#i really really really need to put my thoughts on text

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[obxsummer]

i still need you // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: late night conversations turn ugly, jj sets off on an adventure with his dad, and an SOS text leads to a life stopping moment for john b.

warnings: nothing you haven’t seen in obx before

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

--

JJ Maybank loved you. 

If everything else in the world was suddenly a lie, that statement would remain true. JJ Maybank loved you so much, he swore it was the only thing he was good at. 

He never realized how valuable it was to have someone so in tune with his every motion, his every thought and reaction. You were always there no matter what was going on, and you always knew how to handle it.

He was trying. He was trying really hard to give you that same effort, that same love and attention you gave him every time, but he had to admit that he was struggling. What was supposed to be a simple trip to the bathroom was slowly turning into the worst conversation of his life, and as he watched your walls crash in front of him, he didn’t know what to do.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question had you flying out of the hammock and back into the bedroom before you could even get a word out. JJ was standing in the bathroom doorway, Sarah’s capped pregnancy test in his hand. Your heart fell to your ass and you just stared at him.

“Babe?”

You shook your head, tears forming faster than you wished when you realized you’d been so unfair to him. “JJ, I gotta talk to you.”

“Are you pregnant?” He repeated the question much quieter, his tone still soft and careful as he approached. 

You shook your head again. “No. It’s not mine.”

JJ nodded, his gaze dropping to the two lines on the test as he stared at it. “Then…?”

“Sarah’s.”

There was a sense of relief that overtook him, but part of him was also sad. Starting a family with you is something JJ had been hesitant about, especially with his own paternal history. He didn’t know if he could fix the curse of his dad’s behavior. Both of his so called fathers' behavior, actually. 

“Would… Would you-”

“I can’t have kids.”

JJ blinked and looked up at you. “Huh?”

You crossed your arms over your chest protectively. “Because of everything… with- with Rafe. They said there’s…it’s not impossible but it’s extremely high risk and unlikely.” 

When he was silent, you knew this was a dealbreaker. You should’ve told him, given him a chance to run before he put a ring on your finger and gave all this effort to you.

“I know I should’ve told you, so if…if you want this back, it’s okay. I don’t blame you if you wanna act like this never happened, but I’m sorry and-”

“Shut up.” The command sent you silent as you stopped pulling the ring from your finger, eyes going wide in shock. JJ shook his head in disbelief and you were somehow so terrified of what he was going to say. This could very well be the end of everything you’d been through all because you couldn’t be honest with him. 

“You… you think I would leave you? Over this?” JJ’s emotions were getting the best of him now and he couldn’t pull his gaze from your teary one. “I have your initials inked into my skin. Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrugged. “I’m not… I’m just giving you an out. Incase you want it.”

“Why would I ever want that?” He was much louder now and you almost took a step back before reminding yourself that this was JJ, your JJ. “Why would I ever leave you over something you can’t control? Sweetheart, I love you more than anything. If you wanted kids, fine, we would have them. But if you didn’t, or you couldn’t, that’s okay. I’m not willing to risk losing you over some annoying ass toddler that messes up all my shit for a handful of years.”

He pointed the small pink stick in your direction, his own eyes wet as his frustration carried into his tone. You knew it wasn’t directed at your actions, rather the way your head had been handling everything, but it still felt weird. “Don’t you ever, and I mean ever hide something like this from me just because your head is telling you, I don’t want you. Because-”

The door slammed open at the worst opportunity possible, both you and JJ turning to see Sarah and John B looking back. You gasped at them, knowing everything probably looked and sounded so wrong. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s mine!” Sarah practically yelled, running forward to grab the test from JJ’s hand as she stood in front of him at her full height. “It’s mine, okay? And drop the fucking tone with her, JJ. You have no idea what she’s been through and-”

“Hey, it’s-” John B held a hand in front of you when you went to intercept Sarah. JJ’s eyes were wide at the words coming out of the girl’s mouth but he didn’t argue back with her. 

“Sarah, he didn’t-” 

She turned to hold a finger to you before continuing to lay into JJ. “If you so much as think about saying another nasty word to her, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep. I swear to God, JJ, you have-”

“He wasn’t doing anything!” You blurted out when her threat became a little too realistic for your liking. “We were talking, okay and-”

“He was yelling-”

“Because I was being selfish!” You snapped at John B, frustration and emotion boiling over. “I should’ve told him everything a while ago, and I didn’t. This is on me, okay? Leave him alone.”

Three sets of eyes watched you carefully as you laid the most vulnerable pieces of you out for them to see. 

“It’s my fault,” You nearly broke there, a breathy hiccup escaping as you tried to keep it calm. “I don’t want the pity. I don’t need it. I should’ve fought back against him, tried to defend myself more but I-”

John B shook his head, his voice breaking as he whispered your name. 

You ignored him and looked straight at JJ. “He ruined the best thing I could ever give you. You deserved the chance to correct all the things your dad did to you, the things he put you through. All I wanted was to give you everything you never had, to be everything you never had because you deserve that and so much more. And I let Rafe Cameron of all people ruin me… I’m ruined for you.”

You felt like you were witnessing a slow motion car crash. All of your nightmares had consisted of one thing: losing. Losing JJ, losing your friends, losing yourself. You felt like it was coming to life in front of you.

“I can’t do this.”

Stabbing you in the heart would’ve hurt less than JJ’s statement, but you had to accept it. You gave him an out and he was taking it. Part of you wanted him to blame you because it would at least give you some confirmation on what he was thinking. All you could do was nod and look at the floor. You’d finally done it, you’d manage to push away the one person who knew you inside and out and you only had yourself to blame.

“I can’t sit here and let you think a single word of that is true.” JJ pulled at his hair. God, you looked so broken in front of him and he couldn’t believe this whole night was turning in this direction. He crossed the room to hold your face in his hands, heart breaking at the tears on your cheeks and the way you shivered from his touch.  “I’ve told you time and time again that you’re everything to me. I don’t give a flying fuck if you walked out of that whole nightmare with one eyeball and four fingers on one hand. You walked out and you’re still here. That’s what matters. You are and you will continue to be my entire world. I told you tonight, and I will continue to tell you every single day if that’s what you need.” 

“And you’re the furthest thing from ruined.” Sarah reminded you that she was in the room, John B crying behind her as they watched the scene from a small distance. “God, you’re literally perfect. A great boyfriend, a great brother, amazing friends. You’re so kind and selfless, and you’re so dedicated to each and every one of us in ways that nobody else is. I give you one look and you’re already on the same wavelength as me without a word. I’m not going to stand here and watch the future godmother and favorite aunt of my child think so negatively about herself when she is easily one of the best things in each of our lives.”

JJ was there to catch you when you sobbed, your whole body nearly collapsing in relief that he knew everything now, that you weren’t carrying what felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

“I suck at sappy shit, everyone c’mere.” John B managed to pull a laugh out of the group, the four of you hugging each other tightly in the middle of your bedroom like the world around didn’t exist. Sarah, John B, and JJ had seen the worst pieces of you and still loved you unconditionally. It was time to get out of your head and embrace it, no matter how much you wanted to hide away. 

“Now that that’s over with… you’re fucking pregnant?!”

