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c4toru · 2 days ago

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BLOWING OFF STEAM !

Sypnosis : you’re on the brink of failing and in desperate need of a tutor. nerd!suguru is here to save the day! what happens when you find the nerdy perv a bit cute..— what?

Warnings : 18+ content, female reader, switch!reader, switch!geto, pervy suguru, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex ( m + f receiving ), cowgirl position, panty sniffing, etc.

WC : 2.7k

a/n : i hope you all like this !! i’ve had nerd!suguru on my brain for a while, nobody ever writes him this pathetic, c4toru is here to save the day! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ minors & ageless blogs dni

“fuck..” you grumble, you had just received a passive email from your statistics professor informing you that your grades have dropped severely in the past couple of weeks. he was concerned with the fact that this continuous behavior could lead to you failing his class, insisting that you give tutoring a try. you run your hands through your sleek hair, leaning far back into your chair before sighing noisily.

you always had a tough time with maintaining decent grades, especially in courses as complicated as statistics. it was a class that always left you feeling extremely stagnant. you don’t know anyone in your class but you do in fact briefly recall your professor naming one particular man as his top student.

suguru geto wasn’t necessarily intimidating, he seemed very welcoming and kind! well, at least he portrayed that side of himself to you. you had once done a quick in-class study session together as part of an assignment, he was exceptionally shy but not a total freak. the rest of your classmates tended to avoid associating themselves with him, not wanting to be labeled as a friend of the peevish and perfectionist nerd.

you dragged your hands down your face before slouching over your laptop once more. you figured one study session with him wouldn’t be the end of the world, very much awkward but not a total disaster. your nails hit the keyboard, quickly typing until you’ve scrounged up a coherent email explaining your situation. you began skimming through the bold text, your eyes gliding across the luminant screen before clicking ‘send’.

it feels as though an additional weight has been added to your workload. you stretch your limbs, pressing your lips together before raising yourself out of your seat. you turn, heading to your bed when you hear a raucous noise coming from behind you. ding

sugurugeto : of course i can help. although, the library tends to be too crowded for me to focus.. could we study at your place? | 10:05pm

you stare at the screen for a while, narrowing your eyes, bringing your hand up to your frazzled face, harshly pressing it to your forehead. “is he fucking serious..?” you whine, letting a random nerd from your statistics class into your dorm room, were you crazy..? you contemplate your next move, going through numerous situations as you play them all out in your head. “ugh maybe i am crazy,” you groan while you type away at your computer, clicking send on your message reluctantly.

y/n : that’s understandable, if you don’t have any other study locations in mind then we could do so at my place. thank you for the help! | 10:15pm

sugurugeto : does tomorrow at 6pm sound good for you? | 10:16pm

y/n : that sounds good. i’ll send you my address, thank you | 10:23pm

you shut your laptop, refraining from relishing in this strange moment. you now have a study period tomorrow with suguru geto, you figured it wouldn’t be too bad. little did you know, suguru had the biggest crush on you. he had been eyeing you ever since you stepped through the door to your shared class. the tiny skirts you wore perfectly showed off your soft and delicate legs, always causing his mouth to water. the singular time you had spoke to him, he swore he was dreaming.. how could a pretty girl like you ever come near him?

when he received your email, he swears his heart stopped beating. was it some sort of scam or even worse, were you hacked..? he truly couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. he felt the butterflies in his stomach as his entire body shook like a leaf in the wind while he typed up his message.

when he suggested he go over to your place, it was partially true! crowds did frighten him a bit.. though, he did love the library. truthfully, he just wanted to see you in what he calls ‘your natural form’. — god what a loser. despite everything, even if you weren’t enthusiastic about your upcoming meetup with him, suguru was sure ready for your little study date, at least that’s what he viewed it as.

the following morning came and went hastily meanwhile you prepare yourself as well as your dorm for quite the guest. you whip your head towards your clock, its 6:15pm, where is this guy..?— ding! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ you swiftly move towards the door, taking in a shaky breath before opening your room door with a soft smile.

“hello! i thought you might’ve gotten lost.. hah..uhh come sit!” you awkwardly motion towards your desk, you pull a chair out for him before subtly staring him down. he looked surprisingly normal, his outfit was fairly casual but his hair wasn’t tied up in his usual bun. his hair looked soft as it gently caressed his facial features, were his cheeks always so toned.. god his glasses really do make his nose look deli—

“y/n..? where did you want to start?” he repeated, dragging you out of your trance. “oh! anywhere, you can lead the pace.” you reply, shooting him a soft smile out of reassurance. you both settle in and get to work, hours going by as he grills you on multiple different lessons. you lean back in your chair letting out an exasperated sigh, “can we take a break please.. i might go crazy if i don’t,” you pout, eyebrows slightly raising when you hear his smooth laugh while he agrees in amusement.

“why don’t you leave your hair like this more often hmm?” you tease, twirling a small snippet of it with your fingers. his face flushes a bright red before wrapping his fingers around your wrist, halting your movements. “oh! i’m sorry i didn’t realiz—” . . . “can i kiss you?” he replies abruptly, he has a pathetic look on his face, almost like he’s begging.

“what..?” you question, you’re frozen with wide eyes. you’re shocked to say the least, suguru wasn’t necessarily hard to look at. he had a pretty face to him, a sharp jawline, and lustful purple eyes that really drag you in. “i- you’re just so pretty! a-and i’ve never been alone with a girl like this before..” he stutters shyly, you sort of feel bad for the guy. it’s clear how much of a virgin he is, you can’t recall a time where he’s even looked in a girls direction!

“seriously.. hah- just one time okay? i’m only doing this as a ‘thank you’ alright.” he nods excitedly, staring at you with longing puppy dog eyes. you remove his glasses, setting them on the desk before cupping his face gently with both of your hands as you pull him in and give him a soft kiss. you felt his breath hitch as you both pull back slightly, he looks away quickly while using both of his hands to cover his. . . crotch?

“don’t look!” he pleads, shifting his body away from you. you’re taken aback by his sudden tone of voice as well as his humiliated body language. your eyes narrow in on him, “suguru.. are you hard?” you ask, his face is tomato red and his eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights. he quickly grabs his glasses and his book bag that’s hanging on your chair before attempting to bolt for the door. “wait!” you yelp, grabbing his arm as you try to pull him back, “i-i’ll help you, just sit back down.”

you have no idea what’s gotten into you, all you can focus on is the fact that this nerdy perv is now sitting on your bed with his pants off as you’re on your knees in front of him, staring up at him with doe eyes. his shirt is lifted and the hem is tucked into his mouth. your hands reach for the waistline on his boxers, slowly pulling them down when his cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. he’s whimpering while you stare intensely at his pretty curve and pink mushroom tip, pressing your thighs together at the pure sight of his lengthy cock.

“m’gonna touch you kay?” your lip is tucked between your teeth while he nods expectantly. you smear the pre-cum forming on his slit, a wad of spit leaving your mouth and dripping right on the head of his cock. your hand soon envelopes his tip, moving up and down in a twisting motion that causes his hips to buck.

“nngh- f-feels so good,” suguru whined, letting go the hem of his shirt as he brings a hand up to cover his lewd expressions. you bring your mouth to his cock head before pursing your lips, letting an obscene amount of spit dribble all the way down his shaft. he lets out a wet moan at the sight.

you’re planting harsh kisses down his length, licking and sucking periodically around his base. “want you to use my mouth kay? just want you t’a feel good,” you say seductively, licking your lips before you engulf his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking against his frenulum. “f-fuck! so w-warm.. nngh please!” he pleads, his heavy hand softly caressing your head as you began bobbing your head up and down on his hefty cock.

your hands firmly grip his thighs as he bucks his hips up further into your mouth causing you to gag, throat tightening around his shaft, earning an elated moan from him. “c-can i fuck your mouth p-please..?” he needly asks, eyebrows furrowed while he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. you stare up at him, batting your long eyelashes when you nod, humming around him.

he’s rutting his hips into your mouth, cock hitting the back of your throat deliciously. “y-yeah take it.. hah” he grumbles, you’re being starved for breath as spit drips all over the base of his cock, traveling down to his balls. “m’gonna cum! w-where do i—” he whines, you push his hands off and take initiative, suckling on his flushed tip while your free hand strokes the rest of his length. “o. . oh f-fuck m’cumming! d-don’t stop ah!” he pleads, his hand covering his own mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he’s cumming down your throat. you moan at the action, eyebrows furrowed as you swallow his thick fluids.

you pull off his cock, he winces at the friction before you climb on top of him, pushing him against the mattress, giving him a rough kiss. your tongue prodding against his, spit connecting your lips when you pull back. “feel good sugu?” you smirk, your smitten expressions fall when he flips the two of you over. “i- i wanna taste you, can i?” he replies, pawing at the waistband of your sweatpants in desperation.

“do you even know what you’re doing..” you question him, unsure if you really want to continue this relationship. “well n-no! not yet. . but you can teach me! i’ll be good i promise.” he’s practically begging you with pathetic heart eyes. you’re just so cute, he doesn’t know how to act anymore. “ugh.. fine just go slow ‘kay?” you whisper, hands covering your face out of embarrassment.

he’s pulling your sweats down, tossing them in the corner of the room. you’re wearing these pastel pink panties with lace on the borders, small print of roses and hearts all across the front, a small white bow in the center. suguru feels lightheaded, he could probably cum untouched if he stared long enough. he caresses your thighs, spreading them apart slowly as you feel his hot breath flowing against your clothed cunt.

his tongue escapes his mouth, licking a long stripe from the outline of your hole up to your mound. you’re letting out soft moans while he leaves sweet delicate kisses on your covered clit.

his nose pressing up against your cunt as he’s sucking and licking the fabric. “hah.. you smell so delicious, think m’gonna go crazy,” he groans, tonguing your clit through the cloth, earning loud yelps from you. “nngh! you’re so n-nasty.. ah!” you cry, your hips jerking up into his face.

he hooks his two hands into your panties before dragging them down your legs, tossing them near his sweats, hoping he’ll be able to take them home as a souvenir. “be gentle, if you go too fast it won’t feel good..” you whimper as you widen your legs, a hand coming down to spread yourself open for him to see. his mouth is beginning to water as he inches closer towards your dripping cunt.

“stop staring! j-just do it already!” you mewl, your hands coming up to cup your perky breasts. he rubs his thumb on your puffy clit, gently spitting on it before giving it a long suck. he's planting sloppy kisses all over your cunt, from your labias to your twitching hole. “so sweet mmf..” he moans into your pussy, delving back into your wet folds.

“i-inside! put a finger inside- hah..nngh!” you cry out, needing more stimulation. he slowly inserts his middle finger into your sopping wet cunt, it’s going in with such ease despite how thick his fingers are. he’s in awe at how well your pussy his swallowing him before testing the waters and squeezing in another finger.

“y-you’re so tight.. does it hurt?” he asks worried, he’s slowly thrusting his fingers inside you, the pace is almost agonizing. “no just- p-please keep going.. nngh,” you shake your head, begging him to continue as you feel yourself getting closer.

he’s putting his parched lips back onto your swollen clit, sloshing his tongue against it as he pistons his digits deep inside you. “ff-fuuuckkk.. right there suguru! m’gonna- ah!” you yawp, thighs tightening around his head while your hands grab fist fulls of his hair.

your cunt is dripping your slick all over his face and he’s gulping up every last drop. he’s humming little ‘mhm’ s as you ride out your orgasm on his broad nose. he pulls his thick fingers out of you , you stare down at his disheveled face. his glasses are crooked, hair a complete mess with your juices covering his face.

you sit up, crawling towards him, latching your hands onto his shoulders and kissing his fucked out lips harshly. “want you so bad.., can i? please sugu..” now you’re the one pouting and begging him for more. of course he’s nodding in agreement, he could never turn down a pretty little thing like you especially when you’re pleading for his cock.

you’re pushing him against the bed, plump thighs straddling his hips. “lemme make you feel good sugu- hah,” you whine, stroking his heavy cock before lining him up with your warm entrance, sinking yourself down on him.

his hands find your hips, grabbing onto them for dear life as your pretty pussy sucks him in. “s-slow please, you feel so good mnngh!” he moans, your hips rocking into his viciously. your pace is already so deadly for him, a virgin former virgin at that. “fuckk y/n p-please! i can’t- shiiiit. . s-so good mmf!” he babbles before being silenced by your dainty palm.

“f-fuck..just shut up- nngh!” you mewl, one hand silencing him while the other digs into his chest. his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your sweet cunt milks him.

you’re letting out lewd moans meanwhile the melodious sound of skin slapping fills the room. your feet rest on top of his thighs, you’re bouncing up and down as your creamy pussy swallows his curvy cock justtt right.

your tired body leans flush to his chest, slowly grinding your hips together before you remove your hand from his mouth and landing a sloppy kiss to his lips. your tongues swirling together in unison, “wanna cum p-please y/n, wan’ it so bad nngh,” he cries, drawing a giggle out of you. how pathetic.

“yeah? c’mon give it to me big boy, want it all inside- hah..” you reply, biting your lip. he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist while he bucks his hips up into you, slick balls slapping against your ass. “ah! m’gonna cum sugu, r-right there!” you moan into the crook of his neck, leaving kisses behind his ear.

you finally gush all over him, your juices spraying all over his lower abdomen. “f-fuck you’re so tightt! m’cumming- hah.. mmf!” suguru rambles, his reddened tip releases thick white spurts into you as he pounds into your cervix. he’s cumming so hard he swears he’s seeing stars, only thing bringing him back down was your soft pleas for a kiss.

“kiss me suguru, p-please mmh,” you kiss him passionately, tongue moving its way throughout his mouth as you both grip onto each other, hungry for one another. you let go of him, caressing his pretty face before pulling apart to flop your body over next to him as you both struggle to catch your breath. you are sitting in comfortable silence until. .

“y/n? does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now?” he asks innocently, turning towards you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

you sigh, glueing your eyes shut. what a fuckin’ nerd

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! i might write little drabbles bout this duo in the future ^.^ their story definitely isn’t over.

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likea-silhouette · 3 days ago

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pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

rating: mature

word count: 2.8k

summary: Harry was once the boy you loved and wanted to spend your life with. The funny thing is that addiction is something that is never predicted. What happens when you run into your ex-boyfriend years after your breakup that was due to his vices? Read part one here

*based on the song Complex by Katie Gregson-MacLeod*

tagged: @imaginexxharry

The moment you step inside you feel a warmth and familiarity, almost making you completely forget about Harry and the uneasiness you had felt just moments ago.

This home. You’d spent so many wonderful days and nights within its confines. Whether watching movies and trashy TV shows with Nadia or playing board games that you only half understood, nevertheless still enjoyed. It felt like another home to you. “There you are!”, Nadia squealed above the music that wasn’t too low or high in volume, but just right. Immediately, a smile overtook your lips as you outstretched your hands to envelope your best friend in a warm embrace.

“God, am I glad you’re here”, Nadia said as she lifted her drink to her lips.

“Why? What’s wrong?” You looked at her quizzically as you tried to convince yourself it had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend. Not everything revolved around him, yet, at this very moment, your mind was so preoccupied with him and only him that it was hard not to associate Harry with every subject that came to mind.

