#hes putting up facades to be liked and going along with whatever people wanted because he thought it would make him accepted

[daily-hanamura]

Hanamura Yosuke's first appearance vs last

[meanbossart]

Because I love the idea of DU drow as a companion... how would you recruit him? Where do you find him, and what's his intro cutscene?

Hi, I've been thinking about this since I got this message :V

There's this nautiloid pod somewhere nearby the Owlbear cave right? So those things were just crashing all over the place, not just near the beach where the actual ship fell. I believe his pod could have had a similar fate and fallen somewhere off the beaten path.

Mind you that, In this scenario, waking up from the pod and onto the forest map would have been DU Drow's first-ever conscious minutes ever since having his mind wiped, so he truly has no fucking idea of what just happened - he just knows his head is in shambles and that he needs to survive for long enough for his memories to return, assuming they ever will. So, his immediate instinct would be to retreat away from where the people are.

I think underneath the bridge, where there's running water and some fauna/flora would be a good spot to find him. Players might take a day or two until they stumble across this weirdo companion and so they are more in the loop than he would be. You'd find a little blood-trail leading you down there, and eventually spot a fist's corpse with no shoes near the river - DU drow would be crouched down by the water washing blood off himself:

While the rest of the party may have been picked off random places as they went about their days, this guy was busy being dissected and put back together over and over again - and there's no way Kressa bothered to dress him back up fully before he was taken away from her (me allowing the man to have pants on at all is a mercy onto you all) so he begins with no armor, but to make up for that fact he's the only companion who begins with a great-sword, which he would have stolen from the fist.

When you approach he is perfectly calm, In fact, he doesn't seem all that there. He stands up and appears half-ready for a fight, but lets you speak first. You can either ask what he's doing here, or about the corpse. You get more or less the same answer to both:

If you successfully persuade him, he tells you with no particular tone of shame or remorse that you got him, he did kill him, however he claims he was attacked first. Whether you pry into his mind with the worm, or have a scroll of read-thoughts, you get the same narration:

"Behind the aloof facade, you find the drow's mind to be in a concerning state of disarray: dozens of thoughts racing, jumbled, all at once, each trailing into the next before you can catch a hint of substance. You don't find the answers you were looking for, just red goo."

You CAN however use speak to the dead on the corpse. If you do that, it's revealed that he is actually telling the truth; The fist found him and assumed him to be with the drow who raided Wakeen's rest. Otherwise, you have to either take his word for it, attack him, or leave him.

He will refuse your offers to join you/go to your camp until you reveal to him that you have been tadpoled - either through using the Illithid-worm option, or telling him upfront through normal dialogue. If you didn't peer into his head earlier, you will now, confirming to yourself and him that he's also been infected. Then, you can tell him you're looking for a cure, and he will agree to travel along. This gets you approval from Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion, and disapproval from Lae'zel, Wyll, and Gale.

If you attack, he's as easy a fight as any companion would be at that point. If you choose to leave him be/not tell him about your worm so he refuses to join, he will appear at your camp after two long rests, basically forcing himself to into your party unless you kill him. You find him hanging out around Withers and he tells you he's decided to travel with you from now on, and that he will make himself comfortable.

If you ask for his name, he tells you to just call him whatever you want to (cue like 5 joke dialogue answers - he responds to all of them with a snort and you get approval if you pick any flattering ones). Whatever you ask about him gets you a very blunt, vague response. If you have Shadowheart in your party/are playing as her, she implies he may be suffering from memory loss, finally prompting him to admit to it. Otherwise he only reveals this after a couple more long-rests.

[steviewashere]

Late night fic idea that I'm definitely going to try and write at some point!!

Definitely very angsty. Steve's got bad parents. A few arguments. And Steve basically restarting his adult life. But it would definitely have a happy ending! Walk with me here.

In early 1987, Steve gets into a nasty argument with his parents. About how much of a disappointment he is, how he can't hold a good enough job, that he's just not who they wanted him to be. They tell him, pretty loudly, that if he can't grow up, then he needs to get out.

He, of course, is very upset by the result of this argument. Because he's trying his damn hardest at this whole adult thing. He's trying his damn hardest to be the person everybody wants him to be; the older brother, the best friend, the boyfriend—the good guy. Yet, even though he's completely emotionally devastated, he still goes to Eddie's because they have a date.

He's not very attentive during the date. Ignoring Eddie's comments sometimes. Giving half answers. And Eddie takes it the opposite of something wrong with Steve—no, he thinks there's something wrong with him. They end up having their own nasty, explosive argument. One that ends with Eddie muttering something along the lines of, "God, I hate you so much right now." He doesn't mean it, knows he doesn't mean it because it's too easy to just say a bullshit claim than talk it all out, hash it out as it is, figure out the root of the problem. However, Steve doesn't know this. Steve thinks Eddie means it.

Thinks that Eddie's just been putting on this interested facade to save Steve's lonely, battered heart. That maybe the novelty of their relationship ran out a long time ago. Eddie's just now telling it as it is; the same way Nancy had. A bullshit relationship, one that never meant anything. (And similar to Nancy, they don't really mean it. It's all just moment of passion stuff).

Steve leaves Eddie's. Leaves with his heart dropped out of him, wet and dead on Eddie's carpet. He leaves with bile in the back of his throat, eyes that ache, a head that's too messy to sort through. And then, the only idea that becomes clear to him: he has to get out.

Get out of Hawkins.

Because if Eddie was thinking something like that all along, who else has been thinking the same thing? Dustin? Max? Robin?

He goes to work. Submits a letter of resignation. Gives the courtesy of two more weeks. And then...

He packs all that he thinks he needs in a couple bags: a backpack and a duffel bag. He sells his car, the only money he now has to his name, plus whatever his last Family Video paycheck is. Steve gets on the closest bus, one that'll take him to a shuttle, and he takes a train out of Indiana.

Goes west. Goes to a shitty neighborhood in Sacramento, as far as he can get. He got the transfer request sent over to a Family Video here, he'll start there soon. He stays in a hotel for a couple nights, a couple nights before he finds a last minute lease for a shitty apartment.

And he just stays there. Stays in Sacramento.

He calls Robin's house once on a payphone, that way he can't be tracked. Robin's not home when he calls. He gives a message to her mom: "Tell Robin that I'm sorry. And...and that I love"—he'd sigh—"Yeah. Yeah, just tell her that I'm sorry, please. I did what I had to." He hangs up, doesn't give another way for him to be contacted and he moves on.

Some years pass. He hasn't been taking care of himself all that well, it's noticeable in how he looks. Scraggly facial hair, heavy eyes, lanky and skinny body, he's mowed down most of his hair. Just looks like an imposter in his own skin. He's working a different dead-end retail job—some supermarket, one that's owned by a corporation, he's one in thousands; somebody not cared for. His social life is nothing. He's weird around other people, weird in general; trauma that's been left unsolved, nightmares that keep him awake (so his neighbors now have a vendetta against him), stares too hard, doesn't like to talk anymore. He's hollow. A man who nobody knows, no connotations, no stupid hierarchies or nicknames attached to him. He's just Steve Harrington, some guy.

Yet, in the time he's been there, he takes up a few hobbies. Ones that work well with his secluded lifestyle. He picks up painting and photography. Things he never thought he'd be interested in. But...but he gets too bored, so he tries.

Finds out that he's good. Finds out that he's good enough for his own small studio space. For a small exhibit in the local art museum. And there, on the floor of his exhibit, idling between people who want to know more about the guy that keeps showing up in his paintings: brown eyes and pink mouth and smiles that are too big for his face; and the woman: a bob with bangs, crystal blue eyes, and a kindness that shows in her soft smiles; it's there that he sees an all too familiar face.

Eddie meets his eyes. Older, grown into his body, same brown eyes, same long curly hair. And there's a sheen of tears in his stare. A recognition he never thought he'd receive.

And there's silence. People passing them by.

Until, when the exhibit is empty except for them, Steve can only muster a simple, "Hey." And a smile, something thin that doesn't feel very real. Didn't want to be found, not yet. But in the paintings, he's been dreaming; he's been searching.

From the entryway of another exhibit, one that connects to Steve's, Robin appears. She's got that '90s pixie. And cherry stained lips. Grunge eyeshadow and an ill fitting, hole-riddled t-shirt that Steve slowly realizes is one he wore; those red Converse from Scoops, faded black Sharpie, but the only text that's still dark (as if it's been written over and over) is one he put there: "Dingus was here". She doesn't even speak. Only knows. Tripping over her own feet, dashing across the waxed floor, sliding across it with clumsy limbs. Crashing straight into Steve, hefting him up in her arms, squeezing him so tight he can't breathe.

When she places him back down on the ground, standing side by side with Eddie, the two of them simply staring at him in awe and relief, Eddie finally speaks for the two of them.

He fucking speaks. His voice is dripping with relief, yearning rich and honey-sweet in the vowels. Words full of love that's been stirring slow like a stew in his heart, thick and clogging.

"There you are, sweetheart. There you are."

[lollyposp]

okay im only slightly going insane right now about how MUCH i adore the way agatha is being portrayed in agatha all along. she's this awesome mix of horrible and sympathetic BUT not in the way that excuses everything she does. like, the other witches dislike her for good reason and even when agatha is nice to them or they realise she's got her own issues too like, that doesn't change what she's done in the past to get her reputation.

but ALSO it's so obvious that 90% or something of Agatha's personality is either a facade or an exaggeration of her bitterness because after everything we know of that's happened to her ("i can be good" "no you cannot", her son dying and rio's obvious involvement in that) it's like. how can she love. how can she trust when those she loved made her feel betrayed, or she lost them, or even both.

i think the first clue that a lot of her personality is a facade was the whole "just blast me" situation, because to me it felt like "well yeah Agatha's clearly nasty but how much of that is because she needs to annoy people into trying to kill her so she can grab their magic?" but I hadn't quite realised that there could be more to it than that

but episode 4 had SO MANY examples. i mean, Agatha's entire "no fucks given" attitude just fizzles out when the teen is dying and i feel like even the other witches picked up on it, like jen was clearly stunned by Agatha's grief as well as by Teen's condition. and then her sitting with Teen until he woke up, not even taking her eyes off him but as soon as he wakes up she pretends she just Happened to check on him Just as he woke up and that she didn't stay there the entire time.

and don't even GET ME STARTED on everything else. the scene at the fire where she very clearly struggled through having a positive interaction with the other witches?? and also the whole "she is my scar" but if i think too much about that i will actually go insane.

the scene that REALLY hasn't left my head all day is the scene where rio tells agatha that Teen isn't hers. ALL THE PROPS to kathryn hahn here she's an INCREDIBLE actress, but the way agatha just says NOTHING and slowly puts on a smile....😦 i was watching the episode with my housemates and the only thing i could say to them was "i literally saw the moment she put her act back on". because for all that agatha is so brash and loud, and no matter how much she might seek conflict with others, she runs away from all her emotional pain because it's too much for her to bear. because how do you even move on from the woman you loved being at least partly complicit in your son's death? whether agatha really DID trade him for the dark hold and regretted it immediately or whether the rumour IS just a rumour and nick and the dark hold aren't connected at all, RIO still is connected to either of those ideas.

