-time businesses followed suit shortly after. Whethere they were against the local administration or not, they were under heavy inspections. Most of which end up in getting their places sacked or their establishments utterly destroyed. The righteous of those whom I’ve worked for have fallen one by one fell through this “inspections” with only a handful of my clients remaining.

Then there was the beginning of the “Purification”. On some nights, the Guwardiya Sibil would roam about the streets. Those who’re caught in the streets during those nights are killed on sight. They also do the raids on houses who’re harboring the “source of corruption”. The night before was one such night.

I walk along the main road as I notice blood traces along a wall, where a Mang Tonyo, a cigar vendor, used to setup his wares.

The thought of him being beaten up raced through me. I winced at the thought as I averted my gaze from the harrowing wall.  

The ones who orchestrate this, the Guwardiya Sibil, are truly animals. With the vilest one, Alferes, leading the whole operation. He’s been handpicked for being “efficient” in carrying out the deed. All I can see is a lush drunk who has problems with his wife. I’ve met him before, and I don’t like him as much like he don’t like me. He’s a vile scumbag I assure you. Most of his decisions are influenced by his fits of rage, hence the mass number of killings.

Truly a time to be alive. With this just only the beginning.

I walk towards the church with a dejected look. It’s Sunday once again, and unfortunately for me, to get myself off the hook, I became a Sacristan.

At first, the sacristan mayor was having none of me. They soon realized that with my build and frame, I can run errands too and from the church. I soon realize that some of them are pretty nasty stuff.

The vilest thing I did for them was delivering a list of people who have confessed to the parish priest their sin of indulging in drugs. I soon knew what was written on the list after a night of horrors where about 50 were killed.

While this may weigh on my conscience, I decide to absolve myself of guilt.

Or so I hoped that would be the case.

With each passing night the screams fluctuate with my nightmares. Causing me to slowly slip away from sanity.

           Hopefully these sacrifices are worth it in the end.

I do these things to protect the only semblance of family I have, aside from Tandang Selo. My two brothers, Basilio and Crispin.

           I rang the bells alongside them. Ringing it in unison.

I smile as I see Basilio help with Crispin with the ropes. Scrawny as they may, they posses true grit. What I do admire on them is what I yearn for, their purity. What they may lack in raw strength, they make up with their heart.

           “You okay kuya Raffy?”  Crispin asks me.

“More than ever.”

The session ended eventually. The proceedings were the usual though, people mucking around with their phones whilst the priest endlessly used every other minute to “inspire” people in “help build the house of the Lord”. There was also some promotion here and there that this “Holy War was decreed by Him.”

           Nothing but a load of shit if you ask me.

We went down from the bell tower, greeted by the beatings of the wailings of our colleagues from the beatings of our heads.

           “Screw up one more time and it’s back to the streets of with you pendejo!”

           “Sorry father!”

The Sacristan Mayor turns toward our direction.

           “And you three brats! What are you doing lazing off!”

           “We were just taking a break father. We’re gonna sweep the aisles immediately” Crispin tensely replied

           “How dare you take a break in my presence cabron!”

He raises his hand to hit Crispin but I intercepted his attack.

           “Our part of the service is finished father. We’re taking our leave.”

           “How dare you speak against me you insolent twat!”

           “I’ve already done my part of the bargain earlier this week with me fetching the blood and body of Christ. You also agreed to refrain from hitting the other sacristan as long as I’m offering my services to you did you not?”

The sacristan mayor with a loss of words trailed off

           “We’ll be taking our leave father.”

He looked at me with dangerous eyes

           “You’ll have your day boy”

We proceeded to walked out of the church. The two brothers ran outside ahead of me.

“Let’s go Kuya Raffy!” Crispin calls me

I readily nodded but was took aback with and uncharacteristic look from Basilio.

“Kuya Raffy, I have something to discuss with you” whispers Basilio as he inched in closer.

I nodded as the two of us we walked behind Crispin gleefully humming “Our Father”.

“I saw him die…” Basilio stammered.

I gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t worry about it, you have me to back you up.” I replied.

Looks like the fear of the nightly horrors has finally gotten into him too.

           “Add to that, the sacristan mayor is blaming me for the missing 200 pesos and are prosecuting me to pay for it? We don’t even have the money to feed our family?!”

           “Don’t stress it out too much. The first one who trips will be the one washing our clothes remember?” I jokingly said. “I’ll try to pull you out of this.”

           “Besides, Pilosopong Tasio is on the side of us small folks, he’s the reason why I can defend you against that scumbag. He’d defend us just fine in court. Especially with Crispin is one of his beloved students. We have enough evidence to plead for child abuse under him.”

He replied with thanks and an exasperated sigh.

Looks like he’s fine now.

           The dream however wasn’t.

One of our lifelines was Crispin’s teacher, Pilosopong Tasio. True to his name he is wise although a bit too cynical. He’s the reason why it seems that I have my way with the sacristan mayor. He could process the case and told me that he could be jailed for violating laws on minors or stuff like that.

As much as I would like to be with him on believing that true change would be vested upon the next generations, I think that may not be the case as those with the voices are being killed off, young and old. The only thing keeping him alive is the aftermath it would probably befall the administration by killing of intellectuals.