Nadia moved next to you and rested her elbow on top of your shoulder as her knuckles held her chin up.

“I swear I only know like three people here. I’ve just been walking around aimlessly trying to find a buddy to gossip with.”

You chuckled lightly as relief swept over you. “Well, I’m here now so consider yourself buddied up.”

Nadia smiled and rolled her eyes playfully in relief, “Thank-fucking-god.”

Eventually, the both of you wandered over to the kitchen where various alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages were being created by a hired bartender.

“Wow, you really splurged on this.”

Nadia’s lips curled into a smile as she shrugged, “Only the best for my guy.”

Once a gin and tonic was comfortably situated in your and your friend's hand, the both of you maneuvered through the decent volume of friends and family that had arrived in the time it took for you to browse and pick out a cocktail. Thankfully, refuge in the living room was close as you and Nadia took a seat on a sectional sofa that was free for the taking.

The conversation naturally flowed between the both of you as you caught up on new developments in the other's life that had occurred since you last saw each other a week or so ago.

Suddenly, mid-sentence, Nadia’s eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. This wasn’t any ordinary smile - it held something behind it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Cautiously, you turned around to look in the direction Nadia’s eyes were focused on. You breathed a sigh of relief as you saw the familiar face of her husband, instead of the face of the phantom you had once loved.

You were safe. It wasn’t him. “Babe!”, Nadia called out, but with the larger volume of people chattering, combined with the music, her call went unnoticed.

Nadia stood from the sofa with both hands cupped over her mouth as she attempted once again to gain his attention with a shout of his name.

This time it did the trick.

Abruptly, Her husband turned around as his wide eyes searched the crowd. Once he caught sight of his wife, he instantly softened with a small grin on his mouth.

You watched as both he and Nadia exchanged glances of puppy love that were still present even after several years of being romantically intertwined. This very admiration had you mesmerized - maybe a little too mesmerized in fact.

The depth of enchantment that you felt from their love kept you easily distracted, so much so that you hadn’t noticed him initially until his eyes were melting craters in your face that were impossible to not feel the burn of.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze and his met for the first time in so, so long.

His eyes felt both foreign and familiar all at the same time.

Unbeknownst to you, Nadia stood by your side with a grin as she watched from the corner of her eye as your mind pieced together the reality of what was happening whether you wanted it to or not. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you wanted.

Your mouth fell agape and eyes blinked rapidly, testing to see if this was your imagination playing tricks on you or if the man who once held your affection was actually walking towards you in tow of Nadia’s husband. Of course, It was the latter.

“There’s the birthday boy!”, Nadia beamed as she placed her hands on either side of her husband's face.

“You saw me like an hour ago baby.” You would’ve cooed and awed at the couple were it not for the distraction that was now standing directly in front of you with eyes that shamelessly remained in a trance that was solely for you.

Nadia and her husband both shared a mischievous smirk as they reveled in their front-row seats to your and Harry’s reunion. Not that you even thought about tearing your eyes away from Harry to take note of the not so subtle expression the couple were sharing.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could come.” Nadia’s husband greeted as he wrapped you up in a warm hug. Thankfully, this brought you out of the staring contest that Harry had trapped you in.

With closed eyes, you put on a best-effort smile as you returned his friendly gesture.

“Of course! Happy birthday.” You hoped the joy in your voice didn’t sound too forced.

“Oh, and this is for you,” you dragged your last word slightly as you outstretched the envelope in your hand in his direction.

Harry’s eyes followed your arm which was filled with new tattoos he wasn’t familiar with. He wondered what else had changed with you. Were you in a relationship? Did you have some fancy job with an even fancier apartment? Were you happy?

Were you happier without him?

“You know you never have to get me anything”, Nadia's husband spoke, breaking Harry from his thoughts that wondered if there was still a resemblance of the lover he never forgot.

Harry watched as you shrugged and said, “I know,” with a slight smile. This made him feel butterflies flapping in his stomach.

Nadia’s husband said his thanks with a final side hug and Harry found himself continuing to stare at you in your most sincerest of form. Celebrating with friends and exchanging gifts; something so deeply simple, yet watching you being wholly yourself had Harry’s heart beating so fast, he swore one would’ve seen it through his shirt.

“You always did love giving gifts.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Harry after he spoke. Only then did he realize he said those words out loud instead of in the deepest parts of his inner narration.

Your eyebrows raised and your mouth slightly fell open as you took in the absolute music to your ears that was his accent and tone - it felt like pressing play on your favorite song for the second time in a row. You wanted more and more and more and couldn’t see yourself tiring of it for quite some time. The temptation to close your eyes and sway your body in complete contentment as you replayed the way his voice sounded crossed your mind. God damn it, you missed him.

Meanwhile, Harry’s eyes desperately searched his surroundings. He had to find an excuse to either leave this reunion of sorts or change the subject entirely.

Thankfully, his eyes caught sight of the empty glass in his hand.

“I’m uh-”, his hand slightly raised his glass in the air, “-going to get some more to drink.” “Help yourself, Harry. The non-alcoholic drinks should all be in the fridge in the kitchen.”

Harry nodded with avoidant eyes and turned his back to the group with a chest that breathed heavily with each step he took.

You, however, were still dwelling on the drink suggestion Nadia had directed Harry towards. “Does uh-” God, it was embarrassing. Why did you want to even ask? You weren’t supposed to care anymore.

“Never mind,” you said with a soft, yet tensed smile. “I’m a little low on my drink too. I’m going to go catch up with Harry”, Nadia’s husband spoke with his hand lovely running along Nadia’s back.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

You watched as he weaved through the crowd, taking a nearly identical path to the one Harry followed toward the kitchen until he disappeared behind a group of people. Quickly, you and Nadia fall back into casual conversation, avoiding discussing the ever-present elephant in the room. You’d be lying if you said you could focus on a single conversation topic that carried on between the both of you. Your body was still very much here, but your head was deeply submerged underneath the thickest of clouds. Eventually, a party guest, that you weren’t too familiar with besides remembering their face from Nadia’s wedding and past gatherings, joined in on your and Nadia’s conversation circle. You felt a swell of relief at the fact that you wouldn’t need to maintain subpar attention on the topic being discussed. Now, you were free to get lost in your thoughts and allow Nadia and the party guest to take the lead on the discussion. Your lips met the cold of your glass as you guzzled down the remainder of your cocktail.

Thank god - an excuse to get some fresh air.

“I’m going to grab another drink and get some fresh air. It's so nice to see you again!” You cheerfully waved to Nadia and the other guests, who gave you waves and friendly smiles in return. The moment your back was to the pair, the fake smile etched onto your lips slid off of your face as your mouth pursed and a light puff of air released from your cheeks.

The walk from the bar to the outside was a paranoid one. Every unknown noise had you gazing in its direction of origin as you searched for his familiar brunette hair and green eyes behind every crevice and corner.

Thankfully, the outside proved to be a serene place. It smelled of wood smoked to ash and shimmered from the large string lights cascading across the entire backyard. The sun was nearly half set, making the sky a dark purple that perfectly paired with the easy music playing from the speakers in the outdoor space. As your eyes took in your surroundings, you caught sight of where the smell of burnt wood was coming from. Immediately, your feet carried you to the circle-shaped fire pit that was tucked in a back corner and all by its lonesome.

The warmth of a flame blanketed your body as you sat in one of the chairs strategically placed around the burning orange hue.

Once comfortably snug, you allowed yourself another deep, deep breath. This time with eyes fully closed you reveled in the peace and stillness that only the nighttime could bring.

However, your peace was short-lived as the sound of glass breaking caused your eyes to shoot open and everyone to quiet their conversations.

Quickly, your eyes searched for the source until you fell upon an image that felt eerily familiar.

A couple - a man who was inebriated times ten and a woman desperately trying to calm the man’s erratic movements and loud tone of voice. He held a once full glass, yet now was sloshed with clear liquid on himself and the ground.

The distress on the woman's face was evident as she tried to calm the man by soothingly rubbing his upper bicep and, I’m assuming, whispering words that were at the age level of how one would talk to a toddler who was throwing a tantrum.

I knew that routine all too well. The sound of the glass breaking was still ringing in your ears like a sharp knife clawing into a chalkboard, until, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself back in time. The bar was lit by only a few warm lightbulbs. The Saturday night bar crowd was in full swing as you found yourself nearly shoulder to shoulder with anyone you came across. However, Harry’s voice booming over the noise level of every other bar attendee had you briskly walking away from the bar and over to your boyfriend - well, boyfriend at the time. “What the fuck is going on?” You yelled over the music as Harry poked his finger into the chest of a man you’d never seen before. “Babe who is this? What are you doing?” Harry’s larger-than-normal pupils looked at you. You swore you could’ve seen steam coming out from the top of his head by how red his cheeks were and the flare of his nostrils. “This guy was checking you out!” he half slurred, half yelled. Your eyes moved to the guy who looked scared shitless with both of his hands pressing in front of his chest. “I swear man, I wasn’t looking at her. Swear to god” “Fuckin’ liar!”, Harry spat at the guy. “Harry who gives a fuck. The guy said he wasn’t looking,” I tried desperately to pull him by his bicep in the direction opposite of the innocent man. “I give a fuck! He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you right in this bar for Christ sake”

“Nah man, I haven’t even seen her bef-” “If you were smart you’d shut the hell up before I make you.”

You gasped at Harry’s harsh words that were hard to hear, both due to the volume of the music, the chattering of conversation, and the amount of vodka he’d had in the last hour that made his lips move too fast for his words to get out cleanly.

“Babe please,” I whined desperately, using all of your strength to pull Harry by the arm again. However, it was no use. Harry slipped out of your grip with his glass shattering to the ground as it slipped out of his hands. You watched in horror as Harry suddenly got much closer to the man, their faces a foot or so apart, as his shoulders stood up straight in a much more defensive manner. What had started as a night of fun and drunkenness, quickly turned into Harry once again taking it too far - both with his alcohol consumption and his anger, though the two almost always went hand in hand. Tears started prickling out of your eyes as you watched Harry bump his chest against the other guy who was now squaring up to Harry and making himself look just as intimidating. He promised. He promised this would never happen again and yet it’s happened so many fucking times -more than you can even count.

Not even a brisk escape from the scene Harry had created at the bar and a cigarette between your lips could ease the pain. With your head resting against the outside brick wall of the bar, you felt your tears gently and freely roll down your cheeks as you puffed smoke from between your teeth.

That night, you remember asking yourself if you could do this forever. If you always had to be the one to pick up the pieces that Harry tore up in a drunken haze. If you always had to be the one who was strong even when you felt like the thinnest, soggiest, piece of paper that was left to disintegrate in the rain all by your lonesome.

You weren’t sure how long you’d fallen back into this memory that clearly stuck to your brain for a reason. However, you knew what brought you out of it and back to reality. His laugh was infectious and uniquely deep and hearty. There always was a slight rasp to it as well. You remembered it so damn well. Except this time, it wasn’t just a memory. It was very deeply real and current. Instinctually, your eyes searched for him in the backyard until his tall frame came into your view. Harry was standing in a group of people with that warm and amused grin on his face that always looked so good on him. You were only allowed a moment to admire his candid expression until his eyes met yours - as if you were magnetized to one another. Harry’s tongue peeked out of his mouth to briefly run along his bottom lip as his eyes focused back on the group. He spoke some words you couldn’t make out before extending his hand in a polite manner to each of the people surrounding him in the circle - as if he were excusing himself.

Then, with his left hand in his pocket, and his eyes looking directly at you, he began walking in your direction.

To be continued.

#one direction #fine line #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harrys house #hslot #my writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader

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novacorpsrecruit · 2 days ago

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It’s lonely at the top

Part 1 | part 2 | here / final part

Read on Ao3

wc 1,698 | Steddie | angst with a happy ending!

“You need to give him some space,” Robin said over the phone. Eddie frowned. It’s been three days. He missed Steve. He nearly leaped over the couch to answer the phone, assuming it was him. Robin was the next best, he guessed. “You really hurt him.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “And I’m sorry. I really am. Will you tell him I’m done with the parties? Done with Trick? He means more to me than being liked.”

“Yeah,” Robin huffed. “You sure showed him that.”

“I mean it,” Eddie said honestly. “I do. I’m done with it all.”

“I think you need to tell him that yourself,” Robin said.

“How can I?” Eddie asked. “You won’t let me talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Robin corrected. “You need to let him be ready to accept you.”

Eddie sighed, pressing his forehead against the cabinet where the phone hung. He wished there was a way to tell Steve how sorry he was. As much as Eddie wanted to take the Green line to Robin’s dorm and talk to Steve, he can’t cross that boundary. But he needed a way to pour out his emotions, to let Steve know that he’s loved. That Eddie’s sorry. “Can I — Can I send him a letter? That way when he’s ready, he knows I’m there for him?”

There was silence on the other line as Robin thought it over. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Just address it to me. He’s not …”

“Supposed to be there,” Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I figured. Thank you, for being there for him.”

“Yeah. Look,” Robin huffed. “If he does let you back in again, and you fuck up again. It’s your balls, Munson.”

“Understood,” Eddie said. “I promise. Never again.”

Robin hung up with a click. Eddie sighed, running his hands over his face. He fucked up. Bad.

He guessed there was no time to start writing like the present.

💌💌💌💌

“Steve, someone at table 13 requested you personally,” Jenny, the hostess said. “He’s — uh — a little scary. So if you have issues, get Rod.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” Steve said, pulling his order book from his apron. He wasn’t sure who would request him at 3 pm. Most of his early birds on Saturdays stop by the diner for brunch and he barely saw a soul until 5.

When they first moved out to Chicago, Steve had no clue what he was going to do for work. He was attending Harold Washington College to get his associates in early education, and then potentially apply to UIC. Then one day, he got off a stop too early and saw the help wanted sign. It was easy for him to pick up, he made decent tips, and it worked with his schedule well. Plus, he was able to take home food at the end of his shift.

Robin’s been enjoying the pancakes lately.

Plus, Steve loved when it was slow and Eddie would —

He closed his eyes, letting the thought disappear. He missed Eddie. His heart ached any time he thought about him. But he was afraid that Eddie didn’t miss him in the same way.

He took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile as he greeted his table.

“Hi, welcome in. I’m Steve. I’ll be taking care —“ Steve stopped as he looked at the patron. He felt his lips turn into a frown. “Trick?”

“Patrick’s fine,” Trick winked. “I mean, we’re in your court, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve nodded. He pressed his lips together, feeling like he couldn’t stop staring at the black and blue circles under his eyes. “What happened to your — uh —“ he gestured to his own face. He winced. Trick didn’t like him in the first place. He wouldn’t give Steve the time of day. Why would he bother to tell him about an injury like that. “Sorry — shouldn’t have asked that. What can I get started for you?”

“Your boyfriend, actually,” Trick smirked. It was like ice water was dumped over Steve as the words washed over him. Trick’s smirk dropped. He leaned over the table. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hey — hey, sorry. I didn’t mean — It’s cool. It’s — Eddie and you — are cool, I mean.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he felt any better or worse. All he could say was, “Oh.”

“Yeah, uh —“ Trick ran his fingers over his buzzed hair and exhaled. “Half of our friends are gay or lesbian or queer. It’s — that’s fine. Promise.”