(honestly as it stands right now im in whatever camp believes he WAS traded for the darkhold, but agatha somehow didn't realise he would be traded until after it was too late, because i feel like it's what explains her actions in WV and her hallucination the most. also it makes rio's actions all the more painful to agatha because it would have been a mistake she didn't mean to make, and rio would not budge even with that knowledge and OUCH. but that's neither here nor there)

honestly this whole incoherent essay was just to say that i love Agatha's character. i love that the question surrounding her isn't really "is she good or evil?" or even "can she be good?". i feel like it's clear there IS a good person in agatha but because she's ignored it for so long (some of that is probably due to the darkhold) the question kind of becomes "does it matter that she's got good inside her if she refuses to show it?". she's so firmly in the morally grey camp that while i do kind of want her to have a redemption arc and to have a whole found family thing go on, i honestly don't see it happening and i also at the same time DON'T want her to be redeemed when she's so interesting because she's this person who clearly has the capacity to be good and chooses not to out of pride and fear of being vulnerable and all the trauma she's accumulated.

oh i completely forgot to mention that im also obsessed with the sound booth scene???? i honestly can't figure out if she's just shit stirring when she projects her and rio's conversation for the fun of it, or if it's like a fucked up agatha way of trying to protect her new coven by giving them reasons to distrust rio and be wary of her, specifically because she thinks rio will betray her/betray them and reap them. I can't figure it out. it might even be both.

anyway live laugh love agatha

[merrinpippy]

on masks

so shockingly miracle mask has huge mask theming in like every aspect. basically every significant character is 'wearing' a mask literally or metaphorically, except for luke who remarks in ludmilla's costume shop that he doesn't think any of the masks suit him (since the events of the previous game luke can be authentically himself now.) this is fun to notice on its own, but there's more to be discussed than just the presence of masks.

every mask in miracle mask backfires on its wearer to some degree! the most obvious case of this is descole and the masked gentleman straight up underestimating their own mask/s and failing to see their plans to the end, and the resulting consequences. dalston and henry's masks of stoicism turn out to have kept them from years of friendship they could have enjoyed, and paint them both as suspects in the masked gentleman case. angela's aloof facade and distance from everyone around her allows her to be kidnapped for a significant portion of the game without anyone but the professor noticing (and even then, he notices that something's up with her, but chalks it up initially as not knowing her anymore). less obviously, emmy's mask only means she'll end up hurting the people she has come to care for even more when the time comes.

most interesting to me, though, is hershel! even as a teen he's remarkably reserved, though clearly passionate. he keeps himself very controlled, and seems to care very much about coming across to others as helpful, grounded, and 'normal'. the interests that we know he has he keeps locked up, literally hidden away in cupboards, not to be acknowledged aloud to himself or others. he never gets angry or ever really displays any stereotypical teen behaviours apart from awkwardness.

now what this means is he is treated as the reliable one who will nonetheless go along with whatever randall wants him to do. he's never particularly assertive (something he will learn to be as an adult) so his willingness is taken for granted. he's put in mortal danger in akbadain because it never occurs to randall that hershel's protests are anything more than for appearance's sake.

and when randall falls and hershel is alone, he yells! he falls to his knees, completely overcome. he cries. he pushes through. and when he reaches angela and henry, alone, covered in dirt, looking completely haunted... they don't even ask him if he's okay. angela bodily shakes him. in the past and present, nobody treats hershel as if he's been through something traumatic - to everyone else, he was either a bystander to or complicit in randall's death, but controlled, mild-mannered and rational hershel is never considered a victim in his own right even after years have passed for everyone to think on it. years after the fact angela apologises to hershel... when she realises she needs his help. and henry immediately accuses him of betraying randall's memory and abandoning him.

and to be clear this isn't me saying oh they're evil or whatever but it's significant that they acknowledge how the trauma affected them and their behaviour from that point forward but it doesn't occur to them that hershel's behaviour and life trajectory was also altered forever! because hershel has for his whole life masked so well that to everyone else he does not have an interior life that isn't puzzle solving.

and the absolute funniest thing about it is that when hershel confesses this all to emmy and luke.... it's immediately back to the investigation, "where do we go now professor!" i'm sure there's no reason to ask if hershel's okay, he's probably unaffected by all that, let's go! readers i laughed out loud. tfw you mask so well everyone forgets you're a person

[avengersassemble-fics]

All I Wanted

chapter 02 "remember to slow down" master list previous chapter ‣ ‣ ‣ next chapter word count 5.3k (fuck) ☆ cursing ♡ smut dress inspo bc im a visual person

The days that followed that night were a delicate dance, or like stepping on eggshells. There was an unspoken tension between you and Jake that hadn’t been there before, at least not ever that you two would acknowledge. It was like that one drunken night back in college, when Jake had come by for a visit when he could manage to slip away from flight school and a night on the town turned into barely making it back to your small student apartment. You two never spoke about that night. Ever.

And now, there was a second night you two wouldn’t ever speak of. When he finally became aware of your guilt.

So what do two people do when there’s tension they can’t address? Ignore it, and throw themselves into “busy” routines. Jake had a routine where he went for a run every morning at 7AM, which left you alone to shower and leisurely wake up at your own pace. By the time he’d return by 8:30 on the dot, you’d have breakfast ready for him when he finished his shower. You weren’t sure if he ever noticed the way your gaze lingered on the beads of sweat that would slip down between his abs.

If he did, he never said anything about it. But.. Jake did notice it, how couldn’t he? He was watching you like a hawk, knowing better than anyone else the turmoil in your mind. You were an overthinker, and even though he had begged you to stop fighting this, stop fighting him, you were too damn stubborn to listen.

Just like he had caught you admiring him, Jake admired you. When he’d get back from his runs and could tell you had showered because your hair still was damp, he would spend the next several hours watching as it dried. He’d be able to see the way your skin glowed from whatever lotion you had used afterwards, and he could smell it from even the farthest side of the room.

And despite the busy routines, there were moments that betrayed the cracks in the facade. When there were moments of laughter, they were quickly followed by silence that suffocated the room. Or the times where Jake goes to pass you in the kitchen and his hand sweeps along your waist as he brushes past, there’s an unspoken weight to it. There were even a few times where you’d start to say something and catch yourself, deciding it best to leave it be. Jake did it too. You both noticed it.

Putting aside whatever was brewing in that house between you two, the facade had to go on.

Invited to your parents 30th wedding anniversary, Jake and you had to buckle up for a night of normalcy, or whatever you two deemed normal at this point. At this point, lying to your family and friends had become the easiest part of this marriage!

Figures.

Your parents weren’t shy when it came to throwing around money, which sounds confusing considering you had been drowning in medical bills and credit card debt before your knight in shining fighter jet came to your rescue. Their money was theirs, they paid for your college education which not a lot of people can say they got the same luxury, but beyond that you had to make it on your own. You were fine with that, it’s what you always expected.

To be fair to them.. You didn’t tell them you were sick. Maybe if they had known, they would’ve helped, but you never wanted to know for sure. You had been dead set you could handle it yourself and Jake was the only one who could see that while, yes, you could.. You’d never be happy or you again without some kind of shoulder to lean on.

You mentioned money because the sheer cost of renting out Meanwhile Brewing, a craft brewery and taproom in south Austin, was a number you couldn’t comprehend. It put into perspective how deep their pockets were to have been able to rent out a place of this magnitude, including bottomless drinks. 

When Jake and you arrived, he had insisted on helping you out of the truck, feigning it was due to your attire, but really he wanted a chance to hold you even for a moment. From the second he saw you walk out of the closet the two of you shared, he was taken back.

Satin warm toned silver, thinly strapped, hugging the best of your curves and valleys and falling just to the mid of your calf, not to mention the slit on the side that came to the midpoint of your thigh. And don’t even get him started on the way the neckline draped elegantly just over the crest of your breasts.

It was going to be a long fucking night, and Jake needed to help you out of the truck. It was a desperate attempt to get his hands on you that worked perfectly in his favor. As soon as he had your feet firm on the ground, Jake let out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Remind me to thank your mother for picking this number out for you,” Jake said before letting his grip on your waist go (reluctantly). The way your face scrunched up and you hit his arm made him grin.

“Shut up,” you mumbled and adjusted the fabric. Fuck.. Was he wishing he was satin fabric right now?.. Yes. “You don’t mean that.”

“Can’t a man compliment his wife?” Jake asked as you linked your arm with his and started to walk through the parking lot towards the back of the property, where already music was blaring and chatter was being made. “Or at least compliment her mom?”

“Oh I’m sure my mom would love some compliments from you,” you encouraged him as you two made it to the epicenter of the gathering. There were groups scattered over the grounds, and you were.. Kind of amazed your parents had this many friends. “I’m not even the tiniest bit surprised she got your measurements down to the smallest millimeter.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jake said as he readjusted his sports coat. It was a nice cream that complimented your dress. And your mother got his whole look tailored just perfectly. “Drink?”

“Gonna need it,” you admitted and he laughed, low and close to your temple as he pressed a kiss to the top of your heads.

“Coming right up,” Jake said before taking his arm from yours and disappearing towards the taproom. You looked around the party in search of your parents.. There was no way you wouldn’t be able to pick them out from this crowd-

The sound of obscene laughter and cute snorts filled the air and immediately you were drawn to it. It was an all too familiar sound you grew up with and used to agonize over when you feared judgment from your friends. Now, it was easy to find them in this large expanse of night sky and warm bulbs lights strung around the buildings.

Just as you neared your father spotted you and his expression softened. 

“There’s my girl,” he said and went to wrap his around around your shoulder, which you returned by encasing his side. Your mother was mid sip of a drink when she hummed. 

“You came!” She exclaimed and you laughed slightly. 

“Jake and I wouldn’t miss this,” you reassured her. 

“Where is that handsome sailor anyway?” She asked looking around. You had to bite back a laugh. The fact your mother was this sprung out so early in the evening would ensure some fun. 

At Jake’s expense. 

“He’s just getting some drinks for us,” you explained and your father was quick to take hold of his other half, already knowing where this was headed. 

“Let’s get some water in you sweetheart,” he said and you could see the care in his gaze. He led her away towards one of the buildings and disappeared from your view. 

It was touching, it was.. what you had always wanted. To be looked at like that. 

“Is that you, (L/N)?”

Forced from your thoughts, you turned to the new intrusion and faltered slightly. 

“Ben?” You asked with a slight smile. 

Ben was your high school sweetheart, the guy you had the second most first with (second to Jake of course). While Jake had been the hot star football player, Ben was the hot marching band drum major. Two total opposites. Jake was walking charm, Ben had kept that charm for the right people who knew him best. The only things they had in common were.. well that they were hot. 

And Ben still was. While Jake was ashy blonde and green eyes, Ben was black hair and deep brown eyes that screamed warmth. You hadn’t seen him since you two broke up during sophomore year of college. Just before Jake visited actually. 

Ben’s eyes danced over you and you felt something flicker through your mind. They were eyes that had seen you before, but it had been so long that he needed a reminder. 

You saw the way his gaze lingered on your hand. You knew what he was going to ask when he met your gaze once more. 

“Married?” He asked and you nodded. 

“I am,” you admitted. Ben shook his head a bit, though you knew he wasn’t being serious. “You?”

“No,” he said quickly before clearing his throat. “Nearly, but no.”

“I’m sorry,” you offered and he shrugged. 

“Nothin’ to apologize for. Just wasn’t meant to be,” Ben said and glanced you over one more time. “Do I even need to ask who the lucky guy is?”

Your brows furrowed slightly at his question. “I don’t know.. do you?”

Ben laughed and you found yourself reliving the past. What was it with all the memories recently. 

“My money’s on anyone but Seresin,” Ben joked but when your expression didn’t change, but his did - into a frown. “Shit. Seresin?”

“Yeah,” you said and Ben shook his head. “Seresin.”

“Huh,” Ben said and you found yourself.. on edge. Speaking of, where was Jake anyways? “That.. surprises me. I guess I should’ve known when I saw him-“

“You saw him?” You asked and he nodded. 

“Yeah in the taproom-“

“Sorry,” you barely excused yourself and headed in that direction. You managed to get through the turf grass to the taproom and stepped inside. 

Just as littered with people as the outdoors, you scanned your eyes over the different faces and figures mingling. That was until you found him, talking to a blonde who was too close for your comfort. 

Never once did you seriously consider this. You told yourself you’d rather not know what Jake did while deployed, or who he did. It wasn’t your business, not really. This wasn’t real!

So why did it hurt so much to see him let a woman stand that close, let her hand linger on him, let her look at him like she was? Like she wanted to steal him away and fuck him in the back of the truck he drove you two here in?

Too engrossed in the blonde and her figure, to your perspective, he didn’t notice you. You slipped back outside and the nearest drink you could manage to get in your hand was quickly down your throat and then came another. As you held this one though, your hand trembled slightly. 

Retreating outside felt like a necessary escape, that same unsettled feeling of guilt settled in. You didn’t have a right to be upset. Jake wasn’t yours, not really. He could’ve been fucking other women for the last year and it wasn’t your business if that was the case. 

Lost in your thoughts, a hand to your back startled you and you looked up to meet that all too familiar gaze. 

“Woah- you ok, sunshine?” Jake asked and you bobbed your head in a nod. He eyed the drink in your hand, then down to the two he was holding onto. 

“How’d you get that?” He asked and you shrugged. 

“Taproom.”

You could see his hesitation, that raised brow and quick glance over of your stance. Defensive. 

Shit. Jake wasn’t stupid. You must have come looking for him and saw him chatting to the complete stranger who had approached him. 

If things weren’t already tense enough, it’d be worse now. Jake didn’t want to fold completely though. 

“Is that so?” Jake asked in a measured tone.

You saw? 

"Yup," you replied, maintaining a façade of nonchalance.

You saw. You saw him with someone else, and even though the rational part of your mind knew you had no right to feel upset, the emotional turmoil bubbled beneath the surface.

