#i cannot even begin to unpack this

[mythalism]

assuming this already made the rounds here considering the tweet is a day old but i hope you all thought of me and sent thoughts and prayers for my soul when you saw this flycam image

[lovereadandwrite]

Dazai-POSE🎶 | BSD 122

[fleurpuppet]

🌈"selfcest is alright because you cannot do it in real life" (sobbing hysterically) do not remind me !!!

[mistressofthedark033]

GUESS WHO GOT A FUCKING T-SHIRT WITH KARL HEISENBERG ON IT FOR HER BIRTHDAY?! 💖

[phonepastry]

i feel like a slug

[matchingbatbites]

Explicit | 2k words | First time blowjob + Getting together

Found this in my drafts and finished it off. I know this is inspired by a post but I cannot find it.

"Can I blow you?"

Eddie freezes where he's unpacking his bag at the Harrington dining table, the first to arrive for tonight's D&D session. He blinks before turning to look at Steve, who is leaning casually in the doorway like he hadn't just offered Eddie the chance to live out one of his frequent fantasies.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that? I think my ears stopped working for a second there."

Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, his hip popping out in that bitchy way that makes Eddie want to bite him. "Can I blow you?" he asks again, this time with more emphasis, and yeah, Eddie heard him right the first time.

Eddie says "What's with the sudden interest, Stevie?" which he thinks is a valid question, considering the fact that Steve has never shown any inclination towards any dick, let alone Eddie's. He'd gotten confirmation of such when he came out to Steve a couple months ago and received a prompt "Oh cool. You can talk to me about boys if you want, but I don't know how much help I'll be."

The Steve in front of him exhales sharply, clearly holding back a bitchier response as he replies "Do you want a blowjob or not, man?"

It only takes Eddie half a second to answer yes, because even if this is some fever dream, there's no way he's going to turn down the man he's been crushing on. All the more reason to agree, honestly.

"Here?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

"Upstairs, in case one of the kids shows up early."

Right, of course.

Eddie follows Steve up to his room, where the other boy shuts and locks the door behind them before he's pushing Eddie up against the solid surface.

There's no build up, no easing into it; no needy kisses or teasing touches like Eddie would expect from Steve Harrington. Steve just drops to his knees and starts on Eddie's belt, and all Eddie can do is watch as the hottest guy he knows pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to expose him.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up and his face flushes pink as he takes in Eddie's dick for the first time. Eddie's too distracted by how pretty Steve is to ask if he likes what he sees, and Steve doesn't say anything as he wraps his hand around the shaft, seeming to get a feel for it. Eddie is only about half-chubbed, but begins to rapidly approach rock hard as Steve swipes his thumb over the piercing that sits below the head.

"Did that hurt?" Steve asks, voice thick with something, and Eddie shrugs.

"Yeah. Made jacking off pretty tough for a while."

Steve hums in response and finally gives it a proper stroke, and Eddie groans low, even though it's a bit drier than he'd like. The other boy must realize the same thing, because he pulls his hand back and - fuck - spits in it before he's grabbing Eddie's dick and trying again.

It's much better, and Eddie hums encouragingly as Steve jerks him off, his eyes focused on the head that's getting redder and redder as Eddie's dick hardens. Eddie bites his lip as he watches Steve focus on his task, as he speeds up and slows down, trying a few things out.

Eventually Steve leans in and licks over the tip, pulling another groan from Eddie, and it's like Steve suddenly remembers that the dick in his hand is actually attached to a person. He looks up at Eddie, his gaze swirling with wonder and desire as he takes the head into his mouth and sucks.

"Fuuuuck, Stevie," Eddie groans, unable to keep his mouth shut at the sight before him. "Look like a fuckin' dream on your knees for me, baby."

Steve shudders at the praise and pulls back to mouth at the piercing, and Eddie desperately needs to know if Steve has done this before, because if not then he's a fucking natural. He clocks every one of Eddie's reactions and abuses the knowledge, tongue flicking the piercing or lips suckling on the tip. It's not long before he takes more into his mouth, sinking down onto Eddie's cock as far as he can before pulling back with a wet noise.

He quickly finds his rhythm, bobbing on Eddie's dick like he's done it a hundred times, and Eddie gives up on trying to be cool about this whole thing. He pushes his hands into Steve's hair and pulls him closer, forcing more of his dick into Steve's mouth.

"Tap my leg if you need to stop," Eddie says as he gives a shallow thrust into that wet heat. Steve just moans, eyes fluttering as he lets Eddie guide him, his hands grabbing Eddie's jeans and holding on as Eddie fucks into his mouth.

Eddie tries to be careful; he doesn't want to hurt Steve, but the boy is just so beautiful with tears welling up in his eyes and a pink blush staining his skin. He snaps his hips, pushing the head of his dick into Steve's throat just enough to hear him choke, and Steve winces at the intrusion but doesn't tap out.

Eddie croons a soft "That's it, baby. Such a good boy, taking my dick so well," and Steve's reaction is even stronger than before, the way he melts into the encouragement even more obvious. It makes Eddie want to shower Steve in praise, to smother him with it, so he never doubts how perfect he is.

"Look at me, Stevie," he commands, and when Steve's eyes lift to meet Eddie's - glossy with unshed tears and a bit unfocused - it's enough to push Eddie right to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-"

Eddie yanks Steve off and strips his dick in quick strokes until he's coming, shooting his spend over Steve's beautiful, dazed face. He takes just a second to catch his breath before he drops to the floor and kisses Steve hard, smearing his cum between their lips. Steve whines into it as he kisses back, and Eddie blindly reaches down, searching for the hard line of Steve's dick in his pants.

Instead, his hand meets a damp spot, and Eddie breaks the kiss so he can look down to confirm his suspicion.

"Holy shit, Steve. Did you come in your pants just from sucking me off?"

"I'm, uh- just as surprised as you are," Steve says, his voice a little scratchier than it was before. "I wasn't expecting to enjoy that as much as I did."

Fuck. Eddie forgot about this part. The part where Steve admits that he just wanted to see what it was like and figured Eddie was the perfect candidate for his little experiment. Eddie doesn't mind, really, not when this whole scenario has been kind of a dream come true, but that doesn't mean it's going to hurt any less.

They're interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by a rapid knocking on the door. "Steve! You in here? Eddie's stuff is here but we can't find him!"

Fucking Dustin.

"Yeah, me and Steve are here!" Eddie replies. "We're talking about something, I'll be down in a sec!"

Dustin gives a "Hurry up, man!" through the door, and Eddie shakes his head as he listens to him walk away. He stands and helps Steve move from the floor to the nearby desk chair.

"I'll, uh. Go grab you a towel," he says, and Steve nods.

Eddie quickly fixes his pants before heading to the bathroom across the hall. He splashes some water on his face to help get rid of the flush, then wets a washcloth while keeping an ear out for any wandering children. The coast seems to keep clear as he goes back, and a shiver runs down his spine at the sight of Steve, who had slipped off his bottoms while Eddie was gone.

Fuck, Eddie would love to get his mouth on that cock.

He passes Steve the cloth and just stands there as he wipes off his face, then his dick, unable to look away.

"So, uh. Where did that come from?" Eddie can't help but ask, his curiosity winning out over his self-preservation. Steve looks up at him and blushes, even the tips of his ears going pink.

"Um. Dustin was ranting to me last week, talking about how you're always so strict with everyone during your games, and he thought— Well, he thought if you got laid you might go easier on them."

Eddie blinks, absorbing the information for a moment. "Did he… ask you? To do this?"

Steve shakes his head and moves to the dresser to grab a clean pair of sweatpants.

"No, that was— that was all me. It just popped into my head, like Hey, I could do that, and it just wouldn't go away. I thought I could at least ask, and if you said no, then it wouldn't be a big deal."

So, it's exactly what Eddie thought. "Right. Yeah. You were just— trying it out with someone you know, got it." Eddie turns and pushes his hands into his hair, tugging on it a bit. Stupid pretty boys and their stupid eyes, making Eddie feel things when all he is is a placeholder, an experiment.

Steve makes a soft noise and grabs Eddie by the arm. Eddie relents as Steve turns him back around so he can look at him. "Eddie, that wasn't— Yeah, okay. I didn't really like, think about it before Dustin brought it up. But I know I like being around you, and I know I liked that, so maybe— If you like me, maybe you'd be willing to give me a shot?"

He looks so earnest, so hopeful, those hazel eyes wide and wanting. There's no world in which Eddie would even want to turn him down. Instead he takes Steve's hand and rubs his thumb over Steve's knuckles. "If I liked that, he says. Like it wasn't a fucking dream come true."

Steve breaks into a beaming smile and steps closer. "Oh yeah? Dream about that often?" he asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes a little even as he sways into Steve's space.

Cocky motherfucker.

"Do I dream about the hottest guy I've ever seen giving me a blowjob like he was made for it? Yeah, might have happened once or twice, baby."

Steve huffs and closes the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a chaste, achingly sweet kiss. Eddie hums into it and moves his free hand to Steve's hip, his fingers just slipping under the hem of his shirt. S

Before they can do anything more, a banging comes from the door behind them, along with an annoyed "Can you two hurry up?! We need to get started if we want to finish on time!"

Eddie makes a mental note to kill Dustin's character tonight as he turns, still holding on to Steve. "Have some fucking patience, Henderson! Go back downstairs before I make you roll with disadvantage all night!"

Dustin squawks a "What?! That's not fair!" and Eddie just rolls his eyes while Steve presses his face to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter.

"Now, Dustin!"

Dustin grumbles but stomps off, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's waist. "Something funny, Stevie?"

Steve shakes his head. "I just think it's funny that this whole thing happened because Dustin thought you were being too hard on them, but it's looking like you'll be even worse now."

"Oh yeah," Eddie says with a grin. He gives Steve another quick kiss and says "I'm gonna be a monster now, because instead of being up here kissing you, I have to go listen to them argue for hours."

"You love them," Steve counters, and yeah, Eddie does. "You better go before they decide to break the door down."

Eddie nods and reluctantly pulls away. "We, uh. We can talk more about this later, but for now— Boyfriends? Maybe?"

Steve beams and nods. "Yeah. Boyfriends. Now go have fun."

Edit: Inspiration post found!

[n0tamused]

How elves deal or even feel jealous? What/how easy is to make them jealous?

A/n: Hello, yes I can! You didn't specify which elves you wanted this for, so I just picked a few of the ones I thought would go nicely with this idea. Also, I am trying these different styles of hcs, so let me know if you prefer lenghtier headcanons or shorter ones like these? I'm trying to find some balance with requests and my ability to write them in time.