--

The chaos of the night finally settled down enough after JJ expressed his excitement for John B and Sarah. He didn’t hesitate to guide you to bed shortly after, mumble apologies being shared that tonight didn’t go differently, but you reassured him you had forever to celebrate it. Sarah eventually curled up next to you, the two of you in a fitful sleep for as long as you could while the boys stayed up to keep an eye on Groff.

Sarah was scrolling on her phone when you woke up a few hours later. She looked over her case to smile at you as you groaned loudly and stretched. 

“Are you and John B actually going to apply for a marriage license?” Your voice was raspy as you spoke, your eyes meeting hers as you shifted on your side to look at her.

She dropped her phone to the comforter. “I think so, unless he changed his mind from yesterday. That was the plan.”

You nodded, a small smile growing on your face. “Are you nervous?”

Sarah let out a breathy laugh. “Hardly. I just can’t believe all the shit that happened in the last 24 hours.”

The two of you conversed for a few moments longer before climbing out of bed to get ready for the day. While Sarah busied herself finding a cute white dress (one of her own, this time), you quickly changed and did your morning routine before settling in to help her curl her hair.

“Ready?” You asked as she slipped her shoes on and turned off the light. She nodded, grabbing your hand to pull you down the stairs. Cleo was eating a sandwich in the kitchen and looked up as you entered.

“Don’t tell me I’m losing another one today?” Her eyebrow raised in curiosity as Sarah practically skipped outside.

“We have to share the same last name for a little bit, right?” You winked in her direction, the pieces falling together before she shook her head jokingly.

JJ, Pope, and John B were already outside, apparently packing the Twinkie to head to Larissa’s grave with Groff. Your brother was literally pacing a path into the grass, his head snapping up as Sarah stepped off the porch with a tiny squeal.

“Let’s make this quick,” JJ was oblivious to the couple next to you and rubbed at his face to wake himself up. 

You hid your smile behind your hand as John B and Sarah stared at each other for a moment, both of them red in the face as she finally reached your brother’s side.

“Hey, we’re gonna get out of your hair, actually,” John B’s voice was so absentminded as he kept his eyes on Sarah, completely disregarding JJ’s confused look. He pointed in your general direction as he took her hand. “Love you, see you in a few. Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shifted into your fiancé’s shoulder, his arm falling around you as he took in the duo for the first time this morning. Pope gave you a confused glance to which you just held up your left hand and pointed to the ring on your finger. He nodded, much easier to communicate wordlessly with than JJ would be. 

“I, uh, okay?” JJ’s confusion made you laugh as Sarah and John B disappeared around the side of the house without a word, small talk being shared between the two of them as they made their way down the dock. He turned to look at you and clocked the smile on your face. “Something to share with the class?”

You shook your head, pushing up on your toes to kiss him. “Not in the slightest. You ready to go?”

JJ glanced between the Twinkie and the porch where Groff was getting to his feet. “How about you stay here with the girls and Pope? I… this is my mom. I feel like it should be personal, you know?”

You glared at him. “What did John B say?”

The way he took a step back already told you the answer. “No, nothing. Nothing, I just think I should give this a shot, on my own, you know?”

“JJ, I swear-”

He grabbed your shoulders carefully. “I love you. And if shit goes south, I can’t risk having you in danger with me not being able to help. So, please. Stay here, with them, and I’ll be back. Okay?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” You admitted quietly, your hand grabbing on his wrist. You weren’t so convinced by his reasoning and with Groff giving you weird vibes, you really didn’t like this idea. “Be careful? I know he’s supposedly your dad and all but…”

JJ nodded in understanding, his eyes catching on someone behind you. “Told you I’ll always come home to you, and I mean it. Love you, sweet girl.”

He kissed you softly, hand slipping from your shoulder to hold your neck gently. You hummed in satisfaction, your fingers grabbing his flannel to pull him slightly closer. 

“Alright, lovebirds.” Groff’s voice ruined your goodbye as he stopped next to you. Pulling away from JJ, you gave the man a sharp glare, unamused by his comments and whatever assumed power he thought he had over JJ. 

Rolling your eyes, you gave JJ one more kiss. “Love you, please be careful.” 

You stepped away from him to head back inside, but an unfamiliar hand landed on your shoulder, stopping your retreat. You turned back to Groff, looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and removed his hand, pointing down at the ring on your finger. “I…um. I always wanted a daughter, Larissa did too. I’m glad you’ll be joining our family one day.”

The disgust on your face was very evident as you stared back at him, forcing a nod. “Yeah, considering you gave away your own son, I’m finding that hard to believe.”

Groff gave you a short nod before turning to climb into the Twinkie’s passenger seat as JJ slammed the door of the driver’s side. You shook your head as the van started and drove away, the sinking feeling in your stomach building with each passing moment. 

“You feel the same way I do about this?” Pope asked as he joined your side, the two of you watching the van disappear out on the road.

You sighed, “We shouldn’t have let him go alone. That man is the biggest manipulator if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“Now all we can do is wait and hope he comes back, preferably without that pathetic excuse for a man.”

--

While JJ busied himself adventuring with his dad, Pope and Cleo went out to grab gas for the boats with the remainder of the five grand down payment Wes Genrette had given. You and Kiara busied yourselves trying to get some items together for the potential trip to Morocco (if it happened) but mostly trying to downsize to what could be taken to Ward’s rental condo. The property was left in Sarah’s name, thankfully away from Rose’s evil claws, so your group could try to wiggle in as best as possible, but the three bedroom condo was no match for your family of seven, and soon to be a baby.

“I’m gonna grab supplies and shit from outside,” You said with a huff, brushing the sweat from your forehead. “Be right back.”

Kie was head first in making sandwiches and food to take along, so you dipped out of the room by yourself. The wind was refreshing, blowing across your skin as the two of you headed into the store area to collect your items. 

You grabbed a handful of first aid items, shoving them in your worn backpack with as much organization as you could muster. 

Humming along to the music on your phone, you moved fluidly to grab random supplies from the walls, figuring the store wouldn’t need them much anyway considering the property wasn’t yours soon.

Something moved in your peripheral and you turned to see the Twinkie parked outside again. A small frown formed on your face; you didn’t think JJ and Groff would be back that quick. Walking out, you glanced to catch sight of the blond boy but came up short. 

“Babe?” You called out, heading toward the driver side in case they were still talking inside. Except, they weren’t. Nobody was inside, actually. “JJ?”

You spun on your heels in hopes of him popping out, but still no sight of him. Setting your course to the house in hopes that he’d be there instead, you were met with Chandler Groff popping out of the side door in what looked like a hurry.

Stopping, you crossed your arms and glared at him. “Can I help you?”

He had the tube containing the scroll in his hand, and motioned toward it. “Uh, hi. I uh, I just came to grab the scroll to make sure it’s not just the artifact from the mausoleum.”

His rushed tone told you there was more to the story but you nodded. “Mhmm, um. Where’s JJ?”

“Oh, he stayed behind at the family plot. He sent me to retrieve this. I thought I’d give him some time alone, you know?” He took a few steps toward you, that you immediately repeated in the opposite direction to put some distance back. Any further and you’d be against the Twinkie and out of options.