Jake’s jaw was uncharacteristically tightened as he could only nod and let out a small grunt. When you did finish the drink in your hand, you took the one he had gotten you that now became your third drink of the evening.

Unfortunately, for you, Jake didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Drink after drink, he was forced to watch you get sloshed, trying to mingle with your parents and keep you in check. He wouldn't classify you as a messy drunk, but at this moment you sure as hell were teetering on the line. You could barely hold a glass without a tremble in your hand.

What Jake didn’t know was the tremble wasn’t from your inebriation.

“Maybe we should slow down a bit,” he tried to tell you around 10 o’clock. He had hoped your parents were going to be wrapping up this thing, but turns out old people like to party too. “You can barely catch your footing.”

“Maybe you should mind your business,” you said with a roll of your neck. “Hubby.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed at your tone. Those around the two glanced over with slight concern but more so annoyance. Again.. You were teetering on that fine line of becoming a pain in his ass tonight.

“(Y/N)-” he tried to grab your hand but you pulled away from him a few steps.

“I’m gonna go find someone who won’t lecture me.. Mmm.. Ben,” you said over your shoulder and Jake swore he saw God at that moment. A quick flash of him at least.

“Excuse me? Woah hey-” Jake said as he followed behind you as you walked along the perimeter of the turf grass, between the brewery and the taproom. He grabbed you by the arm and spun you back into him, careful to not be too forceful but luckily with a few drinks in ya, you were nimble. “Did you just say Ben? As in your ex Ben who played the clarinet?”

“Saxophone,” you corrected and Jake rolled his eyes. “Y’know he’s the only person to tell me he was surprised we got married?”

“That’s because he’s an idiot,” Jake tried to say and you turned to face him with a scowl.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled and Jake scoffed.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he said as he leaned in with his ear and you pressed your finger into his chest.

“I bet you could hear that blonde,” you muttered and Jake hesitated.

“That’s what this is about?” He asked and you shook your head no, taking a few steps back but he was quick to match each one. “The chick in the taproom?”

“Oh so you can hear,” you laughed and Jake nearly growled. Whatever escaped his throat was heavy and irritated. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like it.

..Why?

“So you’re drunk and jealous, is that it?” Jake asked as he towered over you. “It was nothing.”

“I’m not drunk.. Or jealous,” you tried to argue but the way your eyes couldn’t focus and the knot in your stomach told you otherwise, so you cleared your throat. “She wanted you.”

“Sunshine, even your mom wants me.”

“Gross,” you said with a shake of your head, missing the way he grinned. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

“You started it,” Jake said and couldn’t help but laugh. But his laugh which normally was sweet to your ears only further annoyed you. His dumb laugh, dumb sandy hair, dumb perfect smile..

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumbled.

“Then stop being ridiculous,” Jake argued. “I would never dream of pickin’ up someone at your parents' party, which I came to with you.. You think that low of me?”

You hated that he was talking with reason, making sense. But it didn’t ease that knot in your stomach that was screaming at you that he had liked the other woman’s attention.

“No,” you finally admitted. “Never.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” He pressed as he stepped closer, drawing your hands towards his chest and running his thumb over the back of your wrists.

Dumb smile, dumb eyes, dumb touch..

“No,” you whispered. “Never mad at my aviator.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispered and lifted your hands so he could place a quick kiss to your knuckles. While you felt a flush of warmth through your spine at his words, it was only then that Jake seemed to notice the true tremble in your hands and his grip tightened slightly. 

“I’ll text your dad and let him know we’re goin’ home,” Jake stated, more so than asked, you were mid-grumble when he shook his head. “How many times do I have to keep telling you to stop fightin’ me?”

“One more time,” you challenged and Jake felt his heart drop. He was sure you weren’t aware of what you were doing to him but jesus fuck was he starting to lose his cool.

“C’mere,” Jake practically growled. He dipped low to hook his arm with ease under your ass and lifted you up and onto a shoulder. With a yelp you clutched onto his back and scowled at nothing as Jake’s legs started back towards the parking lot.

“Put me down, Seresin,” you commanded weakly. Really, there was a tight knot in your lower belly. You felt him tighten his grip on your thighs.

“No can do, Seresin,” he countered and you huffed.

With ease, Jake was able to walk you to his truck, with you thrown over his shoulder. You gave up fighting and let him carry you limp to the truck. With ease, he opened the passenger door and set you in the seat and even buckled you in.

“I put you down,” he said with a shit eating grin and you rolled your head away from looking at him.

“Shut up,” you muttered and he laughed.

“Oh come on, ease up lightweight,” Jake chuckled as he closed your passenger door. With him having to walk around the truck to get into the driver seat, it allowed you time to stew a little bit.

Why was Jake so.. Jake? Y’know? Perfect. He could piss you off but then easily make you smile and laugh and be comfortable again. He just threw you over his shoulder to take you home - his home, your home. At the end of the day.. He was always there each night.

Maybe you were a little tipsy, because you don’t even remember the drive. The only thing that shook you from your thoughts was your door being pulled open and Jake undoing your belt and watching you with a raised brow.

“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder again?” Jake asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you declined, making sure the p popped in the air. Jake stepped aside and you slipped out the seat to the rocky ground, your bare feet meeting the dull rocks. Jake, in turn, grabbed your heels from the floor of the passenger side and followed you to the house, hand just at the small of your back to guide you up the steps.

Wordlessly you two went to your room and you were immediately letting your hair down from the clip that had held it up all night. Jake, as watchful as ever, took his sports coat off and tossed it onto the bench at the edge of the bed, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Unzip me?” You asked him and he was all too happy to do so. Jake stepped up behind you, one hand on your hip and the other finding the small zipper on your back and tugging it downwards

Fuckin’ hell. The more skin exposed to him, the more he realized there was no bra under this dress of sin. The fabric fell open as the zipper ended at your hips and he was reluctant to take his hand away. Very fucking reluctant.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly and he had to watch as you disappeared into the bathroom, holding the dress up by your chest. Jake ran a hand over his face. His patience and control was paper thin. How was he going to.. Handle this? Handle you? The thought of how bare you were, how easily he could get his hands on you was making him get hotter by the second.

Cooling his thoughts, the bathroom door reopened and there you were once again in one of his shirts, and it fell high on your thighs (those soft merciless thighs). You crawled into bed and stared at him and he felt uncomfortable under your gaze.

“What?” Jake asked, hating how his tone sounded nervous. You didn’t notice.

“You called me a lightweight,” you said and Jake nodded.

“Because you are-”

“You wanna talk about lightweight?” You asked him and Jake scowled slightly. “You remember right?”

“C’mon don’t bring it up,” Jake whined, having undone his dress shirt and tossed it onto the bench as well.

“You got so fuckin’ hammered that night when my roommate turned you down,” you said before giggling. “And I mean.. it was brutal.”

“Yeah and you were a mighty piece of work that night too,” Jake reminded you and you groaned softly, covering your face with your hands. “Being a baby over your loser ex breaking up with you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

It was a mumble but he heard you loud and clear. The night in question was never brought up, yet here you were.. being so fucking casual about it. 

“Maybe not,” Jake admitted.

Fall, Sophomore year at UT. October 12th. 

Reeling from your just two week fresh heartbreak thanks to Ben breaking up with you via text, you weren’t totally surprised when Jake showed up at your apartment after days of radio silence. Unexpected but so appreciative of his efforts, you had done your best to welcome him with open arms. 

And that led him right into your roommates arms. Or, atleast that’s what he wanted that night. He was immediately smitten with the walking sex that was your roommate, and for some reason.. that bothered you. 

She mentioned going to a party, he was all for it. And he fit right into the frat boy scene, getting to drink beer with the guys of the house and have women ogle at him all night long. Sure, he’d manage to catch you and here and there, but beyond that you were left to drink by yourself. 

“There you are,” your roommate managed to find you at some point in the night. You were a few beers in by then. “Where’s your army guy?”

“Navy,” you corrected but she didn’t react. “I dunno. Disappeared awhile ago.”

“He asked me out,” your roommate admitted and something in you dropped. Probably just the alcohol. “Don’t worry- I said no. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“It’s none of my business,” you mumbled and sipped the lukewarm beer. Disgusting. 

“Oh come on, you’re totally into him,” she said and nudged you. 

“We’re just friends. I mean I’ve known him for like.. six years?”

“So?” She asked with a raised brow. “He drove all the way here from San Diego.. For you. If that doesn’t scream he’s into you or desperately wants to fuck you then I don’t know what does.”

Her remark stayed with you through the rest of the night. Finally getting tired of the smell of the frat house and the increasingly intoxicated crowd, you pushed your way through to find Jake, who was just finishing wiping the floor with a group playing pool. 

“Hey,” you said over the music, placing a hand to his arm. Jake turned to face you and grinned. 

“There’s my sunshine,” he said as he threw his arm around your shoulder. “My favorite person.”

“You’re drunk,” you commented and he chuckled. 

“Doesn’t change nothin’,” Jake said and kissed the top of your head. “Still my favorite person.”

“Okay pilot, why don’t we head back?” You asked and after some persuasion he agreed. 

Getting Jake back to your place was a challenge in and of itself. He was chatty with anyone who walked past, it seemed like he was really laying into you as you walked through the campus, and he was just a handful. Jake never got like this.. But this trip so far was a lot of firsts. 

When you managed to get him back to your place and through the front door, you both were a stumbling mess. Alcohol induced laughs and chatter flowed fine between you two. You eased him to sit on the couch and he sprawled out, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and looking you over. 

“I’m gonna change,” you said and disappeared into your room. Stripping from your jeans and shirts, you slipped on some shorts and your fingers grazed over the new shirt you plucked from your closet. It was Ben’s. Still, you slid it on and walked back into the living room and Jake’s brows furrowed.

“Oh come on.. you’re really gonna keep wearin’ his shit?” Jake asked as he stood, moving closer to you.

“It’s just a shirt,” you argued and he shook his head.

“Take it off.”

“..What?” You asked dumbfounded, but Jake’s eyes.. they were dark and clouded, and so fucking hot.

Without another word, Jake lifted his shirt up and over his head, exposing his perfectly toned body underneath. His abs had abs, there was light hair over him that trailed low. And you meant low. Finally able to tear your eyes away to meet his gaze, he was watching you taking him in.

“Take it off,” he repeated, his voice low and intimidating.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you obey but fuck did you carefully lift your shirt off, exposing your soft flesh underneath, only concealed by the old bra you were wearing. But Jake didn’t seem to mind, his eyes lingering on your chest and the way it rose and fell with heavy breaths. Then, he handed over his shirt.

Taking it from him and putting your arms through and over your head, you looked down at the decal before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Better,” he whispered.

There was a tension, a shock in the air as you both lingered before one another. You most definitely weren’t confident enough to make the first move, so lucky for you - Jake was confident enough for the two of you.

“Do y’know how fuckin’ stupid he is?” Jake asked as he closed the gap, his chest so close you swore it warmed you up. “Giving’ you up?”

“Jake-“

“Stop,” he whispered, his head dipping lower as he edged closer. “You’re all I can think about. Even with all this distance between us you drive me fuckin’ wild.”

His fingers lightly traced a path along the curve of your jaw, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. With a gentle tilt of his head, and his dog tags hitting your chest, Jake captured your lips in a kiss that melted you.

It was slow, tantalizing. His lips moved against yours with a tender urgency, like if he stopped this would disappear. He was kissing you as if savoring the taste of something forbidden and sweet. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place while his tongue darted out over your lower lip, begging to be let in.

And you let him. Jake’s tongue swirled with yours, eager to feel every bit of you he could, like he had been dreaming of devouring you for years. Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling every nook and cranny his chiseled front had to offer. And when your hands danced lower to the waistband of his jeans, an enticing growl escaped his throat. He broke the kiss, letting his lips linger with yours as he breathed you in, and you did just the same.

“Fuck be careful,” he warned you but you shook your head. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

“Enlighten me,” you whispered. A small smile broke out over his face and he took you up on the challenge. Picking you up, hands on your ass, he hoisted you up and you wrapped your arms around his neck, and legs around his waist. His arousal was evident as you felt him pressed against you.

Kissing along his jaw, Jake carried you with ease to your room, plopping you down on your flimsy full size mattress before climbing on top. One of his knees pushed your legs open, the other encased your side, and he was back to kissing you with nothing but hunger.

Neither of you could get a bearing, grasping at each other for anything you could get your hands on. Your fingers tugged on his hair, ghosted over his back and chest, even grabbed his ass when he grunted at. Jake, on the other hand, was feverishly putting his hands under your shirt, cupping your breasts over your bra before mumbling between your lips.