           At least, according to him.

For the meantime, we brushed over the thought of Crispin dying. We spend the rest of the afternoon playing on the hills, flying kites and whatnot. While it may be as fancy as those posh inner town folks have, it certainly is more than enough for us.

           As the sun sets, we lay on the hills watching the sun fade away in the horizon.

           “Kuya Raffy, if you succeeded the governor-general, what would you do?” Crispin asks.

I honestly haven’t thought about it. I don’t even know who my parents. What more in running the country? I shook my head in defeat and passed the question to the both of them.

           “I have nothing but I guess having a more attainable education would be nice?” replies Basilio.

           “How about healthcare and housing? If I were the governor-general, I would get all galleons from Spain carry equal amounts of goods to our country! I would also establish schools as well and give people jobs!” exclaims a gleeful Crispin.

           “Then how about go to the school Senior Ibarra is establishing? The inaguaration draws near.” said Basilio.

I’ve heard of the guy. Rumors say he’s a visionary with a plan. As much as I’d like to follow suit there’s no way he can proceed with such resistance present posed by a ruthless government.

           And yet I still cling to this flimsy concept known as hope.

I ask the two if there’s anything left for them to do today.

           “We were supposed to ring the bells later this evening.” said Basilio.

I nodded and wished them well

The sun sets on the three of us as dark clouds loom overhead. I took my leave looking for errands to run.

After a few hours of searching, I found no luck.

To make matters worse, it was pouring hard.

Most of the small-time shoppes have closed down. This is probably to escape the suspicion of any shady activity from the Guwardiya Sibil.

I resigned myself in defeat as I started making my way back to the mountains.

Along the way, I passed Captain Tiago’s house. Looks like he’s having another party. He notices me and gives me some take aways for me and my Old Man. I continued forward after expressing thanks.

I passed by the town square and check the time.

           “Already pass 11 huh…”

Somehow, I get an uneasy feeling. I make my way towards the church. To my surprise, the lights are still on at the sacristan mayor’s quarters this late at night.

I snuck in the bushes to hear on the commotion.        

I hear someone being smacked and shouted at.

           “WHERE’S THE MONEY YOU STOLE BOY!”

           “I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS PLEASE LET ME GO! MY BROTHER DID NOTHING WRONG!”

           The doors burst open with Basilio kicking it down.

In shock, the sacristan mayor unintentionally smacked the back of Crispin’s neck, followed by a lifeless yelp, and an enraged Basilio.

I burst through the window and stopped Basilio from completely murdering the sacristan mayor as Guwardiya Sibil guards prepared to open fire.

I grabbed Basilio who was still seething with rage.

           “IF YOU DIE HERE YOUR BROTHER’S DEATH WOULD BE IN VAIN!”

I pulled him over as we made way for the nearest exit, rushing toward the staircase of the bell tower.

Thunder crashed down as flashes of lightning blinded our pursuers. Each step becoming heavier as we near our destination.

By the time we reached the top, sirens were already blaring beneath us. The footsteps of our pursuers fast approaching.

I scanned at the back of end of the church near the graveyard.

           A forest!

Without hesitation, I urged him to the ropes and led the way down. The wet rain helped us grip the now soaked roap as we made our way down quickly. Gunshots whizzed past us as we head straight for the forest.

We were only a few inches away when my luck ran out. A bullet grazed my left leg rendering me incapable of walking.

Basilio dragged me into the forest but I knew me being dead weight would cut my chances for our survival.

           “Head to the mountains and look for Tandang Selo.” I told him as I was tending my wound. “He will tend to your needs”

           “But my mother!”

           “It’s dangerous to go back! You’ll only get yourself and your mother killed! Would your brother want that!”

Urgent voices of Civil Guards fill the air.

           “I know it sucks that you may lost the two of us in one night but… Remember that even if we’re not here anymore, our thoughts still carry on. Live for us. Carry on our hopes and dreams. Be the one that sees everything until the end!”

           A sniffling Basilio nodded.

           “Be strong brother! Tata Selo would care for you. Tell him… tell him I’m sorry for not saying and… thanks for everything.”

           Our conversation was cut short with a gunshot hitting me on the chest.

           I made a weak smile as I wave my friend good bye one last time.

           My eyes grow heavy as he fades into the night

           My consciousness slowly fading

           But I am not met with darkness

           Not with screams

           Not with gunshots

           Nothing

Everything’s slowly fading from my view, my senses distorted, my thought only intact

           “He will make it!” I thought to myself.

As a sharp pain pierces through my body, I am met with light.

I see one last image of my friend amongst it. Him holding a book dressed with a suit.

           A vision of the future.

While I may not have seen the end and lay amongst the fallen, I’ve entrusted it to someone I know who will. A San Diego at relative peace, free from the nightmares that plague it.

           Not just for him nor his brother, but for a simple dream everyone in this nightmare wants back.

Silent nights.        

I’am absolved of guilt, as I join those who’ve fallen before me.

I smiled as I resigned myself to fate.

           “I guess no more nightmares from here on out huh?”