“Oh,” Steve repeated. He sat on the other side of the booth, across from Trick. “Okay.”

“I just —“ Trick looked up to the ceiling before turning his attention back to Steve. “We shouldn’t have judged you. We saw you and immediate thought you were gonna be some straight jackass like we’ve dealt with our whole lives. We built this community of accepting outcasts, and outcasted you while doing so.”

Oh.

Steve wasn’t sure what to think.

When Eddie and him started to date, the Corroded Coffin boys treated him similarly. But Eddie called them out on that before it got bad.

Before it got like this.

“I guess what I wanted to say was sorry,” Trick said. “For pushing you out. And name calling.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “I don’t recall any name calling?”

“Yeah, you weren’t around for that,” Trick winced, gesturing to his nose. “Eddie made sure I knew that was wrong.”

“Eddie,” Steve breathed. “My Eddie?”

“Yep,” Trick said. “I hope he gave you a big apology for everything. So, tell me. What do you got that’s good to eat here?”

Steve took Trick’s order — one strawberry milkshake and an order of fruit loaded French toast — sent it to the kitchen, then went into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and pulled out Eddie’s letter from his apron pocket. The first letter arrived last Monday. And he received a letter every day that he’s stayed with Robin.

With a shaky breath, Steve opened the letter.

💌💌💌💌

Dear Steve, there’s nothing in the world that I can do to make this up to you. But I will try every day to make sure that you don’t ever forgotten again. You are the stars that light my way home, the sun that brings warmth into my light, and the moon that shines love over me. To experience your love is something truly unreal. And to think I put you on the back burner for a taste of popularity? It was like the Ring of Power overtook my mind. I got lost in the feeling of being admired by many, I forgot what it’s like to be loved by one. I’d travel to Mordor and back for you. Through the Gap of Rohan and through the Mines of Mora.

In a world where everyone could know my name, I’d only want to know yours.

My apologies will never be enough. Love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I hope you are well. I hope your classes are going good and that you’re excelling. I know you are. You’re so fucking smart, you blow me away with every new piece of knowledge you brought home. I hope that basketball at the YMCA is going good. I’m sorry I missed your last couple of games. There is no excuse. I hope one day you’d allow me to be by your side again, cheering you on.

You deserve the world, baby. Nothing will stop me from showing you that. Everything from the water in the rivers to the trees in the forest. From the canyons in Arizona to the mountains in Colorado. It’s yours. It’s all yours. You deserve everything. You deserve the best. And I promise that I will prove that.

Forever in love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I’d move heaven and hell

Just to see you smile again

Or remember how it felt

To have you in my arms

When I begged God for mercy

In the depth of hells

It was nothing compared

To begging for the mercy of you

To hear you laugh, to see you smile

To counting the stars across your skin

To pick up where we left off

To start all over again

I’d move heaven and hell for you

💌💌💌💌

Steve folded the letters, slipping them back into the envelope and set them on his nightstand.

He laid back down, turning to his side. Eddie’s side of the bed was empty. Like it has been for four days.

After Steve read the first letter, he found his way back to their apartment. Eddie was hope and nearly wrapped his arms around Steve, stopping as if there was an invisible barrier in between them. Eddie stopped, respecting that boundary at the threshold.

It was Steve to crack.

Steve who took that step over the threshold and fell into Eddie’s arms, burying his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all Eddie could say.

They agreed they needed to slowly integrate back into each others’ lives. Communicate when they’re feeling alone and listen when one’s feeling distressed. Nightmares seemed easier to deal with, but they were going to work it through.

Eddie said he would sleep on the couch until Steve was ready for him. “No matter how long it takes, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss against Steve’s knuckles. “When you’re ready for me, I’m here.”

And Eddie truly meant that. They could go back to just friends and Eddie would accept it. He would be heartbroken, but to have Steve in his life again?

That’s worth everything to Eddie.

Eddie was jostled awake, feeling the couch cushion shift underneath him. The blanket on his body lifted up and a familiar weight settle on his chest. He felt at home again. Eddie tugged the blanket back over the both of them, one hand around Steve’s waist and the other tangled in his hair as Steve laid his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, taking a silent vow to never lose him again.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #//myfic

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sylus-doll · 11 hours ago

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Synopsis: Sylus has always lived a lonely life, unfamiliar with pleasant company. Being with you again is something he must get used to. He's learning how to, and so are you.

Warnings: Lowkey doesn't make sense because the author is exhausted but wanted to churn something out for you guys. Also mentions of blood. Might be a little angsty.

Author's note: I've gotten busy recently, so I won't be able to write as often. Sorry! I come bearing lowkey dependant Sylus. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Throughout his life, Sylus has spent all his time alone. No one would count enemies as company, even if they do trail him and keep an eye on his every move. They were the ones who wanted to see him fall off his throne; cause and spectate his suffering. A walking target. Sure, he had Mephisto and the twins he took under his wing... But could a mechanical bird count as a friend? Or a pair of twins who work directly under him, following his commands? No, that is obedience.

Sylus did not have anyone to call his own. No one to trade secrets with or share his warmth. And in turn it has made him cold, self-reliant, for he cannot trust in another person. He had never learned how. But he takes comfort in the teachings he does know— the ones of his only love. Melodies dance in the air, a comforting tune. He attempts to hum along, taking pride in the fact that he is able to unlike the past. A respite he is allowed to have in this harsh world.

When the both of you are reunited— albeit, unknowingly on your part— Sylus is at a loss. He had thought that you, too, would remember the past just as he did. Yet you stare into his eyes with the guarded malice of a stranger. It is a gaze he should be used to by now. And he is... Just not from you. Where has his beloved's familiar softness gone? Only your fierce claws and teeth remain. Sylus does not know how to fix this. He was never taught to build relationships or tenderly lower defenses with the patience of a saint.

Your relationship is rocky at first; like oil and water. Both of your lives are completely different from the other. With the Hunter Association actively hunting down Sylus, whatever you have with him is illegal. Forbidden. Although... Surely they would not mind if you stuck around? Gathering intel for them could be useful in the future. This is fine, you are simply using him, you are not delusional. Humans have always desired for what they cannot have.

“You're sticking around for intel on Onychinus? Well then, be my guest. Don't be shy when using me.” Sylus's sardonic smile is etched into your mind.

He tells no one that being of use to you is the only way he knows how to keep you close to him.

Be disgusted, you will yourself. Be repulsed, resent him for all he has done and will do. You will only come to regret being so entangled with his life. This is insane and you are supposed to be a good, law-abiding citizen of Linkon. A hunter. Yet you cannot help feeling like prey— engulfed by a predator who kills and comes back to you with blood soaked hands. Most times, even his own. How will you ever learn to hate someone who learned to be vulnerable with you?

Over time, you start to notice that Sylus is quite... lonely. You are the only one who checks up on him, through text or call. The only one who visits, who teases and jokes, who surprises. You, you, you. Comfortable and happy with someone so dangerous. So of course he eventually craves your presence in your absence. Sylus will make up whatever excuse, put himself in any situation, just to be able to spend some time with you. When it ends, he is distraught.

“You're abandoning me when I'm no longer useful to you? Your skill in being heartless is assuring.” His tone is teasing, as always. But his eyes hold a far-off melancholy.

It feels as though your heart has been punctured with shattered pieces of a fragile thing.

“Abandon? You're sorely mistaken. Useful or not, you're stuck with me, you have no other choice.” You reach out, grabbing his hand.

Something new for Sylus to learn; that you will not throw him away when he does not serve any purpose to you. You are his companion— his beloved who cares for and loves him. Not because you owe him or as an obligation. Simply because you do. And you are both still learning. It will be okay. Having each other means neither of you will ever have to face the cruelties of this world alone.

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beautyofaphrodite · 2 days ago

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Common Terms in Helpol!

Hello there! So... Hellenic polytheism has a lot of words, and they can get confusing. It's hard to keep track of so many things! So I thought I would make a list of a whole bunch of common, or maybe not-so-common terms in Hellenic polytheism! Honestly, I really just wanted to make a really long informative post, so here you all go!

If there is any term you would like me to add to this list, let me know and I will gladly add it! Also, at the bottom of this post, I will link other posts where people have done an absolutely amazing job going into detail about one or more of these terms, or maybe others I chose not to include in this list!

Hellenic/Hellenismos/Hellenistic/Helpol

If you’re on helpol tumblr, or really any helpol-focused social media, you’ve heard all of these terms, and you may be wondering… which is the right term for the religion?

Hellenic: of or relating to Greece, its people, or its language specifically: of or relating to ancient Greek history, culture, or art before the Hellenistic period (Merriam-Webster). Basically, Hellenic means Greek.

Hellenism: devotion to or imitation of ancient Greek thought, customs, or styles; Greek civilization especially as modified in the Hellenistic period by influences from southwestern Asia; a body of humanistic and classical ideals associated with ancient Greece and including reason, the pursuit of knowledge and the arts, moderation, civic responsibility, and bodily development (Merriam-Webster). Basically, Hellenism means relating to Greek culture.

Hellenismos: Hellenism, but closer to what the word is in Greek, to my understanding.

Hellenistic: of or relating to Greek history, culture, or art after Alexander the Great (Merriam-Webster) The Hellenistic Period refers to 323-31 BCE, from the death of Alexander the Great to the rise of Augustus in Rome.

Hellenic Polytheism (Helpol): Hellenic polytheism, which would literally mean "The worship of more than one Greek god" is generally thought to be the best term for the worship of Hellenic (Greek) gods. And in my opinion, it makes the most sense!

Theoi

Theoi is the ancient Greek word for the Gods. There are many "Types" (sort of) of Theoi, including Theoi Einalioi, Theoi Georgikoi, Theoi Gamelioi, Theoi Kthonioi, Theoi Ouranioi, Theoi Olympioi, Theoi Nomioi, and the Theoi Titanes (Theoi.com) Most commonly mentioned of these "types" of the theoi are Ouranic and Kthonic. Many (if not most or all) gods fit in to more than one of these categories, for example, Lady Aphrodite is part of the Theoi Einalioi (Sea), Theoi Gamelioi (Marriage), Theoi Ouranioi (Sky), and Theoi Olympioi (Olympian).

Ouranic: The Theoi Ouranioi, or Ouranic deities are the gods of the sky. Offerings to Ouranic deities can be eaten, and when praying, palms are traditionally facing up.

Kthonic: The Theoi Kthonioi, or Kthonic deities are the gods of the earth and underworld. Offerings shouldn’t be eaten and when praying, hands are typically down towards the ground.

Khaire/Xaire

Khaire, chaire, or xaire (Greek: χαίρε) Is a Greek greeting, meaning “hello”, “hail”, “rejoice”, “goodbye”, or “farewell”. However, to my understanding it is not used in modern Greek, though it’s plural, χαίρετε, is occasionally used in formal settings.

I have personally seen many helpols use the spelling “khaire” as a greeting, while the spelling “xaire” to mean hail or rejoice. As far as I can tell, this is just their personal preference.

Purification

Miasma: “Stain”, “Defilement”, “Pollution”. Miasma refers to being extremely ritually impure, and one who is miasmic should not approach the Gods. However, you likely do not have miasma. Miasma comes from murder, incest, assault, and other extremely serious crimes. Miasma affects its surroundings, and can make the area around it also impure, but being a victim to these crimes does not make one miasmic. Without the proper purification, miasmic individuals should not approach the Gods.

Lyma: “dirt”. Lyma is impurity one naturally picks up from the world around them. Humans are not naturally impure, but they can pick up lyma on a normal day to day basis. Examples of lyma include being around/giving birth, blood, being around death/the dead, literal dirt, etc. Having lyma is not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s best to wash it away (most people in modern day and in ancient Greece to my knowledge simply wash their hands in running water) before approaching the Gods, similar to washing your hands before dinner. It’s just more respectful.

Khernips: Khernips refers to a flame doused in water and is basically a fancy way of purification. Most of the time, you don’t need to use khernips to rid yourself of lyma, you can just use regular running water, but some prefer to use khernips all the time.

Kharis

Kharis at its most basic definition is a reciprocal relationship with the gods. This means not asking for things without giving anything in return, such as praying for big things without an offering to go with it. Kharis goes both ways, so if you give an offering, a god will often respond to your request.

Xenia

Xenia, meaning “guest-friendship” and “hospitality”, is often thought to be an important ideal in Hellenic Polytheism. Many take it to mean inclusivity and kindness to everyone, including strangers. In ancient Greece, xenia was thought to be important because there was always a chance that a guest could be a god in disguise.

Hubris

“exaggerated pride or self-confidence […] In classical Greek tragedy, hubris was often a fatal shortcoming that brought about the fall of the tragic hero. Typically, overconfidence led the hero to attempt to overstep the boundaries of human limitations and assume a godlike status, and the gods inevitably humbled the offender with a sharp reminder of their mortality.” - Merriam-Webster. Basically, hubris is putting oneself at the same or higher level than the Theoi.

Offerings

Offerings: Gifts to the gods. Common offerings include foods, art, music, trinkets that remind you of the god the offering is for, etc.

Libations: Liquid offerings to the gods. Libations can be poured on the ground or into a container. Common libations include wine and water (though I personally like to offer Diet Coke, but that’s just me)

Devotional Acts: Things done in honor of the gods. Often, these are used as a more subtle way of offering. An example of a devotional act would be for Lady Aphrodite, doing one’s skincare/makeup, or spending time with a loved one.

Patron

In modern helpol spaces, I often see the word patron used to mean a god one closely worships. However, in ancient Greece, a patron god was one who held dominion over certain aspects of your life, such as your job, hobbies, identity, or where you lived. For example, Lady Athena is the patron of Athens, and Lord Hermes is the patron of travelers and thieves.

Epithets

An epithet is “a descriptive term (word or phrase) accompanying or occurring in place of a name”, sometimes described as a nickname. Epithets often refer to qualities of the one they are given too, whether by appearance (ex. Bright-Eyed Athena), personality (ex. Zeus the Merciful), history (ex. Sea foam born Aphrodite), or actions (Swift-Footed Achilles). Gods and some heroes have epithets.

Reconstructionism/Revivalism

Reconstructionism and Revivalism are two different ways of practicing helpol (not specific to helpol, but I’m just talking about that here). When done respectfully, neither is wrong, nor better/worse than the other.

Reconstructionism: “Reconstructionism attempts to re-establish genuine polytheistic religions in the modern world through a rediscovery of the rituals, practices and contextual worldviews of pre-Christian pagan religions.” In other words, reconstructionists attempt to recreate the religious practices of ancient times as closely as possible (while usually modifying some things such as animal sacrifice that aren’t as acceptable nowadays).

Revivalism: Revivalism refers to those who practice in a more modern way, while still keeping in mind the ancient traditions. An example of something that a revivalist might do is a digital offering, something that would not have been possible in ancient Greece.

UPG, SPG, and VPG

Unverified Personal Gnosis: UPG refers to an experience, belief, or association with a deity that isn't backed up historically. UPGs are personal, and others may or may not agree with or share them.

Shared Personal Gnosis: SPG, also known as PVPG (Peer Verified Personal Gnosis), refers to experiences, beliefs, or associations shared by many worshippers of certain deities. Though they don't hold as much weight as beliefs backed up historically, they tend to hold more weight than UPGs.