You dug your fingers into your arm. “He certainly got his lying skills from Luke because I don’t believe you in the slightest.”

Groff laughed but you could tell it was forced. “Well, you hardly know me, of course you aren’t going to believe me. You can ask your friend in there… uh Kiara is it? She seemed fine with the idea.”

“Oh so you won’t mind if I just call him, then?” You reached into your pocket where your phone was still playing music.

“Yeah, yeah you should. You should call him. He’ll confirm. Go ahead.”

Your back hit the metal of the van as Groff continued to push into your space. You glanced down, swiping for the FaceID to activate and unlock before completely bypassing checking JJ’s location and instead pressing the lock buttom twice. Times like these you really thanked Sarah for helping you set up the shortcuts she did.

All it took was that one split second before Groff’s hands were shoving you and your head collided with the window of the Twinkie, glass shattering from the impact. Your phone slipped from your hands and you gasped, knees giving out as you grabbed your head in pain.

“Kie!” The scream tore through your throat but was cut off as Groff grabbed your throat and yanked you off the ground. 

Panic set in instantly, all of your senses blurring as images of Rafe flashed in front of you. You struggled to get air in your lungs and gasped, hands shoving and feet kicking like it would do you any good.

One last hit to your head, and the sweet dark relief took over.

Then silence.

--

You weren’t sure if you were awake.

There had been moments like this in the past when you were at the Camerons’, so blissed and drugged out that you couldn’t tell the difference from reality or hallucinations. Like a sensory tank, there was no light or noise. Just you and your racing thoughts and the loud thump of your heart in your ears.

Here you were, all over again. No sense of where you were, what had happened, or who was around. You could barely breathe and the hefty duct tape on your mouth stole your inability to speak. The sharp bite of pain when you tried to move was thanks to zip ties that were too tight, and you realized how utterly stuck you were.

The tears came first, followed by the hyperventilating. You tried running through the methods they taught you in therapy, the counting, the timed breathing. JJ’s voice was echoing in your head to keep your airways open and not clench your hands but JJ wasn’t here, you couldn’t move, and one of your main airways was not an option.

An attempted cry left your body, but you doubted anyone could hear it. It was so muffled and quiet that it might as well have been a whisper in a concert arena. 

You were going to die. You were going to die here, alone, with nothing but the thoughts in your head to keep you company. You hoped Kiara was okay. Hoped that none of your friends would be the ones to find you, if they even could. 

The tears were unstoppable now, small sobs escaping as you tried to pull air in your lungs but it was getting harder. It felt like someone’s hand squeezing around your throat.

Tighter, tighter, tighter.

Gone.

--

Kiara was a stranger to what it felt like being knocked unconscious. Hell, the closest she’s ever gotten was because of Pope nearly concussing her with an ore a couple of weeks ago. It was never from being punched in the head and colliding with the table.

The headache was killer, enough to send her vision swaying but she forced herself to her feet. “Ah, fuck.” Her fingers poked the area where the pain was radiating, but no blood came back so she considered that a good sign. 

“Kie!” 

John B’s scream was not a good one, and it was enough to get her moving out of the house to see him sprinting across the yard with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah close behind. 

“What’s happening?” Her voice was much quieter than she expected as the all moved toward her. Pope’s hands were gentle as they hovered her face, taking in the bruising on her cheek.

“What happened to you?” Cleo asked, wincing at the injury.

Kiara shook her head, “I can’t… just give me a second.”

“Where is she?” John B asked, eyes scanning the entire ground. He was on the verge of screaming or crying, or shit maybe he needed to throw up. “The SOS text came from her phone, fro-from the shortcut, where is she?”

“John B!” Sarah picked up the device in question that was resting in the grass near the van, the music still playing from it loud enough that she could hear.

The sight of your case made his heart drop. “Shit, stay here. Check the house,” He directed toward Pope and Cleo, practically sprinting toward Sarah.

“It seems fine,” She commented, “Music still on and everything. Maybe she did it accidentally?”

Except, John B wasn’t looking at the phone in Sarah’s hand. His eyes were locked on the nearly shattered window behind her head, a window that hadn’t been fucked up before. Sarah noticed his silence and looked over her shoulder, the broken glass answer enough that no you didn’t do this accidentally.

John B yelled your name again, nothing following his call, so he took off running into the shop with hopes that maybe you would be there. If Kiara was in the house, chances were, you weren’t.

Except the shop was empty, besides your backpack resting on the counter with various shit scattered around it.

“Is she in here?” Sarah asked as she ran up behind John B, her eyes scanning the room for any sight of you. “John B?”

“What the fuck?” You brother tugged at his hair and moved to where your bag was sitting as he tried to look for any clue, anything, that would tell him where you were. “No, no, no. We can’t do this again. I-I.. I told her I’d never let something like this happen, what if-”

“John B, John B, hey!” Sarah grabbed his face as gently as possibly. “Do not lose your shit. Not right now. She needs you, okay?”

His hands were fucking shaking and suddenly, this was too scary for him. Something had happened, and now you were missing.

“Look, look. I’ll get you a water and we can see if Kie remembers anything okay? It’s probably a miscommunication and-” Sarah turned toward the red Coca-Cola cooler that usually housed the ice for cold drinks and stopped short at the screw driver wrenched between one of the closures. “Did you lock this?”

John B pulled his hand from his face to look at what she was referring to. “What? No, we never…”

Sarah ripped the screwdriver out in a second, flipping the latch to unlock the lid so she could pry it open. “John B!”

The Routledge boy jumped forward to look and nearly threw up his breakfast. “Move, move!”

Reaching down, he grabbed ahold of your unmoving body, your skin so pale and cold that he didn’t know what to do. His knees hit the ground hard as he laid you down, hands moving to shake you. “Wake up, hey. Wake up!”

Sarah called your name, her touch gentle as she pulled the duct tape off your mouth, but you still didn’t move. “John B, she’s not breathing!”

“Pope, help!” 

Like a series of deja vu, John B’s hands went to your chest to push down harshly, the rhythmic movement too familiar for comfort. Sarah had been in this same position under his hands before, a gunshot wound to her hip and barely enough blood to keep her alive. John B never wanted to do this again, and he sure as shit never wanted to do it to you.

“Pinch her nose, and breathe in her mouth,” He gasped out in an attempt to keep the sobs at bay. “Pope!”

Sarah followed the directions, pinching your nose and opening your mouth to push air back into your lungs. She was shaking, barely able to see through her tears. 

A series of footsteps came seconds later, and Pope swore his whole world stopped at the sight ahead of him. You, his practically adopted sister, lying still on the floor as John B attempted CPR. Kiara nearly screamed, and Cleo stood in shock as Pope flung forward to take over the compressions with more confidence and precision.

“Go, again,” He directed to Sarah as John B tumbled back against the counter in shock. Pope started his compressions again, keeping his count outloud. 

Kiara stumbled to your brother’s side, wrapping her arms around him as they stared on, horrified. Cleo moved to grab scissors, her careful movement cutting the zip ties from your ankles as Pope continued to put pressure on your chest.

And then you coughed. 

And Pope fell into a fit of tears. Removing his hands from your chest, he fell back on his ass in what felt like exhaustion. 

