#i want to see what else happens during that time lapse

[abzania]

I want to point out something I noticed while watching the Honda Odyssey scene that I haven't seen other people talk about.

The fighting sounds stop, but the car movement and the grunting doesn't (at least, not until they fall asleep in their post fight clarity). Pay attention as the coexist sign pans down. Initally, the fighting keeps up, but it gives way to a swaying car and some very fun Hugh Jackman noises. They totally fucked in that car. You cannot convince me otherwise.

[modelbus]

could you do a cc!tommy x reader where it's just a quiet, soft moment with him? he's always so loud and fiesty especially in stream mode but he's a big sweetheart and I think that'd really come out sometimes :)

Oh, it definitely would. Soft moments with Tommy >>

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Gn!Reader (romantic)

Soft and Sweet

“Disney plus has Thor: Love and Thunder!” Tommy exclaims, walking into the kitchen where you’re patiently waiting for popcorn.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve seen that five times.”

“We’ve seen everything else six times.” He argues.

It’s a futile resistance, one you’re only putting up because you always do. Friday was yours and Tommy’s weekly movie night and it was his turn to pick. After an incident involving a deleted Netflix account, you had to make an agreement to swap who picked every week.

“And,” he concludes, coming to lean against the counter next to you, “it’s the best.”

“The best Thor movie or the best Marvel movie?” You ask.

“Thor. Obviously it’s not the best Marvel movie.”

You nod your approval before moving to lean against him. He takes your hand, staring at the microwave. Silence lapses between you two, both just content to enjoy each other's presence.

“Okay, how fucking long does popcorn take?” You finally ask.

“So it’s not just me?!” He exclaims. “I swear it normally takes less time!”

“Me too!”

“If you burn our popcorn…” Tommy threatens, trailing off and raising his eyebrows at you.

“If the popcorn is burned it’s because your microwave is broken.” You defend yourself, staring back at him.

“My microwave is trying it’s best.”

“It’s a microwave.”

“It has feelings.”

You’re the loser of the staring contest, breaking first and laughing. Now that you’ve broken, he can laugh, joining in with your laughter.

An ear-piercing beep cuts through the moment; the microwave. It has no right to be that loud, but it is.

“See, it’s mad at you for calling it broken.” Tommy hums, grabbing a bowl as you get the popcorn from the microwave.

“I love you but I’m not apologizing to the microwave.” You laugh.

He sets the bowl down and waits for you to empty the bag into it before trying to stuff his face with popcorn.

“That’s hot.” He mumbles, swallowing quickly but eating more.

You grab some for yourself before taking the bowl to his room. Neither of you could figure out how to get movies on the TV, so laptop Disney+ it was.

“Hey, wait, I want more!” Tommy cries, chasing after you for more popcorn.

“We’re meant to eat popcorn and watch a movie.” You point out.

“I’ll make more.”

“That’s what you said the last seven times.”

“No, but I mean it this time.” Tommy pairs his words with a convincing grin.

He definitely doesn’t mean it. Popcorn was an addicting food though, so you couldn’t really blame him.

After a few minutes, you both get comfortable in his bed, laptop propped up at the end. It’s times like this that you’re glad Wilbur made him buy five thousand pillows. The ability to put pillows all around you two makes it feel like a whole other world full of comfort and love where you never have to get up.

Tommy taps his fingers absent-mindedly on you, his arm around your shoulder. You risk a look up at him to see he’s completely engrossed in the movie. You throw a piece of popcorn at him just to see what would happen.

“Hey!” He exclaims, but then eats it. “Thanks.”

Of course he’d eat it. With a small laugh, you settle in to give the movie your full attention. You feel him lean his head until it’s resting on top your yours.

“G’night.” He murmurs.

“Night Tom.” You laugh.

Despite picking the movie, he always falls asleep during it. You were guilty of falling asleep during them too, sometimes before him if it was a long day. Something about the atmosphere was cozy and safe.

Sure enough, within a few minutes he’s fast asleep. You shut your eyes, movie still playing in the background, and join him.

[smaller-comfort]

In conclusion:

On the one hand, I do have a lot to say about this story. On the other, it's been a weird few weeks and I probably need to take a break from the internet for a while, in general. (Am I going to? Probably not.)

All things considered, my notes are a lot less hysterical than I was expecting. Here we go!

The expanding text was a last minute addition, but I'm glad people had fun with it. I certainly had fun with it. The "Pause" at the top of chapter 6 probably makes me laugh the most, but the ones in chapters 3 and 4 were what made me stick the cuts in there to begin with.