Verified Personal Gnosis: VPG means that an experience, belief, or association someone has is backed up by historical sources.

Great Helpol Resources

These are mostly just some amazing other tumblr posts that have helped me a lot and also explain some of these terms in more detail/better than I have.

Xenia and UPG vs SPG vs VPG ~ @beautyofaphrodite (me)

Miasma, Lyma, and Khernips ~ @sisterofiris

Beginner’s Guide to Hellenic Polytheism ~ @wisdom-devotee

Ouranic, Kthonic, and Einalic ~ @pietyandpearls

Blogs such as @khaire-traveler and @atheneum-of-you are also amazing! khaire-traveler has some great subtle worship posts, and atheneum-of-you has some amazing and very well researched informative posts.

As always, if something I mentioned is wrong, weirdly worded, confusing, I missed something, etc, please please please let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it! Much love 🫶

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barblaz-arts · 2 days ago

Note

I’ve seen you talk about Vaggie and Charlie being your two favs (which same I adore them) and Emily being you’re third…..but how do you feel about Alastor? Personally, while he is charming and entertaining and stuff…..his fanbase is obnoxious as hell. Especially some of the Charlastor shippers. I can sense the lesbiphobia from miles. I also just really dislike the blatant favoritism he gets from both the creators and the fandom. I can’t escape this guy-

I've talked about how I feel about Alastor before in a previous ask so I'll just put that back here

I totally understand how you feel, but I try really hard to not let those types of fans and antis affect how i feel about Alastor. I take a lot of care in understanding characters and the stories they're in, and I don't want any outside influence and bias to cloud my objective judgement or personal feelings.

The merch, fandom, and creator bias in favor of him is like super undeniable lmao but I actually like Alastor as much as I do any average character with his archetype. The fact that the actual show didn't let him overstay his welcome really helped, because characters like Alastor are a lot better in certain doses. Also like i said in the screenshot, he's a bigger loser than the hotshot people think he is and that's hilarious.

I think a lot of the things associated to him are just because of misguided fan content anyways. Like, all the horny art of him? That man is canonically ace. Ch*rlastor? You'd have to be blind af to think there's there's actual hope of that happening. Even r*dioapple? Lucifer still wants his wife back and Alastor is definitely plotting to kill him. Claims that he overshadowed the main cast and is the actual main character? He wasn't in all of the episodes, and only one episode in all eight focused on him, and it was the b-plot.

So yeah. Alastor himself? If I dont think about the barely recognizable schlop a huge part of the fandom likes to fantasize that he is? I have absolutely no problem with.

I've just been trying to accept the inevitable fact that he's always gonna be at the top of any popularity poll. I've just been seeing him as a mascot for the show at this point. Yunno, like how pikachu is the most popular character from pokemon even tho Ash is the main character? Or how Elsa was EVERYWHERE for years when Frozen 1 came out even tho Anna is the main protag? It just is how it is. That man is the face of Hazbin Hotel whether we like it or not. I'm not happy about it! But whatever.

#asks

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darkluminosity · 21 hours ago

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Crazy about Diluc and Eula rn so I wanted to do this... link behind the cut since it's a lot 🙃

1. Tough to say, they both do in my hc but I feel like she's more likely to initiate the hugs and he initiates the kisses 😉

2. I think they both do tbh lol. Maybe she does a bit more (at least in my current wip)

3. Eula would borrow Diluc's, I think he's more organized

4. I feel like she would for the reasons above, maybe if she was drinking and misplaced them?

5. Hm this is actually a bit tough because although he's rich and owns a winery, it was inherited so idk if he was taught money management, especially because he has others run it for him. But I feel both of them are fairly responsible.

6. Well, Diluc's parents... yeah they're not around anymore and idk about Eula's. I feel if anything she would take either extreme, either hiding it because she doesn't want to ruin his reputation by others knowing he's dating a Lawrence, or she would utilize their relationship to get back at her clan (and in part of my hcs, get rid of her association with her clan and break apart from them). But the latter would be after they talk it through and he assures her he doesn't care about it. I don't think he would want to hide it. If anything it would take him off of the bachelor market which I think he'd be happy about lol.

7. I actually think he'd be better in the kitchen overall (especially taking lessons from Adelinde if he is willing to learn) BUT as it stands his signature dish is literally a version of Pile 'Em Up which is throwing ingredients on top of each other? Compared to her signature dish, an upgraded version of Moon Pie, I think her signature dish beats his in terms of complexity. But for everyday cooking, probably him.

8. She gets more sleep but he needs more sleep lol 😂

9. They're both serious about their duties and work, but I feel he's a little more hardworking. Not that she isn't, but I think she knows her boundaries and limits more- he's constantly pushing his limits (and working as the Dark Night Hero doesn't exactly have a strict schedule if you know what I mean)

10. She has more empathy... I think 🤔 idk sometimes he can surprise others, it's just others find him hard to read. But I think he has the capacity for empathy too, he just doesn't communicate it openly very much.

11. A cat (hmm this gives me ideas) or she becomes attached to his falcon, they can write letters to each other and send them back and forth (aww 🥰)

12. Eula

13. His is acts of service and quality time, and hers is physical touch and quality time

14. I don't think they would keep secrets from each other intentionally, but there are certain things in Diluc's past that he probably wouldn't want to mention to her, and stuff he knows about Kaeya. Maybe if she asked him (about his past) but I don't think he would readily share it.

15. Neither, but I think as I alluded to in #6, Eula might not feel she deserves him so she might push him away and tell him he deserves better. At least in versions of hc where she has a lower self image and some insecurities. Who knows, he could even say the same to her because of his past if she ever found out 🤷🏻‍♀️

16. Diluc (lol my husband thinks Eula would be a terrible mom 🤐 he said it and he's the Eula main lol)

17. Eula (lol I did a short fic idea of this after chapter 18 of Fighting Winter but never posted it, where they talked after waking up and he's like why were you moaning in your sleep and making noises... and she's like uhh,I was? but she was thinking omg I want to run away in shame lol and instead tries to change the subject 🤣)

OTP questions:

Who initiates hugs?

Who wants to hold the hug longer?

Who borrows the other one’s phone charger?

Who loses their keys/wallet?

Who’s better with money?

Who tried to hide the relationship from their parents?

Who’s better in the kitchen?

Who needs/gets more sleep?

Who’s more laid back and who’s more hard working?

Who has more empathy?

If they were to adopt a pet together, what kind of pet would it be?

Who is more outgoing?

What is their love language?

Are they holding any secrets from each other?

Which one is more likely to cheat?

Which one first brings up the idea of having kids?

Who sleeptalks?

#otp prompts #otp questions #man this was fun i should do this for my tron otps someday which has some ocs #lumi rambles #euluc #diluc x eula #diluc/eula

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randomfoggytiger · 3 days ago

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The Truth Is Out There: Dispelling the Lingering Mysteries behind Chris Carter

OBSERVATIONS

To better understand the dynamics behind-the-scenes of The X-Files set, I invested in a six-part book series, the first of which is "The Truth Is Out There, The Official Guide to The X-Files" (written by Brian Lowry.) Well. More accurately, I wanted to delve deeper into the motivations of Chris Carter.

Even more particularly, I wanted answers to a few remaining questions. What was the point CC lost interest in and passion for The X-Files (because his perfectionistic, hyper-focused, workaholic drive drifted away from his first love to greater and grander things.) How could a man so woo the studios that he was given unparalleled control, without question, for nearly eight years? And how was this same man so beloved by everyone he came across, yet turned his own fans (and Nic Lea and Gillian Anderson) against him? If you want the answers to those, skip to the CARTER’S PHILOSOPHY, AND GUARDING THE VISION and FINAL THOUGHTS AND ANALYSIS sections.

**Note**: Most of this post will be directly quoting the book-- cutting out all but the most necessary context, of course (go read it)-- and, thus, will be fonted in italics.

ONCE UPON A TIME: CARTER’S JOURNEY UPWARD

Context: Lowry's book was written while "The Blessing Way" was being filmed.

As with most Hollywood success stories that don’t involve flat-out nepotism, the labyrinthine journey that resulted in The X-Files is almost as twisted as an X-File itself….

Carter began dating his wife, Dori Pierson, four years after leaving college…. Pierson prodded Carter to write movies, and his work caught the attention of Jeffrey Katzenberg, then Disney Studios chairman, who signed Carter to a writing deal. There he was put to work writing such Disney TV movies as "B.R.A.T. Patrol" and "Meet the Munceys".

A pickup softball game in Brentwood, California, provided another inning in Carter’s career, since that was where the writer met Brandon Tartikoff, the president of NBC Entertainment…. After Tartikoff had a chance to read some of Carter’s work he brought him over to NBC, where Carter developed a number of pilots. “Chris wrote a good script,” Tartikoff says, adding that, to a degree, he was victim of NBC’s success, since the network was riding high at the time and didn’t have a need for a family series.

…Tartikoff left NBC to become chairman of Paramount Pictures and says he tried to bring Carter there, but it wasn’t to be. In recent years, the relationship has been mainly of a social nature, and as Tartikoff puts it, “He’s too busy to play softball now.”

Still, Tartikoff wasn’t Carter’s only admirer. His writing also impressed Peter Roth, the president of Stephen J. Cannell Productions. …”I loved his feel for dialogue,” Roth remembers, shortly thereafter trying to bring Carter in as writer-producer on a CBS drama series called Palace Guard.

That show was canceled, but Roth kept Carter in mind when he moved from Cannell to Twentieth Century Fox as president of TV production. In 1992, he took a chance by signing a few relatively unknown producers, among them Carter….

Despite his association with comedies and family-oriented Disney fare, Carter had been kicking around for years a darker concept stemming from his childhood love of programs like "The Twilight Zone", "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", and, in particular, "The Night Stalker"….

Roth expressed some enthusiasm for that notion, indicating that vampires, which were at the heart of the original movie, might indeed be hot given that a big-screen incarnation of Interview with a Vampire was in the works at the time. Carter wasn’t interested in vampires per se, saying his vision had more to do with UFOs and, more broadly, the paranormal.

…Various ideas were batted around, but Roth and Carter felt they were on the right track in trying to do a contemporary variation on "The Night Stalker". “It was just something that had been lying there sort of dormant since I was a kid,” Carter says….

In retrospect, Carter clearly sensed a void-- and thus a window of opportunity-- in the crowded primetime marketplace…. “You look at the TV schedule,” he told Roth as they munched on their entrees, “and there’s nothing scary on television.”

…Carter didn’t remember many specifics about "The Night Stalker", other than how the show made him feel as a teenager. “I just knew that I couldn’t get enough,” he says. When he revisited the show he realized that it had a confiding premise: Carl Kolchak, an unlucky newspaper reporter, kept stumbling upon vampires, werewolves, and zombies. Starring as Kolchak was Darren McGavin, who Carter considered to play Mulder’s father in homage to the series, but schedules couldn’t be worked out.

…The Oscar-winning movie The Silence of the Lambs had just been released, which helped spur the idea of using the FBI as a natural means of entry into this world of the paranormal.

With some further modification and research, Carter had his foundation-- namely, that there must be somebody at the FBI investigating unexplained cases. The show, then, would focus on two FBI agents-- one a believer, the other a skeptic-- investigating cases involving paranormal phenomena. One of the main characters would be driven by personal experience, having witnessed the abduction of his younger sister, Samantha, when he was 12 years old.

The cherry on top for Carter came when a friend who happened to be a research psychiatrist at Yale showed him a Roper Organization survey saying, essentially, that three percent of the U.S. population believes they’ve been abducted by aliens. Whether those results were valid or not, Carter felt he’d found a potential well-spring of interest in a topic getting short shrift elsewhere. “I thought, ‘This is too good to be true,’” he recalls.

…Delving into his own skeptical nature, Carter also planted seeds for what was to become an integral part of the show….

CARTER’S FOCUS FOR THE SHOW

Though he was still a teenager at the time of the Watergate hearings, those events clearly left their mark on Carter, who admits that coverage of the scandal and President Richard Nixon’s subsequent resignation was “the most formative event of my youth.” Small wonder that he named a key character Deep Throat after the Watergate reporters’ shadowy source, and that he came up with lines like “Trust no one” (“My personal philosophy,” he says with a laugh), “I want to believe,” “Deny everything,” and “The truth is out there”-- the last in that series a double entendre, he suggests, nicely summing up the atmosphere he wanted the show to convey. Given his acumen for sloganeering, Carter muses, “I guess I’ve got a bit of the advertising man in me.”

THE PITCHING PROCESS

According to Greenblatt [Fox’s vice president of dramatic series development], those initial meetings in late summer and fall of 1992 were somewhat awkward because "The X-Files" concept was so difficult to pitch verbally. Roth also remembers Carter being somewhat uncomfortable during the pitching phase, network and studio executives second-guessed the elements within each show. “Chris and I mixed it up pretty good during that process,” Roth adds.

…”I pitched it once and they said, ‘No thank you,’” Carter recalls. “I pitched it again and they finally said, ‘Okay, we’ll buy it, leave us alone.’”

…Carter didn’t quit there, becoming, as he puts it, “my own public-relations agency.” He created visual aids-- charts that looked like little TV screens-- as a means of selling Fox executives on the show.

Certain frustrations nevertheless continued to dog Carter, among them questions as to just how “real” the show was going to be. Reality programming like "Cops", "Unsolved Mysteries", and "Rescue 911" was popular…. “Everyone thought this has got to be as real as possible,” Carter says. “No one could understand why someone would want to watch a show if it weren’t true.”

…According to Greenblatt, the fact that the production company is also part of Fox probably helped the network make the decision to take a gamble with the show, even if there was still considerable doubt regarding its viability. “It’s easier to take a flier with your sister company,” he admits.

CASTING CHALLENGES AND PRODUCTION HURDLES

…As is usually the case, various actors read for each part before the field was whittled down to a few contenders. The decision on Mulder came down to David Duchovny…. And one other actor. The alternative was “cooler, and a little more tortured” than Duchovny’s take on the character, says Carter. Though Fox officials maintain Duchovny pretty much walked away with the role thanks to his wry sense of humor, which came across in the audition and meeting, Carter says he had to steer them a bit toward his preferred choice.

A more rigorous wrestling match ensued over Scully. …If some Fox officials were looking for the equivalent of Baywatch’s Pamela Anderson, however, Carter and Twentieth Television’s casting chief, Randy Stone, immediately locked in on Gillian Anderson….

“When she came into the room, I just knew she was Scully,” Carter says. “I just felt it…. She had an intensity about her: intensity always translates across the screen.”

Anderson had her own misgivings about doing television but circumstances had softened her reluctance-- having found film work scarce and her bank account dwindling. The actress hoped a few weeks working on a television show might increase her profile, at least, when she next came calling for film roles.

What Anderson didn’t fully realize was the battle taking place behind the scenes over casting her. Carter maintain that he “had to put my career on the line to put Gillian in the show,” still taking some delight in “proving the naysayers wrong.”

“They didn't see the package,” Carter says. “There was one actress who did an okay job, but she wasn’t, in my mind, Dana Scully.” Finally, Carter recalls saying, “‘Look, this is the person I want. This is Dana Scully.’ And everybody looked at me and said, ‘Okay.’”