Contents: (all separate) Thranduil, Legolas, Lindir, Haldir, Glorfindel x GN! Reader. Jealousy hcs, not proof read lol

⋆𓄃Thranduil

-Thranduil can be quite jealous and, more so, protective over his beloved and he does not care to ever admit it. He is quite avoidant of his subjects and feels a bit shocked (or looks like it, he did expect you to point it out eventually tbh) when you point it out to him

-Would make sliding comments about your attention lingering too long on someone, or even something at times. 

-A play of words is sure to ensue if you keep pressing him for his reasons, and throughout he never raises his voice or anything of that sort, he is rather calm and eventually you come to understand that he is enjoying this, both the banter and the attention. This can be sometimes flustering or frustrating when he begins to smirk and offer sass and teasing words. 

-The Elven king has seldom ever expected to ‘fall into’ love like this, or to behave like this while loving someone, but even through his long years of living he is still learning some things. 

-Thranduil is quite wary of others, especially outsiders even if they are his distant kin. So he may keep you away from meetings or tedious dinners with any delegates or visitors that may seem like ‘too much’ for you to be exposed to them.

-He is stubborn, so chances are it would take a long time for him to let up on his views, as he deems it all necessary for your protection and happiness

-But even he cannot deny that he does carry a great weight on his heart and consciousness, and long, late night conversions are not something rare with him. He enjoys them more than anything else because he feels more justified to be vulnerable when the rest of the world falls asleep. He is more open to physical touch as well, and he tells you his worries and his feelings clearly then. 

🍃Legolas

-The prince of Mirkwood is still quite green in the area of emotions and how one deals with them, despite his years. But he is notably much softer in comparison to his father. 

-He would find it odd that he feels this way and would hide it away from you for the longest time until he can bear it no longer. It is like poison to him

-Although you would be able to see it all happening and coming down on him with the way he stares out at nothing, sometimes at the people besides you, the way his lips pull into a deep carved frown and how his jaw sets, almost uncomfortably, even for an elf - especially for an elf. His shoulders are so tense you can put a table on him

-Once he expresses his feelings to you he does apologize as well, he doesn’t want you thinking that he doesn’t trust you or that he believes you’d go behind his back and take the offer of another heart - he truly can’t explain the feelings and where they stem from.

-It’s multiple things all at once - he wants you safe and happy, and the people around may not have the purest intentions, but at the same time he feels odd that you sometimes seem to be having much more fun with someone else than him. So there’s quite a lot to unpack with him, but he is not impatient or unwilling to learn.

♬Lindir

-Lindir is more prone to fits of jealousy that strike seemingly out of nowhere, he is quite dense with it too although not nearly as secretive as he would like himself to be. He may be quiet, but the face he stays quiet with is a completely different story..

-His jealousy does stem from a sense of insecurity in his own ability to be a good partner for you, it eats away at him at times and he can take up to saying witty responses to the individual/s that he perceives as sources of his feelings. He is never malicious of course, neither to you or them, as he understand these feelings can quickly turn to poison

-He may require some more support from you at times like these, and in private he feels utterly defeated in face of his own jealousy. He is not the one to openly ask for attention from you, but at times like these he may ask you questions that may reassure him again. Hold his face in your hands and just kiss the elf, that would be my advice, plainly delivered 

-He would grow flustered at such actions, and he may even give you some sass for it, but he is never refusing your advances at pouring some more of your love on him 

°˖➴Haldir

-The Marchwarden of Lorien is not the most open when it comes to his own emotions and it can be difficult to read his exact trail of thoughts at times. But jealousy is not foreign to Haldir, he knows how it feels and he has long since come to truly dislike(hate) it.

-It is unbecoming of his station and just of his own character in general. Nonetheless, this jealousy he feels holds its roots in worry for your safety rather than any kind of distrust of you, and it's greatly amplified by the distance between the two of you when he is away on duty. 

-Haldir doesn’t act out on his jealousy, although he makes his opinion known if he agrees or disagrees with you on your choice of companions. If he is at home with you, he would also tag along with you, if you so desired or if he just really, really did not like the company you’re going to be with. He knows nearly everyone in Lorien, and so he knows who to be wary of. That is not to say anyone from there would be a liability when it comes to physical harm, he knows that much is less likely to happen, but when it comes to needs that are more from within, love, need for attention - then he is not so sure. He cannot read the minds of others, and everyone changes over time, even elves. 

-His jealousy does lessen up when he is with you, as he is not as worried when he has you in his eye. If there is danger, Haldir would do whatever was in his power to eradicate the source of it. 

-You may notice this particular mood on him by the stiffness of his jaw and the hard look he sometimes directs at no one in general, as if holding an internal monologue with himself over what he’s experiencing and feeling

☼Glorfindel

-The Slayer of Balrogs is not susceptible to jealousy, and he was never a jealous individual to begin with. And that’s also without mentioning that he trusts his partner as well, otherwise he would not be with someone he did not trust.

-After his re-embodiment he may come off as a little clingy - he stays with you for as long as he can, not letting any moment go to waste, even if you are an immortal being as he is. He leaves kisses on your hands and your forehead when no one is around to see, it is intimate and he simply wants you to know that you will always have his love and support

-He is also very clear in his communication with you, and trusts that you’ll tell him if anything is bothering you, although sometimes he does know to postpone telling you something if he believes it could put a strain on you. 

-He is quite free spirited though and open minded at that, just a chill guy, the chillest on this list I dare say

-All in all.. 10/10, would recommend 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[sepublic]

I cannot imagine being Camila Noceda because so much of her arc starts around her being scared for her child, wanting her to do well and succeed and being afraid she’ll get hurt. And then right under her nose, her daughter has disappeared on some adventure in another world but at least she seems fine, right?

But you still let yourself break and you end up saying things you might regret. And then it’s only when you begin to worry about her that she comes back and she is scarred. She’s hurt. There’s a cut on her eyebrow and you realize it will never heal. It always reminds you of how you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t protect your daughter from those who hurt her, and if you’d been enough for Luz then maybe she wouldn’t have needed to come to the isles to begin with and be injured. You see how she’s begun to loathe and hate herself, because of things and people entirely outside of her control, and you couldn’t have been there to comfort her when she needed it. So now it’s built up for Luz into this horrific trauma that she hasn’t even yet begun to unpack.

Camila is stronger than everyone because if I’d seen my kid come back like that, I’d have broken apart asking what happened, are you okay, etc. But instead she remains strong because she can see that Luz and her kids are scared and they really need an adult who can be strong for them. Camila probably thought about what happened in Yesterday’s Lie afterwards, and come to regret her outburst; She must’ve guessed how it hurt Luz and made her feel terrible and alas she was right! So she vowed not to make that same mistake again and be even stronger next time, and she was!!!

But man that must’ve been so scary and helpless and painful, seeing what happened under your watch. Being unable to provide a fix in getting her back home, so of course Camila goes along to the Demon Realm once she gets that opportunity, because this all started because she wasn’t there for her daughter when she needed her most. Of course she supports her in coming out, as well as in staying in the isles; She won't blame Eda for giving Luz what she wanted and needed, as Eda herself couldn't be a hypocrite by telling Luz to stay with her mom. Camila won’t let Luz face this stuff alone like last time, not when she knows and Luz feels better about trusting her (or had to, anyway) and it’s what saves Luz!!! Because when Luz relapses after failing against Kikimora, it’s Camila who’s there to pick her back up and tell her everything she needs, which leads to Luz’s palisman String Bean finally emerging!!!

But then Luz dies and just. That scar must’ve reminded Camila that she wasn’t there to protect her daughter from anyone that might hurt her. And despite helping a little against Kikimora, it still happened again. Permanently. Man I wish Camila had a “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH” moment to get back at Belos for all she did her to child. But Camila had to keep going because after Yesterday’s Lie, she knew she still had other kids to look after. She was strong for Vee during Yesterday’s Lie, only to let herself drop right afterwards in front of Luz. But not again. No time for self pity, you just have to move on after a death and keep living, just as you did with Manny. And in the end, Luz IS all right, and she’s better than she’s ever been and there’s some huge relief.

Just augh Camila Noceda. Luz went on an isekai adventure, but maybe so did her mother? And I don’t mean with the Boiling Isles, I mean with the U.S. Camila might have been an immigrant, and not just the child/descendant of one. And even if she wasn’t, she still moved to Gravesfield. So in general so much of her life has been about going to another world and trying to survive and feel comfortable in it. As it was for Luz, too; But they survived along the way and found what fellow “weirdoes” they could, with Camila meeting Manny, who could’ve also related to her as a fellow Dominican American. And now she’s found others who can relate to Camila in other ways, as Manny also related to her as a huge nerd.

[shorthaltsjester]

endlessly thinking thoughts about cr characters, morality, and selfishness (likely place for me to be, given that my day job includes endlessly researching ethics and meaning of life) but in light of bell’s hells most recent illustration of their insularity and individualism, I’ve been really like. Trying to unpack why I find it particularly egregious in this party when obviously mighty nein were notoriously self-interested, especially at the beginning, and when vox machina had quite a few moments where their horses were far higher than they had any reason to be. And again, I really want to make it clear her that I don’t hold self-interest or selfishness to be some abhorrent and unforgivable thing, in fact I think its incredibly normal especially given the context of main characters in a story told through game mechanics that flourish on the interest of the individuals making the choices. I’ve written before about how one of the throughlines that I’ve seen in laura’s pcs (since I’m someone who particularly enjoys looking at the moral outlooks characters develop) is a common thread of morality that’s highly dependent on their own interests. And like, this is a positive throughline to me! Without getting into my own views on morality, it is particularly compelling to me for characters with isolated upbringing (which applies to vex, jester, and imogen, each in different ways) to develop a moral code informed by that isolation, and in vex we see her moral code is ‘anything goes if it protects those I hold dear’, in jester we see a moral code that doesn’t care about morality as much as it cares about the chance to care and be cared for, and in imogen we see a moral code developed in response to her very unique experience of hearing the darkest parts of people and judging them on those (which to be clear, i am not judging her for that fact, I think it makes extreme sense for someone who hears the thoughts the people have to be horrified by those things, but it does mean her moral system is almost completely backwards, where intention holds more weight than action, which perhaps makes sense of the popularity of defending all of her ideas and choices and the Right Ones by certain parts of the fandom that insist leftism is hidden in the dnd real play). And that’s all to say that, out of the cr parties we’ve seen, I don’t think any single member of bell’s hells is uniquely more or less selfish or more or less of an asshole than previous characters. And in fact, I tend to be quite fond of selfish characters, I have a well documented history of cherishing them well beyond the cr fandom. But the point is that my calling something or someone self-interested is not a value judgement in this context, it's a descriptive claim about the traits a character exhibited.