“Thought about feeling your tits for so long,” he muttered against you and you nearly whined. “Let me see you , baby.”

He expertly was able to slip a hand behind your back, undoing the hook of your bra with ease. Now completely loosened, Jake lifted off the shirt he just made you put on (his shirt goddamn it) and your bra followed. Exposed to the chilled air, Jake’s gaze was hungry, soaking in the sight of you. His fingers grazed the side of one of your breasts.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled before leaning down to kiss your neck. His breath was hot, tingling you through your spine and you fought hard to not make a sound, really not wanting him to know how much he was affecting you. But this only seemed to stir him on, and he fully cupped your breast.

“Not gonna make a noise for me?” Jake muttered against your skin, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he other hand went to your opposite breast. “I bet you sound so goddamn good.”

You wanted to fold badly, let him hear what was bubbling underneath. He nipped at your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing feeling like it was nonexistent. Everything about this was wrong, but he felt so so right.

Just as suddenly as you two started this, you both froze when the front door of the apartment opened, signaling your roommates return. Jake’s hands stopped, his lips froze, and it was like all sober cognitive reasoning flooded both of you.

Jake and you never spoke of that night.

But tonight was the first mention of it in years. Jake and you were in a standoff, staring at one another with lingering tension and unanswered desire.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

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[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Imagine being kidnapped by Tom Ludlow.

Hi anon. This got out of hand. I’m sorry. CW: mentions of child abuse/dark humor concerning it, rape/noncon fantasies and details. I write from a place of my own trauma, and it gets a little fucked up. If you don’t like dark fics, or are triggered easily, DO NOT READ THIS. Violence, bad cops, SA. Tom Ludlow is not the bad guy in this, though.

If you’re a big girl, a tall girl, a girl with a lot of muscle or fat, you probably haven’t been picked up off the ground since you were very young.

You question your femininity because of it, along with a whole lot of other shit that society decides to push on you for not having a traditional feminine figure…whatever the hell that is.

You often take on a more protective, mothering or masculine roll with your smaller or daintier or gentler friends. You don’t look down on them at all—or envy them too often. Some people just carry a unique tenderness that you wish the world had more of. But every little rainbow or sunbeam needs their strong protective cloud, and you mostly gladly, sometimes reluctantly take on this role.

You will never be a meek, kind, delicate person. It’s just not going to happen. You don’t want it to happen. You’re pretty comfortable with your role in life. It’s just…sometimes…and this is probably something that everyone craves in vulnerable moments…you want to be the one getting protected.

It’s just kind of exhausting, always being there for everyone else. As much as you love it, and you do, it can also really drain you.

The duality of man is that we can be more than one type of person, and want different things. You know this. But…it’s hard as hell to admit you want to be taken care of. Because doesn’t that ruin your tough facade? Your strength and independence? Doesn’t that let everyone know that you’re just putting on an act to cover up who you really are—a weak, sniveling girl?

That’s why you bottle up, keep things to yourself, regard the world cynically and humorously with a lazy shrug of your shoulder. You act like nothing gets to you, like you are a stoic guard at the queen’s gate, like a big mastiff on patrol of your sheep.

When you do wear an emotion, more often than not it’s either sarcasm or…anger. Like tonight, when some guy won’t leave your friend alone at the bar.

She’s visibly uncomfortable and attempting escape from the creep following her around. She’s too nice to tell him to go away, but you’re not, and you have had to put yourself between them way, way too many times.

“She’s not interested,” you tell him.

He sneers at you. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Except he fucking doesn’t, because ten seconds later he’s smacking her ass when she stands up, and you’re punching him in the mouth.

He hits you back, and it feels like a slap from a two year old, but it startles your fight or flight, and before you know it, your vision is blurry with rage and your fists are flying.

The security guards have to pull you off of one another and haul you outside to where the police are waiting with cuffs.

“He was harassing my friend,” you tell the guy who’s chaperoning you.

“Her ugly ass is just jealous cuz nobody wants her!” Screams scumbag from down the sidewalk.

Wow, you’ve never heard that one before.

One of the cops grabs him by the collar and says something that appears to be stern with his finger pointed at his face.

The guy looks visibly shaken after that, and he specifically avoids looking in your direction again.

The ballsy officer, probably in some sort of supervising position by the looks of it, gets to you next, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him.

You expect anger, but his face is neutral as he pulls a pen and paper from his utility belt. “Hello, ma’am, my name is officer Ludlow with the LAPD. You mind telling me what went on here tonight?”

You tick through the list of events as best you can, trying not to paint yourself as innocent (because with the way you beat on him, you’re definitely not), but making sure he knows what a fucking reprobate you were up against, and he scribbles it all down diligently.

After you’re done, he flicks his chin at the officer standing next to you. “Reed, let her go.”

They uncuff you, and you roll your arms, testing the circulation and rubbing out the raw red marks on your wrists. “Thanks,” you tell the lead officer. “You mind if I go back in and get my friends? There’s only three of us and I’m worried about them…”

“I can’t let you go back in,” officer Ludlow says, “but give us their names and descriptions, and I’ll send Reed in for them, alright?”

You nod, comply, and a few tense moments later Abby is running out to wrap her arms around your shoulders, smearing her glittery tears and pink blush on your jacket.

You hug her back, picking her up a little bit off the ground with the ferocity of your relief, and look at officer Ludlow over her head. “Thanks,” you tell him.

Tye, arriving from the thicket of people at the entrance a few moments later, immediately wants to know what happened.

She, however, is interrupted, by the asshole down the sidewalk, still in cuffs. “Hope you think of me when you see that handprint on your cute little ass tomorrow!” He calls, and Abby turns away, choking on a sob.

You’ve always had anger issues. Usually, in adulthood, they’re pretty easy to tame down. Not in this circumstance, not when you see Abby shaking and crying, looking as defenseless as a baby mouse.

Unbeknownst to you, because your sight and sound have been marginally narrowed to one person who needs his face bludgeoned in so hard that he finally shuts the fuck up, the head officer has already signaled for them to haul this guy into the back of a police car.

You’re not sure how you cross the distance between you and him so fast—you’re built for endurance, not speed—but suddenly your fists are connecting with his flesh again, and there’s a lot of yelling and pulling and finally your feet leave the ground and your knuckles leave his face.

It takes you a minute to realize you are being carried away—that your feet are not on land—and you look up at the person whose arms are currently wrapped around you.

Like mentioned before, it’s been a long, long time since someone has picked you up and you’ve lost your center of gravity so quickly and so thoroughly. Like a startled animal, you fight to try and get back to the ground, more out of shock and adrenalized fear than anything.

You don’t mean to scratch or bite the nice officer, you really don’t.

Ludlow just sighs at your resistance, like he could be doing something much more important right now rather than manhandling you into the back of a squad car like you’re an ornery kitten rather than a formidable opponent.

You are silenced into shock the whole way to the police station.

They put you in the waiting room sans cuffs, and you’re not sure how much time passes until a heavy presence plops down on the plastic chair next to you.

“Fuck,” is the first thing you say to Ludlow. “My friends…”

“They’re safe. I’m giving them an escort back home.”

He gives you some room temp water, and after the fear wears off, grants you enough time to come back to your good senses. You look at him sheepishly, with your head tucked down. “Sorry, he was a fucking creep.”

Ludlow nods. “I get it, hopefully I can get you out of it with a slap on the wrist.” He hands you some tissues from his breast pocket. “Wipe that blood off your face.”

You didn’t realize you were bleeding, so it’s a shock to finally feel the ache of a bloody lip and bruised cheek and see the paper come back crimson streaked.

After a few long moments of silence, you say, “I feel like an asshole.”

He shrugs, leans back, grins over at you. You fight the urge to flush at his crooked smile. He’s a handsome man. Sometimes you like those. “Asshole, no. Dumb, maybe. He could have really fucked you up.”

“I handled myself just fine.”

“Your split lip will disagree tomorrow morning. Lemme see.” He holds out his hand, as if for you to rest your chin in, and you’re not sure what brain malfunction gets you to comply. You are not a good listener by any means, especially for men in positions of authority or power.

Maybe it’s sexist, maybe it’s unfair. Spend your whole childhood getting the shit taken out of you by a man that’s supposed to love and care for and protect you, and then decide what’s fair and what’s not.

He whistles low, turning you this way and that with a tenderness you don’t expect from calloused, bear paw hands with knuckles like golf balls. “I’ll give it to you, you’ve got balls. Bigger than most men I’ve met.”

Your mouth betrays your tough girl facade, and lets a tiny smile hike up the edge despite the stinging pain that follows.

Officer Ludlow gets you out with a slap on the wrist—aka a misdemeanor—just like he said he was going to. You tell him thank you about ten million times for saving your ass, and for offering to give you a ride back to the bar to get your car.

“I’ve already put you out too much tonight,” you tell him. “I’ll get a Taxi or something.”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he says, jangling the keys in his beater pocket. “By the time you get to the bar, you’re gonna be towed. C’mon.”

You open the back door of his charger, but he shakes his head and, instead, opens up his passenger seat for you to slide in.

It’s about now you’re starting to get a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach, like something is off about this interaction. You’re not one to trust easily, and getting in the car with a complete stranger, although one in uniform, is out of character to say the least.

Your radar has really been fucked up tonight. By the alcohol, the scumbag, the being arrested, the bruising and tearing of your knuckles. What a way to end it, you think, if Ludlow is a bad guy.

The funny feeling in your guts that you decide to ignore this one time? It turns out to be right. And as Tom Ludlow starts driving up through the deserted hills, in the opposite direction of the bar your car is at, you almost want to burst out laughing at how stupid you are.

Asshole, no. Dumb? Fucking definitely.

You test his door handle and he snorts at you; like he’s saying, you think I’m that stupid?

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” you grumble, sizing him up from the corner of your eye, deciding whether to fight or flight or just give up now. He’s thin, but he’s broad. Tall. Not lanky. He won’t be easy to push over. You’ll have to bite, claw eyes out, rip his hair from his head. Make sure he doesn’t pull that shiny pistol out of his belt before you can jump on him.

You could do it right here in the car and risk barreling over the steep hillside on your right. You could—

“Hey,” he says, calmly, capturing you too easily from your violent thoughts, “it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

A part of you wants to believe him, or maybe just believe there’s still some good in the world—some good in men. Hell, maybe leprechauns exist, too. You never know.

He looks sideways at you when you giggle in response to these reassuring words, as if you’re the one who’s fucking psycho. “I’ve heard that one before.”

He makes a pensive sound, air puffing from his nostrils, switches gears as the incline increases. “Daddy beat you up?”

Well, fuck it, might as well share all your sob stories if this is really happening tonight. “Uncle, actually.”

“Sorry,” he says, and you hazard a glance over to see if his face matches his empathetic tone—it, surprisingly, does. “He still alive?”

“No.”

You must be violently shaking to compensate for the repression of a panic attack, because his still, steady hand on your shoulder pauses the tremors. “It’s okay,” he assures, like he’s trying to soothe a crying kid. You have to admit, his voice is a cool ointment for hot nerves, even if he’s the reason for them in the first place.

The brain has a funny way of dealing with things like this. There’s about a 30% chance his intentions are raping you, because with his looks he could get any lady in the city of lights for free, but rapists and molesters rarely think about physical attractiveness when it actually comes down to the act. Psychologists say it’s more about the power trip for them. And, at least, if he is going to fuck you, he’s not exactly the worst man that you could pick to do it.

At least he’s hot, is what it boils down to. Because you’re a disgusting degenerate. Because your coping skills are a ticking time bomb, a broken record, stuck back at the part of your life where you had to start liking the way uncle Eddy touched you to deal with the shame and the despair of it.

Officer Ludlow’s gonna pick you right up off the ground again, slam you into his backseat, tug your pants and underwear down in one go. He’ll make you beg him to fuck your pussy instead of your unprepared and untainted ass, use his spit as lube, rub his meaty fingers over your puffy lips and taunt you when his saliva encounters your slippery cum. He’ll smack your ass for liking this, leave big red handprints, whisper in your ear that you’re gonna remember him, not just tomorrow, but for weeks after he gets done working your cunt. That he should kill you and leave your body out for the flies, but he wants you to live just so you can feel the way he destroyed your pussy.

The charger slows to a halt out in the sticks, and you have no idea where the fuck you are or how long you’ve been driving. The night is thick black soup in a boiling pot, and his headlights cut through it meagerly. It’s enough light to see what’s happening ahead, though, and when you look over at him curiously, he is grinning at you.