Even so, there was still some head-shaking, and Carter clearly felt as if it were “me versus the world” in that room. Millions of dollars were at stake, and at this point the pilot was only days away from shooting….

Still, doubts about Anderson didn’t end with her casting. Even as footage started to come back from the pilot filming there was, Roth says, “tremendous negativity toward Gilliam” from some quarters-- questions as to whether the character was too cold, or if she was likable enough. Carter remembers hearing qualms about Anderson, in fact, even after the pilot was completed.

Another point of contention involved the nature of the relationship between the leads. Carter insisted that they stay clearly platonic despite those urging him to establish more sexual chemistry.

Filming began in March 1993, and the first scene… involved the sequence where Dana Scully first meets Fox Mulder…. The actors had only been able to rehearse at what’s called a table reading, not on the set, and Carter knew those first dailies… would be closely scrutinized-- in part because of the haggling that preceded Anderson’s casting, in part because the nature of the actors’ relationship would be central to whether the show itself would work.

That first meeting, Carter says, was “all-important” to not just the show but to the future of the project….

The actors, however, had an immediate rapport (Anderson has joked that Duchovny has a pretty good rapport with most women…) despite difficult conditions. Duchovny, in fact, was taken with Anderson’s grit and determination as they filmed on scene in the face of freezing rain….

The two-week shoot completed, Fox received the pilot that spring just as dozens of other contenders streamed in hoping for a slot on the primetime lineup…. Postproduction, which includes adding music, sound effects and editing, wasn’t completed until early May….“Each step of the way,” Carter says, “until that day in May when the pilot was seen by Rupert Murdoch and the Fox brass, they really did not know what they had.” In fact, when the rough cut came in, someone at Fox who’d seen it told Roth simply, “Nice try.”

…During the screening for Fox executives, [Greenblatt] recalls, “There was some nervous laughter in the room, and I though, ‘Oh, we’re dead.’” The conclusion, however, was met with applause-- a rare occurrence….

…Hands shot up immediately when he asked what everyone thought. People spoke over each other to get their opinion in, which was unusual in such sessions.

…when Fox saw how the audience responded to "The X-Files", the network quickly increased promotion for the show, which lagged at the outset….

…Fox was equally pleased to discover "The X-Files" could play as more than just a one-note concept. “The first year we analyzed the show a lot,” says Greenblatt. “We didn’t want to become ‘The UFO Show.’”

By the second season that issue [lack of closure], at least, had almost entirely subsided, as the network began to realize that the cryptic, spooky endings served as an integral part of the show’s appeal….

Carter did agree to come conciliatory modifications… and even he says some of those changes have been for the better. The idea of a Scully voice-over while typing up her field report notes, for example, was tacked on to the first regular episode, “Deep Throat,” to mollify Fox’s desire to provide resolution to the story-- “bringing closure,” as Carter puts it, “to a non-closed case.” While he resisted the idea initially, Scully’s narration “became a kind of a staple through the first season,” he says, “and I think it actually added to the show.”

Carter also notes that the Cigarette-Smoking Man was a mysterious figure in the pilot and was supposed to remain that way. “I never anticipated that he would be speaking as much as he is,” the producer notes, “but I don’t care who you are, you can’t think that far ahead. The show takes on a life of its own, and you sort of have to be true to it and ride it into the sunset…”

Indeed, any casual glance at the Nielsen standings provides a misleading appraisal of the show’s first-season performance. "The X-Files" finished the 1993-1994 season ranked 113 out of 132 primetime series broadcast in terms of the number of homes tuning in; however, that ignore the fact that she show aired Friday-- a night when fewer people in general, and younger viewers in particular, are apt to be home watching television….

CARTER LEARNS TO DOMESTICATE THE SHOW… ON HIS OWN TERMS

Another unplanned event in the show’s evolution involved Anderson’s real-life pregnancy, which came at a critical time in the show’s cycle and sent panic running through executive suites in regard to what it might mean for the series’s production schedule, particularly on such a two-character concept. “As an executive, if you weren’t concerned about that then you didn’t have a pulse,” Grushow laughs. “At the time, the real question was how do we turn a potential liability into first, a non-liability, and second, a possible asset.”

“I think we were all very upset,” says Roth, noting that various scenarios were tossed around-- down to having Scully give birth to an alien baby-- before settling on the story arc, told in the memorable episodes “Duane Barry,” “Ascension,” and “On Breath.”

The actress herself feared that she might be dropped from the show, first confiding in Duchovny about her condition, then Carter. Whatever angry rhetoric might have greeted the news from executive suites, replacing her, apparently, was never seriously considered, though her pregnancy was kept secret from the crew and press for several months….

Ultimately, Anderson’s grit and dedication impressed everyone involved, with Roth calling her “a real trouper,” in the old-time show-business sense of the word, as she filmed up to and just six days after the birth of her daughter, Piper….

Again, Carter admits he didn’t initially intend to head down that path [Scully being abducted, resulting in emotional resonance between the lead characters.] “I think it actually forced us to make choices that helped the show,” he says. “It proved to us that people wanted shows about characters and their lives.

“It was a way for me to do what I had resisted doing, which was to domesticate the show. I don’t want to know what Mulder does with his softball team. I don’t want to know what Scully does with her friends. It’s just of no interest to me.” Their breakup and reunion at the start of the second season, he says, provided “an interesting way to explore the characters that I hadn’t anticipated doing.”

Fox immediately renewed the show for a second season….. Certain episodes actually drew bigger audiences for repeat airings than their first showing, and that snowball effect was evident in the second-season premiere: a 10/3 rating (which translates to more than 9.8 million households) and 19 percent of the audience, a 17 percent jump over the season finale. Still nervous about Anderson’s status, Fox breathed a sigh of relief, as "The X-Files" had clearly established its credentials as a bona fide hit.

…To its credit, Fox’s patience allowed the program to reach that plateau, and Carter says he “never got a sense that there was any fear” about the show’s ratings, even at its Nielsen nadir…. “I always said that we would have to create an audience on Friday nights, not steal one, and that I think that’s what we have done,” Carter notes.

CARTER’S PHILOSOPHY, AND GUARDING HIS VISION

Not surprisingly, the arduous trek that took "The X-Files" from his boyhood memories to the television screen has made Carter both protective of his vision and secure in his belief that he knows what’s best for it. Asked about maintaining the quality of the special effects, he says, “Part of the job-- and I’ve learned this in the process-- is never accepting ‘No’ for an answer. There will be a final ‘No’ if the answer is ‘No,’, but ‘No’ is always the first answer you get, and you’ve got to make sure that the final answer you get is ‘Yes.’ That’s really the way I proceed.”

…”I was really the lone voice saying we cannot have these people romantically involved. There cannot be real TV sexual tension here or else the show won’t work. As soon as you have them looking googly-eyed at each other, they’re not going to want to go out and chase these aliens. The relationship will supplant or subvert what’s going to make the show great, which is the pursuit of these cases.”

…Even so, Fox still harbored various creative concerns, not the least of them being the issue of closure, or how completely and neatly the episodes would be resolved. Carter remembers having a shouting match with a Fox programming executive who wanted the endings to be more explicit, helping the audience make sense of what happened. “There’s no sense to make!” Carter told him angrily. “You make the sense yourself.”

…”I feel like Lewis and Clark: I know where I’m going, but I don’t know what the hills and valleys and streams that I have to cross are.”

The producer has no qualms about letting his star [Duchovny] in on that [contributing] process. “He’s got good ideas for the show,” notes Carter. “Why not use them?”

“Everything else I do past this is a big question mark to me,” he says thoughtfully. “I don’t know if it’ll be a hit or miss. It’s a business of failure mostly. While I’ve got this garden growing, I want to make sure that I tend it and that it represents my best efforts.”

Carter, for his part, remains vigilant regarding over-exposure while still submerged in the series itself, spending about 12 days each month in Vancouver during production. Although some executive producers create a series and then segue in the second or this season to new projects, Carter has stated that he made a commitment to the actors to stay with the program as long as they do….

…“You can lay on really thick if you lay on a good scientific foundation,” notes Carter. “The show’s only as scary as it is believable. Everything has to take place within the realm of extreme possibility.”

Carter himself takes pride in "The X-Files" never settling for routine, even as he tries to manage the equivalent of juggling and tap-dancing at the same time. As for his attention to even the smallest elements in each episode, Carter-- his desk awash in material from past and future episodes-- simply considers that a responsibility that comes with the territory. “If you don’t know what every frame is going to look like,” he says, “you’re not doing your job.”

Carter’s role is not unlike the side-show act of spinning plates, a task that requires keeping an eye on various objects simultaneously, lest one of them spin out of control. “You’ve got five shows going at once,” he explains. “You’re writing a show, prepping a show, shooting a show, editing a show, and adding the sound and music to the show.” In fact, he adds, the show runner (a Hollywood term that applies to the main executive producer) really has to have his head in seven shows at the same time.

Seven shows and at least two places, since Carter, the writing staff and selected crew members spend most of their time in Los Angeles while production takes place nearly 1300 miles away in Vancouver. The L.A. contingent includes a visual effects supervisor Mat Beck and postproduction whiz Paul Rabwin, who oversees the sound, editing, Mark Snow’s evocative music composition, and other measures required before raw footage can achieve broadcast quality.

A DAY-IN-THE-LIFE, ON THE SET: ULTIMATE FREEDOM

I decided to include this section to give a broader scope of CC "at work"-- another link in the chain of repeated compliments his friends, cast, crew, coworkers, and overhead gave him over the years.

…The Los Angeles office, housed in its own bungalow, is nicely appointed but relatively spare.

The [Los Angeles] office itself is bustling this particularly morning, as writers move in and out--- occasionally invading the space of researcher/officer manager Mary Astadourian, where various drawers full of research material are kept. In there, the scribes will find literature on the paranormal, diseases, viruses, and various monsters, with folders that carry labels like “Roswell” or “Loch Ness.”

…Part of the morning is devoted to the regularly scheduled writers’ meeting, with the entire staff… assembling to go over that week’s script, blocking out the teaser and all four acts….

The other writers question each nuance, throwing out suggestions to refine the story and make sure it’s clear…. Despite the need for exposition, Carter also stresses not letting the pace drag, wanting to spread action within the hour (or more precisely, 44 minutes or so minus commercials) allotted them. “Make sure you keep it hoppin’,” he says.

…Eventually, it’s suggested they shift some action from the second act into the first in order to achieve the proper sense of pacing. The move requires some reconfiguration of other plot elements, but once those are blocked out the producer and other writers seem content. “That works for me,” says Carter, sending the show’s writer off to do another rewrite.

Carter’s daily schedule, however, is just beginning. The writers’ session is followed by what’s known as a concept meeting-- a teleconference with the staff in Vancouver to grapple with various production issues before the begin filming a new episode….

Other issues involve the number of extras they can use….

Because money is always an issue, and time a luxury the crew usually doesn’t have, compromise and ingenuity remain key….

The producers also pride themselves on finding means of scavenging resources, then developing different ways to capitalize upon them. A prime case involves the crew getting access to a Canadian Navy destroyer that was then used in three different episodes, including “Dod Kalm”... and “End Game”.... “It’s fun,” Carter says, “to make something out of nothing.”

Episodes must be plotted down to the most minute details-- in part because Carter is a perfectionist, and in part because the show is under a microscope now, with fans picking and nitpicking every conceivable aspect. Issues raised include what sort of garb Native Americans depicted should wear, with an emphasis on being as faithful as possible to tribal customs. (A Navajo group has complained because a character wore his hair down, something the elders in that tribe wouldn’t normally do, in the episode entitled “Anasazi.” Carter subsequently visited a Navajo reservation and attended one of their ceremonies.)

From a more practical standpoint, the Vancouver team wants to know whether they can wardrobe the actors in blue jeans because some postproduction special effects shots use blue-screen, which essentially eliminates that color.

The L.A. staffers are also assured that a shoot-out sequence will be top-notch, with bullet hits and ricochets plus a movie-style car explosion. Can it be done? “The answer’s yes… with disclaimers,” quips Beck good-naturedly adding, “One big disclaimer: How much money you got?”

…The crew clearly takes enormous pride in the series, which presents them with such challenges on almost a daily basis and allows them to put their skills to the fullest possible use. Some freely admit, in fact, that they’ve been spoiled by their involvement with "The X-Files" and would have a hard time working elsewhere. “They’d have to drag me kicking and screaming off this show,” Gauthier says.

The same goes for makeup special effects supervisor Toby Lindala…. Still, Lindala has proven up to most any task, with the Flukeman-- a costume his crew created in 10 days that had to weather water and other shooting ordeals-- still his proudest accomplishment. “That was probably the most insane undertaking for a time period,” says Lindala, who worked a 28-and 28-hour day during that stretch to get the suit ready in time. Even so, Lindala grew up watching monster movies and isn’t complaining, relishing the opportunities the show has provided to fool around with such projects. “I love making ‘em,” he says.

Goodwin, a veteran producer who has worked on such series as "Life Goes On" and "Mancuso FBI", now tries to provide more lead time to prepare such major undertakings, but in most instances Lindala and his team (four people, including Lindala, work full time in that area) have just seven days’ notice to put a makeup effect together, and his services are needed in virtually every episode.

…Careful planning remains the main hedge against both cost and time crunches, with Goodwin pointing out that in television time essentially translates directly into money. “The quicker you have to do it, the more it costs,” he says, adding that while some in the industry are tempted to cut corners, “My motto is, ‘Quality, whether they want it or not.’”

…Kim Manners, also one of the show’s pool of directors, lauds Carter for treating each installment like a mini-movie. The process gives the individual directors-- who in episodic television, which is dominated by executive producers, are often viewed as transient guns for hire-- the opportunity to truly ply their trade. “He insists that you go out and be a filmmaker,” Manners says. “He doesn’t want you just go out and be a traffic cop.” Because of that freedom, he adds, the show is “the zenith of my career.”

…Unlike most television shows that shoot on location, on "The X-Files" whoever scripted that particular episode goes to Vancouver to scout out locations and do other preparatory work. “To make sure,” as story editor Frank Spotnitz puts it, “everything is in sync with what the writer had in mind,” from casting to production design. In the cryptic vernacular of the show, the process stems from commitment to “purity control.”

…For the episode in question, that means co-executive producer Howard Gordon, the only member of the writing staff other than creator Chris Carter who has been with the show virtually since the beginning, has made the sojourn to Vancouver. “As a writer, you don’t get that experience on any other show,” says Gordon.

…Other matters have also arisen, some remarkable in their degree of minutia. Gordon’s script for the episode being prepared, for example, contains a seemingly innocuous reference to being “in the mood for some Quarter Pounders,” and Fox’s legal department wants them to clear the wording with McDonald’s…. “That’s a great line,” says an only slightly exasperated Manners…. Hours later, it’s decided to change to a more generic term rather than hassle the legal issue.

…A later shot involves disposing of the [dead] cow, and Gordon-- a city kid from New York-- has actually researched the matter…. …But in light of McDonald’s headache, Carter has another suggestion. “How ‘bout if we just have a truck with golden arches on the side?” he jokes, spurring laughs from everyone in the room.