Imogen, who has insisted time and time again re: the values of the accord that she would not be swayed by the temptation of predathos because she recognizes the importance of this fight, only to turn around and pretty immediately open herself up to predathos to fulfil the most threatening part of ludinus’ plan is self-interested. I cannot conceive of any other way to describe her choices. And her being self-interested doesn’t mean she can’t also be altruistic at times, but I will be clear that I don’t think her risking killing herself as she attempts to bring down the god-eater that she released is particularly selfless. In my best faith interpretation I’d say she’s pretty middle of the road in that choice. But I bring all this up because a comparison I’ve been seeing is that bell’s hells aren’t as mean as the mighty nein or even vox machina in certain moments and that it doesn’t make sense for the fandom to view bell’s hells as likely to be villains when the same wasn’t true of the previous two campaigns, and I think I have to pretty emphatically disagree, and not because I don’t think there aren’t moments in both campaigns that feature extremely high levels of assholery and villainry from pcs – I mean, some of my favourite cr characters are percy and jester, both of whom i’d say are ‘good guys’ due to the pure luck of the found familys they fell in with and both of whom often suggested plans that were. Not okay. To say the least. But ignoring the difference between suggesting fucked up plans and walking your god-eater infused bestie back towards the troops sent to support you in keeping that entity contained, the other big difference I’ve noticed in my own introspection on how I react to bh vs mn and vm, as well as which things i cherish about previous campaigns that were really missing from c3 to what I think is the story and the character’s detriment (staying away from the shape of the narrative, just because others have made posts that put words together better about that than I can) is that while members of vm and mn remained self-interest to the end of their campaigns and have reasserted those habits in appearances since, the parties as entities working in exandria had both, to echo ashton’s apt suggestion to ludinus, grown up.

Like one moment I think of is beau and fjord’s convo in the nein hells episode, because beau is being her asshole self and fjord is being his ‘I care about My People and I’ll think about the rest later’ self (i say affectionately but certain parts of the fandom I recognize would view derogatorily) – clearly they’re not the kindest people as they discuss bell’s hells, but two notable things are (a) they still treat the hells with the respect and use their means to help them prepare for the battle coming, even when they hear the horrifying thought that the hells aren’t certain they’ll choose to save the gods, all the nein request is that they choose the kind option (b) they say none of their doubts to the hells themselves – likely because they have the empathy to realizes that its a high stress situation that won’t be made better by a reminding the hells how small and likely ineffectual in the universe they are – and their comments about cannon fodder are ones made in jest to each other. Even taking that in the worst faith interpretation, the jokes that beau and fjord make in a private conversation has absolutely zero influence on bh. This is quite different than bells hells, after like. as clearly betraying the accord they promised to assist (even if their intentions are ‘good’) as is possible, belittling the religious armies sent to support their endeavor to keep predathos sealed as they all feel the weight of an irrevocable change occurring in exandria, one bells hells has first account knowledge now that it IS incredibly willing to eat mortals, and laudna and ashton, the members of bells hells most often cited by certain fandom spaces as characters who have gone through so much and it only made them kind and strong, look into the faces of people facing literally existential threat and laugh and mock them. That is, mighty nein as individuals is comprised of some of the, perhaps, most asshole pcs, but The Mighty Nein as a party is committed to treating others the best they can, to leaving things better than they found them (a quote that I think is particularly exemplary of the dynamics of self-interest at play in the mighty nein, since it originated as a blatant illustration of molly’s notion of self-importance but developed to become a kind of commandment that the nein became committed to fulfilling). The opposite is true of bell’s hells, where orym and dorian at least both seem to have motivation beyond themselves, imogen’s changes but has shown she is capable of letting go of her ‘intention reigns’ requisitely individualistic perspective, and chetney plays up his selfishness but has shown himself to care quite a bit for people beyond their party but bell’s hells as an entity is uh, pretty self-interested.

To clarify some of my thoughts here in the spirit of the wicked renaissance happening rn, I’ve always felt that for good was an incredibly apt song for the mighty nein, because it really nails that feeling that perhaps they didn’t change each other as individuals to become better people on the grand scale, maybe they’ve just changed each other permanently, but they (and I would agree with this) view each other as having changed each other for the better (e.g., I don’t know if I could say whether jester is a morally better Individual at the end of the campaign, but I can say with certainty that she fulfils and makes moral choices in her work as a member of the mighty nein). And I don’t know if this can be said about bell’s hells – I think they have certainly influenced each other and changed how alone many of those characters felt, and that is not a slight on the story, it can be a great centre for a story to focus on how a relinquishment of the feeling that one is alone in the world can change them. But for the most part, that hasn’t been bh’s story, their story instead has been about validating their refusal to become anything beyond what they insist was out of their control. And not to get to annoying philosophy student about it but bell’s hells are maybe some of the most explicit examples of sartrian bad faith I’ve seen in fiction in a hot minute, because their insistence that they treat their wounds as incurable and entirely out of their hands has led to them limiting their own potential because many of them ignore their responsibility as people to make choices in their own lives. In contrast, at the end of the campaign, mighty nein are still assholes as we all like to refer to them as, but in the context of an apocalypse, I think I’d prefer the assholes like fjord – who is certainly being truthful when he says he doesn’t care about what harm comes to 200 people when jester is at risk but who also, as they traverse into aeor, is insistent that their group won’t be running away from whatever apocalyptic threat awaits them, even if that means dying in the fight – than I would an asshole like ashton – who promises to fight for the little guys but who then turns around and acts upon a philosophy that says the strongest will survive. When you look at the mighty nein, it is incredibly easy to see the fingerprints of change they’ve left upon one another, and even to see the boundaries they place on one another’s asocial behaviours through their presence in one another’s lives (more recently the group chastising jester’s fond words about ludinus is a good example, but others are yasha’s pressuring caleb and essek to move on from their wizard talks as they collect paper in aeor instead of venturing further toward the battle they have to fight, or fjord and jester’s frustrated conversation in the ukotoa reunion about how fjord made a stupid decision and he doesn’t regret but he feels dejected and jester checking him on the fact that they still need to figure out a solution). It takes some extrapolation to see how bells hells have changed each other in more than aesthetic ways, if they have at all. Because the catalyst for change is pressure to do so, and aside from moments where it was truly change or be left behind, bh doesn’t challenge each other unless forced to by morri’s trials or delilah’s interruption and on the very odd occasion an interesting game of rollies-spin-the-bottle. 

And it’s interesting because the asshole behaviour of the mighty nein, like bell’s hells, stems from being left on the outskirts of society and the mistreatment that comes with that, so seemingly the change from being alone to being with others is one that actually insists upon being challenged to grow and change. I mean, just looking at the starting points of the characters, there’s an intriguing amount of stark similarities between their pasts; jester and fearne were both people loved dearly by the family they grew up with but who were loved within the confines of a gilded cage, ashton and beau both have an glaring self awareness that their anger at the world has a very particular source (their parents) but use that as justification rather than a means of self reflection, yasha and orym are trying to navigate a world in the wake of an incomprehensible loss and a sense of duty, fjord and imogen are both seeking out knowledge of their own powers and unknowingly retreading the paths of their missing and presumed dead parental figures. The idea that bell’s hells are uniquely mistreated by society in the history of cr player characters is, politely, laughable. Absolutely they’re mistreated, and I think it could be fair to say these characters are more defined by their isolation than others but I think that has more to do with the lack of downtime rp than it has to do with the context of their suffering.

What I have loved about the mighty nein is that in their realization that the bonds they forge with each other are undermining the truths most of them had taken to be true – that they were alone and without a place in the world – they are also forced to realize that no longer being alone and isolated comes with the weight of social responsibility. And this was born out of a willingness the mighty nein had to call each other out and that the players had to allow their characters to be wrong and get called on it. Because that’s the friction of living with other people on the small party scale and the large world scale – in the mighty nein’s ability to survive as a people who cared for each other even when they didn’t agree or when they made decisions that they couldn’t understand, they were constantly developing their ability to care for the very same world that left them alone. Because in campaign two, the world as a whole had the role that the gods have in campaign 3 – why should a party of nobodies, treated like shit by the world and the people in it go through the effort of saving it?

And the mighty nein answered, in their own imperfection and assholery, that nothing is ever just one thing – one of the things I cherish most about campaign 2 is its commitment to ambiguity, allowing the complexity of the world to go unsolved because there is no solution to the fact that life is immense and sometimes incoherent. I don’t think its a coincidence that I’ve seen some of the people lamenting the idiocy of fandom members like me who think that it actually isnt a leftist win to destroy the world in the hopes of spontaneous justice arising in c3 are the same people who criticised c2’s conclusion with the cerberus assembly for not being leftist (a word which for them means . the aesthetic image of a rebellion sparked and not the unending commitment to doing what you practically can to make life more just for those around you – whether they’re particularly kind to you or not) enough. The conclusion of c2 emphasizes that the choice to make the world a better place isn’t something that can be achieved in one single sweeping action that will wipe the boards clean – there is no murder of all the members of the cerberus assembly that would’ve solved the problems that caused the assembly’s power. There is no forcing of the god’s out of exandria that will deal with the actual issue undergirding both bh and their blorbo-moralized fans' criticism of the gods, which is that mortals are cursed with the burden of free will, and being mistreated by other mortals means constantly having to try and make sense of the fact that someone chose to do something cruel to you (and, sometimes, that you made a choice that allowed that cruelty to occur) – a burden made much heavier when the person who hurt you is your cult-indoctrinated mother, or your cult leader father, or the person in the mirror. The mighty nein take up this fight, and the complexities of their individual identities begin to heal in the light of a commitment in their relationship as friends and as a team to improve the world, even on the small scale. Bell’s hells remain gridlocked and stagnant and unwilling to change in an unspoken turf war of self-interest because they’ve insisted (influenced in part by the context of the campaign 3 narrative but, as others have aptly pointed out, that narrative was much more influenced by bh’s lack of curiosity regarding anything except their own minds) upon finding a solution to a problem they’ve decided is earth-shatteringly (quite literally, to the people of ruidus) unjust based on, aside from encounters where fellow mortals were the primary oppressors, their own testimony of the god’s not listening to them and the obvious villain’s parallel testimony. Something I’ve really been chewing on lately is caduceus words to fjord about his role as a paladin of the wildmother – that maybe it just means that someday, someone will pray for a miracle, and there fjord’ll be and the weight that has given that fjord’s bond to ukotoa came from his desperation not to die and his willingness to accept whatever help would be offered, that fjord could now be the person that reaches out to someone in need, and that the hand he offers won’t come with a curse.  And I think that’s really the poignant difference between bh and mn for me, that for bh, their experiences of injustice, though did make them personally bitter, did not make them morally misanthropic.