The man from the bar who assaulted your friend is in cuffs, an officer on each arm holding him in place. You don’t feel bad at all when you notice his swollen lip and purple temple, but you do wish you would have gotten more hits in.

Lucky for you, Officer Ludlow has you covered.

“Do you want to hit him?” He asks, unclipping his seat belt. “Or do you wanna watch?”

You blink a few times in response, not sure what to say to this brutally kind gesture. This man who barely knows you is helping you exact revenge against his own brethren. You’ve never been so…flattered.

“Don’t tell me you’re attempting to grow a conscience?” He teases.

“I wanna hit him.”

To your disappointment, Ludlow is not a total savage. He lets you get 3 or 4—it’s hard to remember the exact number—good hits on this dirtbag, and even wraps your knuckles up in a cushiony flannel from his back seat beforehand. His only rule is, “stay away from his ugly ass face. I don’t need him coming back to the station more fucked up than it already is.”

You get him in the stomach, the ribs, kick him so hard in his dick that you feel the hard pelvic bone underneath. Maybe it’s only a couple hits, but you make them count. And when you start to ache, or get tired, all you have to do is remember the tears smearing Abbie’s pretty glitter eyeliner down her face.

If he does say anything to you, you don’t hear it. Or maybe he really doesn’t, because Ludlow stands behind you like a watchful wolfhound the entire time, and then escorts you back to his car with a heavy arm over your shaking shoulders.

“Good job,” he praises, seeming very amused and unaffected by this whole ordeal while you are trembling, soaked with sweat, panting like a hooker in a fur coat. “It’s alright, he had it coming. Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

You do as he says, momentarily escaping your fury in favor of his calming voice and soft black eyes.

“You did amazing. Lemme see the knuckles.”

He takes your hand in his, and you notice the size difference first, and then the warm, damp, pleasant heat second.

There’s been a lot of firsts tonight: someone’s hands being larger than your own (big lady hands should’ve been your nickname in highschool), being picked up off the ground past the age of 7, a man going out of his way to do something nice for you—because your brain decides that’s how it’s going to frame this scenario whether you like it or not, as some fucked up little date on Tom Ludlow’s dime.

You feel safe with your hand tucked into his and the heat of his skin and the cozy intimacy of being belted into his vehicle. You feel grateful that good men still exist. You feel…tight, twisted up in some deprived box of longing you’ve made permanent home in.

You leave the sanctuary of your comfort zone, and have another first, as you cross his center console and kiss a man on his mouth.

For a moment where you feel like your heart is suspended on the edge of a very tall cliff, he freezes. This stiff resistance immediately makes you want to pull away, but, before you can, he wraps his hand around your chin and pulls you deep into his mouth.

Arthur from college, Monica from New Orleans…Hell, even Uncle Eddie—they have nothing on Officer Tom Ludlow with his big, slick tongue and muscular lips.

It’s so good you can almost ignore the fresh sting of your split lip.

He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and murmurs a laugh when you give him a low groan for the effort, then takes your angry little grumble and dampens it with his renewed fervor. His hands remain gentle and chaste on your face, your neck, your shoulders, even though there is nothing gentlemanly about the way he devours your mouth. He does not push for more, does not hold you down with those big hands that absolutely could if they wanted to.

You set the pace, you pull him closer, you push him back when you need to gasp for air.

He licks the taste of you from his tilted, beautiful lips. “You have to breathe through your nose, honey.”

“Sorry,” you say, crossing your arms over yourself, pressing back against the door, away from him.

His lazy smile droops. “Are you alright?”

”I just…Can you take me to my car? If not I can—“

The thick start of his engine cuts you off.

The car ride back is silent. You think about turning on the radio a few times, but don’t want to cross more boundaries than you already have. Luckily, he flips it on for the both of you and you’ve never, ever been so happy to hear Metallica.

When he parks, cutting the engine off in the nearly deserted garage, the tension between you immediately peaks, sizzling like vinegar on baking soda. He wraps a long limb over the back of your seat, looks confused—vulnerable for such a big, scary man, and he makes your heart twang a lonely cord.

He seems almost boyish, when he asks if he can take you out sometime.

And you want to say yes. Every feral primordial part of you does, anyway. But then there’s the rational part, the one that should and does win most of the time. You’ve already snubbed that part too much tonight, so you politely decline Ludlow’s offer, and with your traitorous heart padlocked and chained back into your breast cavity, you say goodbye to the nice officer.

[crusty-chronicles]

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Yusuke (Yu Yu Hakusho)

He likes to act like he's some callous tough guy, but really he's a huge softie.

Can get annoyed by your dullness, but other than that this boy is whipped

Yusuke is the furthest thing from book smart, but he's very street smart.

You on the other hand, aren't smart at all.

The amount of times he's had to pull you out of oncoming traffic is insane.

Not a single scratch on your either

But when HE wanders out in the street to get some kid's ball, he ends up getting hit by a car. 

Yusuke's known you since he and Keiko were in diapers. 

And even then he thought you were a strange kid.

I'm sorry? Did you just ask him if he could smell what purple tastes like??? While coloring with a red crayon?

You put your baby teeth under the bed? So the monsters don't get hungry???

No you cannot have some of his mother's ‘juice.’

He was never the best at making new friends, and you'd been around long enough for him to grow fond of your strange habits. So~he didn't mind you tagging along.

Especially when he'd reached junior high and his bad boy facade really ramped up.

Always getting into fights, always ditching school, always getting into trouble just because he could.

It should've come as no shock that you'd get after him for his behavior. Like the rest of the people in his life.

You'd caught him one day after school. Yusuke having been in a fight, which he of course was punished for by Iwamoto. Even though he wasn't the one that started it.

You had grabbed his arm, thinking he was skipping again.

But when he turned around you could see various scratches littering his face, along with a purple swelling under his eye.

“What happened?” You asked.

“None of your business.” He dismissed.

He was already having a bad day. He didn't need you to accidentally make it worse. Yet as always, you didn't seem to get the hint.

“Did you get into a fight?”

“I said it was none of your business.” He snapped before adding, “Not like I need another lecture today.” 

Keiko had chewed him out enough, and he still had his mom to deal with at home. And now you wanted to nag him too? Great. Just great.

He waited for the inevitable “How could you be so careless!” And, “What were you thinking!”

Instead he was met with silence.

He looked up and noticed your hurt expression before you turned to leave.

Instantly he started to panic.

For whatever reason, he couldn't stand to see you upset at him. You, who always had something to say with your dopey smile. Who always tried to help even if you didn't know how.

No, he didn't like your downcast expression at all.

So this time it was him stopping you.

“Hey! I didn't mean it like that…Look, I got jumped, okay? But I put those bastards in their place, so don't worry about it.” He decided to test his luck and hug you.

When you didn't tense up or pull away, he allowed himself to relax against you.

 “Let's just go home.” 

“Okay…Wait, does that mean we're having a sleepover?”

He gave a small laugh before grabbing your hand and leading you to his house.

Safe to say he's got a huge soft spot for you.

Your spirit awareness is even higher than Kuwabara’s.

You were probably the only person who could see Yusuke's ghost floating around after he died.

Asking him “why are you haunting my house?” 

He figures he might as well explain his situation, much to Botan's dismay. But when was he to ever care about the rules.

It's during that time he finally gets to see you fight.

10/10 your biggest cheerleader.

He'd asked you to watch over Kuwabara when the doofus had promised not to fight for a whole week.

You two got along well, which wasn't surprising considering you had not a single brain cell to spare for hostility.

It wasn't long before the two of you were cornered by a rival junior high gang. You'd told Kuwabara to run on ahead and that you'd catch up.

That was when the leader decided to run his mouth. What would inevitably be his undoing.

“Now that Urameshi’s dead, this turf is ripe for the taking.”

It was probably the first time Yusuke's ever seen you actually mad.

“What did you say?” 

One minute. That's all it took for you to beat the gang of seven.

Using one of them like a bowling ball and throwing him towards the rest of them.

All the while Yusuke is cheering in the background above you.

“Aim for the kneecaps! You got them, Y/n! Toss the bastard again!”

He's very proud of you. And his pride only swells when your strength grows along with his.

Joining the dark tournament and still kicking ass. Winning most of your matches with hardly a scratch. Except for Toguro. We don't talk about that shhhh!

Like I said he can get annoyed, but he usually puts up really well with your antics.

You call Kurama rose boy, not because of his powers, but because as you put it, “His hair’s the color of roses.”

It fits, but for the wrong reasons.

You steal Hiei's bandage around his eye, and Yusuke is practically fighting for his life to stop him from attacking you.

“You're supposed to look someone in the eyes when you talk to them. All your eyes.”

And he's crying trying to stop his laughter before Hiei sets his sights on him next.

You once mimicked his spirit gun with your hand and actually shot out a beam.

His mother never did let him live it down with the huge hole in the ceiling.

The realization he liked you wasn't some great build up or special moment. 

He just woke up one day and decided it was you. 

His reason for trying to be a little better as a person. Why he was fighting so hard during both tournaments. Why he was so willing to die in his battle with Sensui.

He doesn't get the chance to confess. No…You do it first.

Right after he'd won and became in control of his body after defeating Sensui, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him.

Pressing your forehead softly to his.

“I'm so happy you're okay.”

Yusuke can get jealous, especially if the other person doesn't get the hint.

And if someone's flirting with you before you're together. 

He likes to glare over your shoulder until they get nervous and leave. Then he'll feign an innocent look when you turn around.

But if he's with people he trusts, he doesn't bat an eye. They know he'll throw down over your affections.

Yusuke can be romantic, but only when he really tires. Usually he prefers to tease you.

Expect to be called: babe, baby, sugar, hot stuff, and if he's feeling really vulnerable- sweetheart.

If he wants to be a menace to everyone around him he'll slip in a ‘pookiebear.’ But never unironically.

You know how he proposes to Keiko at the end of the series?

With you he knows a normal proposal won't work. So he just kinda puts the idea out there.

“You're gonna have to buy your own cups when we're married. It's getting harder and harder to find ones that fit with our house’s aesthetic.”

"We should have a beach house wedding, dont’cha think? Maybe Hiei will finally show up that way."

“Y/n? You mean my wife/husband? The love of my life?”

And it pays off.

You bring him a little box one day and tell him to open it.

Inside is a small gold ring.

“I found a ring so we can be married for real!” 😃

Yup, you're definitely the one. You and your small brain and big heart.

MASTERLIST

AN: I'm gonna try and balance out my hxh and yu yu hakusho fics so everyone eats good. 👀👀👀

[gauloiseblue]

A Loyal Dog

Years of dealing with people, he too has developed some kind of intuition. Although it's more about who he can trust, and who is not

But in this case, he can sense a strange devotion from the gardener

He knew people who had blind faith in someone, just like him. And they're both the most submissive, and the most ruthless people he ever met. They're docile when it comes to the person they trust, but when it threatens the person's safety, they won't hesitate to bite

The boy's behavior might be normal for now, but he just feels it in his gut that it's more than that

He mentions the boy to Liv, and she immediately laughs

"Oh, that sweet boy." She chuckles, "He follows her around like a dog. He'd pick the loveliest flowers for her everyday, and she'd tell him to put it in the vase. It's a bit sad that they don't do that anymore, I guess she too keeps him at a distance now."

He learns that they both were close, before the words started to spread. Liv describes that she thought of him as a son, but he didn't seem to think of her as a mother figure

"I told this to her, and do you know what she said? She said, 'I'm glad then, it means he has a loving mother.' I mean, I get it, but he can take it in the wrong way, you know?" She groans, "Not to mention that he already took interest in her long he started working for her."

He raises his brow at her, "Really?"

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure when it started, but his uncle sells gardening tools. She's a frequent in his store before he took care of everything. You said that one day he suddenly knocked on her door right? Maybe he knew her from his uncle."

After his conversation with the baker, his perception of her changes slightly. There's a lot of people who prefers younger people, and it's possible that she's one of them. The distance that they put is just a facade, because behind all that, they do have a feeling for the person. If she's one of them, he won't know what to think of her

Perhaps the reason for it is just because he likes her, and he wants it to be yet another puzzle to solve. That the complexity of her feeling isn't about love, but something else entirely

Nevertheless, he keeps a good relation with her

Sometimes he dares himself to take her out, or simply hanging out in her place

She seems to enjoy his company as well, for a reason that he can match her witty remarks

Maybe it's a privilege to be in their late 40s, where they can be as free as they want, and not hiding anything from each other, knowing that they'll find it one way or the other

He doesn't hide his interest in her, and she doesn't shy away from it, so it's no surprise when they become close in relatively short time

"There'll be a festival next week," He told her one afternoon, "Do you wanna come?"