“Aye! You okay?” Cleo was trying to keep a level head but the way her heart was pounding against her chest told her otherwise. She’d never been so close to losing someone, not like this. She carefully snipped the remaining ziptie and your hands instantly reached for Sarah, who cried into your hair and helped you sit up.

Despite your wishes, you couldn’t get your voice to work and opted for nodding instead. Your throat ached and your head felt like it was going to shatter into pieces, and you were so, so cold.

“Holy shit,” Pope choked out as he watched you blink and your own chest move air into your body. Your head was reeling at all of their concern and voices so you closed your eyes and continued to focus on just evening out the flow of air. 

John B ripped himself out of Kiara’s arms and next to Sarah the second he got a grasp on what the fuck just happened. “Hey, hi. You’re okay. It’s okay now.”

You reached out to grab John B’s hand, squeezing enough to let him know you could hear him and were responsive. Sarah’s warmth left your side a moment after and John B easily took her place, his arms cradling you against him like you were a small child as he cried into your hair. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you blinked your eyes open to see Pope sitting in front of you with Cleo rubbing his shoulder soothingly, Kie leaning against his side. He quickly brushed the tears from his cheeks but it already told you everything. 

You mouthed a thank you and cuddled in closer to John B’s chest, opting to just breathe breathe breathe.

You weren’t sure what the fuck had just happened, but it seemed like your friends were about to have one crazy ass story to tell. 

-- 

John B did not let you out of his sight. 

After carrying you back to the house and directing Sarah to help you into your warmest sweatshirt and sweatpants, he looked to Kiara for answers.

The girl’s brainfog had thankfully cleared and she was about to recount Groff showing up, claiming he and JJ found the lens and needed the scroll. When Kiara asked where her friend was, Groff knocked her out, which meant her intercepted you next.

Nobody wanted to ask questions, but the SOS text on their phone screens was hard to pull their eyes off of.

When everyone had phones replaced following El Dorado, Sarah had made sure to set up a shortcut that sent an SOS text with a location to the group chat in case of an emergency. She hoped it would never be used, but she was so thankful you thought quick enough to use it in this situation. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if not.

“Here.” She handed you an warm cup of tea with honey in hopes that it would help soothe the soreness in your throat but the handprint outside on your skin told her otherwise. After helping you crawl under the covers, she sent a quick text to John B that you were settled before the group came tumbling in. 

Your brother instantly threw himself next to you near the top of the best, shifting so you could lean against him and he could keep a hand on your arm at all times. Kiara took your other side, sitting crisscross as she held an ice pack to her head. 

“Y’all are dramatic,” Your voice was practically gone as you joked with them before taking another sip of your tea.

“And you sound like you smoke six packs a day,” Cleo chimed back with a teasing smile on her face. “Save your voice, girly. We got you.”

You gave her a weak smile.

The next twenty minutes consisted of everyone sharing what the fuck had happened in the past few hours. Pope and Cleo nearly got wiped out by Kelce which caused them to collide with Sarah and John B who had been running from Topper and Ruthie. Kiara took a gnarly blow to the head like you did, and JJ was still absent from the group.

Splendid. 

“So, what? Groff left with the map and lens and JJ’s still with him?” Pope recounted as he started to pace the floor. 

Your calls to JJ had been ignored and considering he didn’t show up with the SOS text, you were really worried Groff had gotten to him. Your fingers moved across the screen to pull up his location again and you dropped it on the center of the bed so your friends could see his location pinging from the middle of the ocean.

Turning to John B, you tried to communicate with your hands that you all needed to leave, but he was unamused. “No, no. You’re not leaving this room, let alone this house any time soon. You hear me? Grounded.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the comforter to open your notes app and type away. 

Then you guys need to go. If something happens to him and I’m the reason you didn’t go, I’ll never forgive myself. 

You shoved the device in John B’s direction, watching as he skimmed the words before shaking his head slightly. Annoyed by his silence, you moved it over so Sarah could read it instead.

“She’s got a point, John B. We need to go.”

John B took a look around the room, everyone’s expressions matching Sarah’s as they read the message on your phone. He hated this, the thought of pulling you out of a safe space after he just nearly broke your ribs from the force of his own hands because you weren’t breathing.

“Fine, fine,” He admitted defeat when even Cleo nudged her head in the direction of the water. “Go get your shit. I need to talk to this one first.”

Your eyes were going to get stuck in the back of your head if you rolled them again so you just sighed and flopped against the pillows as everyone scattered. Sarah patted your knee through the covers, reassuring she’d grab your backpack and everything before slipping out the door, leaving you with your brother.

You quickly typed on your phone as John B watched you.

I’m not arguing with you via notes app, bro.

He laughed and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Don’t wanna argue. Just um…” He let out a breath, tears filling his eyes faster than he intended. “You really scared me, out there. And I don’t like the idea of you getting thrown back into danger, but the idea of leaving you here is even worse. So I need you… I really need you to promise me something.”

John B shifted to sit where you could see him easier and not strain your neck looking up at him. He grabbed the phone from your hand and let it fall, taking both of your palms into his. “I need you to promise me that you’ll stick with Sarah. And you won’t go throwing yourself in front of anyone if it comes to it. You… you both mean way too much for me to lose you to a stupid fucking treasure hunt. Okay?”

You squeezed his hands and nodded, because it’s really all you could do. So you did.

And now, you needed to find JJ… but nothing was ever that simple for you all, was it?

--

a/n: did i redeem myself??? also john b is not over what just happened and i think another crashout is coming

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

[filthyguts]

I initially got captivated in your Moriopsycho comic when I'd only ever seen the American Psycho film, but since then I've seeked to read the book as well, and I have.

Other than now feeling the need to blame you for getting me hyperfixated on it for the last month or so (/lh), I realize I've found a new appreciation for your comic and some of the details you've included when representing Bateman.

The little pieces of text floating around him describing people's outfits, him drinking Evian water, the Patty Winter's show, and so on... The first time I read the comic I obviously didn't pay attention to any of them, but now I'm pointing at them all excitedly haha!

All this to say: I already thought your comic was super cool for many reasons, both artistically and regarding characterization, but the attention to detail you've shown for both Kira and Bateman really shows the love you've put in it, and I like that a lot. Keep up the amazing work!! I'm really excited for the new pages :D

oh my gosh thank you!!!!! that means the world :,,,,)))) it makes me really happy when people pick out the lil details, those two truly haunt my brain.

Patrick’s brain works a lot differently than Kira’s, so even tho most of the comic is from Kira’s POV, I enjoy getting to do Pats little moments too!!!

Some more random details and factoids:

The fonts that r used are what I feel like they would be as a font lol: Patrick’s typeface is Avenir, used on a lot of business cards lol, it’s bold and strong but often forgettable + sometimes using handwritten for reasons stated below

Kira uses hoefler text when speaking english, average but still sophisticated with an air of quiet pride- trying to better fit in amongst his new coworkers esp as a foreigner

Timothy and McDermott are simply handwritten text, they’re brash, mean, and immature

Thank you for the support :,) more pages coming soon!!

[rottenzombrainz]

Virtual Intimacy (Rui x Reader)

Based off my silly headcannons for the ghouls!