Comparatively, Bell’s Hells chose to ensure that, because the gods never answered their prayers, they shouldn’t be permitted to answer anyone else’s. Is this an understandable position? Sure, for the walls of a preschool, not really for a group of characters that I will ever be in any way inclined to view as something close to heroes. While it’s true that there are parts of life that are beyond our control – somethings happen to us that we have no say in, and they cause injuries both physical and mental that we are left to heal without any rhyme or reason, it is still our responsibility to heal them. And if you choose not to, well, then you’ve chosen not to, and are responsible for the consequences and judgements that choice might amount to.

Anyway, sorry this is all over the place but TLDR: calling bell’s hells as a party self-interested is actually just descriptively correct – they can save members of the party made up of their close friends and still be self-interested – and while the individual members of bell’s hells actually aren’t all that uniquely self-interested in the history of cr pcs, the party is uniquely self-interested in how they’ve chosen to navigate the world an their responsibility to the people in it.

[a-simple-imagine]

Instructions Unclear

Synopsis: Surprising Van one day after work leads to revelations neither of you were expecting…

Pairing: Adult!Van Palmer x reader

Words: 2.7k+

A/N - will nobody being interested in van palmer stop me from writing about them?? no, she’s literally the love of my life. if you’re the anon that requested the taissa fic it’s next on my list

WARNINGS - swearing and minor sexual references

The cool night air clings to all too-warm skin. How were you already sweating? A deep sense of anxiety sits low in your stomach, but the space is shared by a degree of giddiness. You were merely excited so why did your body seemingly react like you were heading into battle? You almost talked yourself out of coming as you walked down the streets. You still might. An all-too-tight grip on the plastic bags in hand. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this would merely ruin everything. You have to keep telling yourself that it's fine. Don't make this any bigger than It needs to be. The pit in your stomach is only made worse when the redhead yanks open the door. The grey sweatpants and plain white t-shirt combo induce a sharp intake of breath. She was winding down for the night. A visible display of confusion. This really was a bad idea. Too late now.

"...Hey," hummed slowly; the wrinkle in her brow deepened as her eyes drifted over you. Your weight shifts from one foot to the other. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"Yeah... sorry," was all you could think to say. That sense of regret now swallows any giddiness you were feeling as you consider how disorienting this must be. "Thought I'd surprise you."

And her expression doesn't change. Clearly surprising her was a misjudgement on your part. Nobody likes unexpected company. Now you were just an inconvenience. Something to ruin her otherwise peaceful night. "Uh, right," for a moment you think she may send you away. Some excuse about how busy she is or whatever but she does not. Instead, she opens the door wider and steps aside, ushering you inside. "It's cool."

Even as you step over the threshold you cannot help but wonder if your company is unwanted. You would prefer her to turn you away at the door than humour you. That was more her style when it came to this kind of thing. Van Palmer was strictly interested in a casual relationship. A transactional relationship. She had made that very clear on her dating profile. Very clear the first time you came over. And very clear every time since. You have never really done this before. Just hung out. You would chat sometimes before sleeping together. A little texting back and forth. "I brought food," you explain. The click of the lock, a signal to walk further into her space. It wasn't your first time here and yet you still feel like a stranger. Like you were intruding on some big night. There was nobody here but the television flickers with black and white images. Van trails behind you. Blocking you from a quick escape. You're sure she wouldn't mind if you made up some lie to leave; she would probably welcome it but now you felt trapped. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet," a blur that almost collides with your shoulder as she zooms past. A beeline for the kitchen space where she begins tidying. Moving stray glasses and plates into the sink. It really wasn't a bother; you didn't care how it looked but it doesn't seem like your place to make her stop. "What'd you bring?" you place the white plastic bag on the table and begin unpacking. It was not anything fancy. You had merely stopped at a takeaway on your way over. It was late enough for her to have finished work but not that long ago. You figured if you caught her quickly then she would not have had dinner yet. Turns out you had been correct. "You want a beer? It's kinda all I got." Van does not wait for a response, already passing the bottle across the table. Exchanging a small cardboard box and some chopsticks for a glass bottle that you place to one side.

"I also got you something," You add. "Else- I mean, something else."

"Oh," Curiosity peaked as her actions slowed, settling into the chair opposite as she opened up her food.

"Not sure how into it you'll be but," A shrug. Even now after being welcomed into her home you feel embarrassed. This was too much. A gift was too much. Making this into something it's not but now that you have mentioned it, you cannot take it back. She is watching you with expectations. It was pretty much the only other thing you brought. On the table you place the gift; a lego set.

For a moment she seems genuinely perplexed. "this is what you think I'm into?" A strange gift for a person in their late forties but from what you have learned about Van this seemed like something she would enjoy. She owned a video rental store which was steeped in nostalgia. VHS tapes, cassettes and old toys and comics. She had some newer stuff too but the main draw was the old-school vibes. So a Lego set seemed right up her street and it was a set for adults that when pieced together would create a retro portable radio. Still, panic settles over your nerves. Maybe she thinks this an insult? Some would call it childish. But a smile tugs at her lips as she chuckles. "I'm just fucking with you," Van leans over the table to grab the box; the pieces all clattering around inside as she drops it against the table. "You got this for me?"

A shrug. An awkward little smile returned. "Yeah"

"Sit," Van instructs as she lovingly shovels chopsticks full of noodles into her mouth. You descend into the seat opposite, digging into your own food. You figured it would be more awkward just getting food for her. "This is really cool. Do you wanna start it now?" a pause. You weren't expecting the offer but now you have a split second to decide before it becomes awkward.

"uh... sure, yeah," You nod a little too eagerly. Half a smile settling on your lips. She drops the chopsticks into the noodle box and sets on opening that lego. In a similar fashion to a kid on Christmas, there is no grace to her movements. They rip it open and dump the contents onto the middle of the table. Thank god everything came in little plastic bags.

"Shit- this is a lot," They express, looking into the cardboard box and fishing out the instructions. "how many pieces is this?" She searches the outside of the box for answers. Was this too much? You had tried to go for something not too small but not obnoxiously large either. A careful balance of buying Lego sets for middle-aged women.

"Sorry, I just went for something I thought you'd think was cool,"

"no no, I'm not complaining. Just gonna take a minute to finish is all," Van smiles to herself. "Guess we just do a bag each and come together. That good for you?" A brief glance, you nod obediently. "There's only one set of instructions though."

"I can probably find some online," Getting your phone you set to work on finding that while she flips through the paper copy. Half her attention has returned to her dinner; lazily filling her mouth with long strings of pasta and seasoned vegetables. It does not take very long for you to google the set and find a PDF copy on the official website. "Okay, I'm set." The redhead ushers one of the small bags of bricks towards you. Guess you were starting with the first bag. Van with the second.

"So how was your day?" you ask, ripping open the bag and beginning to clip them together based on the images on your phone screen. Small talk had never been your strong suit. It never seemed to bother Van much. You weren't exactly there for stimulating conversation. Plus the other woman was as awkward as they came. You made it work. It worked very well if records show.

"Pretty chill," She replies. "got to introduce a girl to the joys of classic gangster movies."

Ah, films. An interest of Van's everyone who ever interacted with her knew about. "oh I bet she just loved that," You tease; a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Hey- they're classics for a reason," She urges. "She'll get it once she watches a few." You don't doubt her. "How was your day?"

"Long," truly was the only way to describe it. You wish it had been as simple as recommending movies to teenagers. "Hence the surprise."

"Ah so that's why you're actually here," Van chuckles, a teasing little smirk suggesting there's more to be said. "You didn't have to do all this to get me into bed. A simple 'you up?' text would have sufficed."

"That's not..." Your voice trails off; internally wincing at the notion this was all just a way to get her into bed. That was a logical conclusion that you can't really argue with. Came with the casual territory. You fall into silence after that. Both conventrationing on your own individual parts. Clipping colourful plastic together between mouthfuls of dinner or swigs of beer. The soft mumble of the film van never bothered to turn off. It sets a nice atmosphere. However, it does not take long before your attention falls from assisting her in the construction of this radio, to merely admiring her do the work alone.

"You're staring," Busted. Not so much as a spared glance but it is enough for your eyes to blink away like a naughty child caught cheating. The clicking of bricks as you calm the butterflies in your stomach. But it's not enough. And when you are sure she is not paying attention to you anymore, your eyes flicker back to watching her. Van Palmer was beautiful. Handsome. And you would never get tired of looking at her. The level of concentration was akin to a very important task rather than such a silly task. Firey locks of red curtain either side of her face. The scar above her left eyebrow is more prominent in her frown. That sparkle of childlike wonder in such captivating eyes as she plays with her toys. Every so often her expression would change; a purse of the lips. The signs of the inside of her cheek between teeth. And your particular favourite, the way she scrunched up her nose. It was adorable. She was adorable. And suddenly your cheeks felt hot and the pounding of your heartbeat was so loud in your ears as you blurt out the words.

"I can't do this,"

"You can't put together plastic bricks?" Her tone suggested playful teasing but her expression was one of curiosity. Or perhaps confusion. "I know it says eighteen on the box but I'm pretty sure a kid could do this,"

"No Van," A soft sigh. "Not the lego, this. I can't do this," You use your hand to usher between the two of you. Her face relaxes. A much more neutral expression settling.

"Oh," a pause. "Weird way to break it off like,"

"I know. I just..." you glance at the pieces of Lego scattered across the table. Nothing about this felt casual for you anymore. Or more so, you don't want it to be. How you didn't realise before now was crazy. After a long day, all you wanted to do was see her. You brought food because you knew she probably hadn't eaten. You bought her a stupid Lego set just because you thought it would make her happy. Those butterflies weren't general anxiety. You like Van. You like Van a lot. But when you first matched on some stupid dating app, you knew what this was and had been fine with that. Casual. Why was it so hard to just fuck a beautiful woman and have it mean nothing more? Van was hot as fuck, knew what she wanted and was great in bed.

"Why'd you come if you don't wanna see me anymore? That's pretty fucked up." there is a playful lilt to her tone that only made you feel worse. She did not even seem to care. You were probably just another drop in the ocean to her.

"I didn't know," you admit. You start fiddling with a stray plastic brick to avoid looking at her. Avoid getting pulled back in by those captivating blue eyes. Twisting it round and round and round.