She pauses, idly traces the rim of her mug with her finger, "Sure, I want to. But Finn has asked me to come too, and I said no."

"Are you afraid that you'll run into him?"

"A little bit." She sighs, "He has a habit of dragging people along, I don't want to walk with him in the crowd."

"You can use me as an excuse." He smiles, "I won't let go of your hand."

She laughs, "You better hold it tight, then." She hums, placing her chin on her palm, "Let's just hope Bonnie sees him first, she won't let go of that boy's hand for sure."

"Bonnie? The carpenter's daughter?"

She nods, "She likes him, so she won't pass up a chance to explore the festival with him."

They both agree on the plan to wall together to the festival, and stay in the adult only place, which is an open bar with a poker table. They jokingly make a bet on whoever wins the most money, with the prize of whatever the winner wants

On the day the festival is held, they both meet up at her place, before heading to the town

It's a common festival, with food stalls and other items being sold at cheaper prices. She can't resist the discounted grapes, and ends up buying a basket's worth of it

Unfortunately, they both meet Finn before Bonnie could find him, and so they play the adult-only card

"I'm not a kid anymore, Mrs. (name), I can handle the alcohol."

"But you can't come with us, we're going to the gambling table."

"I'll stay at the bar—"

"No." She said sternly, "It's not your place to be in. I won't allow it. If I see you anywhere near the bar, I'll tell your parents."

It seems to have an effect on him, as he falls quiet. She keeps the stern expression on her, before she softens up and pats on his head

"Enjoy the festival with the other kids, Finn. I'm sure you'll have more fun with them."

His face shows a disagreement for a split second, but he nods afterwards

He pats on his arm to cheer him up, before they both leave him, all alone in the crowd. He does feel bad for the kid, but the feeling doesn't stay for too long

When they join the poker table, the people around them seem surprised, but excited to see a new face in the game. Though it's mostly aimed at the woman beside him

As they agreed on, they'll only play for 2 hours, with £20 as the start

The thing about him is that he always wins at every poker game, but only when his opponents are men. He manages to outplay the other players until they fold and out, except for her

Still, there's people who dares to challenge her. They'd put their money on the table, and play against them both. But little do they know, they're the fool one on the table

They end up playing for more than 2 hours, and he begins to get tipsy from the beer he's been drinking. It's when he blunders by putting all in

Turns out, she has a 4 of a kind, while he just has a full house king

That's when she grins at him, signaling that the game's over

"Alright gentlemen." She announced as she stood up, "Thank you for the game, it was fun. I know you probably want me to go all in and give it to whoever's the luckiest, but I'll treat you all to a glass of beer, yeah? Sounds good?"

Almost everyone around the table agrees, with a few cheers and claps

After going through the rowdy crowd, they both manage to make it out of the festival, giggling and waking fast on the road

At her home, he sinks into the sofa as the wearin begins to settle. She slips into the kitchen with the basket, and comes back with a whiskey and two glass shots

He groans, "I had enough, I can't drink anymore."

"I'm not forcing you to drink." She said as she sat down, "We're just gonna play a game."

"What game?"

"Truth or drink." She grins, "If you don't wanna get drunk, you should tell the truth."

He snorts, but straightens his back to join the game

"I'll go first." She said, "Do you have kids, John?"

He shook his head, "Didn't have the time for it, and we ended up splitting. Have you been married to someone?"

"No, I didn't have the time for it." She said, which made him chuckle, "Why did you move to this town?"

"A friend of mine once told me about this village, it sounded good, and the land's cheap as well, so," He shrugs, "Why did you come here?"

"To escape from the big city." She replied, "Where's your friend now, John?"

He doesn't want to answer it, so he takes a shot. "Are you an artist, name? A big time artist perhaps?"

Now it's her turn to drink her shot. "Do you plan to move again someday?"

"No, at least not yet. Liked it here." He answered, "What do you think of Finn? Do you know he likes you in a romantic way?"

"One question at a time." She said, "I think he's a good boy, a bit naive though. What have you been talking to Liv about me?"

"Nothing much, just the basic stuff." He clears his throat, "What were you like when you first moved, your entire history with Liv, and then Finn. Do you know he likes you in a romantic way?"

She sighs as she scratches her head, "I know… I wish he'd see me like a mother, or a generous aunt, I don't mind, but then again, we always search for something we can't have, aren't we?" She shook her head, "Do you dislike him, John?"

"Not at all." He smiles, "I have no reason to dislike him, he's a good kid." He then lifts his gaze to her, "What do you think of me, (name)?"

She fell quiet for a second, before she told him, "I think you're just like me. We've been running from the past, until we forgot how to stop running. What do you think of me?"

"I think you're lovely." He replied, "You're like a pretty puzzle that I'd like to solve over and over again, something that I'd like to keep in my pocket, so I could unravel you whenever I wanted."

The alcohol in his blood begins to work, as he gets enough courage to lean closer, reaching out to touch her cheek

She doesn't pull away, but doesn't move either, instead, she asks him, "Do you like me, John?"

"One question at a time." He retorted, "Would you allow me to kiss you?"

To his disappointment, she prefers to take a shot than giving him an answer

"Well, let me ask you again, John. Do you like me?"

"Do I look like someone who'd kiss anyone I didn't like?"

"No, you don't." She lets out a chuckle, "Say, if I were to go to Italy, would you come with me?"

He snaps his head towards her, not prepared for the question. "... What?"

"Do you wanna go to Italy with me, John?"

"I already heard that." He tilted his head, "What's the occasion?"

"I won the bet, didn't I?"

"Oh… that." He rubs his face to sober up, "You're telling me you want to go to Italy with me as the prize?"

She nods, "I always want to travel the world with a partner, and I'd like to know if you're qualified for it."

"All expenses paid?" He jests, but she nods nevertheless, "What if I end up disappointing you?"

"Then I'll stay here for the rest of my life."

He can't help but grin. "It's a big commitment, y'know."

"Didn't you say you want to keep me in your pocket?"

"Won't it be suffocating for you?"

"That's what I asked." She tugs her lips slightly, "Suffocate me, John."

Her hand reached up to touch his, it was cold, pleasantly cold against his skin. His face heated up, as if he's been kissed, but what she gave him was sweeter than a kiss. It was indeed sweeter….

《 Prev | Next 》

[slashthrashandcrash]

Okay, I had to go see what JedMEg was for myself and now I'm hooked. Can you talk more about them? Like does Meg ever find out the truth and how she reacts, for example?

I had to go digging for the last ask (here) about them just to remember where I left off in my insane ramblings lmao

So my original idea for this AU was that there is no fog, meaning once the Jed Olsen cover is purposely blown as per the lore, then it's totally game over, there's no Entity to whisk Danny away from the fall out. But that's part of the problem, isn't it? He's gone and gotten himself a little too attached to what was supposed to be a fake girlfriend, a girlfriend who's in love with a man that doesn't exist rather than the actor playing him.

Normally when he would snag himself a partner to accompany whatever persona he was putting on, Danny would kill them just before he skipped down. That satisfying moment of betrayal in their eyes, the soul crushing realization that everything was a facade, a convenience, that he never even liked them enough to give them a quick death no matter how many sweet "I love you"s he told them prior. As well as just another "fuck you" to the cops and community for how close under their noses he had been all along.

But he can't do that with Meg. He has no idea why, it was never this difficult before, but he's also never felt this way about any partner in general either. Fucking hell, he's really gone and gotten a crush on a pretty little redhead, huh? It doesn't matter, Jed Olsen was never someone who was meant to be around long term, and it's about high time he moves on since eyes are starting to shift towards him a bit. As much as it weirdly twists his heart to abandon Meg and leave her behind with the awful truth of who he really is to come out to the public afterwards, he knows it's for the best. Well...best for himself, anyways. And maybe for her, too, so that she's not entirely caught up in the shitstorm (of course, being the very public girlfriend of the now most wanted suspect in an ongoing murder case isn't going to be an easy ride...)

And Meg is beyond horrified to say the least. She still can't comprehend the entirety of the betrayal, that not only would her boyfriend leave her without a word, but that he would leave her because he was the very same murderer who had been harassing her for weeks! The one he was closely reporting on, the one whose ass Meg would try to kick every time he broke into her home, the one who used to threaten her "boyfriend" when they were in fact the same person. Everything she ever knew about him was a lie while she unfairly shared her whole heart to him. Not only that, but it's near impossible for her to try and imagine sweet, dorky, shy Jed being anything remotely close to a coldhearted killer. He couldn't even open a sauce jar half the time!! And you're telling her he can easily overpower multiple victims and haul their bodies around for sick poses???

Now Jed (?) is still out there, still on the loose, and Meg has no idea what to do. Reporters are hounding her for a statement. Police want to wring her dry for any clues or information that might help. People stare and spread rumors about just how "involved" she might have been from the start. And what if he decides to come back in the end, to tie up the loose end he left behind for whatever reason, is she even safe here anymore? Well, not for long, because that stupid ache in Danny's chest still hasn't subsided...it almost feels like it's gotten worse. It's not remorse or guilt, it's longing. He wants his bunny back, he liked how she felt sleeping in his bed and holding his hand and smiling so perfectly for a candid shot when she wasn't looking.

The dirty laundry has already been aired. They could start fresh, in theory. Whether she wanted to or not.

Although again, this was only the original idea I had when I first started making brainrot. There are so so so many new paths I've ended up concocting for them...if Meg found out Jed was a killer right before he left by catching him in the act or fitting in too many pieces herself...if Meg refused to believe Jed was the killer and was instead framed by Ghostface who she now has to hunt down for answers about Jed's real whereabouts...if they got taken into the fog shortly after that anyways per canon with Meg either not knowing or not believing that Jed is Danny/Ghostface while he keeps up the ruse to avoid her truly hating him (plus the outcome for when Meg does find out the truth while they're stuck in this hellhole)...if they were taken into the fog while he was still Jed and then him having to painfully confess why he was put into the killer camp and having to live with the heartbreak he's trapped her with...

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

Colleen Smith

Name: Colleen Smith

Gender: Female

Class: 1-1

Club: Photography

Persona: Teacher’s Pet

Reputation:

Overall: +15

Liked: -10

Respected: +50

Fear: +5

Crush: None

Strength: Incapable

Likes: Justice, Gossip, Solitude, Photography, School

Dislikes: Violence, Socializing, Sport, Martial Arts, Anime

__

Colleen is actually one of the really old OCs I made back on my very first yansim account. I didn't do much with her, and I wasn't writing as much, so I never really found any time to write her in. Still, she was meant to be a detective esc character just to be another obstacle for Ayano.

Originally, I had no reason as to why she wanted so badly to find justice outside of "she's probably just a good person". Now, I have some sort of roundabout reason, and that's so that Akademi turns its facade of a good school into an actual good school. At first it was just so her father didn't pull her out of school, but as she continued solving problems and minor mysteries, she eventually starts realizing just how unfair treatment can get in Akademi, and that changed her reason into the "goodness of her own heart" I suppose.

__

(I'm adding this just in case some people can't read the text in the picture. I'll put this in front left-down to right-down.)

1. Due to how strict her father is, Colleen constantly has to lie to him about how great Akademi is so that he doesn't have a reason to pull her out. If she told her dad about the constant bullying (not even just to herself) and isolation, he'd likely force her to homeschool again, and wouldn't let her leave until she was able to provide for herself.

2. Colleen's original goal with dealing with injustices was just to make her claims about Ajademi being a good school more accurate and truthful, but eventually, she began to compare the injustices to her own life. This caused bullying and manipulation at Akademi feel more personal, and she found herself simply wanting to help her peers.

3. Colleen is notorious for being a weirdo. She doesn't get modern slang and usually rejects whatever is new to her, which also makes her "boring" by her peers' standards.

4. The reason why Colleen is so "weird" is because she grew up too sheltered. As she grew older she figured out that her living situation made her stupid to Social norms. So, she eventually was able to make her father let her go to school, and she got accepted by acing an entrance exam.

5. If any sort of foul play occurs in Akademi, she usually finds out who and why it happens in order to keep up Akademi's reputation, and ridding of trouble-makers helps with that.

(I wrote it in a separate order, so it no doubt sounds messier when put this way. I'll make sure to write it differently next time.)