Beginning notes;

Originally this wasn't gonna be an x reader, but plans change! things happen! And I couldn't pass up the opportunity of Rui fluff with a tinge of angst

I also realized this is my first tkdb x reader? Yay me!

sfw, GN Reader, Reader and Rui are dating, fluff,

You were scrolling aimlessly through WickChat when Rui, your beloved boyfriend, texted you.

Hey my little bunny 😘

"Bunny". That's what he called you. You used to think it was cheesey, but the name has grown on you.

You free to come over? I just had the greatest idea ✨

-An idea?

Yup yup! You'll have to come over and see! ❣️

You couldn't help but feel a little curious. Rui always knew exactly how to keep you hooked.

-I'll be over soon <3

Yay!!! See you soon, bunny

You smirked at your phone before turning it off and shoving it into your pocket and making your way out of your room.

Because of Rui's curse, the two of you couldn't be physically affectionate in any way, so you've come up with other ways to show your love. You usually change it up every month or so to keep things fresh.

Lately you've been giving him a new succulent every time you come over to Obscuary to see him. There was something kind of romantic about nurturing a plant and giving it to a loved one for them to care for. This time, you were going to give him your string-of-pearls plant. You almost felt a little bad, bombarding him with all these succulents, but the image of his bright smile washed away any doubt that they were a burden.

Before you knew it, you were at the front door of the gothic Obscuary mansion. You reach your hand outward to knock on the door, but it swings open before you can even lift your hand above your waist.

"Bunny! There you are!"

You're greeted by an enthusiastic Rui, smiling widely at you.

"Hey, Rui! I brought you another succulent- I hope you don't mind..."

You present Rui with a small pot, no bigger than the average person's hand, with the string-of-pearls rooted inside it. He takes great care not to touch you even with his gloved hands as he lifts the pot from you.

"Aw, thank you, bunny! You're such a sweetheart"

Rui holds the door open for you as you step into the victorian abode.

"C'mon, I need you to help me find the perfect spot for this little guy."

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you into his room. Rui scans over a long shelf filled with succulents, looking for the perfect spot for his new plant baby. You watch him with adoration as you crawl into his bed and hug one of his pillows. It's the closest thing you have to actually hugging him.

"So- about that 'great idea' you had..."

Rui turns his head towards you with a grin.

"I wanted you to play one of my favorite games with me!"

You cock your head as you squeeze the pillow tighter. He makes his way to his computer, logging in and booting up The Sims 4.

"I thought it'd be fun if we made each other in game! I'll go first, mkay?"

You nod along and pull up a chair beside him, trying to get as close as you can without putting yourself in danger. You watch as Rui quickly gets to work, making a sim in your image. His eyes dart around the catalog as he finds the perfect clothes for your virtual twin.

"What do you think of this, bunny? isn't it cute?"

"Eh... it's not really my style"

Rui pouts a little.

"You're right, my bad!"

He quickly clicks through each clothing tab, looking for the perfect outfit with an intense focus. You stare deeply into his concentrated magenta eyes. It's kind of adorable seeing him so passionate about something.

"You're... really into this, aren't you?"

"Of course! I wanna make sure I get every single detail of your beautiful self as accurately as possible!"

Rui smiles at you before pushing himself off the desk and rolling away in his chair.

"Bunny~! It's your turn to make me~!"

You scooch forward in your chair and grab hold of the mouse. It's still warm from Rui's touch. He watches you with adoration as you explore the UI of the game. You hesitantly begin molding the virtual avatar into the image of Rui, a little afraid that he wouldn't like your version of him. Every time you glance back over at him for reference, he gives you a smile or blows you a kiss.

"Sorry... I'm not as good at this game as you are..."

You apologize after finishing the digital clone. Rui happily pulls himself back in front of the desk as he looks at your work.

"Wow bunny! It looks just like me!"

With a weak smile, you watch as Rui skillfully clicks through text boxes and confirmation popups.

"What city do you think we should live in? San Myshuno? Maybe Willow Creek? Ooh how about De Sol Valley or Windenberg?"

You stare blankly at your boyfriend who's practically speaking gibberish to you.

"Let's.... just go with Willow Creek. It's a classic."

You nod along, still not understanding a thing.

"I usually build my own houses when I play, but I'm so super excited to play with you! So, pre-made lot it is!"

"Mmh-hm...okay"

It was obvious you felt completely out of your element, but Rui seemed to be enjoying your company regardless.

"You wanna decorate the house before we play?"

"It's fine as is. Besides, you look like you're gonna pass out from how restless you are to actually get into the game."

"Guilty~!! You know me so well, Bunny!"

You let out a little laugh at Rui's compliment. Your adorable boyfriend wastes no time before laughing with you.

"Mkay, this is what I wanted to show you so super badly!!"

You raise your eyebrows as Rui clicks away at more text bubbles.

"Ready? Ready?"

Not even waiting for your response, Rui clicks one last time before the digital avatars you made wrap their arms around each other in a tight hug. It obviously didn't make you feel any of the physical stimuli gained from hugging, but it was sweet to see yourself hugging your beloved boyfriend. It's something the both of you fantasize about often, but seeing it so vividly, even if it's just in a game, gives you both a warm tingling feeling of joy.

Rui looks at you eagerly with his bright charming smile.

"So? Did you like the surprise??"

You smile back at him while you squeeze your knee as if to squeeze his.

"I did."

It wasn't as groundbreaking or exciting as if you were actually able to hold him, but you could tell by Rui's expression that this was a big thing for him.

"Great!! 'Cus there's so much more we could do in the game!! We can kiss and cuddle and get married and have kids!! If you want, of course!"

Rui ecstatically beams, his smile like a bright light in the deep abyss of the ocean. His sweet and genuine grin warmed you right up like a ray of sunshine.

"I love you, Rui."

You say, just barely whispering. And somehow, his smile widens even more.

"I love you too, Bunny."

Ending Notes;

Woohoo!! (pun intended) I'm finally finished with this!!!

I feel like it's too short, especially with how long I spent on it... but that's how I feel about everything..... Anyways!! I hope you all enjoyed this little fic! Now that this is done, I'm gonna try and focus on finishing up the anon requests I got.

Speaking of requests... I am taking them! I work slowly, but I do work!!!

I wish all my adorable little humans happy holidays!! Zombie kisses for you all mwah mwah mwah!!!!

[fragileinthemaking]

hii, i hope youre doing well today and i was curious about some things about your ed (possible tw later?). I've been in your situation (somewhat, not to this extent) and am currently bul1mic with exercise as the form of purging/slowly healing idk. I wanted to know first of all how do you manage to burn more than 1k calories in a day because that is literally INSANE, I never thought that its possibls so I'm really really curious about your methods.

I also wanted to know your opinion on healing and the ed itself. Do you wish you never had one, do you hate counting c@ls, do you miss your life before the ed? Did it help you in any way (did you notice physical changes)? Are you experiencing any health problems because of it, are you dizzy or yellowish, have you ever fainted? Do you feel proud when skipping meals or anybody points out something ab the ed? Do you wish to heal but don't have the courage/will to, are you forced into healing, are you comfortable in the ed and want to continue and not start a healing process? How do you feel when you overeat or can't exercise the c@ls out? How do you feel about the future, do you wish to continue like so, do you wish to heal or neither of them?