…The attention to detail, again, proves remarkable, driven by Carter’s commitment to perfection.

The entire process involved in shooting an episode of "The X-Files", from the first day of preparation to the last day of postproduction, usually takes six to eight weeks, with the seven days of preparation key to ensuring that the eight days of production that follow go smoothly-- though even the enormous effort that goes into planning can never account for every detail that can delay filming and raise blood pressure rates all around. In the middle of the season, as time grows shorter, there’s occasionally been as little as five weeks from prep to air.

Just two days before shooting is to begin, Manners, Gordon, Carter, and co-executive producer R.W. Goodwin cram into a small audition room, where they’re scheduled to see more than 20 actors in just over an hour….

Manners, Gordon, and about 15 crew members, including special effects ace Dave Gauthier, production designer Graeme Murray, and others from various departments, later embark on a technical survey. They pile into an air-conditioned bus to scout out all the locations that will be involved in the upcoming shoot, usually a six-to-eight hour pilgrimage. “And this is the easy part,” laughs set decorator Shirley Inget.

Carter follows the group to the door but has too much work at the office to come along. “I’m gonna miss this one, you guys,” he tells them, which is met with a collective “Aw” from the bus.

…The bunch straggles back to the studio around 7:30 P.M., almost eight hours after their departure. On a near-by soundstage, meanwhile, Bowman is directing stars David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, trying to keep the level of enthusiasm up with another long night of work to do. Shooting is frequently a tedious process, with long lapses between the action as shots are set up. The two stars carry out an emotional scene in front of an elevator that isn’t really an elevator, with a crew member behind the soundstage wall sliding a wooden door closed to approximate the effect. “I love it!” Bowman proclaims as the scene ends, watching the shot through a monitor and lauding his star as “One-take Duchovny.”

Outside, Anderson’s baby, Piper… plays with various staff members as well as her father, assistant art director Clyde Klotz, who’s just returned from the technical survey. Piper shows off her mother’s piercing eyes and frolics later with Duchovny’s dog, Blue (his constant companion on the set), both seemingly fascinated with and a bit perplexed by the other. "The X-Files" is, indeed, a family affair, underscored when Goodwin brings his 10-year-old son and a friend into the production office the next morning, the latter collecting autographs from everyone on that week’s script.

A short time later Duchovny and Anderson arrive, enjoying a few quiet moments while Piper plays nearby in a small red tub, watched carefully by her nanny. …Though he isn’t shooting that day, actor Mitch Pileggi (who seems to create quite a stir among the female office staff) also pops by to look over dailies, or raw footage, of a fight sequence featuring him shot earlier in the week.

…Bowman has to deal with five actors (Anderson, Duchovny, and Gunmen Dean Haglund, Bruce Harwood, and Braidwood) in a relatively confined space, so the staging will be critical. After Bowman aligns them one way, Duchovny suggests an alternative in handling the shot, and various configurations are tried. As they begin rehearsing, everyone still seems a bit punchy, and the mood is light. Haglund keeps wanting to call a Nazi scientist “Kempler” instead of “Klemper”, and Duchovny has a hard time not laughing each time Braidwood (who comes up roughly to the actor’s chin) approaches him, with Frohike supposed to act relieved to see Mulder alive after the events that closed the second season. “Did you ever see the Star Trek where Spock thought that Kirk died?” Duchovny tells him with his trademark deadpan delivery. ‘That’s what you want to be doing.”

Production ultimately won’t conclude until near 2 A.M. that morning….

FINAL THOUGHTS AND ANALYSIS

A few key points stand out.

Chris Carter miraculously won the trust of Fox, and maintained that trust (and an ability to be creatively liberated, by and large) until Season 8 (upper-left corner of the screenshot here.)

Carter has a perfectionistic, remembers-every-detail brain: he was, in essence, the show bible. ...Unfortunately, his memory (like anyone's) is faulty; and that began the slow, gradual collision that marked later mytharc entries.

Chris was at his best when he was hyper-focused on and passionate for the show. As Brian Lowry notes, Although some executive producers create a series and then segue in the second or this season to new projects, Carter has stated that he made a commitment to the actors to stay with the program as long as they do…. The problem became: his aspirations towards a movie franchise turned his focus away from "The X-Files"; and that, along with compounding projects (i.e. Millennium and The Lone Gunmen), further scattered his attention. By the time Season 7 rolled around, there was no mytharc, no movie franchise, and no other successful venture that was equaling the show's former height.

CC learned that 'No' is not the concluding answer in show business. Like Lowry wrote earlier: Not surprisingly, the arduous trek... has made Carter both protective of his vision and secure in his belief that he knows what’s best for it. Asked about maintaining the quality... he says, “Part of the job-- and I’ve learned this in the process-- is never accepting ‘No’ for an answer. There will be a final ‘No’ if the answer is ‘No,’, but ‘No’ is always the first answer you get, and you’ve got to make sure that the final answer you get is ‘Yes.’ That’s really the way I proceed.” To Carter, the initial 'No' often proves to be a first, but not final, hurdle (which explains his self-righteous anger at Gillian Anderson post Revival.)

Chris Carter had an idea where the show was going-- the feeling he wanted it to evoke, the journey he wanted to take himself and others on-- but not the important markings along the way. Mulder and Scully were created to have unspoken chemistry (we'll get to that), Scully was coded to have a maternal interest (we'll get to that), and Mulder and Scully's final coming together (a kiss) was planned for the last scene of the series.

CC planned MSR from the beginning (post here) but on his OWN terms.

Chris thought that character exploration was "domestication"-- that exploring Mulder's life outside of work or Scully's friends or motherhood aspirations in any depth would distract from the show. Why?

Carter always envisioned Scully as someone who wants children (noting in the Pilot's script The hour closes with Mulder calling Scully after the evidence relating to their case has disappeared, saying he’ll see her the next day. As the description in Carter’s original script eloquently puts it, “...there’s no doubt from the unsettled tone in her voice that it is much more than work. It will become the defining event of her life. Nothing that comes now-- religion, motherhood, anything-- will not pass through the filter of this experience"; and bringing back her interest in "a normal life" and families and dogs repeatedly throughout the show, i.e. [The Jersey Devil] subplot shows Scully trying to balance having some semblance of a personal life against the dedication (bordering on obsession) that Mulder has toward his work. She meets with a married friend, Ellen, who has a child and asks her if Mulder is someone with whom Scully might get romantically involved. Though she does go on a date, Scully opts to pursue cases with Mulder instead of that path. The purpose of those scenes, Carter says, was “to show the life she’s passing on. I just wanted to open up Scully a little bit for the audience.”)

However, he envisioned that "domestication" in the same realm as her and Mulder's romance: a hypothetical, post-series conclusion-- the happy ending as both leads ride away from the files and into the sunset. "The X-Files", to him, does not coincide with "domestication"-- therefore, Mulder and Scully must be free of it in order to have their happy ending.

However, again: CC is easily distracted.

These are my four key takeaways:

Chris Carter consciously linked Mulder and Scully as a couple from the start-- giving him a transitional goal (finding his sister) and her an end goal (settling down and enjoying a "normal" life) for their journey. He tied up the possibility of a relationship and the conclusion of their hopes in the files-- which were to take precedent over the accomplishment of each character's aspirations-- and used "the work" as the vehicle (and sole focus) to "reach" those "happy endings". In effect, the show is wired around "the truth" because it is the ultimate tease: we are teased about Mulder and Scully's relationship, we are teased about Samantha's return, we are teased about Scully's hopes to be a mother, and we are teased about a resolved mytharc and final ending.

Chris Carter is easily distracted from his own vision. He'll try anything once, then backtrack to his original "vibe". He remembers how he felt, as a boy, watching "The Night Stalker", but not the details of how bad the plot sometimes was. He remembers that Mulder and Scully became partners in the rain, that Mulder lost a sister, that Scully was abducted and returned; but not that Samantha's abduction story changed, not that you can't give Scully a daughter on a show that eschews domestication, and not that Mulder and Scully can't kiss until the last episode of his show (especially when his crew tempts him to have a big, grand, once-in-a-century kiss on-screen.) He then projects that distraction onto others, and scolds those others for bringing up abandoned plot threads and character arc trails.

Chris Carter doesn't believe in anyone-- he quite literally trusts no one-- not their praise, and not their "no". So many times in Hollywood, 'No' is the default until backs are scratched and concessions made; and when Gillian Anderson said "No" after Season 10, then changed her mind and did Season 11, he saw that as just another stepping stone to a "Yes" after Season 11. She had, many times, changed her mind in the past-- signing on for Season 9 after his wheedling, for example-- and he (assumed (wrongfully) that this would be exactly like other "No"s. When GA publicly flamed his finale episode, that shocked, angered, and mortified him, because--

Chris Carter is chronically afraid of failure. As he says: “Everything else I do past this is a big question mark to me. I don’t know if it’ll be a hit or miss. It’s a business of failure mostly. While I’ve got this garden growing, I want to make sure that I tend it and that it represents my best efforts." When that garden begins to fall apart (due to neglect), he panics, and rushes back to rehydrate, prune, and fertilize it. When it wilts and dies, he blames other sources-- Fox (who gave him unlimited creative freedom, within reasonable limits), the fans (who "didn't understand" his vision), and Gillian Anderson (who publicly pronounced My Struggle IV as a failure.) Anyone who forces him to face reality-- boiled down: the reality of his failures-- causes Chris to protectively lash out, blame others, and shift goal posts to distract himself from facing that fear.

CONCLUSION

It's hard to dislike the guy when you read about his sacrifices, easy nature, and complete dedication. But that history and those qualities and my charitability are, unfortunately, then consumed by Chris's most recent escapades-- a shame, that his past isn't his lasting legacy.

Still, one question remains: at what point, exactly, did CC lose interest in The X-Files?

Final note: this took an absurdly long time to type (and there are more parts still coming), so future installments won't be as... extensive. But it was important to lay the foundation, here; and so, it's been done.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #xf meta #x files #CC #The Official Guidebook to The X-Files #Brian Lowry #DD #GA #Rob Bowman #Kim Manners #Fox executives #etc. etc.#xfiles #x-files #the x files #interview #very informative #catchin up on old news

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br0nzefox · 1 day ago

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I wanna talk about the scene with Hannibal and Bedelia after Hannibal’s sees Will say he forgives him. Cause I have a lot of thoughts and most of them are *incoherent screeching*

So a while back I made a post talking about the scene where Will said it wasn’t “good” to see Hannibal. And how I think he said it because good is a word that just doesn’t do the emotions he felt justice. Because their relationship is far more complicated than good and bad.

And I just realised it parallels this scene:

“It was nice among other things”

They both understand that what they feel is much more complicated and conflicting than good or nice.

But the difference is Will is still wearing his person suit. He is still repressing what he is and along with/because of that he is denying his feelings for Hannibal. So he completely denies the word good. Because he doesn’t allow himself to associate anything positive with Hannibal. He knows good isn’t the right word so he doesn’t want to give it any space at all instead of acknowledging that good is just a part of what he’s feeling.

But Hannibal fully accepts every part of himself, including his love for Will. So even though he also understands the complexity of their relationship and he understands that nice just doesn’t cut it he doesn’t outright refuse the word. Because nice is still part of the bigger picture, nice is a part of the beautiful and complex emotions Hannibal felt when he saw Will. Hannibal is okay with letting himself associate positive feelings with Will, he is okay with letting positive feelings coexist with the negative.

I also think that this is also the scene where Hannibal finally understand that they are well and truly doomed to each other.

Hannibal understood that even after a separation Will still understood him enough to know where to look. And Hannibal understood that he wanted Will to look and find him.

And it’s also the point that I think he understands that he can never forgive Will and Will can never forgive him. Not really. They have inflicted too much pain upon each other.

Hannibal realises that forgiveness, both his forgiveness of Will and Will forgiving him, doesn’t matter to him. Forgiveness is meaningless to him. What he and Will did to each other is unforgivable but what they feel for each other is beyond forgiveness, is above whatever they have done to each other. But Hannibal doesn’t know how to process that. He doesn’t know how to process his unconditional love, his willingness to close his eyes to their past, to overlook everything they both did and so he tries to take back that control in the only way he knows how. He reverts back to what usually makes him feel powerful, to what makes him feel in control - cannibalism. That’s why he decides to eat Will.

#overanalyzing #im not crying you are #they are doomed #to each other #your honor they are in love #I love them so much #your honor i love them so much #hannigram #hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #nbc hannibal #i am not okay #like seriously

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tragedy-of-commons · 3 days ago

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an apology for the last one. and also one from the correct fandom this time: robin + PURPLE LILAC + catharsis + redamancy, please? thank you :D

PURPLE LILAC: they’re falling first, and falling hard.

catharsis — emotional release.

redamancy — the act of loving in return.

childhood friends, pre-canon (both reader and robin are kids here), fluff and pining, mentioned sunday ^^

“Miss Robin, I just wish I had your hair!”

Your gushing is accompanied by skillful, dexterous movements of your fingers. The gentle appendages glide through her tresses, looping and arranging each strand to your liking. It’s a familiar scene, the one she shares with you now; baubles lined against the vanity’s edge, a collection of perfume bottles, barrettes, and other wondrous beauty paraphernalia present.

You go about weaving a crown plait, the very same hairstyle you’d pointed out earlier in Penacony’s Lovely Lady magazine with a stubby finger, proclaiming that she simply must allow you to style hers in the same manner. Robin had immediately agreed, trying in vain to shield the flush of her cheeks with her headwings.

For the little time you’ve known one another, you sure do know how to endear yourself - with excited smiles and promises of boundless friendship.

“It’s not that special,” she dismisses easily, staring at her reflection. The lightbulbs affixed to the frame of the mirror really make her feel like the rising star she dreams of becoming, even if she’s just in her bedroom with you. “And you don’t have to call me ‘Miss Robin’ if you don’t want to. There’s no need for formalities, promise.”

You sigh, shrugging. “Oops, sorry. I guess I’m just not used to being so informal. I think my mom would kill me if she heard that I didn’t address you properly! The Oak Family was kind enough to give her a job, so it just feels like the right thing to call you.”

Robin wishes that you didn’t feel like that - like there’s a whole world separating you from her. She’s never known a bond this close save for her brother, whom she is grateful for, by the way - but the dynamic she has with you is different. The Halovian siblings have always been sheltered and warned of external influences, but the day you bounded in by your mother’s side, introduced as part of the staff, you were (hesitantly) deemed fit for Robin to associate with.

The signature mellow jukebox churning out a tune brings her back to the conversation at hand. “I understand, but I hope you know you’re not obligated—”

“There you go again, talking like a grown-up,” you laugh.

“Sorry! I don’t mean to.”

“No, no. I like the way you talk; it’s pretty like the rest of you! And besides, you’re gonna need to sound all mature when you give interviews all over the cosmos.”

It’s pretty like the rest of her.

Robin focuses on you, now. You’re still hard at work, making sure her hair is evenly distributed to make the perfect wreath. It accentuates her halo which floats inches above her head, making your aesthetic choice all the more thoughtful. Your eyes, slightly narrowed in concentration, don’t notice the unadulterated look of admiration she’s sending you.