I really wasn't expecting to actually finish and/or post this one any time soon (or ever???) but, like I said- a weird few weeks. I don't usually hyperfocus on a single project like this, and lately my brain feels like it's going to implode. Anyway!

Who is the second person narrator in the expanding text? I leave that as an exercise for the reader.

Death of the author and all that, but here's some of the background stuff that probably ought to be in the story but isn't:

It's really only a few months between Dreaming Still and Save Scumming; Aephorul wasn't actually lying about the spell being a rush job, and Resh'an absolutely did not do his due diligence before he opened that vial.

They're idiots! That's it, that's the real theme; they make each other stupid, and they mirror each other's poor decision making constantly.

(I'm not trying to be like...a subtle writer. I have these themes and ideas nailed to a two-by-four. I am going to beat someone to death with them. At least, that's how it feels to me, but I realize that may not necessarily translate as well as I think it does.)

After not speaking to each other for a thousand years and then getting thrown back together- however briefly- during the events of the game and Loser Takes All, they're both desperate for any excuse to see each other again. They just have to make things complicated for themselves.

Aephorul really could have just sent a letter, like "hey wanna grab coffee somewhere neutral sometime and ~not argue~ for a little while less-than-three winky face winky face?" (He dictates.) And Resh'an would've replied back, "I don't drink coffee anymore" along with a location and time. (He does still drink coffee; Aephorul swings by Sea of Starbucks and gets him his favorite latte.)

Resh'an intended the time loop to be insurance, in case something did go wrong. Whoops. He can't help it, but he's really only playing twelve dimensional chess with himself. Aephorul, meanwhile, is playing poker. I could torture this metaphor a little more, if you want.

Pure, organic, unfounded headcanon territory! Aephorul can't manipulate time the way Resh'an can- but he does know more about time magic and alchemy than anyone else in the universe except Resh'an. When he's paying attention, he's able to see what Resh'an is doing, and he's on hyper alert after his embarrassing lapse in Dreaming Still.

He doesn't have a clear sense of the events of those other loops, but he does get a pretty clear idea of the emotions he's experiencing. Anger tends to compound itself.

Hokay so. In the game, Resh'an splits himself into 3 "clones" during Garl's borrowed time. Those aren't empty puppets; my theory is he made a time loop, iterated himself, and then reintegrated those loops into the main timeline. That's sort of what happened here. The time loops are separate and concurrent, so my cutesy framing device is slightly misleading; technically no one is going back to restart the loop.

Okay, technically some of them do. There were probably more iterations than just the three in the story. They're not really important, except one of them is going to be a standalone story at some point (no happy ending).

It's not linear. Don't worry about it.

There are some fucked up implications here! This is not Resh'an's first rodeo/orgy/extremely ill-advised gangbang. It's also not the first time Aephorul has sexually assaulted him. It might be the first time those things happen in conjunction with each other, but Resh'an is being fairly literal when he says none of this is new to him.

Does this even rate in the top 10 of horrific things Aephorul has done to Resh'an? It might be like...8th or 9th place. Definitely not in the top 5, in Resh'an's opinion. (He and Aephorul have very different opinions about this.)

The fact that he and Resh'an now have wildly different ideas of what constitutes "fun" is also difficult for him. He'll get there eventually. Maybe.

Aephorul really wants to pretend things between them haven't changed; before they began fighting, they would've gotten up to all kinds of weird and horrifying shit with each other, because it was fun and they were bored. (What's the point of being immortal if you can't use it to spend a few centuries inventing bizarre recreational drugs and weird sex acts? No point at all.) He's not used to asking for permission when he could always just take it for granted that Resh'an would ultimately enjoy whatever he had planned. The fact that Resh'an no longer appreciates his fun little surprises is difficult for him to deal with.

One thing I really hope comes through is the way Aephorul's actions are him being extremely reactive to Resh'an's level of vulnerability. He can be gentle when Resh'an is willing to show that he's in pain. If Resh'an had begged him not to go through with it, chapter 3 wouldn't have happened; if chapter 3 didn't happen, then chapter 4 couldn't happen. It takes Resh'an being completely broken for Aephorul to be willing to show his face. Even then, he can't help responding to Resh'an's initial anger like a complete fucking asshole, before his 'wait, shit, I fucked up' instincts kick in.

It doesn't matter in any meaningful sense- what Aephorul does is inexcusable on every level- but he does erase the memories of everyone who participated in the gang rape, and most of the audience was illusionary. There's a few plot hooks in there that I may or may not pick up in a future story.

But really, I'm done with plot for a while. I think most of what's going to follow this will just be more snarsty porn. Enthusiastically consensual snarsty porn, but snarsty porn all the same.

(Since I'm apparently not done experiencing the mortifying ordeal of being known, I do intend to finish the oviposition story. Someday. Probably.)