I know it's A LOT of questions actually and I'm really sorry about it, I will explain now. When I was deep in my ed I never actually thought about it and what is going on with my life and I'm genuinely curious as to how it sounds and how my perspective was, I'm really trying not to offend you right now so please don't answer to anything if I'm offending you in any way!!

Hii I'm fine with any questions but damn that's alot (not in a negative way just alot of words and im bad at reading large groups of text)

First of all tw for ed stuff anyone that doesnt want to see this

with the burning 1k c4ls. my (almost) daily exercise typically burns around 500-700. secondly im a minor, im in school, pe is a legal requirement and that burns between 300-900 depending on what we do so combining those i can burn up to 1600 a day or if i do my normal stuff for twice as long that can also reach 1000 which i sometimes do on weekends when i have more time.

healing is something which if you want i highly encourage you get. i wish i had never gotten one, i wish i had never started counting c4ls, i wish i had spoken to someone before it got worse. i no longer feel like im able to get help and ive gotten myself to deep in the rabbit hole to get my mindset out so if you want help and its never to late then do it. get the help you need ill support you all the way.

i hate counting c4ls. i only eat in public when i have to and i always have to secretly look at the c4ls and hope nobody sees. ive written them on my hand afew times when theyre really random numbers and have been questioned about it so just had to lie to my friends which i hate doing. life before an ed fells like it would be so much more free and i would be more careless and do whatever i want without wondering how many c4ls in burning/gaining from that activity. if i could go back to when i started having an ed i absolutely would and change whatever i can to not end up like this.

the only physical symptom ive had is my stomach getting smaller but im waiting for the day my thighs / ass (idk what a more appropriate name would be) get smaller as they make me insecure. im not sure if its from having an ed but im almost always dizzy espescially when i stand up to fast. ive never fainted or been yellowed.

when i skip i dont feel proud more like im doing something correct and nobodys ever pointed out an ed but if they did i would deny it but secretly be proud someone noticed. i dont want to heal. i might have in the past but currently i have no plan to. i want to continue my ed without help. (my mindset is just 'if its a problem its your job to fix it' and i dont want to fix it). ive been put in counselling which has 6(i think) sessions left but if they think im really bad then i might be put in actual therapy. ive hinted about an ed with things like 'i often skip meals' and 'i just forget' or 'i dont have an appetite' and secretly hope they might catch on and get me help.

when i overeat or cant burn the c4ls i just feel sick and like im a failure. theres not really anything else i just feel bad and like i failed at having an ed. for the future my main goal is to reach my ugw and stay there getting lower if possible but not higher unless i really want help.

That was alot of questions but i feel like this is a place where i can talk about whatever(especially my ed) without anyone judging me or knowing who i am. im glad i could think about my ed on a deeper level other than just 'hmm weight be gone pls' so like thanks?? idk i hope i answered everything i might have missed a question. im always open to any question anyone has i just like talking to people and getting to know them.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

84 for ⚖️:

---

But he supposes fair doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

ii. 

Eddie coming over after his shift wakes Buck up the next morning. Buck slept incredibly well. No symptoms, no dreams, no being psychically entrapped by a goddess, nothing. It’s a huge relief. He needed that. He climbs out of bed feeling rested and less horrified about everything happening to him. 

“How are you doing?” Eddie asks when Buck makes his way down the loft stairs.

“A lot better,” Buck admits. “I, uh… I know what’s going on now. I just didn’t want to explain it over text.”

“You do?” Eddie asks, eyes wide. “Uh, what is it? How bad is it?”

Buck frowns. He’s still not sure of the answer to that final question. 

“Well, it’s kind of unbelievable…”

Buck launches into his story. Everything that happened, from the call where things got bad to his encounter with Lawrence. By the end of the explanation, Eddie’s face is twisted with… With something that surprises Buck. It looks like fear. Like something more intense than fear, even.

“Eddie…” Buck pleads. He had expected dubiousness. Disbelief. Not… This. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurts, stepping backwards towards the door. Like he’s going to bolt. “I… I can’t… I’m sorry, Buck.”

“What are you doing?” Buck asks, voice suddenly thick with panic. Eddie can’t leave him. There is no one else in the world he can talk to about this. He needs Eddie. He desperately needs him. 

“You… You’re gonna see, I… I’m not a good person,” Eddie says. “I’m… I don’t… You always thought I was, despite everything.”

Buck is certain his eyes almost bug out of his head. 

“Eddie, what? You’re… No! No, you are a good person.”

“I can’t be,” Eddie shakes his head. “I know what I’ve done.”

“O-okay, but I-I can actually objectively tell now!” Buck exclaims. “That’s literally the only point of me now!”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. 

“You’re not crimson the way they were,” Buck keeps saying. “My stupid tattoo doesn’t do its stupid thing around you. Okay? You’re not bad, Eddie. I know you aren’t!”

“You’re just biased,” Eddie says.

“I’m not!” Buck protests.

“How do you know?” Eddie demands. “You’re biased all the time about the people you care about! We all are!”

“If that was true in this case, I don’t think my actual boyfriend would have an evil red glow!” Buck rebuts, exasperated. 

Eddie stills. Thinking it through. This piece of logic seems to snag the momentum of his own self-loathing. 

“You are biased about Tommy,” Eddie says. 

Buck scoffs. “Come on, I-”

“You think he’s better than he is, too.” 

“I, what? I mean, okay, clearly. But how did you know that?” Eddie shrugs. His eyes are on the floor. “Doesn’t treat you as well as he should.”

---

75 for 🌲:

---

“You can?” Eddie asks. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Buck rasps. He can. He won’t do anything. 

The thing is, he’s not feeling anything he hasn’t felt before. It’s something he’s been feeling for years. Buried deep underneath misunderstanding himself and insecurity and an overall sense of hopelessness. Futility. Why was there ever any point in letting him feel this entirely? This hunger. It could never happen. Now? Now all he’s feeling is that hunger, amplified. Amplified so much, he doesn’t even notice the futility. All he knows is that he will never put that hunger on Eddie. He will never do anything to Eddie that doesn’t doesn’t want. Doesn’t ask for. 

Eddie takes a step toward him. “But you… You uh…”

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “A lot.”

Because once again, Buck finds himself unable to lie. Or even pretend he doesn’t understand what Eddie is trying to ask. 

Eddie steps towards him. Buck remains frozen. Afraid of making any further movements. 

“What if…” Eddie exhales. “What if I don’t really want you to?”

“You don’t… You don’t want me to want you?” Buck asks. He already knew that. He already knew. 

“I don’t want you to control yourself,” Eddie says, quietly. Quietly, but Buck can still hear. 

“You don’t really mean that,” Buck mumbles. 

Eddie exhales shakily. 

“I do, though. I really do.”

Buck takes a step forward and stops himself. He wants to, but he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. 

“Please, Buck,” Eddie sort of whimpers. 

And that undoes it. All of Buck’s resolve. 

🌲

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why he wants this. All he knows is that he does. Desperately. 