"So what was the kicker?"

"Watching you just now," You admit. A small shrug of your shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Damn! Bring me a gift and then decide you never wanna see me again once we start-"

"You're wrong" you interject, forcing yourself to look at them. You don't expect them to be staring back and as your eyes meet, that little burst of confidence disappears. "I- It's not that I don't wanna see you. That's all I wanna do and that's the problem," Van continues to look at you, clearly expecting more of an explanation. "I really fucking like you Van. You're beautiful, so so smart and like really fucking funny and it's all just too much. Watching you play with your little lego just made me realise I don't think I can do casual anymore,"

"Oh," Now you expect her to say more but she doesn't. She goes back to playing. Opening up a fresh bag; the plastic bricks clatter against the wood.

"And I get that's what you want. That's all this was ever meant to be but if I don't put a stop to a now I'm just gonna be torturing myself."

"I get it- you don't have to explain." Van clarifies making you feel silly. You sit in a very awkward silence for a minute or two. She continues building. You watch her do it. But it's clear at this point that the only thing left to do is leave. The chair scrapes across the floor as you push away from the table and raise to your feet.

"I'm sorry," you express as if catching feelings was something you could just control. Grabbing your jacket.

"Uh... do you wanna stay over?" only one arm in your jacket when you come to a stop. Had you heard that right? Was she asking you to stay?

"What?"

"Do you wanna stay over tonight... maybe?" The woman repeats. She isn't really playing with the lego anymore just staring at it. You swallow hard.

"Van I can't," you say. "It'll feel just as shitty in the morning as it does now."

"I don't mean it like that," Van expresses. "When you showed up at my door unannounced I should have sent you away. It should have been so easy but I just couldn't because I was happy to see you. I wanted to see you."

"Oh," Is that a bad thing? She was making it seem like it was.

"Yeah... and I indulged it- I let you in and you brought food and this gift and I was like fuck, she must really like me" Van continues to explain. Not so subtly calling you out. "and even then I didn't want you to leave so stay."

"Van-"

"I want you to stay," and you swear your heart skips a beat. A mix of emotions swirling in your stomach. Equal parts excitement and bafflement. "If you want to like- even just to finish the lego,"

You're kind of at a loss for words. Scared to say anything that might ruin the moment. Her words weren't the same as yours. There was no confirmation of feelings but a plea to stay instead. You withdraw your arm from the jacket, tossing it over the back of the chair. Maybe it was enough to feel wanted in the moment? She didn't seem the type to manipulate your feelings just to sleep together. Her words hold weight. She was happy to see you. Happy to just sit and build Lego. You lower back into the chair. Van watches; a smile slowly spreading over her lips. But still doubt remains and you have just enough conviction to ask a follow-up question.

"What changed?"

Van shrugs. "not too many girls show up at my door with Chinese and Lego sets these days." and a once very serious conversation has returned to the playful nature that constantly comes with talking to her. "it really worked in your favour," she reaches for a plastic bag of lego and slides it across the table before going back to her own thing. A moment of pause. Eyes on the lego but a mischievous grin. "and not just because watching you do nerdy shit really turns me on,"

[craziertogether]

will’s character is equally as nerfed as mikes.

tbh i hate to say it but it’s equally as valid to say that will’s character arc is equally as nerfed as mike’s IF byler isn’t endgame. will has been nothing but the stereotype of tragic gay kid. he’s experienced nothing but misery from the second he was introduced.

abusive, sexist, homophobic, AND absent father (who may have SA’d him, if you subscribe to that belief).

bros also literally canonically poor asf like brother… get your bag up fr.

LITERALLY GOES MISSING for a week and has his death FAKED by the government.

will’s trauma isn’t actually unpacked on screen, we’re left to wonder what happened to him and how he was able to survive in the upside down for that week when bigger and tougher people have died.

been possessed by the mindflayer for all of S2, brother cannot catch a break

forced to have a connection with the UD, vecna, and all that even after his trauma from literally being stuck there for a week

love joyce but her overbearing nature in the seasons isn’t that great for him either because as will said “everyone treats him like he’s different” (except someone hmm i wonder why)

set up to be this sad bullied kid, described as “all alone” by mike FROM THE BEGINNING. bullied by troy in life and even after his “death”. isn’t even accepted when he does come back to school in s2

is low-key replaced by eleven by the group while he’s gone. (i love willel don’t start)

mike replaces him for el, lucas and max aren’t as close with him in season 3, dustin has suzie and the russians plot line

wants to play DND all summer and is ignored just to have his best friends leave and join a new party like not even a little bit later bro.. the SECOND they joined hs 😭💀

has basically been sidelined for 2 full seasons as the guy who gets a tingly neck feeling every 3 weeks. he’s not even considered smart or brave anymore, js the guy with the little itty bitty twitches on his neck and loves to touch it

is STILL not well liked by his peers in california plot line because of his sister

lowk is forced to become siblings with the girl that his first love is dating (again love willel stop)

tragically plays match maker for the doomed couple (literally the ONLY person who cares about their relationship)

is written to be a sad gay boy in love with his childhood best friend since idk SEASON 1. don’t get me started in why this is actually js torturous to have done if it will end with m*leven endgame.

hes basically a prop for this ship that is TECHNICALLY STILL canonically true but leaves will with all his trauma and gay pining to currently be put at risk of being sidelined forever for the development of m*leven (painting lie)

wasted how much time on that masterpiece of a painting to then sit in a HOT ASS VAN and pour his entire soul into mike just to try and salvage a dead relationship

forced him to lie to his BEST friend, who, even if they byler not endgame is the most important person in will’s life next to his mother.

forced to LITERALLY COMFORT THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE as he’s still being a gay mess and struggling to say that he loves his own fake girlfriend

sat through mike’s piece of shit monologue and heard him tell his gf that he loved her like 10 times

not only was the monologue garbage but it probably felt genuine to will who’s been on the receiving end of mike’s motivational talks. although he should’ve clocked it as in-genuine, he probably feels like he doesn’t remember mike anymore bc they haven’t talked in months in this essay i will-

basically if byler isn’t canon, will is set up to be amongst the worst characters in the show. maybe his connection to the UD is deep as hell but even if they explain will’s secret powers or connection to the upside down, his personal development outside of the supernatural is absolutely DOG SHIT. he could be more powerful than el in the telepathy world and it would still feel like emotionally he’s been nothing but a sad doormat for the writers that only gets remembered every time there’s a small disturbance in the UD. like no development except pure torture and sidelining him for two whole seasons to be nothing more than sad gay boy that the entire GA hates bc it threatens m*leven endgame.

[buckwheeler]

so interested in Chris and buck having some kind of conflict down the line. Like when buck stops being ‘dadsbestfriend kind-of-like-a-dad-to-me but also he’s kind of my best friend guy who’s always fun and never does wrong’ and starts being his actual step-parent. Like obvie buck would be great at that and Chris loves him and that’s why I’m like. I want to see them argue so bad. they have such an interesting relationship which becomes even more interesting if buck and Eddie are married, because buck has already been so important in his life and now it’s like. And now you’re my dad?? And you and my dad are married? Like Chris is like “ok so on the left that’s my dad, Eddie, I love him things are complicated sometimes but I love the guy. And then next to him uh. that’s fucking Buck. like I cannot even begin to really explain him and his position in my life over the years. but yeah he’s also my step dad. “ Anyway the ‘you’re not my dad!!!!’ Would hit harder and stranger with them. And when Chris is looking back at his childhood as a young adult and unpacking maybe some issues with his parents it’s gonna include buck. Do u guys see my vision here. Chris and buck are both pretty emotional reactive people and they’re so close and so they would fight too. I’d love them having the kind of relationship where they argue quite freely and easily and then pack it up and forgive each other just as fast and it’s actually healthy but it can still be tumultuous. Like basically it’s just awesome how they really have their own relationship and dynamic and history and everything with each other, outside of buck having a relationship with Eddie. Anyway

[vonbabbitt]

big long kamimura loredrop that i sent to my tetro staff two years ago. obvious spoilers and trigger warning for a lot of stuff. not for the weak of heart. also forgive the very casual tone this is written in i was sending it to my STAFF!! MY FRIENDS!! it has not been curated for public release lol

KAMIMURA KAZUTOSHI. WOW. LOTS TO UNPACK HERE. so kamimura was born as a very sickly kid. his parents were initially planning to have two kids, but when kamimura was born with very particular needs, they decided it would be better to dedicate their full time and attention to just one kid. so thats what they did! kamimura was born with a few conditions that made his childhood a bit rougher, the main of which being hemophilia, an (at the time) unidentified autoimmune disease and a few lesions on his brain. not ideal! so he was in and out of the hospital a lot as a kid, something that was very scary for him at the time, but his parents were very very supportive and loving during this time. they would be at the hospital with him every single time he had to be there (obvs cuz he was a tiny baby boy) and his mom would not go home until he was discharged. she would always be there telling him stories and playing games with him and doing her best to make the experience as comfortable as possible for him. so that made it less scary!

kamimura had a very good support system and it made him a very happy and social kid! he grew up very outgoing and playful and eager and close with his family. his dad was a busy guy who worked in tech, so while he was usually at work, his mom worked from home as a copy editor, so he spent a lot of time with her. as he started to get a little older (7-8), a few more comorbidities and diagnoses started popping up - chronic fatigue, crohns, some vision problems, muscle issues, things that made his life a lot more difficult and worried his parents because he was getting bad fast. this meant a lot more time in the hospital for baby kamimura which is very unfortunate for him. eventually he gets put on a new balance of medications/treatments and his family keeps doing their best because goddamnit their kid should get to be a happy kid! which he is! hes a very happy kid! hes just also a kid with a LOT of medical issues

SO THEN WE HIT AGE NINE. kamimuras mother is home alone with him when a close family friend drops by. hes someone kamimura knows very well - comes to all their parties, visits often, etc etc. but he was also someone who had very strong feelings towards kamimuras mom. he had confessed to her multiple times and obviously she had said no because she is married with a child and was not interested at all. except this time hes completely fed up with it. she says no, he gets aggressive and violent and tries to overpower her. she fights back, he panics and stabs her. a lot. repeatedly. over and over and over. so the kitchen is an absolute bloodbath. not good! a few minutes into this, kamimuras dad gets home from work and is very quickly added to the body count. family friend runs, and about ten minutes later, kamimura gets home from school.

so now this nine year old boy has walked in on his parents mutilated bodies lying in a sea of blood on the kitchen floor. his mind basically shuts down. he cannot even begin to process the ways in which his entire world has just come crumbling down. he goes upstairs to his room, closes the door, and proceeds to stay there for two days straight. if he can just stay in his room and not go outside, no matter what he saw, no matter what he smells, he can pretend that everything is fine and theres nothing downstairs.