I feel like I can summarize a lot of their relationship at this point like this:

Resh'an, face completely neutral and voice pleasant: Say one more word and I am going to mcfucking lose it.

Aephorul: one more word

Resh'an: *mcfucking loses it*

Aephorul: *shocked Pikachu face*

I listened to Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) by Florence and the Machine so many times while editing this that I think I'm now stuck with that as my Resh'an song. Embarrassing.

(Aephorul's song is, unfortunately, still Where's the Girl from The Scarlet Pimpernel.) ("We were cut from the same surly star" come on, how can I not.) (...okay also Bad Touch by The Bloodhound Gang.)

Resh'an literally broke the space-time continuum because he couldn't bring himself to kill Aephorul. This story was, in part, me wanting to work through why. I have apparently decided that it's because they're in a horrifically toxic codependent relationship that most likely will end with them destroying the universe and each other.

...okay, and honestly, when I wrote the end of Dreaming Still I was kind of like "shit, I can't just write the same scenario as Loser Takes All again." I mean. I could. But I had to do something a little different. Then it got out of hand, as things so often tend to.

This is the longest thing I've ever finished! I am actually quite proud of it! It is probably going to be at least a month before I can stand to look at it again. *sighs, and walks into the lake*

[singledarkshade]

The Apartment

Summary: Daniel takes a step forward making a life on Earth now he's trapped here for a year.

Author’s Note - Another one I've had sitting half-finished for ages and finally managed to finish. Enjoy.

                             *********************************************

He stared at the keys in his hand, the small pieces of metal that represented something so much more than anyone could understand.

“I’m sorry,” he looked up when he realised the woman beside him was speaking, “What did you say?”

The blonde woman gave him a smile, “I asked if there was anything else you needed, Dr Jackson.”

“No,” Daniel shook his head vigorously trying to cover his little lapse in manners, “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your help, Mrs Little.”

She gave him another smile, “Then I will leave you to settle in.”

Daniel watched her walk along the corridor and waited until she had disappeared in the elevator before he turned back to the door. Sliding the key into the lock he let the door swing open and stalled.

He stood staring into the open door, not able to cross the threshold because then he would be admitting it, admitting that he couldn’t go home. He’d told them to bury the Gate again for a year, which equated to a year and a half here on Earth.

Going back to Abydos was not going to happen any time soon and his wife, his amazing wonderful, brilliant wife, was missing.

He was alone again.

~

Daniel jumped when the phone in his pocket rang suddenly.

“Hi, Jack,” he forced the despair he was feeling out of his voice to talk to his ‘commanding officer’, “I thought you were going to a football game with your cousin?”

“I am,” Jack replied with a chuckle, “Just waiting for Joe to park which means I have about an hour to talk.”

Daniel smiled despite himself, “Why are you calling?”

“I thought I’d make sure you were getting some fresh air during our time off,” Jack told him, “Because I don’t want to get back and find you didn’t leave the base for seventy-two hours.”

“I’m out of the base, Jack,” Daniel told him, “I promise. I’m…” he hesitated before lying, “Heading to look at the bookshop I found a few weeks ago.”

“Good,” Jack replied, “That’s good, Daniel.”

Daniel bit his lip at the concern in the other man’s voice.

“You’re allowed to relax,” Jack reminded him, “You can’t keep going on all cylinders indefinitely, you’ll burn yourself out.”

“I know,” Daniel said softly.

“I have to go,” Jack told him, “Joe finally managed to park. I’ll be back on Monday sometime during the day, so no wild parties.”

Daniel smiled slightly, “Enjoy your weekend with your family, Jack. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Hanging up the phone, Daniel took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

~

The apartment wasn’t big, it wasn’t like Daniel expected to spend much time here, but it was furnished, and it was close to the base.

He knew he needed to get out of Jack’s spare room, as grateful as he was that Jack had let him stay. Daniel needed his own space and if he found, no, when, when he found Sha’re they would need a place to stay until they could return to Abydos.

There was a living room, kitchen, a main bedroom, spare bedroom, bathroom and two cupboards which was more than enough for him. He’d been sharing a tent about the size of the main bedroom for the past year very happily, not to mention his previous apartments had all been basically boxes.

He’d known for a while he had to leave Jack’s spare room, mentioned it once or twice but never did anything because Daniel needed the small comfort staying with Jack gave him. However, after the whole turning into a Neanderthal debacle, Daniel knew he had to take the step. The problem was he didn’t want to leave Jack’s because it was admitting he would be staying on Earth.

Jack wasn’t much help either.

Anytime he made noise about leaving, Jack would just say Daniel could stay as long as he needed to.