It’s not the magic. It’s not whatever he is. He didn’t want Tommy at all. No part of him did. He was repulsed by Tommy, at that moment. In a way he hadn’t been, when he first met Tommy, and Tommy was always after his attention. Tommy’s advances had sickened him, frightened him. Nothing about Buck does that. And so he finds himself asking, begging. For something he had no idea he even wanted. 

But god does he want it now. 

Buck has a sort of hazy look in his eyes. He strides towards Eddie, making an anticipatory heat pool in Eddie’s stomach. He goes sort of lightheaded. Buck grabs Eddie, one hand cupping his cheek, one hand on the small of his back. He kisses him. No hesitation, no tentativeness. 

Eddie’s never felt anything like it. 

It’s either the magic or some sort of sexual revelation. Who’s to say? His whole body is on fire. Hot like embers after over a week of feeling cold. It feels so good. It feels intoxicating. Eddie wants to drown in this. 

Buck pulls away from Eddie and looks into his eyes for a second. His pupils are blown. Expression awed. How long has Buck wanted this? Does he actually want it? Or is it all just-

Eddie’s thoughts are cut off by Buck’s mouth finding his throat. 

[beevean]

I keep thinking of this interpretation of N!Hector (at the bottom). How, essentially, his growth revolved around his conception of love: how he's at his core a broken, love-starved man who had to learn how to let go out of selflessness.

They make some valid points. So I want to put together why the story still wastes a very intriguing concept and its morals are still disgusting.

Let's take N!Hector purely from this angle. His sloppy writing starts to make sense. N!Hector never warms up to Carmilla, because his last memory of Carmilla is her beating him up after she revealed that her apparent respect was a lie. Dracula is on thin ice: he was the first person who was nice to him, but he lied to N!Hector about his real plans, and most importantly, got convinced that he might have died if Dracula actually succeeded. (still doesn't stop him from wanting to resurrect him)

Lenore is "nice" to him. Lenore not only praised his voice, the strength of his character, etc., but she also has shown that she wants to be with him for no ulterior reason, and that she wants to protect him from mean Carmilla.

So N!Hector is totally fine with her. It's okay that she beat him that one time, because it was his fault (granted, an abused person might think like that...). It's okay that she made a sexual game out of taking him out with a leash: that's just how vampires are, right? It's okay that she used sex and took advantage of his feelings to put a trapping ring on him: it was with good intentions. It was for his sake. It was to protect him.

So, N!Hector falls in love with Lenore because she did everything in her power to keep him in a gilded cage, including resorting to rape by deception. Abuse is love. Selfishness is love. He, too, loves like a vampire, shown by the way he surrounded himself with pets magically compelled to be loyal to him, so the two have the same love languages.

This speaks of a profoundly ill mentality, the byproduct of a lifetime of abuse. It's a delicate topic that should be treated with the utmost respect.

exhibit a: respectful writing that truly gives trauma the gravitas it deserves.

After some more bonding over how similar Lenore and N!Hector are because no one loves them and they're just victims, they're so like each other fr fr, we get to S4E6. In a way, we can see N!Hector's actions here as a mirror to what Lenore has done to him: she used treachery to turn him into a tool and so "keeping him safe", and so he used treachery to cage her and protect her from N!Isaac destroying the entire life she built with the others. This is mercy for him. This is an act of love. Protect Lenore and stay close to her, but everyone else can die, even if it hurts her. I see the intention, I really do.

But add to this the fact that N!Hector's whole plan was for the sake of resurrecting Dracula, therefore risking another mass slaughter, for no other reason than to feel better about his mistakes, and we're starting to see a problem.

We're near the end of the show, and N!Hector hasn't grown one bit. Not morally, and not emotionally. He still has no empathy. He still loves like a vampire. He still has no self-respect. He went through unimaginable torture, and he's still the "manchild" we were supposed to laugh at in S2 - except now he's marginally cooler, I guess.

(also, is it really "love" if N!Hector genuinely thought N!Isaac would kill him and he accepted it? He didn't plan to stick around, he didn't plan to "keep" Lenore with him. So the point starts to fall apart.)

But then N!Isaac makes a speech to him about agency and the will to live, and a few episodes later, N!Hector has his "magnificent" growth. His sign of maturity is letting Lenore die. Not keeping her close, despite her being the kindest person to him (although I suppose N!Isaac will quickly replace her lol). Letting this woman, both a victim and an abuser, commit suicide on her own terms, the terms he never had, is N!Hector finally learning how to love.

All very nice and wholesome. On paper.

Lenore is forcibly made to be sympathetic in S4, to the point that it becomes blatant lying. Suddenly she has no sexual interest in N!Hector anymore, after all she did to him (and very interesting, that Lenore was only aroused when he was her prisoner - now that he has more freedom and seems to like her as a person, she doesn't care anymore). Suddenly her smug demeanour has vanished, treating him with almost real respect. Suddenly there's more focus on how alone she is, and how she and N!Hector can relate to each other and only have each other in the world. It's disingenuous, and all so that I could pity her, and believe that these two would care for each other, and be touched that N!Hector's big love gesture is allowing Lenore to find freedom from her unnatural existence, while in reality I'm just frustrated that this rapist got to find freedom from the consequences of her actions - she doesn't even feel bad for what she did, "I'm sorry for everything you went through", so much for growing to love him. It's not even framed as him being free of her, but her being free of herself, fuck that guy I guess. Hell, even her phrasing implies that the main reason she sunned herself was that she wasn't willing to live in a cage, even with Hector, basically throwing a tantrum because she didn't have power anymore. I get reading between the lines and connecting that what triggered her suicide was the realization that as a vampire she's inherently doomed to go insane with craving power, but she really painted herself in the worst light.

I can't even say that the show forgot about her previous behavior: it specifically calls out to Lenore "solving Hector's problem", but makes it a joke that is quickly brushed off. We are meant to be endeared at Lenore using sex as a tool of deception. Yeah, silly Lenore, that was awkward I guess. More seriously, Lenore neither had a solid change of heart/realization that she behaved like a monster in the name of her "good intentions", nor is she tragic enough compared to her actions - at most I can understand where part of her behavior is coming from, like her being happy to show her strength by beating N!Hector into the ground, but I don't feel sorry for her. The story had the chance to emphasize her conflict with her vampiric nature, if I was really meant to pity her hopeless existence, but it doesn't take it. So I have no reason to care about her, or think she's a good person for N!Hector. The fact that she is the kindest anyone has ever been to him doesn't mean that she is kind, just that this poor man has been spit on far too much.

And maybe N!Hector really is too broken to understand that being raped is bad. Maybe his abuser choosing to waste time around him feels like a banquet for someone as love starved as he is. But is that how he ends? Still not getting it? Still not feeling anything about the way he has been treated all this life? Is he really completely not conflicted about the two-faced way Lenore treated him?

And what about his relationship with humanity? Is writing a book about his mistakes really the best he can do? N!Isaac realized off screen that he wants to change the world for the better: what is, effectively, N!Hector's change in this aspect? Sure, maybe he won't keep resurrected pets anymore, but after jotting down how much he has fucked up in life, what does he want to do? What was his journey, made of nothing but suffering and mockery and the lesson "you are stupid for trusting", for?