Emile Cappella: To Colleen, Emile spontaneously decided to have a crush on her when she even lacked significantly in just friends. The more Emile attempts to get closer to her, the more skeptical and suspicious Colleen gets. Still, Colleen rationalized that if Emile wa sreally trying to manipulate her, then surely he'd eventually just give uoband leave her alone.

Beruma Dinkuri: Beruma is the least likely to give suspicious people the benefit of the doubt, which is something (along with her distaste for bullying) that Colleen respects about her. If asked, Colleen would likely be too scared to call Beruma her friend out of fear that Beruma won't agree. This is due to the Colleen not having many friends. Still, the two are great partners-in-crime(justice?) when it comes to exposing wrong-doers.

Shiromi Torayoshi: Despite Shiromi's status and relations, Colleen can't help but find her overwhelmingly suspicious. Colleen is one of the very few who has ever seen Shiromi doing suspicious and borderline illegal things, but was never able to get evidence of her doing these things. When Colleen went to Kuroko with her problem, the former nearly begged her not to say anything, ensuring her that Shiromi was being monitored and meant no harm.

[classificationhell]

How would Adam treat a little? What if it was his little one?

Adam, whether he likes it or not, is a Beta Caregiver, so Littles are kind of his personal weakness. He does have a heart underneath that exterior. Yeah, he doesn't see Sinners as even remotely the same as Winners even though they are literally human souls, and he is a staunch misogynist, but he didn't exactly have an example to follow, he just happened to be the first dickhead to have the thought that men should be the head of household. However, that also means he was the provider, the one making sure there was a means to eat and kept the family protected. Clearly he became more lax and chased flights of fancy in heaven where he didn't have to work for anything, but anybody will stagnate or worse deteriorate morally, emotionally, and intellectually if there is no real push for them to be better and heaven is the pinnacle of that. Every need met and catered to and Winners don't need to worry about falling no matter what? You bet your ass prolonged exposure to this setting would fuck even the best person up to the worst parts of their character, and Adam is literally the oldest soul in heaven.

I'm guessing for the first while he'd be alone and would be told about his second wife's betrayal (if he didn't already know, there's this whole thing about Cain being the son of the serpent if you wanna know more Google it but this combined with the fact Lucifer implied he also had sex with Eve leads me to believe it could've somehow happened while they were alive, buuuut there's a whole other tangent there because they state Adam was the first human soul but then does that mean Abel didn't get into heaven or was his soul waiting for Adam do Cain and Abel even exist in the universe?!) [[For the purpose of this AU, they exist, and Abel just waited for his father at the gate because he didn't want to go in without anyone he knew there. However, for whatever reason, they've grown apart and don't see each other anymore.]]

Ehehe, sorry about that massive tangent above. This is the first Adam ask, and there's kinda some groundwork to cover for this to even make sense for a lot of people. Anyhow, back on track after his second wife's betrayal he would be in no hurry to get anybody to try and fill in any sort of spot as someone he genuinely cares about and needs him and all that. Hence, he becomes something of a playboy. Also, being the first human soul in heaven and finding out about the secondary gender and designation system he wouldn't properly understand it, all he knows is that he's a fucking Beta cuck and by the time reassigning treatment for it comes along there's already too many people here for him to just go in discreetly so he's stuck using artificial hormones and things he can get under the table through two or three parties before reaching him so nobody would ever know. Over half of his "I'm the original dick" bullshit is literally just this front he puts up to keep the facade that he's an Alpha. He even uses injections to give himself a fake rut at the same time a normal cycle would happen. His avoidance of connection leads him to staying away from places where he might bump into Littles leaving him to joining a band that plays at the strip and bar joints (it's probably tamer than hell but you're really telling me there's no one in heaven who's a good soul but just horny or likes the occasional drink? Like I get that those who indulge in excess are guilty of the sin(s or a combination) of Gluttony, Lust, and /or Greed but like once their up there you're telling me it's all ice cream shops and petting zoos and singing? Especially in this version? I mean, at what point does fun become hedonistic or overindulgence? Can you have no sex except vanilla behind closed bedroom doors? Boy, if I got redeemed, I'd be clawing my way back down extermination or no if you're telling me BDSM is outlawed. XD I am lowkey tired while writing this, so sorry for the obscene amount of tangents, cursing, and odd tone) just so he can avoid them. When Lute comes, he has someone to project his needs of caring for someone onto even though Lute is an Alpha Neutral. (90 percent of the exorcists are Alphas actually and it simultaneously passes him off, because why the fuck isn't he an Alpha, and gives him a power rush since he commands them easily and they're eating out of the palm of his fucking hand.) Granted he's not the best at it, but he's trying and also Lute is a bit much for even him at times, plus she's the only one who will correct him whenever he's wrong or about to do or say something completely stupid so he kinda hates that even if it is very rare.

Anyway, by present day he's so far pushed back his actual instinctual needs to care for someone that the very first Little, Sinner or Winner, that touches him his Caregiver is going to bond with and he's going to be stuck with them. If they're a Sinner he's sneaking them into heaven and hiding them away and at first he fucking sucks but he can't stand to see them crying especially when regressed so he gets better pretty quickly. If they're a Winner he's better to them but still somewhat resentful they're harshing his whole unattached Alpha male stud vibe he had going on. It'd be a learn to be better type story. If Lucifer found out he might be very concerned because he knows the kind of man Adam has become and he wouldn't trust the man with a goldfish, let alone a Little. (But that's a story for another time)

Anyway hope that all made sense and wasnt offensive or anything somehow I'm literally falling asleep typing.

TLDR: Adam wouldn't go within ten feet of a Little if he could help it, but when he has one of his own more and more of the man he used to be is awakened and he becomes a better Caregiver if not person overall.

[senka-mesecine]

What do you think the boys favorite thing personality wise is about the reader. Like what kind of person do they prefer and admire.

---

― Chris would admire and gravitate towards someone who's fundamentally good. Who's righteous, especially when met with adversity and hardship. Someone who has a clear cut sense of right and wrong. Someone who has strongly set ideals and morals they don't flinch from easily, if at all. Someone who can be looked up to. A person who follows their own path even if said path isn't always the most popular or well threaded path to walk down or even if they're walking down it all alone. The person in question doesn't even have to be tremendously loud about this character trait or virtue signal it all the time, in fact, it is preferable they don't, because in don't tooting their own horn, they're effectively demonstrating how honest and genuine their whole compass is. Just the quiet, down to earth sort of conviction that the truth and commonplace day-to-day goodness is on their side and that time will tell they were correct all along --- and this, by extension? It is possibly the most lofty character trait Taylor could ever admire in another human being.

― One would think O'Neill would look favorably upon a person who's not only tough as nails and merciless, and even ruthlessly so due to his association and ass-kissing levels of support of individuals like Barnes, but I do think that deep, deep, deep down, the very opposite is true and even though Red wouldn't admit to it willingly, he'd actually secretly admire someone who's keen on giving him a goddamn break every once in a while. Yeah. You've heard that right. Red O'Neill wants a goddamn break. And someone who has a rare tolerant streak? Who's ready to go easy on him, repeatedly so? Shows him some clemency? While he might not demonstrate it openly, he'd be entirely blown out of left field by this because when was the last time that ever happened, huh? Yeah, that's right. Not in recent memory. His own ingrained habits run so deep, in fact, he might just openly mock his admired person's attempts to be lenient on him because that's what ought to be done to keep up a macho facade. In actuality? Man's at a loss for words.

― Bunny possibly lacks the foresight or wisdom necessary to have a clear cut set of character traits that he could classify into the 'I admire' and 'I don't admire' boxes respectively and if he was pressed on the matter, he'd probably say something entirely lewd, inappropriate or wholly horrendous, in the vein of 'I sure admire I get ass from so and so'. That's Bunny for you, in a nutshell. Simply put, the very fact you're his person is already a cause for him to annoyingly and perversely run his mouth nonstop about you to the degree he's boring everyone's asses off within earshot. He's got firmly set tunnel vision, sure, but it's safe to say that whoever his babe is, he's gonna like everything about them through sheer virtue that he 'scored that', so basically, if you squint hard enough, he simultaneously the most widely accepting and most wildly unaccepting person in the world; both wholly not picky and extremely picky. Which character traits he admires? Uh, all of them? Whatever you's got goin', he might say, and that's the entirety of Bunny's philosophical view on the matter.

― Having undoubtedly met a whole barrage of hotheads in his day who lost their lives over nothing, Rhah could very well admire a person's temperance --- someone who knows when to be passionate and someone who knows when to cool down. Someone who can have fun when fun is warranted and someone who can be serious when it's necessary. Someone who could be seen neutral, in ways, when it matters. Dare I say, an occasional centrist? It's this middle ground, balanced approach to life that keeps people alive in the first place and an individual with enough foresight to understand that instead of being needlessly swept up by rhetoric, ideals and zeal is someone Rhah could have a very favorable opinion of, albeit, in a very subdued, private way because he lives by his own words and he wouldn't want to get swept up in being preferential to anyone too badly, even though he is towards you and that's obvious to anyone with eyes. But, that's his own problem, and nobody else's, he might think. He likes your good sense. It's a rare thing to have. Genuinely sees you as a kindred spirit who 'gets it' due to it. Like you've cracked some great universal truth by just being you.

― King's a positive, hopeful person by nature and it can be fair to say he admires more than anything people who are positive and hopeful too; who never fail to see the good side of any crappy situation. Who believe a better tomorrow's possible in spite of the odds. The future? The future can turn around on you and be helluva of a wonderful place so long as a person's alive and breathing on this Earth --- so long as you draw breath, everything still has the chance to turn out fine. That the sun is shining, birds are chirping and that it's all good, man. Individuals who walk into any room and their good energy and vibes, their smile alone, just manages to brighten the place up like a lightbulb. Yeah. It's all bullshit to him, any other set of traits in existence, if this one quality isn't down to a tee seeing as how this is something his own personality encompasses as well. Along with all of that, it's fair to throw in that he looks up to people who are devoted. Have their loyalties and priorities straight. Who know their friends from their enemies and stick by them. But, on top of all that? Yes, this quality of positivity. That's the real deal to him.

― Geez, I downright see Wolfe nonironically admiring someone he can complain to, or to reiterate, someone to whom he can spill out all the things that bug him and actually be listened to because this is (possibly) a man with about ten thousand grievances bottled up and ten thousand ways in which he couldn't articulate these grievances to nobody due to all the empty vacuum of air he needed to keep floating around himself in order to maintain just the vague illusion of authority. But, point is, I think it's plausible to say there was about a million times Wolfe wanted to just let it all out and tell someone about all the shit but he just couldn't, so when he finds an ear actually willing to listen --- someone who cares --- who isn't about to belittle him, make fun of him or see him as lesser than, someone who might actually give him a space to talk and be heard, that's genuinely a quality he'd think the world of to the degree it's hard to believe for the longest time this person's real and not just covertly mocking him. It's not necessarily empathy itself in the general sense that Wolfe admires --- just empathy directed at him and him alone, almost selfishly so.

― Elias would appreciate above all else a person's capacity for spirituality --- perhaps not necessarily organized religion in the classical sense or some sort of fanatical zealot (quite the opposite) but he'd definitely admire a person who believes in some sort of higher force. A higher power in whatever capacity. A person who has their third eye open to see past all of this physical, temporal bullshit and understand the greatness of...well...everything. That's not the stoner in him talking, he just genuinely has the belief in anything ranging from rebirth, reincarnation and heck, returning as the wind or a lone deer after he dies and yes, he'd above all else admire a person who'd share his mystic, almost transcendent streak and who'd understand that life consists of neither war, nor strife or nor politics nor any of this. That's not what matters. What matters is the soul. The intangible. And you can call it The Universe, Karma or just about whatever you like, but if you understand nobody ever truly leaves and that everything's connected, Elias might just be pacified by that. Like you are aware he's never truly leaving you, no matter what happens to him. He is with you always.