“Interviews…” she swallows. “You really think I’ll get that far? I haven’t even sung in front of anyone besides you and Sunday.”

Taking a moment to close her eyes, images of you and her brother pop up in her mind; the pair of you sitting cross-legged on the floor while she tremulously stutters along to handwritten lyrics. Sunday shooting to his feet first after she’d hummed the final note, you following suit to join him in a standing ovation.

Robin likes to think she’s improved a little bit since then, and she knows that even with the Harmony’s blessing, her voice wasn’t exactly… proficient, all those months back. But she felt on top of the world, like the luckiest girl in the universe - because you were there.

Her brother may fight you for the position of her #1 fan, but you, the one who’d gone out of their way to befriend her despite the obstacles?

Yeah, she’ll always see you as the cool one.

“Of course you will!” you scoff, like her potential success is some undisputed fact of nature. “And if you ever get nervous, talking to reporters or paparazzi or whoever,” The updo seems to be to your satisfaction, so you grin and reach for a bottle of hairspray, “I’ll be there to help! I can be your cheerleader.”

Her heart lurches. Sure, she’s imagined you in her daydreams. Sometimes you’re a backup singer, sometimes you’re on the keys, and other times, you’re in the first row of the audience, with that same lovely smile on your face. To hear that you want the same thing, even in jest, is enough to hammer hope into the future beyond - the one she’s previously sidelined for Family obligations.

Robin’s eyes fly back open, startled out of her stupor as you assault the finished crown plait with the setting agent. She coughs in surprise after inhaling the cloying smell, causing you to laugh.

“What, don’t want me there?” you tease, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I get it—”

She interrupts, determined and teary-eyed, “No! I’d love that. You… that’d be really cool. We’d travel together and lift people’s spirits, bringing so much joy to those that need it.”

You want to be there, in this hypothetical future. With her.

“Okay. Let’s call it a promise,” you recover from your chuckling and then gesture to her hair with a gentle flourish. “Whaddya think? You look amazing!”

A promise she’ll do anything to keep, she decides.

You hold up a gilded hand mirror so she can get a good look at the back, but she’s still entirely focused on the miracle that is you. The Halovian tilts her head this way and that way to cover this up, but it’s fruitless. She cannot help but be taken with her best friend and the inspiration of her latest piece (work in progress).

“I love it. Truly.”

event post here. network members only!

#hvntersloveletters #—stellaronhvnters.#my writing #robin x reader #hsr x reader #robin hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr robin x reader #robin x y/n #robin x you #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #robin x gn!reader

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tousey-mousey · 2 days ago

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This is part of the danger of self-diagnosing shit like EDS. It's actually not a particularly serious disorder in most cases - the large majority of diagnoses are of hEDS, which is by far the least medically serious subtype and is actually so different to all other subtypes that a lot of rheumatologists want it split off into its own diagnosis since it has such a different prognosis and management. But people who diagnose themselves with it have this tendency to, like? Attribute all their problems to it? And then not understand them at all?

Things I have heard patients attribute to "my EDS":

The fact that they have difficulty concentrating (EDS doesn't do that??? what are you talking about???)

Their eczema getting worse when it is cold (eczema always does that)

"Dislocating my skull bones" (this is physically not possible for EDS or hEDS to affect because it does not involve those proteins at all and is a completely separate process and also that person was just fucking delusional and their skull was fine)

Their partner leaving them (allegedly because "he couldn't support my chronic pain", I flat-out do not believe this and this patient had a number of other issues that feel more relevant that I will not disclose)

Their peanut allergy (that's... please don't make me explain this one?)

I want to be clear: I do not want anyone replying saying "oh but actually EDS does cause that!!" because no, it doesn't. A correlation is not the same as a causation.

Is EDS associated with diagnoses of mild food allergies? Yes. Does that mean it causes them? NO.

People who ask the question "is this thing about my body normal?", go and get a diagnosis, and find out it is considered diagnosable are people who have an increased likelihood of seeking diagnoses. As a result, if they then also find out they have a reaction to certain foods, they get THAT diagnosed too. I cannot tell you how many people walk around with a food allergy they just never realised they have. The whole "strawberries are too spicy for me / what do you mean spicy??" is a meme specifically BECAUSE most people DO NOT automatically medicalise things. If you seek out a diagnosis of EDS, you are more likely to seek out a diagnosis of allergies.

Correlation! Is Not! Causation!

me talking about spinal disabilities with people who say shit like “at least you don’t sublex your vertebrae like me!! I dislocate my vertebrae every day!!!” :

#like #i have cEDS #it is a piece of shit to deal with at times #but you live and move on with it #you do not attribute all your problems to it all the time #you do not sit there finding new ways to apply your issues to this One Single Label #does NOBODY ELSE feel that its fucking weird that a COLLAGEN disorder could affect STUFF OTHER THAN COLLAGEN??#like i get it to a point but *guys come on*

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redcamellia13 · 2 days ago

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Mitsukou Analysis: Red House Arc

Okay. God, I was not excited for this arc…

*motivational (platonic) KouNene*

Honestly, when I first read this scene I was quite surprised.

Isn’t it sort of odd Kou isn’t super affected by Mitsuba or even Hanako’s disappearance?

Yashiro became a veritable shell of herself, and Akane fell into depression, so to have Kou as his usual smiling self was quite shocking to see.

Woah, woah, can… can we back up a bit Kou? That’s twice now you’ve shown signs of contemplation of killing yourself for your ghost boy friend. (In my opinion, it should be ghost boyfriend, but ya know.)

Wow, so he’s actually considering this. I assumed Kou knew he probably couldn’t die back in the picture perfect world, since it’s supposed to be picture perfect, but he’s genuinely thinking about it.

So. At this point in time, Kou doesn’t know “whether the old Mitsuba is really gone.”

Well, Kou, for better or for worse that’s about to change. Which brings us to the next point of interest:

Right here. Kou has realized, for the first time in (Hanako or Tsukasa’s, I can’t remember) words, “the Mitsuba Sousuke that lived and died in this world is not here anymore.”

I think some subconscious part of Kou’s brain really believed Sousuke was still out there somewhere, and because he only met him very briefly as a human, and still quite shortly as a ghost, he never really processed the fact Sousuke had family that cared about him.

This is divulging into more theory territory than analysis, but why did Sousuke have a picture of the Red House?

His connections with it are nonexistent, and even No. 3 doesn’t know it exists, and is only associated with it because of his relationship with Amane Yugi/Hanako.

This is mostly just context for what’s about to happen next. Aidairo has made it crystal clear the house appeals to your desires.

Ah yes, so of course Mitsuba shows up immediately afterwards, almost as if Aidairo are implying when you say “think of your greatest desires,” Kou’s brain immediately thinks of Mitsuba.

Another interesting thing about these panels, and also the main reason I added it is that this is the first time we’ve seen Kou’s desire to be needed, and be needed specifically by Mitsuba.

“I can’t go on without you Minamoto-Kun. You’re all I have.”

This is saying Kou wants Mitsuba to rely on him and only him, a fact that was already well-established, but confirmation is always nice.

Perhaps this is pulling from Kou’s desires of Hanako being “a run of the mill evil spirit” so he would be easy to exorcise.

However, I believe this is more pulling from Kou’s… suicidal tendencies, and wanting to be with Mitsuba on the other shore.

It might actually be a combo of both.

Actually, this got me thinking for a while. Do Kou and Mitsuba trust each other? Kou certainly doesn’t think so, but do we have examples of them showing mutual trust?

Welp, guys, thats another ding on the “are they a healthy relationship” perspective.

“You know you wanted me to say that.”

My sleep deprived brain cannot even begin to pick out why the hell Mitsuba would say that, but let’s try.

I have a vague feeling it’s because Kou wants Mitsuba to know that he wishes for Mitsuba to know he needs him to need Kou… but why?

Like I said, I am on not a lot of sleep and a lot of caffeine, so I can’t really say. I might come back later with new ideas, but for now this is what you get. (Sorry!)

Kou wants closure from Mitsuba’s death, which is understandable. However, Kou, you might wanna organize your priorities, because a solution for Yashiro’s lifespan isn’t even present, while Mitsuba comes up twice?

*ahem ahem*

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Wow. Real smooth Aidairo. Stopping Kou right before we get an answer as to why Mitsuba (both!) is there, while not being an actual desire.

Yes, I updated my oneshot book- all entries below <3

#jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #mitsukou #tbhk #tbhk manga #kou minamoto #jibaku shounen hanako kun #but why though #mitsuba sousuke #jibaku shonen hanako kun #jshk manga #kou minamoto x mitsuba sousuke

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mikaazune · 18 hours ago

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Hey guys, Ferris here. First things first, I'm back. My break wasn't as long as I thought it would be, but I think I'm doing a lot better. I think it did me some good to unplug for even just a little bit — not just from Tumblr, I pretty much went on a social media detox. Plus, I missed you guys.

There are a few things I'm going to be doing following me coming back. First is a new blog theme, which I think I'll keep for a while (I'll probably revamp the magician one on a later date). Love Hacker, he's a real one.

Second, as you probably noticed, I have new user too. I hope that doesn't confuse too many people. One change I'd like to make regarding that is the name that yall call me. I like Ferris, but I think I still subconsciously associate it with my old blog and then I begin comparing back then to now — something I'd rather not do mostly because of some of the issues I mentioned in my previous post. So I'll be going solely by Mika now, though I'll let yall known if anything changes in that regard.

Third, I mentioned this in my earlier post, but I'm taking a break from writing. For one, I'm not fond of my current writing style and I want to improve it. We'll see how that goes, I just want to experiment a little. I also want to reevaluate the fandoms and the characters I write for, and I'll probably spend some time rewatching/replaying so I can gain a better understanding of each character. But as I said, since I'm pausing writing, that second part will be a bit of a future me "problem" to deal with. My posted fics will still remain, don't worry.

Fourth, in terms of Faridian, that's still on pause as well. I'm slowly losing motivation due to lack of interest in the plot — I know, I wrote the thing, my bad there. I just didn't plan things out properly because I was excited to get it started, which was my mistake since I rushed it. I actually did like the later part of the plot, but it's the beginning and middle that are getting me. But on that note, do the participants like how it's going, or do you guys agree that I should change some stuff up? I acknowledge that everyone's in the beginning stage, though, so you guys don't really have the full perspective I do. Side note: just out of curiosity, would people be interested in me revamping Spirelands? Not any time soon so I can actually do the plot and not be a dumby, just gauging interest.

Anyways, with all that being said, I'm back. If I come up with anything else that needs saying, I'll mention it. If there are any questions, feel free to ask them. Thanks for the well wishes by the way; don't worry, I'll take better care of myself from now on.

@xryptik @lyle-my-beloved @xen-blank @edith-is-a-cat @tenjikyu @unprofessionalsimp @nervocat @nightmare-in-the-woods @floydsteeth @officialdaydreamer00 @cookiesandbiscuits @rainynightmoonlight @koihanwrites @casp1an-sea @vivisboutique @tako-cafe @creatorbiaze @l7k-a

#⌕ announcements

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ohmybueckers · 1 day ago

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Never Strangers: Chapter Three

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: binge drinking, I think that’s it???

Authors Note: heyyyyy guys. Sorry this chapter took a hot second to come out and sorry it’s a lot more filler than other chapters - a LOT more was supposed to happen in this one, but I realized I could cut them into two and get this one posted faster. Which means 1. chapter four will come out a lot quicker than this one did and 2. it will be a lot more exciting than this one (based on the ending you can see why). anyways xoxo enjoy!

“No fucking way!”

Brooke braced herself on our kitchen counter, examined my phone like she had never seen one before. I was very aware of the fact my behead was still intact and I hadn’t even washed my face this morning, but I knew Brooke would classify this as an emergency that needed attending to ASAP.

“There’s no way,” I groan, wondering how my mission of avoiding Paige and all feelings associated with her at all cost had blown up in my face less than twenty four hours after getting here. “How does she even know?”

Brooke looked equally puzzled, her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing before her posture straightened comically fast like a puppet. She shouted, “Adria!”

I was still confused, now even more so. “What?”

“Her story from last night must have gotten to KK, which somehow made it to Paige.”

In recent years I have become what my friends have lovingly referred to as “chronically offline” - it had to have at least been 2 days since I had opened Instagram, and I certainly didn’t follow the younger girl last night. Safe to say I had zero clue what she was referring to. “What story?”

Brooke grabbed her phone from the kitchen countertop, typing quickly before shoving her phone back in my face. Sure enough, Brooke and I were the stars of the story, both holding our glasses and wearing big smiles (certainly a symptom of the cheap wine). How Adria managed to find my account to tag me, I was not sure. All I knew is that Paige most likely saw it, and that a shameful part of me was at least a little happy that I looked good in the photo.

There was certainly no erasing Paige’s memory, so this text was mine to tackle. “Alright, how do I even respond to this?”

From the way Brooke looked at me, you would think I just suggested transferring again. “Respond? You’re kidding, right?”

I shrug, not exactly enthused by the idea of interacting with Paige on my first full day, but not enjoying the alternative either. “I mean, she knows now. It’s kinda rude to not say anything, isn’t it?”

“What’s rude is talking to a girl as if she’s your girlfriend, treating her like your girlfriend, and then disappearing out of nowhere and lying to her about it. You know exactly why she’s trying to hit you up again,” Brooke grabs my shoulder with care, a gesture I leaned into, “If she thinks you’re easy enough to let her in again, you gotta show her she’s dead wrong.”

My mind felt like it was destroying itself trying to figure out the truth. Part of me wanted to listen to Brooke, who had never once led me astray in her advice and had enough experience with fuck boys to know how they tick - even if the fuckboy in question was actually a girl. Everything she was saying matched the image I had built up about Paige in my head for years.

Once my heartbreak molded into anger, it became a hell of a lot easier to get over Paige, at least enough to date other people at Minnesota. Anger became comfortable for me - except the occasional nights I spent alone in my dorm, looking back at old photos I couldn’t bring myself to delete permanently from my ICloud. Nights where I wondered if I actually had it all wrong, and if somehow I let myself get too comfortable hating Paige to consider any alternative to what was my truth. Was it pathetic to hold on to a grudge from over three years ago? I really didn’t know sometimes.

I shut my phone off, reassuring Brooke that I was not going to fall back into Paige, which she seemed to accept fairly easily. Brooke ultimately just wants what’s best for me, and the last thing I wanted was for her to spend her last year at UConn worried about me. She had the LSAT to focus on, not my situation with my ex.

Which is why I conveniently forgot to inform her when I decided to respond to Paige that night, waiting until the sun had set and nearly twenty four hours had passed before sending a simple “yes”, throwing my phone on my bed and taking a long shower before I could decide I made a grave mistake.

———-

The first day of classes came quick, which I was thankful for - there’s only so much time a girl can spend in her poorly air conditioned apartment, and it’s not like Storrs had that much going on when school was not in session. What I was not thankful for was my packed Monday schedule, starting with an 8am economics lecture that I wouldn’t have taken if it wasn’t the last one available to satisfy a requirement, and ending with general chemistry (again, would not take if I didn’t need to squeeze a science credit in).