after two days of this, kamimura's dad's work calls for a wellness check. a wellness check is performed! EVERYTHING IS NOT WELL. the police find kamimura, remove him from the house and into the system he goes. pretty soon he ends up living with his moms sister, who isnt a mean person or anything, but she never wanted kids and shes just lost her sister and shes going through a lot so she never really connects with kamimura. she feeds him and houses him and does her best, but hes completely shut off emotionally and very traumatized and wants nothing to do with this new life thats been put on him so he mostly ignores her and just goes through the beats of life.

from this point on, he has no friends. he doesnt get close to anyone. he doesnt try to. he shuts himself off, keeps to himself and gets picked on a bit because of it. hes outcast at school pretty quickly and that does not do much to help his mental health. it doesnt help that his PHYSICAL health is still deteriorating pretty fast and hes now living with somebody that has NO experience in taking care of his medical needs. hes still in the hospital all the time, but now hes alone and its quiet and hes scared. he hates hospitals. he hates going to the hospital so so so so much because hospitals are scary and it only serves to drive home the complete lack of his mom existing that is haunting him every day. it doesnt help that hiding out in a corpse house for two days has given him a deep, DEEP fear of anything dirty or putrid in the way that his parents' crime scene was. this evolves into a pretty bad case of germophobia that makes him hate hospitals even more because theyre disgusting infected places where people go to die and rot. bad.

but life continues! so when he turns 14, kamimura goes to high school for the first time! its also around this time that he finally dyes his hair - his black hair makes him look exactly like his mom and he cant handle seeing that every time he looks in the mirror, so blue it is! because blue does not look like either of his parents and now he doesnt have to fking see their faces every single time he looks at himself. yay! so he enters high school, his mental health is tanking, his physical health is tanking and everything is bad. high school is equally bad because hes still getting bullied and he feels sick all the time and school is stressful and he is completely lacking in socialization. so at age 14, kamimura tries to kill himself for the first time. it does not work. he goes to the hospital and very hastily explains it to his aunt as having simply fucked up his own medication and says it was all an accident because fuuuuck he does NOT want to be institutionalized. that would suck. and luckily this excuse works and he's back out in the world soon after. yay?

anyway life goes on! so kamimura goes back to school. except weirdly enough, he actually starts talking to another person. this person is named isao kamei and he is a boy in kamimuras grade! hes nice and cool and hangs out with kamimura and likes kamimuras dumb blue hair and likes all the things kamimura likes (scary movies. breaking random shit behind the school after class. yknow) so the two hit it off pretty quickly and soon kamimura has a best friend. except, uh oh, maybe hes more than a best friend?? kamimura starts realizing that hes got feelings for isao and panics because he does not need this complication ruining his one and only friendship. kamimura has had severe severe trust issues for years now and has finally let himself get close to another person again and he CANNOT LOSE THAT. but isao is a good guy, and theyre close, and kamimura is starting to think that isao feels the same way about him so maybe hed be cool about it. it goes against every instinct he has spent the past five years cultivating, but he finally works up the nerve and admits to isao how he feels about him.

IT GOES BADLY. SO BADLY. isao is uncomfortable and frankly kind of disgusted and pulls back HARD. he basically distances himself from kamimura forever and word very very quickly spreads (starting from isao) that kamimura is gay and that he asked out isao, something that absolutely quadruples the amount of bullying he is receiving. so a few days later, kamimura tries to kill himself for the second time. once again it does not go well. he gets very very very sick, but still wakes up in the end and is absolutely miserable and furious about it. his awful awful awful life continues to march on as always and hes back at school pretty soon after that! he continues getting relentlessly bullied, his health continues to deteriorate, and finally during one of his numerous numerous hospital visits he gets hit with two fun new terms: multiple sclerosis and myasthenia gravis. these are the two things that produce the vast majority of his symptoms. so at the very least he now has a few words to label himself with, but hes not really that thrilled about it either way. kamimura is someone with a lot of internalized ableism and resentment towards his own body. he sees it as the reason his life sucks and the reason he gets bullied and the reason he cant live like other people can. he hates himself, and that makes him hate himself even more because his parents always made such a big deal about telling him how much they loved him and how much he should love himself, so he feels like hes betraying them by absolutely loathing himself and his body.

so at sixteen, he tells his aunt he wants to move out. they arent close and he just wants to be on his own and honestly shes on board with this because she never wanted kids and shes ready to go back to her life. so out the door he goes! hes got his own apartment now, which means theres nobody to make him get out of bed or shower or eat or go to school. so he stops doing all of those things, which makes his health deteriorate faster and makes him even more miserable. so at age sixteen, kamimura makes a third attempt on his life. he learned his lesson last time and ups the dosage hard. except he cant keep it down because he hasnt been eating anything for like two weeks and his stomach just physically cannot handle the amount of medication hes ingesting. so this one fails too. but life goes on and kamimura needs to pay rent! his landlord thinks he is strange and concerning and wants to help him so he manages to get kamimura an apprenticeship with a man named ryōichi katō, a very experienced crime scene cleaner! kamimura EXCELS in this field. hes able to shut off his emotions around blood and viscera - his brain just completely blocks out the horror of it, which is almost a coping mechanism i suppose - but the point is that hes great at it. he starts working full time and it pays the bills well enough so hes got nothing to complain about quite frankly.

except his life still sucks. hes alone. hes sick. he hates himself. everything is bad bad bad bad bad. so at a particularly bad mental low at age seventeen, kamimura makes a fourth attempt on his life. this one has GOT to work because he has been honing this method for years now and SURELY he has worked out the kinks by this point yes? so he downs a shitton of pills, washes it down with cheap booze and passes out. then he wakes up in the Fujioka Memorial High School Basement Laundry Room and now we are here

[finelinevogue]

the eras

summary - harry is the best boyfriend ever and not just because he has taylor swifts number

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - ~1k

.’•*,.’>*,~<\*•,.-:’•.~_,*^;-.•*

“Hey babe.” You answered the phone whilst you wandered down the bakery aisle at Tescos.

Friday night was always grocery shopping night. The end of a week, beginning the weekend a fresh.

“Hey.” Harry answered.

“You okay? Need anything?”

“No, uh, you put cereal bars on the list right?”

“Yeah. I got ‘em. Where are you?”

“I’m just leaving Gem’s now. I’ll be home just before you I think.” He coughed out.

“Okay.” You said reaching for a loaf of whole grain bread, because Harry doesn’t care for white bread and you refuse to eat bread with seeds in.

“Need to ask y’something though.” He cleared his throat, which got you listening carefully.

“Right…”

You walked down the crockery aisle, because you cannot help yourself when it comes to an eclectic mug collection. You see a new, cool, mug? You buy it. There’s no other option.

As you pondered over whether any of the mugs took your fancy, Harry continued talking.

“So I spoke to someone today.”

“Uh… Congratulations?” You laughed out nervously, making a joke in a weird situation.

“You wanna know who?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Taylor.”

No second name was needed.

It was obvious who he meant.

You stopped reaching for a mug and instead stood still. You couldn’t move for a brief second, until you remembered you were in public and thought that being a statue might be a bit odd.

You placed the basket filled with groceries on the floor and pushed your hand back through your hair to ground you.

“Okay.”

“And she’s offered me - us - something.”

“Am I going to to get jealous? ‘Cause you know how much of a power couple you two made.” You giggled nervously.

“There’s too much to unpack there for a phone conversation, but no you won’t get jealous. Well, I mean, maybe you will I don’t really know what goes on in your head someti–”

“Harry!” You paused him.

“Taylor’s given us free Era’s tour tickets.”

You gasped a little bit.

Well, a lot. So much so that the people around you stopped to watch you, thinking something was wrong with the aisle or the mugs.

“Fuck off.” You cupped your hand over your mouth.

“Yeah, for London. Said we can come to all of them, or just one and whichever date.”

“No, babe, stop. You’re fucking lying.” Your eye’s watered.

Harry knew how much of a Swiftie you were. Like BIG time. You’d been a fan for a very long time. Through all the hate and all the drama, you had been there. Harry was even saved in your phone as ‘Taylor’s Ex’ as a period of time - as a healthy joke between the two of you.

You had a TikTok that was dedicated to being a fan, but it was mostly filled with you reacting to Taylor content or filming a series of videos where you rated Harry’s outfits - even though you’re with him when he’s getting dressed in a morning.

To not only get to go to the Eras tour, but to be invited by Taylor herself… Well. World ended.

“No, it’s real. Promise.” Harry laughed to himself, imagining you right now.

A few tears ran down your cheeks.

“Fuck. This is so embarrassing.” You laughed, wiping your nose and sniffling. “I’m literally crying on the mugs aisle.”

“Y/N, baby, we don’t need anymore mugs!” Harry laughed more.

“Shut up, yes we do. Wait. Is this real?”

“It is, my love. You’re going to the Eras tour.”

[maraschinomerry]

Lose You Again

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: you've finally reunited with George, your best friend and seemingly unrequited crush from Fittes, but something is off, and things take a turn for the worse when you try to prove yourself to him

Content: angst, misunderstanding, mutual pining, whump, injury, blood mention, hospital, hurt/comfort kind of, happy ending, first kiss

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year 😬 so thank you to @uku-lelevillain for having an angst reading day yesterday and inspiring me to finally finish this! I don't write this sort of stuff very often which is surprising given how much I read it, but I'm glad I did. Maybe next I'll finish my Fittes!reader bone glass angst fic...

Word count: 4.3k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 plus if anyone wants adding let me know!

If ever there was a time you had been more nervous than you were right now, pacing the cluttered hallway of 35 Portland Row, you were certainly in no state to remember it.

Over a year had passed since George was fired from Fittes, and you'd spent the entire time trying to follow him. He'd been your best friend (which everybody knew) and slightly more (which nobody knew, not even him). Perhaps that was why they found every possible way to persuade you to stay or refused to fire you no matter how much you acted out. One ex-employee working for their rival was a blip, two was an indictment. Finally, they'd caved and let you leave. That was yesterday. Today, you'd managed to arrange an interview with Lockwood & Co, and George had looked so shocked when he opened the door - it was to be expected, you supposed, as you'd been apart for so long and wouldn't fall back into your usual habits straight away. You thought you did quite well on the tests Lockwood gave you, but then George asked for a word with him in private. Maybe he could read the other boy better and was preparing to argue for your acceptance.