― Barnes admires intelligence; not exactly book intelligence or book smarts. Chances are, he can't stand people who wave scholarly theory in his face instead of possessing good, old practical knowledge. He doesn't expect you to understand quantum physics, that's for sure. Doesn't even expect you to have street smarts --- but more in the sense of lived experience, observations and god-given wisdom regardless of your age; something a person either has or they don't have. Something that cannot be taught. Just something that's...there. And he notices. Oh, does he ever. He can differentiate a naturally wise individual with a good head on their shoulders from someone only pretending to be one by just looking at them and that person who is acute, sensible, prudent and discerning without being in anyone's face about it? The understated type of smarts? Yeah. He admires that more than anything even though he is fiercely closed off about the fact he admires anyone or anything at all. Might just keep it wholly to himself. Huge honor coming from him of all people, though. Barnes thinking you're insightful and smart? Someone worth listening to? It's like hell freezing over, that's how rare that is.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

Thoughts on Dawntrail MSQ

May as well write up my thoughts on the Dawntrail MSQ while it’s still relevant! (full spoilers for that obviously)

What I Liked

-The new characters (especially Wuk Lamat, Erenville, and Koana) were great! Wuk Lamat in particular started out rough but endearing, and conveying her development into a empathetic and decisive leader was, in my opinion, the main place the story succeeded. In the past I’ve often felt that FFXIV short-changed the arcs of its female characters (Moenbryda, Ysayle, Lyse… even Zero left pretty abruptly), but with Lamaty’i I ended the expansion feeling satisfied with her arc rather than frustrated because I wanted more.

-Thancred, Urianger, and Estinien had just enough screentime - and impactful stuff to do during that screentime - to feel well-used but not overshadow other characters. Estinien showing up as a mysterious stranger in the Wild West was just hilariously perfect.

-The final zone felt a bit like it was trying to have its cake and eat it too with the ambiguity over whether the Endless were people, but I didn’t care because it still repeatedly got me to tear up. Plus the whole conceit of the finale to the Americas expansion being Evil Parasitic Disneyland that you slowly but surely shut down was inspired. And I loved how even before you shut it down, if you went exploring past the warning cordons, you could see the front is just a shallow facade over the machinery that makes the magic happen, just like real theme parks!

-That interdimensional key is definitely related to Azem and I am VERY curious where the story will go with it next!

What I Disliked

-Is it just me, but has the writing felt a lot more… hand-holdy? since 6.0? It’s hard to put my finger on, but it seems like there are a lot more instances where characters basically turn to the camera and explain the subtext of whatever just happened in the preceding scene. Like, there will be a great moment showing how Zero/Vrtra/Wuk Lamat/Koana/etc. has changed as a character… and then the next scene will have the Scions directly talk about “wow [person] sure has grown!” It’s a minor annoyance at worst, but a lot of what I liked about the writing of characters like Fordola and Emet-Selch is that the game trusts you to understand their complexities without handing them to you on a plate…

-Villains are often what make or break a story for me, and in my opinion DT’s trio were the weakest since Heavensward. Bakool Ja Ja was fun as a cartoonish bully, and even more fun as a boisterous “huh, doing good feels good?” new ally, but the transition from one to the other felt really abrupt. (Why bring up consequences for him if they never happen?) Zoraal Ja was a lot like Thordan in that he was critical to the story’s themes but not very interesting or entertaining to watch as a character. And Sphene… I really wanted to like her, the phase transition in the final boss makes me kind of want to ship her with Lamaty’i… but she seems like she’s intentionally written to feel flat and hollow because she’s ultimately more program than person.

-When the twins and the WoL actually got to do some mentoring, it was nice, and I enjoyed the WoL taking more of a backseat role! But most of the time, it felt like the three of us were interchangeable and underwritten, just here to fill out Duty Support roles for Wuk Lamat. Which leads me to…

-As a Krile fan, Krile was by far the biggest disappointment. She tags along the whole journey, she has a personal reason to be invested in the plot… and yet she barely has a character arc. Even after going on this journey and meeting her parents, it didn’t change anything about who she was as a person or what she wanted to do with her life. And despite participating in combat encounters now, she came across even more passive in the narrative than in prior expansions, where at least she did things like tease the other Scions and go behind our backs to recruit Zenos. Here… here she mostly exists to carry around a Plot Trinket earring and wait politely for answers to her questions.

Where’s my lil’ shit who ruthlessly hunted Estinien down with a smile on her face? Hopefully in the patch story…

Overall

I certainly had fun with Dawntrail, but it's not especially high on my ranking of expansions. Of course it couldn't capture the highs of ShB and EW bringing a close to a huge narrative arc, but I wasn't expecting it to. Ultimately, I think I'd place it between StB and HW - losing out to StB only because I am very much a Stormblood Enjoyer and love all the characters from that expansion. Dawntrail's characters haven't grown on me as much, though who knows? Again, maybe the patch quests will change my mind!

[moonlarked]

opinions on the council, especially the no-family rule because it pisses me off (for the rant thing)

ok!! Well, I already talked about how I thought the Council is a pretty messed up form of leadership in my other post, but I mostly talked about how unfair the election system was. I’ll summarize the main points here.

It’s never clarified who gets to vote, but the Banished definitely don’t, and I’m not sure if the Talentless do either.

There are no term limits, so the Councillors could rule for thousands of years.

The Council decides literally everything about society.

Only Nobility are allowed to be Councillors.

So, therefore, the most vulnerable members of society are NEVER allowed to have their voices heard or have a say in the way their world works.

There is also no version of Congress or Parliament or any sort of court of the people. The Council makes all the decisions. They create the treaties, hold the verdict in Tribunals, keep all the secrets. The only way somebody could make their voice heard is if an Emissary or somebody of status brought an issue directly to the Council, and even then, they don’t get any deciding vote on the issue.

There’s also the cache system. It’s been brought up many times in the books why this system sucks, and for good reason. Sure, guilt is shattering. But wasn’t there a better way of dealing with the LITERAL HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION than hiding it from the world and making everyone think the humans were nothing more than power-hungry monsters? Hiding the fact that they started a revolution for good reason?

The no-family rule!! Yeah, this never really made sense to me. I guess it’s to make decisions “impartial” or whatever they said but idk. I feel like there could’ve been a better way to do it. Sorry for not saying much on it but I never really thought about it that much beyond the fact that I just don’t get it.

Finally, let’s talk about the actual Councillors. There’s only a few that get any actual characterization - Alina, Bronte, Kenric, Oralie, Terik, Fintan, and to a lesser extent Emery.

Alina’s sorta just an asshole. There’s no other way to put it. She’s portrayed as someone who perfectly fits within the system and sees no problem with it because it never hurt her. She cares about Sophie and co. only when they still abided with the society. Once they started to rebel, she immediately turned on them.

Bronte’s seen as a jerk in the beginning, but he gets better throughout the series. You can see that he mourns the humans and disagrees with many of the Council’s decisions. He turns into a great ally for Sophie. However, he’s an Ancient Councillor and who knows how many of their war crimes he was a part of.

Kenric is the “good guy” Councillor, but in the later books it’s been revealed that he had a lot of secrets and was involved in a lot of shady stuff. He saw the first signs of the gnomish plague, I’m pretty sure, in that one Forgotten Secret.

Oralie’s another one of the “good guys” who has a lot more going on. Sophie’s rightfully pissed at her once it’s revealed that Oralie’s her mother and never once acted like one or gave her more help than she could without endangering her status. She works with the Black Swan, but she also abides by the Council’s rules and doesn’t want to give up her position.

Terik helps Sophie quite a bit, even staying in touch with her when she runs away, but again, he’s still a Councillor. When he hears about the state of Exillium, he, along with Oralie, only make the establishment more livable instead of abolishing it.

Emery is the spokesperson of the Council and therefore abides by the law more than anyone. He seems like an ally to Sophie in the beginning, but he advocating for putting a literal torture device on her.

Seeing a pattern? ‘Cause I am. These people only care about helping Sophie and her friends when they abide by the law or when it doesn’t hurt their position. They put on a good guy facade but hold a lot of shady secrets.

The only person on this list who doesn’t fit this is Fintan, and he’s a straight up villain. He was fine with the Council’s rulings until they affected him, and even then he still believes in elven supremacy.

Overall? The Council just sucks.

[1ore]

i've been enjoying seeing your rambles about your characters - would you want to infodump about yuri six-cants :D? how did the name come to you? (and anything else you wanna share ofc!)

Yuri is so funny because I wish I could say I had Deep Lore ™ for him, but his entire schtick is that he feels very deeply and everything happens so much in guild tours 2 ):

BUT STILL! I'll try… it’s good for me to write these things down because I do enjoy keeping character journals when I play RPGs.

Yuri came to Kryta from Ascalon, sometime during his childhood. He is Ascalonian, or at least mixed Ascalonian, and probably lost his family to the (then ongoing) conflict between the Legions and Ebonhawke. I’m not sure how much he remembers about Ebonhawke, the conflict, or his family, but he’s not as torn up about this as people expect him to be. It’s possible his folks weren’t exactly star parents, or were largely absent due to their involvement with the war, or that he was just too young to really form an impression of them.

Either way, he grew up a little terror petty thief in Divinity’s Reach. You might say he raised himself, but I think he’d say that he was raised by the city. Where others learned to rely on themselves and trust only in their own abilities, I think Yuri learned the value of making lots of little connections all over the place. He was a cute little snot of a kid, and while I think he was well aware of what he could get away with, he was never cruel or mean-spirited about it. Even today, he can put up a blasé, devil-may-care facade that’s so infectious, people find it hard to stay mad at him. (nevermind that they’ve been liberated of their pocket change as well as their resentments.)

Speaking of which, his ‘surname’ Six-Cants is really just a moniker he picked up as a thief. Cants are cryptic languages that are typically used to communicate in secret, a famous example being the thieves’ cant (ofc.) “Six-Cants” probably signals that he’s multilingual and good with codes (or at least 6 of them LOL.) It also made me laugh because it sounds like six-can’ts… though now that i know more about him, I don’t think he’s ever said “sorry, I can’t” to anyone in his life.

(Aside: Even though he’s not doing the pickpocket thing these days, he never went back to using his family name. In part because “six-cants” is just what everyone knows him as, but also because he doesn't feel attached to his old name and doesn't really like to signal to others that he’s Ascalonian. Colonial baggage.)

The next parts of his story are ~consistant with the route i took for his in-game personal story, at least in broad strokes. I’ll give you the sparknotes version and you can fill in the gaps.

At some point, Yuri gets in over his head with some baaaaad boys in a reckless effort to bail out his childhood friend. This gets him in enough trouble to uhhhhhhhhhh

oh weird I don’t know how those got there. Anyway. This gets him in enough trouble to make enemies in high places, and also some friends.

Yuri gets swept up in Seraph drama because a certain captain of the guard (not naming names) can’t stop blowing up his inbox, after he saved the guy's skin. Thus begins the running joke that Yuri throws himself head-first into Situations and Scenarios because he can’t say “no” to a boy. Does he have a stupid little crush? Of course. Does he break into his office with takeout, secure in the knowledge that he’s legally untouchable because he’s in logan’s pocket? honestly I think he was too busy doing things for the boy to have time to break the law. Nevermind the thick haze of heterosexuality that follows Logan around like axe body spray. and also whatever he and Rytlock have got going on. and also his charr macroaggressions.

Yuri’s judgement and taste in men are both very hit or miss. Heart of gold! Dumb of ass. So it goes: he is hopelessly strung along by the greater Krytan polycule.

(This is a good time to mention that all of this is punctuated by regular gossip sessions with his best friend Ximone, who is @soulfullofold's charr character. Not sure how they met, but I have a feeling they go way back... Maybe all the way to Ebonhawke. Anyway.)

Luckily The Horrors turn Logan’s attention away from Divinity’s Reach, which inevitably means Yuri has to go on some kind of quest to resolve the issue. This is how he gets swept up in Vigil drama, and

…Oy vey, 0 for 2. He meets a man named Forgal, who exits his life as quickly as he enters it. Yuri refuses to discuss this further with anyone.

Being that the scope of the problem is now a Zhaitan-shaped abyss looming on the horizon, it becomes apparent that the Vigil can’t handle the problem alone. And really, neither can Yuri. He blinked and his little dude errands became big errands. Very very big and existential errands. How's he coping?

Poorly.

These "errands" take an incomprehensible toll on his psyche. But take heart! Because he's doing it all for .

(sighs my lungs out completely)

a boy.

fellas.

oy vey.

I'm happy for him. really I am. but I Had A Feeling about Trahearne from the moment they met, what with the pattern we've established, and a quick glance at the spoiler section of the GW2 wiki confirmed my doubts.

(^^^ thank-you cat crumb for this image that lives rent free in my brain)

but that's neither here nor there. Yuri and I are still forging our way through the Living World Season 1 + 2 intermission stuff. And for now, he's happy! h aha !

I have Thoughts about what kind of arc he will go through in the future, but I'm also trying to pump the breaks and enjoy the game LOL. He just has such a big heart and a lot of love to give. He could probably have a better picker and do less cosmically important things for dangerous boys, but ach, nae, the heart wants what the heart wants.

he's probably going to be fine.