If I am to read N!Hector as a victim of deep abuse, so damaging that he has lost all sorts of empathy, morals and self-worth... what is, then, the story told through him? He doesn't get better. He doesn't even get worse, in the same way Isaac did, for example - I proposed an ending where he snaps and sets the castle on fire as a bookend with his abusive childhood, which would have been tragic, but ofc it didn't happen. The climax of his journey is that he holds no resentment towards a woman who was both kind and cruel to him, and simply chose to forgive all the bad that was done to him without any struggle. He accepted the crumbs and lapped the plate.

The message: forgive the people who hurt you, if they think they are only helping you - in fact, don't even think about it. Not because it's unhealthy to let yourself be consumed by resentment. Because if they hurt you for your own good, then they are good people deep down.

Steven Universe became the internet's laughing stock for far less.

(it's not even that Lenore was his mother, or his long-time wife, someone that could be genuinely hard to distance yourself from if they abuse you. They knew each other for maybe two months.)

I cannot empathize with N!Hector, and I can't even sympathize with him, because this is not a character arc, this is a slop job. I don't think Lenore is so nice because she deigns to speak to him, and I don't think her wanting to protect N!Hector can make up for her disgusting behavior in S3. I have no reason to be happy that N!Hector is "free", because he's in the same position he started from in S2: cooped up in a castle, uninterested in getting closer with humankind, alone. And I have no reason to be sad that Lenore killed herself, because the story did a poor job of convincing me that she deserved to be happy with the man she treated like a pet before her character was disingenuously defanged.

I can assure you: Ellis did not have any intention of writing a story about how abuse warps your conception of love. He just liked kicking around a ball in the shape of a character, and then gave him a rushed "good" ending (that still feels bittersweet compared to all others) because of backlash. Trying to see a coherent arc here is like trying to squint to see an image on a magic eye poster, and the effort is not worth it. N!Hector deserved better, and abuse survivors deserve to be represented by characters written with love, not spite.

[cuddlytogas]

So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.

See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.

But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...

What is the difference between this and this?

Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?

Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.

But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.

And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.

But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.

See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!

As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.

And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:

So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?

Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.

In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.

In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.

This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).

Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.

More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.

This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.

A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.

But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.

[uygfiug]

turns out i turned the assignment i was stressing over into something a lot more complicated in my head & its actually really simple

[hallwyeoo]

Ellie’s memory of the golfing scene and what it tells us about her.

🚨spoilers for tlou2🚨

I think Ellie’s flashback to Joel’s death is very telling of how she internalized the event and the meaning she applied to his death. It’s also a good demonstration of her relationship to autonomy. Let’s break down the elements that were inconsistent with the actual event:

The stairs/hallway are much longer than they were. This suggests a sense of helplessness, an inability to get there fast enough. Joel is constantly out of reach.

There is blood on the floor outside of the door. Not entirely certain on this one but my hunch is that she blames herself for not seeing more obvious signs of violence/not knowing something was wrong sooner.

The door is locked, another roadblock in her path to Joel. She can’t access him, she can’t help, he needs her and she isn’t there.

Most importantly. Joel yells “Ellie, help me” (which he didn’t in the actual scene, he just screams. He doesn’t say a word in the actual scene)

Ellie hearing Joel scream for her help, calling for her while being horribly beaten, and her being repeatedly impeded on her way to him suggests that what she took away from his death is that she wasn’t enough. They always helped each other, always had each others backs, always got up. Ellie views his death as a failure. She was too slow, too weak, not smart enough to save him. She failed him when he needed her most. She is absolutely helpless to save him, just like she was helpless to save Riley, Tess, Sam, and Jessie (and Marlene, and humanity, and and and-).

Once again, Ellie makes a decision (staying with Riley, going to the fireflies, staying with Joel, being the cure, trying to forgive Joel) and once again her autonomy and ability to find closure is ripped from her.

This is the inciting incident of tlou pt2, this is the moment where Ellie’s whole world shatters the same way Joel’s did at the start of pt1. Ellie enters into the same cycle (which I like to call the “Joel cycle” because… yeah.) that he did, and throughout pt2 she stays in the “20 years later” phase of the cycle. She is changed, she has lost her light, lost what she fought for. She lost her chance to genuinely forgive Joel and rebuild their relationship. She is stuck in a gruelling and violent world that she has no anchor in, at least not anymore. His death is so sudden and so incredibly violent that it practically gave her (and me as well, tbh) whiplash. She’s in a state of total shock.

On another devastating note, this is one of the three times in tlou that we see Ellie beg (that I remember). The first is begging Joel to get up at the university of Eastern Colorado, the second is begging him to get up and for Abby to stop, and the third is begging Abby to not kill Dina because she’s pregnant. (Two times she begs Joel to get up, one time he doesn’t. Two times she begs Abby to spare her family and one time she does. What a beautifully haunting contrast)

To wrap up, every person creates an internal narrative, a story of their life that is crafted from their context and lived experiences. The meaning we derive from those experiences doesn’t always reflect the truth, and that can sometimes bite us in the ass majorly when we experience a traumatic event. We tend to want to find someone or something to assign blame to, some reason or rationale to why it happened. We tell stories. We write them in our minds about ourselves and what happens to us and what that says about us.

But Ellie is wrong. Joel’s death happened in response to a conscious and willing choice he made. It is in no way her fault, and there was absolutely no way for her to know or to stop what was happening. I think Ellie knows that much on an intellectual level, It just doesn’t change how devastated she is over the whole event. It can’t change the fact that she FEELS as though this was all her fault, that Joel did what he did to save her, that she could have saved him. That she should have.

[malachite834]

It's Salmon Time (　・ω・) I've been wanting to make a Salmonid sona for so long, I'm glad to have gotten some ideas sketched down

Also shoutout to @gladiolusdragon for giving me the inspiration and motivation to finally work on it (*^ω^)

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[icewindandboringhorror]

More misc. daily life pictures and such

[chalkanthit]

Just some further character pages I did for ocs (Soul eater Fancharas) that belong to my friend @lilliesofinspirationvalley ;;;;

[goldenpinof]

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[carlottastudios]

YES FELLOW KAEYA ENJOYER 🙌🙌🙌🙌 I woukd LOVE to hear your thoughts its so hard to find anyone talking about all of kaeyas lore and implications

HI FELLOW KAEYA ENJOYER!!!!

Thank you so much! I have actually started the process of writing down my thoughts and even realized that, because of how much all of Kaeya’s lore and implications and references connect together, a mind map might actually be a better format for listen all of my thoughts than just a text post. But then, ah…I started the VERY rough draft for this mind map and I’m realizing it’s already getting so huge and complicated, I’m actually worried about whether or not I’ll be able to make it cohesive and readable.

I think that might be why it’s so hard to find anyone talking about ALL of Kaeya’s lore & myth connections & implications. THERE’S JUST SO MUCH!!! Kaeya, you have so much going on!!!! And, like, good for you, beloved, but it’s not easy for the theorists!

Anyways, in case anyone is curious, here’s a look at what I’ve got so far for the super-rough draft of a mind map for all my unhinged Kaeya lore thoughts:

Thank you for the nice message, anon!