So there you were, trying to focus on the assortment of artefacts which lined the walls and not the hushed voices on the other side of the living room door. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but their tones were a blend of increasing desperation and exasperation. This was it. George was fighting to keep you on the team despite what Lockwood might think. You were going to get your best friend back.

George's voice became a little louder, just enough for you to make out the words properly. Your blood ran cold.

“Lockwood, please, I'm begging you. You cannot hire them!”

—

Things were strange.

Despite what you'd heard, Lockwood had welcomed you to the team, and you hadn't said a word to George about it. He'd still said it quietly and presumably hadn't meant for you to hear, so you thought it best to see how things panned out. How they did pan out was the opposite of what you expected. You were a little wary to begin with, assuming that George was resentful of you not following him when he left. On your first evening in the house, you'd gone to your new room after dinner and were starting to unpack when a soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?” George was leaning against the doorframe, the way he'd so often done at Fittes. You nodded, and he came and settled on the end of your bed. He watched you move back and forth, arranging your books on a shelf, neither of you ready to be the first to break the silence.

Eventually, you spoke. “Is it weird that I'm here? I tried to go with you when Fittes fired you, but they wouldn't let me leave.”

He pondered for a moment. “Surreal, not weird. I wasn't sure whether I'd see you again.”

“Me neither,” you sighed, wondering whether to gently broach things. “But you've built a whole new life here and I'm-”

“You're just as much a part of my life as Lockwood and Lucy,” he interrupted, “and I missed having you in it.” So then why had he been so against hiring you? The more you thought about it, the more you convinced yourself you'd misunderstood. Here he was, acting like he had always done, telling you he missed you. Everything was okay. You gave him a relieved smile, joining him on the bed and showing him a new book you thought he'd enjoy.

Things were strange.

You'd got your best friend back. Everything between you had gone back to the way it was - inside jokes, little glances and touches, the two of you so comfortable in each other's spaces that at time it was hard to tell where one of you started and the other ended. And yet, underneath it all, something wasn't sitting right.

Lockwood sauntered into the kitchen, where you and George were pressed close next to one another in an intense series of noughts & crosses games on the Thinking Cloth.

“Morning, you two,” he greeted cheerily as he placed two slices of bread in the toaster. “How are we looking for tonight?” You frowned. The question seemed to be aimed at George, not both of you, and it was George who responded.

“Notes are in the living room if you feel like reading them this time, Lucy's packed supplies, we should be all set.”

So it was a case, then. You hadn't been on many recently for a variety of reasons, but hopefully this time was different. “Do I need to pack anything?” you asked tentatively.

Lockwood's gaze slid from you to George and back, before he pouted apologetically. “Actually, y/n, would you mind holding down the fort here again? Mr Morris’ place isn't really big enough to warrant all four of us, it’s just a single Type Two, and it's good to have someone at base in case of emergencies.” Surely, you reasoned, you'd be better equipped to help with emergencies if you were there, but you could just about see the logic so you kept quiet.

Still, the thought nagged at you all morning, the idea that it was never any of the others who stayed behind. Lockwood would always go out, of course he would, it was his name on the door as he so often said, but Lucy and George? By the afternoon, your thoughts were racing so much that you couldn't bear it. You traipsed down the stairs into the cool of the basement, where Lockwood was putting a dummy through hell with his rapier. You watched for a while, admiring the balance of elegance and ferocity with which he moved, the way his weapon was at once firm and fluid. Eventually he slowed and noticed you.

“Sorry, were you wanting to…?” He nodded towards the dummy.

“No, I, um-” you faltered. No. You had to ask or you'd spend the whole evening and more overthinking. “Have I done something wrong, or not done enough, to not be going on cases?”

The boy seemed to deflate a little, which was unlike him. It was serious. He must have seen the disappointment in your face. “Oh no, y/n, don't worry, you've not done anything. You're doing great and I'm so glad to have you on the team. Believe me,” he preened a little, “if it was just me I'd have you with us every time, but George is worried-”

He abruptly cut himself off almost as quickly as you did. “Oh he is, is he?” A fine red mist had descended across your vision. George, with his whole spiel about missing having you in his life, and the first chance he gets he tries to make you as uninvolved as possible? Because he's worried? You have learned things since he left Fittes, he does realise that, right? You're not some child who can only survive when he's around to help. Seething, you began stomping up the staircase, the clanging of your feet on the metal reverberating through the open space and drowning out Lockwood's protests as he followed.

“What the hell, George?” You charged through the library door, causing the boy to spring from his armchair where he had been going over the files for the night with Lucy. He looked at you in confusion, and at Lockwood peering sheepishly over your shoulder. “I know you tried to stop Lockwood from hiring me, and now I find out you're trying to keep me off cases? Because what, you think I'm not good enough? It's not safe to have me out there?”

George's expression darkened. “That's not… You went to Lockwood behind my back? Why didn't you just talk to me?”

“Would you have given me a straight answer if I did?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to reconsider and closed it again. All eyes were on him: Lucy’s from the chair opposite, puzzled; yours, furious; Lockwood’s behind, concerned. George’s face had faded from anger to hurt, but you were too wrapped up in the betrayal of it all to care. All that time spent getting back to the way things were, what was the point? You'd poured your heart into making sure he knew how much you appreciated having him back in your life, daring to hope that he might feel the same way, but even now he didn't have the guts to tell you he didn't really want you there. You raised an eyebrow in silent confrontation, giving him one last chance to explain himself. Even after all that, you were still clinging to the possibility that it was all a big misunderstanding. He said nothing.

“Forget it,” you muttered. Fighting back tears, you turned on your heel and left, Lucy rising to follow anxiously.

The moment it was just the two of them, Lockwood rounded on George.

“Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

George looked almost as close to tears as you had. “I told you, I can't.”

It was rare to see Lockwood truly angry, but the beginnings of it were starting to seep through: the tightness of his jaw, the sharpness of his voice. “Well, we might have just lost one of our agents and your best friend, so perhaps it's time to reconsider.”

“I love them, okay?” George's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked at Lockwood, wide-eyed. “I know they don’t feel the same but I've been in love with them since they joined Fittes. When I got fired I barely got to say goodbye, it was like I lost them for all intents and purposes and it's been eating me up all year. I can't lose them again, and you know what we're like. I can't always protect them on cases, so I thought if they stayed away we could still be friends but they'd be safe.”

Lockwood's anger dissipated and he sank into the seat next to George's. “I understand that, but that's not your decision to make. We all worry about each other, but we knew the risks when we got into this and have to trust that we do our best. That's all any of us can ask for.”

George nodded, pulling the neck of his T-shirt up to wipe a rogue tear from his cheek. The pair settled into a contemplative quiet which was interrupted a minute later by the thud of the front door echoing through the house. Lucy appeared, alone and sombre. George made to stand up, but Lucy gave a small wave and shook her head.

“I think they just need a bit of time to deal with this by themself.”

The boys nodded. Things had got heated so it was probably best to have a bit of distance to cool off. If George knew you (and he did), you'd have gone to the park for a walk to clear your mind. You'd be back by curfew, and then he'd confess. He needed to clear this all up.

The last rays of sunlight clung to life as they sank below the rooftops of Portland Row. In the fading light of the kitchen, George was almost boring a hole in the table with his anxious scribbling on the Thinking Cloth. He wasn't writing anything in particular, just rhythmically dragging the pen back and forth to try and ground himself from the fear gnawing at his insides. You should have been back by now. You'd never been mad at him this long. Something was wrong.

George tiptoed into the hallway, pulling on his trainers and grabbing a coat and his rapier. The stand was emptier than usual, but at least that meant you had some form of protection. The thought did little to calm his nerves.

“Sneaking off?” a voice from behind made him jump. Lucy was sitting on the stairs, eyeing him quizzically.

“I'm worried about y/n out there alone. What if something happened at the park?”

“So you thought you'd go out there alone instead?”

“Well-”

Lucy stood, and George noticed she was wearing her boots. “Come on then. Let's go.”

It was dark by the time they reached the park. The ghost lights cast a sickly green glow over the path, leading up to the gate. The gate which was bolted with a heavy iron lock. If you'd been here, you must be long gone. There was no way you'd have been locked in.

George was almost frantic. “Where else could they have gone? Tell me exactly what they said.”

“Uhh, they said ‘How can I trust him when he doesn't trust me? I'm going to deal with this myself.’ I'm sorry, Georgie.” Lucy grimaced.

It stung to hear that you didn't trust him, but he knew it was deserved. But there was something else about what she'd just said which set alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind, so loud it almost drowned out the pounding of his panicked heart in his ears. “Are you absolutely sure? ‘By myself’ or just ‘myself?”

She frowned. “Just ‘myself’, I'm pretty sure. Why?”

“Lucy,” George clutched her arms, both to emphasise the importance of what he was about to ask and to stop him from collapsing in on himself, “did they take their kit bag?”

“...Yes.”

“Go home. Right now. Get Lockwood.”

—

The door to the Morris house swung open with a horrendous groan, and you shone your torch into the gloom. Now that you were here you were starting to have second thoughts. It really was foolish, taking on a Type Two alone, but your other option was going back home to a boy you'd finally realised didn't want you around. You steeled your nerves and stepped over the threshold. The whole building felt like it was holding its breath. Actually, it felt like there was no breath left for it to hold. Every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust, every fabric tattered and faded, every paper yellowed and curling. The further in you ventured, the more the floorboards creaked. You closed your eyes, shutting out your surroundings, and listened for any hints as to where the source might be. It was difficult to make out at first, but the more you focused the louder it became.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Water. First you tried the kitchen, setting yourself up a makeshift station of a lantern and your kit bag on the rickety table. Taking only your rapier and a silver net, you checked the downstairs bathroom, which turned out to be just a toilet and sink. The master bathroom must be upstairs.

Each step felt less secure than the one before it. By the time you reached the landing, you were genuinely concerned about whether they'd support you getting back down. The dripping was much louder up here, and accompanied by a harsh scrabbling. There was a doorway up ahead, with a telltale glow within. You drew your rapier, and took one creaking step after another.

You'd only made it halfway across the landing when the creak turned into a snap, and the floor gave way.

Your eyelids flickered open. It was dark. You were slowly coming back to yourself, trying to figure out where you were, when you were hit by a wave of pain unlike anything you had experienced. Your entire body was aching, but your leg in particular was sending daggers through you. Above you, a hole in the ceiling dropped a loose shard of wood. Oh shit. The memory flooded back. You looked down, to the blood flowing freely from a gash in your leg and bit back a scream. If only George were here. The though of never being able to tell him how you felt, of his last memory of you being the two of you arguing, was unbearable. No. There was no time for thoughts like that. You had to get to safety. You tried to stand, but barely got your good leg under you before your knees buckled. You did scream this time.