If my 3 alarms weren’t enough to wake me up, I could rely on the sun blazing through my apartment at 5:30AM. After making a mental note to finally order some curtains, my full morning routine commenced, the one I saved for special occasions (or for when I simply could not fall back asleep): 20 minutes of pilates, followed by a citrus scented shower, a full makeup routine, and styling my nearly black hair in loose curls.

By 7:30 I was ready to begin my walk to the business school, smoothing out my floral sundress and hoping it would instill some confidence in me. I would probably lean back into wearing jeans within the next week, but I still had some belief in my mom’s insistence that dressing well on any first day or impression mattered. I guess it did make me feel pretty, in a “belongs more on a Hollister catalogue than a college campus” kinda way. The dress did not fix the way my my first day nerves seemed to wreak havoc on my body, causing me to barely shove a protein bar down my throat before my body decided that was all the breakfast it could handle.

If I were still in Minnesota, my walk to classes would have been a whole lot louder. It was not often I had a commute where I didn’t curse the incompetence of Minnesota drivers. This was not the case in Storrs, partially because there were no drivers. Aside from the shuttle that passed me as I turned onto Alumni Drive, the only sound to accompany me was Beyoncé serenading me through my headphones. While Minnesota was simply a college with a large city unrelated to it, it was evident that Storrs would be almost nonexistent without UConn - if Minnesota was a city school, this felt almost like summer camp in comparison.

I didn’t know exactly what to make of it yet, but I promised myself I would keep an open mind. I had to. There was no turning back now.

———-

The day ended up being just as exhausting as I anticipated, potentially even more so. I’m used to liking first days. The idea of a new start each semester usually feels exciting, but this time I may have bit off more than I can chew. Syllabus week at Minnesota was a breeze, my calendar filled with classes where we just went over standard course expectations followed by frat parties I pretended to have interest in. The second my economics professor began lecturing after covering the syllabus for a measly 10 minutes, I knew he did not roll that way.

I genuinely have no idea how I made it through my high school schedule every day: multiple AP classes, followed by an afternoon job tutoring middle schoolers, with mock trial practice shortly after. It’s a miracle I found time to actually have a social life. Clearly my stamina had depleted severely, as by the time I stepped into my history discussion (seriously, who holds discussion when there isn’t anything to discuss yet), I had already made an emergency stop for coffee and was contemplating whether it was possible to take a nap in my thirty minute passing period before my chemistry lecture.

I made quick stop in the bathroom to fix my mascara and ensure the concealer under my eyes wasn’t crumbling (it was). Leave it to a hot September day and a bathroom with yellow tinted lighting to deplete my confidence: my once voluminous curls fell flat to my face, frizz accumulating at the roots. My concealer which had been matched to fit my warm skin tone now made me appear sallow, and my eyes were not fooling anyone - I was truly, undoubtedly tired. Not much I could do at this point other than use a generous amount of travel size dry shampoo, wipe the remnants of my mascara from under my eyes, and hope that the lighting in my discussion wasn’t as harsh.

I stepped into the classroom and was quickly overwhelmed by the size of it - not because it was too big, but because it was intimately tiny. I had been comfortable in my two previous classes, the large lecture halls allowing me to fade a little into anonymity - just another body struggling to stay awake as my professor explains the importance of studying economic law in the most monotonous tone possible. Looking at the long fake wood table and the twelve chairs, four of which were filled, I realized my streak of avoiding introductions had ended.

After a quick scan, I chose to set my stuff down next to the person who scared me the least: a tall girl with pin straight long black hair, dressed in black baggy cargo pants and an oversized SZA shirt, complete with silver rings on her fingers which were currently in use scrolling her laptop. I offered a customary closed mouth smile as I sat down and set my book bag down on the table.

There was a short pause where the only sound to hit my ears was the hum of the far too harsh overhead lighting as I took out my laptop, before I heard a deep voice ask, “long day, huh?”

As I turned to face the girl and processed her statement, it was evident that my attempt at looking put together was no longer working, especially now that the humidity had done a number on my hair. To be fair, I did feel like I was about to crash. “Tell me about it,” I replied, face flushed. I began to wonder if I should have sat next to the frat boy who was scrolling on UConn’s barstool account instead.

Maybe she took pity on how embarrassed I looked, because the smirk was erased from her tanned face and was replaced by a look of sympathy. “Hey, I don’t blame you. My 8AM econ lecture was brutal.”

The gears turned in my brain before I realized just what she had said. “Wait, which econ class?” After the taller girl recited a number from the schedule on her lock screen, I grinned. “We’re in the same lecture!”

“I cannot believe he would teach that much content on the first day.” She rolled her brown eyes, “Ok, let me guess. History and economics classes, leather planner… you’re pre-law, aren’t you?”

I mean, she technically wasn’t completely wrong. “Yes?”

“Then why haven’t I seen you try out for mock trial?” She asked, a perfectly shaped brow raised high and the Colgate smile smirk returning to her face. Her voice was low and teasing - definitely the flirty personality type. I could recognize it all too well.

Not wanting to explain my long and complicated history with the organization, I settled for the easy answer. “I just transferred here.”

“Well, we’ll be at the org fair if you want to sign up for a tryout spot,” She smiled, “Just tell them that Alex sent you.”

“Going to take a wild guess here and assume you’re Alex,” I quipped, though I will admit the effort did bring a small smile to my face. “I’m Maya.”

“See! I can already tell you’re clever enough for us,” Alex joked, a ring clad hand bracing her head on the table as she stared at me. I noticed the way she scanned me, her eyes falling down to the v neck of my dress before tracing back up to my smile. I suddenly felt the need to smooth out the bottom of my dress against my legs, my hands feeling very sweaty.

Before I could respond, the TA announced the start of the period, and both of our heads turned to the front. The rest of discussion was spent typing notes on when my paper was due and what constitutes academic dishonesty, all while trying to ignore the way the girl next to me kept shooting looks my way.

————

The one benefit of my packed Monday/Wednesday schedule was that my weekend was essentially four days long. I had two classes on Thursday, both criminally early, but it meant that I was done by noon and ready to enjoy a few days with nothing on my agenda… at least once I finished all of my assignments my professors had mercilessly assigned on the first week.

A groan left my lips for what had to have been the third time in ten minutes as my eyes squinted to make out my general chemistry textbook. I had read the same paragraph around 5 times now, and each time I seemed to understand it less. Even though Adria invited me to study with her on the patio of her favorite coffee shop, I was sure she was about to tell me to leave. “I don’t know how I did AP Chem in high school, this is like a whole other language to me now.”

Adria laughed, looking up from her organic chemistry book (the contents of which I’m pretty sure would give me an aneurysm). “Not a STEM girl?”

“Definitely not a STEM girl,” I shook my head, unsure why the version of me who picked her schedule over the summer decided taking a notorious weed out course was a great idea. Taking a quick sip of my matcha, I added, “But I don’t know if I’m necessarily a law girl either. Been a real pain trying to figure it all out.”

“You will, I promise. Besides, I can always tutor you,” Adria reassured me softly, a gesture that would be a lot sweeter if there wasn’t a tiny voice in the back of my head nagging me for needing a pep talk from someone so much younger than me. If Adria can have everything figured out, why can’t I? “Enjoying UConn so far though?”

“Yeah, it’s been okay! I’ve met some nice people in my classes,” I think about how Alex quickly spotted me yesterday morning in lecture and gestured to have me sit with her and her mock trial friends. Turns out sitting through an 8AM lecture on law and economics was a lot easier when you had a friend next to you. “I think Brooke wants to go to bars this weekend though, and I just know the lines are going to be awful.”

Adria lit up at this. “There’s a party being thrown by members of the mens basketball team tomorrow - someone basically rented out Huskies. I got access to one over the summer and it was a ton of fun - you should come!”

My mouth opened, trying to form a response. On one hand, it’s not like I had any concrete plans yet, and staying in on the first weekend after classes just felt wrong. But the words basketball rung in my ears like an unwelcome echo. Brooke’s warning that Paige was everywhere on campus rung true already, already overhearing her name in conversations more times than I could count. Seeing her and possibly talking to her? That was a whole other ball game, one that I weren’t sure I was ready to play. It wasn’t even necessarily that I wasn’t over her yet, but rather that we hadn’t spoken beyond a couple of short text exchanges in years (the most recent of which Paige hadn’t even responded to). Running into her was bound to be awkward, and I was determined to avoid the discomfort.

“Oh Adria, I don’t know…”

Adria cut me off, her voice insistent and almost desperate. “Please come. Brooke usually ends up leaving with some guy and I don’t want to be alone. All of my other friends can’t come, they have to be dry for sorority rush.”

I scoffed, though there’s no bite as I joke, “So you’re saying I’m your last option?”

“I’m saying I saved the best for last,” Adria gave a sheepish shrug. “If it helps change your mind at all, the women’s team won’t be there. KK said they were all going to Ted’s.”

I knew that there was no point of basing my choices at UConn based on whether or not I could run into Paige, but I would be lying if I said the reassurance wasn’t helpful. “I guess I could be convinced.”

Adria clapped, her smile big enough that agreeing already felt like the correct decision. “You won’t regret it, I promise. Pregame at yours?”

————

If there’s one thing I learned after two years going to college in the midwest, it’s how to throw a damn good pregame.

I felt the bass of my music from my JBL speaker course through my body as I set a shot glass back down on the faux granite countertop, wincing as the cheap tequila flowed down my throat. Brooke, Adria, and Brooke’s friend Marley stared at me, a mix of both amazement and slight concern on their face. On nights out, I have been known to pregame heavy, especially nights where I don’t know most people there. For one, it means I spend less money, plus it gives me some much needed extroversion to make it through the night.

“Damn girl, I did not know you could drink like that,” Brooke whistled, sipping on her High Noon tenderly. Her and Marley had other plans for the night, some frat event. Brooke claimed the only reason she would be caught dead at a frat as a senior is because Marley’s boyfriend was the president and so they got special treatment, but I had my suspicions she might have a frat crush of her own.

I felt the buzz as the four of us left our apartment, Adria and I running to catch our bus in order to avoid the thirty minute walk. In my alcohol induced giddiness, I noted how the sky faded from a bright blue into a mosaic of purples, pinks and yellows as the sun set over the lush trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adria’s phone face me as I gripped the pole, looking out the window of our bus with the amazement of a kid in a candy store. I had spent the past week unsure of what to make of Storrs, but it felt almost romanticized in this moment.

Unfortunately, the picturesque moment did not carry into Huskies, an establishment that was far more of a restaurant than a true bar. A tennis game played over the TV, paired with the speakers blasting Drake as we were surrounded by a sea of girls with bleach and tones and Princess Polly crop tops. The basketball players seemed almost allergic to mingling with their invitees: aside from one or two attempting to chat up one of the girls, they all stood at their own table sipping beers and looking like they would rather be anywhere else.

Adria ordered us drinks as I snagged us a table. Soon enough we stood side by side, sipping on Captain Morgan and Coke and a tequila sunrise respectively, unsure of what to make of what we were seeing. “It was a lot more exciting over the summer, I swear,” Adria looked apologetic, “Maybe it’s just one of those things where we have to get drunker?”

I was making a mental note to take two Tylenol before bed for the sake of my tomorrow morning self when a man’s voice emerged from the crowd.

“Adria, you made it!” A pale man with floppy brown hair and impossibly long legs emerged, grin on his face as he wrapped Adria in a side hug. She returned the hug and the smile while brushing a braid away from her face, though hers seemed more forced. She finally pulled away when he began rubbing her arm, her face lighting up upon making eye contact with me.

“This is my friend Maya, she just transferred here.”

He grinned, reaching a hand out to shake hers with a firm grip. “Hey, I’m Noah. You made a good choice!”

“He plays for the team, I think he might be a bit biased,” Adria remarks, earning her a shocked look from her friend who quickly turned his attention away from me and onto her.

“Me and some of the guys were going to play some darts, you wanna be my partner? I’m sure we can find a partner for Maya as well,” Noah gestures to me without turning his head, as though I am an afterthought. While it’s not like I’m dying to play drinking games with a group of NBA hopefuls, it wouldn’t hurt to at least act like I’m there.

Adria clearly did not want to play as well, as she stuttered out some half-assed excuse. “I think we’ll stay here! Don’t want to risk, um, losing this table.”

Losing this table? Looks like I also needed to make a note to teach Adria how to lie. It was beyond obvious that Noah wasn’t buying it, but I guess he was choosing not to be confrontational. With a cough, he replied. “Right, um, well I’ll catch up with you later tonight then!”

The second he was well out of earshot (not that far, considering the volume they were playing Passionfruit at), my interrogation began. “Who was that?”

Adria looked down at her drink, looking uncharacteristically unconfident. “That was my in to this bar. We met over the summer.”

I nodded, watching as Noah stopped to chat with a mix of guys and girls under the flashing blue and pink lights. “Well I’m pretty sure he wants to get with you.”

“Oh trust me, he’s tried.” Adria deadpanned, evoking a laugh from my glossed lips. “He’s still a good guy, and I like being his friend. But I’m not into him like that.”

“Is it KK?”

Adria bit her bottom lip, and for a moment I feared I had gone too far, like we weren’t quite at the point in our friendship where that wouldn’t be a sensitive subject. I was ready to retract my question when she spoke softly. “We’re not exclusive… at least I don’t think so. I haven’t been with anyone else, but who knows if she has.”

Man, Adria really liked this girl. Some part of me was thankful to give some advice to her for once, although it’s not like my history gives me the authority to give relationship advice. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I’m way too scared to hear the answer.”

I felt a pang in my chest, relating to that feeling all too well. I’ve always had a tendency to protect my peace too hard, avoid asking questions to escape conflict - through the years, I’ve discovered it almost never ends well. “But do you think you might be hurting yourself more by not knowing?”

Adria took a pause, staring off as Noah and his friends began frat flicking to some song that did not warrant that at all. “I am not drunk enough to think about that right now.”

We both laughed, silently agreeing to down the remainder of our drinks at the same time. The ice had melted well with the remainder of my sunrise, dulling the burn of the tequila. This was probably a good thing - I’m pretty sure my tolerance was lowered over the summer, because I felt my body get warmer than anticipated despite the air conditioning working overtime. Adria set her drink down on the table, turning to me once more. From the glint in her eye, I knew she was about to return my line of questioning. “What about you? Are you looking to get set up, because I’m sure that’s the reason those guys invited all of us here in the first place.”

“First of all, I’m gay,” I began, examining the crowd in front of me. “I’ve been here like a week, haven’t really had the time to think about hooking up with anyone.”

“Well, what’s your type?”

I thought for a moment about my (limited) history. “Tall, athletic, nice eyes…”

“Paige.”

I rolled my eyes, though I would be lying if I said the blonde was not included in my thought process. “I mean it, I’m done with her.”

“No, no. Paige. Right over there.”

It felt like my heart plummeted to my ass, the effects of the alcohol consumed unable to keep me cold as a chill rushed through me. Before my brain could tell me not to look, my head snapped to the front. Two girls now stood at the front of the bar, talking to the male players. One girls laugh cut through the crowd, and I saw a small smile erupt in Adria. That must be KK. The girl next to her, hands shoved in the pockets of her cargo pants, didn’t even need to say or do anything. I could tell Paige Bueckers from any crowd.

---

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