The dripping grew louder.

The glow appeared at the edges of the hole.

You began to crawl towards the kitchen, grimacing with every movement. You just had to make it that far. There were filings and chains and flares. You'd be safer there. You risked a glance back and saw the outlines of a woman's face, soaked black hair obscuring her features, as she drifted through the ceiling.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Clunk.

Something rattled. That was new. It felt more real too, a noise in the physical world and not the psychical one. The door flew open and you turned.

The Visitor hovered between you and the exit.

—

George made the journey in a fugue state.

How had he let this happen? Everything he had done had been to try and prevent something like this, and now it was happening more severely than he would ever have imagined. The second the taxi pulled up, he tossed a note far above the value of the trip to the driver and scrambled out. His rapier was already drawn by the time he reached the door and he fumbled with the handle. Come on, come on, open.

At last the latch clicked and he burst into the hallway. Immediately his attention was drawn to a Visitor, a thin figure with drooping wet hair, drifting a few feet off the ground to his right. There was something underneath it holding its attention. His heart almost stopped when he realised it was you. Your jeans were torn, your rapier was far out of reach, and you were bent awkwardly backwards and staring upwards with a pale, frozen look of utter hopelessness. Every single worry he'd been harbouring these past months slammed into his chest at once, forcing the air from his lungs as he cried your name so loudly it hurt.

The Visitor turned its cold, ferocious gaze on him, and his fear was overshadowed by the pang of relief he felt when you slumped back into yourself, freed in the nick of time from ghost-lock. He levelled his rapier.

“Y/n, get somewhere safe,” he said lowly, trying to keep his emotions in check but letting just enough out to draw the Visitor's attention.

You nodded, still in a daze, but managed to whisper a response. “Source is in the upstairs bathroom.” Both of you glanced up at the jagged hole. No telling whether the edges were safe enough to cross. Your only option was to give yourselves enough time to escape. “Keep her busy.”

He set about with his rapier, taunting the spirit closer. Spurred on by the knowledge that you weren't alone, that for whatever reason George had come after you, you dragged yourself the rest of the way into the kitchen and used a chair to haul yourself up to your kit bag. Filings, chains… flares. That should get rid of her. Limping out into the hall, you met eyes with George and held up a flare in each hand. He nodded, understanding you wordlessly, and gave one more swipe of his rapier before ducking out of the way. You hurled one canister after the other, hitting the Visitor with perfect aim and watching in satisfaction as it disappeared in a shower of bright golden sparks. With it went the last dregs of adrenaline left in your aching body. Your legs once more disappeared from beneath you, and the last thing you saw was George's panicked face getting closer before it succumbed to the darkness which had crept into your vision.

—

Things were strange.

The light behind your eyelids was bright, too bright. Hadn't it been dark before? It wasn't the warm brightness of sunshine either, there was a harshness to it that you were unfamiliar with. Slowly, you opened your eyes. A fuzzy room swam into view. You blinked a few times. The room sharpened. It was a hospital room, if the papery blue curtains and stench of disinfectant were anything to go by. The faint chatter of nurses in the background was masked by a nearby beeping. You turned your head, suddenly aware of how stiff your neck was. Beside you was a machine, the beeps timed perfectly with the little waveform on its screen, and from it came trailing cables which led to a band on your wrist. Oh god. The events of the night came flooding back. The beeps sped up. Your leg throbbed. Where was George? He'd been there last night, what if something had happened to him? You'd never forgive yourself. You looked around wildly, gripping the edge of the bed in preparation for an escape attempt. Relief washed over you when you spotted a tangle of dark curls in a chair hidden behind the machine. He was just beginning to stir, probably on account of your frantic scrabbling.

“George,” you croaked, your voice rougher than you expected.

The sound of your voice pulled him further from sleep. “Y/n?” he mumbled, staring at you blearily. The same moment of revelation passed across his face and he was at your side in an instant. His hand clutched at yours, almost as though he needed proof that you were real and alive. You gripped him back tightly, trying to mask the tremor in your fingers, and without thinking your other hand came up to cup his cheek. It took you by surprise a little when he leant into the touch, and your thumb rubbed soothingly across his cheek.

“You're okay,” he breathed incredulously. A pause. “You are okay, right?”

“I'm fine, George.”

“Good, that's good.” His gaze hardened. “Then what the bloody hell were you thinking?”

There it was. He didn't actually care how you were, he just wanted to make sure he could go off at you again without it reflecting badly on him, because at the end of the day he still didn't trust your decisions. Your chest clenched. Despite everything that had happened, the way he'd treated you, you knew your heart still belonged to him even if he didn't want it. You dropped your hand. “I was thinking,” you snapped, “that maybe if I proved that I could handle this you'd stop treating me like some lost puppy that just follows you around and let me do my job for once.”

“That's not what this is about.”

“Then what?!” Your voice was growing louder, and you were concerned one of the medical staff would burst in before you finally got chance to confront whatever was going on. “What possible reason could you have for telling me you want me in your life and then the minute I try to get close you ask Lockwood to keep me at arms length?”

“Because I'm in love with you!” The words burst from George's mouth like he'd been fighting to keep them in since the day you arrived on the doorstep of 35 Portland Row, if not before. You both froze. The weight that had settled on your chest, pressing down on you for weeks now, clawed its way back out your throat in a shaky breath.

“You are?”

George faltered, perceiving your confusion as rejection. “I- Sorry, I thought that maybe…” His hand was still in yours, but his grip began to loosen. Now or never. You held on, pulling him closer and leaning up on your elbow to plant a brief, soft kiss on his lips. He blinked at you. “So wait, does that mean…?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Jesus, George, yes. I love you too.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss you again, more strongly this time, and you smiled into him as your lips met his. His free hand rested between your shoulder blades for support, so your other hand was able to reach up and curl into his hair. When you finally separated, you shuffled to the far edge of the bed and patted the empty space. George gave you a questioning look, one eyebrow raised, and you glanced down at the robe you'd exposed, dotted with rainbows and colourful clouds. You huffed.

“I like it,” George smirked. “It's very you.”

“Shut up and get in here.”

When you wafted the sheets again he wasted no time kicking off his trainers and crawling in. His body fit against yours like it was always supposed to be there, and you snuggled into the warmth of his chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“So you're not mad at me?” he murmured, his breath tickling your ear.

“Let's see. You tried to prevent me getting hired, stopped me working cases, saved my life, professed your undying love for me…”

“Hey, I never said undying.”

You turned your head and kissed him again. “Fine, eternal then. Point is, I think it cancels out.”

He smiled. “So if I tell you I love you again, does that put me ahead?”

You twined your fingers in his across your stomach, suddenly thoughtful. “Let me get level first. I'm sorry for making you worry, I shouldn't have run off like that.”

“I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have pushed you away. I already lost you once, I was scared I might lose you again and because of that I almost did. I mean, you could have been…” his voice trailed off, the knowledge of how close you came to being ghost-locked or worse hanging between you. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing you in and grounding himself.

“But I'm not, and I won't be, because from now on we tackle things together, yes?” He mumbled his assent into you, placing one last gentle kiss on the edge of your shoulder.

When Lockwood and Lucy were finally allowed in to help take you home, they found you and George fast asleep in the hospital bed, tangled together and smiling peacefully.

[nalyra-dreaming]

I understand what Rolin was doing from a logical, storytelling standpoint because Louis was under the impression that Lestat was the Big Bad who traveled across an ocean to kill their daughter the whole time so obviously the story he told would reflect that, and ya know ARMAND. Maybe they should have spend time after the “Lestat saved you, Armand directed the play” revelation to unpack what that really means because a good chunk of the fanbase does not get that everything we’ve been shown so far is skewed because of this. Instead, the revelation was the SHOCKING TWIST near the end of the finale and the ramifications were left to viewers to figure out for themselves. As we’ve seen, people need things spelled out for them.

Oh I UNDERSTAND the reasoning and intended arcs behind it as well.

But the reveals were far too... mild to land properly, not after two years of "big bad white abuser Lestat".

And, I mean, I get that AMC made them split the season (and in ONE season it would not have been the same issue!), and that they had to quickly rewrite, but Rolin is also on record saying how AMC made him soften Lestat already, because he wrote him as even more of an asshole, and like, did no-one stop to think as to how that would go over with the racial recasts they were so proud of???

Like, what did they think would happen to and with the audience, if you recast especially Louis and Armand color-consciously... and still have to keep the trackback and lies, and mind-control?! Did no-one stop to think how that would look?!??! Did no-one stop to think that in today's day and time, with people a lot more aware and able to recognize abuse, and call it out, too, that making Lestat this kind of abuser would stick?! And especially with a season break on that note and by using that as justification for the murder?!

THAT is what it ultimately boils down to, this not-thinking about the arcs they are destroying by plucking events and reassigning character traits to other characters, as well as just... doing shit for shock value and then being surprised(!) when people do not take a white guy beating his black partner to a pulp and then dragging him like on a meat-hook and then dropping him from the sky lightly.

Who'd have thought!!11!11!!

//sarcasm off

No, but seriously, it all boils down to this, and that this was left festering. And was weakly revealed.

I had quite the different expectations of season 2 back then, I thought we would get the IWTV version of "Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf", and that Daniel would tear the narrative to shreds - but that did not happen.

Oh, he made Louis realize the truth, yes, but not by making it clear for the (more casual) audience.

The salesman reveal proving Armand's memory-editing, Sam Barclay in two places proving further memory-editing, and the trial script proving the big lie and even more editing.

Oh and the fight revisit - haha, it was LOUIS who beat LESTAT up!!!!! And he let it happen!!! Isn't that funny?!!

Sorry, that was sarcasm again.

We have Sam on record saying he sneaked lines in where he knew they could not cut them(!), saying he argued against the fight, and for trigger warnings(!), saying he made sure to bring in elements in the trial to make clear Lestat was forced to be there. And not well.

He had to do that.

Because the show is apparently happy to let people think Lestat hated Claudia, or wanted "revenge" at the trial. Like, you gotta be kidding me.

And there is a part of me that cannot blame everyone being offended by the shift now, because the show made its bed there, and deliberately, too.

Nonetheless, this shift was always set to come, and that, too - was something that should have been clear from the beginning.

But the way they set up the seasons had people believe something else. And now we have the mess.

Again, I WILL enjoy this show, it is what it is now. This is it. This is what we're getting. I waited 30 years for this. I will enjoy it. But the mess this fandom is in is not something that came out of nowhere.