~

The bedroom had a double bed in the middle of the room; a duvet was sitting rolled up in the middle of it with four pillows beside it. There was some bedding which Daniel quickly moved out of the way since he knew it would cause an allergic reaction, something he hadn’t had to worry about on Abydos. He’d bought and washed some bedding to bring with him which was downstairs in his recently purchased car along with everything else he currently owned, which wasn’t much, and knew he’d have to start bringing everything up.

His phone rang again, postponing that for a few more moments, he sighed when he saw who was calling before, once again, forcing a smile into his voice.

“Hi, Sam,” he greeted the woman on the other end.

“Hey, I stopped off at the Colonel’s to see if you wanted to have lunch,” she said, “Just wanted to…”

The hesitation made him grimace slightly, but he didn’t call her on it, instead he replied, “I was out.”

“I guessed that,” Sam chuckled.

Daniel winced before lying, “There are some bookshops I wanted to check out.”

“Well, I’m going to a friend’s engagement party tonight,” Sam told him, “So I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Have fun,” Daniel told her, before he hung up.

With a sigh, he headed to bring his belongings up so he could settle in properly.

~

Daniel knew he could have asked the other three members of his team to help him, but he didn’t want to.

He needed to do this himself.

Honestly Daniel knew it was because until recently he’d had no one who would help him and he didn’t feel comfortable asking for help. Besides with what little he owned, it didn’t take him that long to get everything out the car and into the apartment, so soon Daniel was moved into a new apartment.

He hated it.

Taking a breath, he made the final touch and placed the photograph of Sha’re that Ferretti had found for him from the original mission at his bedside. She was smiling, Daniel remembered it was because he’d told her that she was too perfect for him.

And she was.

Sha’re was kind, generous, brilliant and for some bizarre reason loved him.

Daniel knew he didn’t deserve her love, because she was an angel, and he was just him.

Sha’re was generous with everyone but with him she shared everything.

She had been fearful of sharing a bed with him at first, knowing she was meant to give her body to her husband, stories from her friends who were married had scared her but, after Daniel assured her that he expected nothing, Sha’re relaxed. They took things as slow as she needed them to, and Daniel loved that they spent time getting to know one another properly before she was comfortable enough for their relationship to become fully physical.

Daniel hated waking up alone, after a full year of waking to the feel of his wife cuddled close most mornings. Even before they started having sex, Sha’re liked sleeping in his arms and Daniel loved it too. He’d been alone for so much of his life and, being alone again, her absence hurt. He didn’t sleep much anymore because he felt her loss so keenly in the middle of the night and first thing in the morning.

Shaking himself Daniel fixed the picture again, reminding himself that moving into the apartment was so that when he found Sha’re then they had somewhere to stay until they were able to go back to Abydos.

He could do this; he could survive until he found his reason for living once more.

[zen-the-dumb]

Iwaizumi Hajime Hurt/comfort Headcannons

Okay. So I know the polls aren’t done, but i saw that the most people wanted Iwaizumi headcannons first, so I am happily obliging

_____________________________________________________________.

So, I made a lapse and forgot to ask what type of Hurt/comfort was wanted- so I'm doing all of them :> (There will be tw’s marking whatever in each sections)

______________________________________________________________

Depression

He is an extremely caring partner. He’s also quite protective of you and just wants to see you happy and contented. When he found out that you had struggled with something like this, he was pained that it wasn’t possible to remove your pain from you. He would have taken all of your pain if he had the choice.

I think he would do his best to understand what you are going through to the absolute best of his ability. He wants to see you happy, therefore he will study up on everything about depression and try to help you be happy again. This includes helping you find a therapist, counselor, psychologist, whatever.

He will help you with whatever struggle you are going through. He is like your shoulder to lean on.

Iwaizumi wants to be there with you whenever you have panic attacks, breakdowns, etc. He feels like he’s responsible for making sure that you have someone to rely on in those hard moments.

Insomnia

For a partner with insomnia, Iwaizumi would be more concerned for your health than anything else. He’s worried about how it effects your mental health as well as physical health.

To help with your sleeping issues, I think he’d suggest different brands of sleeping pills after researching the best ones. If you can’t afford the medication, he will buy the medication for you. (He just wants you to get sleep and be healthy <3)

Severe anxiety

Hajima will not hesitate to drop whatever he is doing to come and comfort you during an anxiety attack. He can tell that it causes you pain and irrational amounts of fear, so he wants to make you feel safe.

Music. Will let you share his headphones and he’ll sit next to you with his arm around you while you both listen to his playlist or something.

It’s honestly one of his favorite things to do to calm you down by just wrapping himself around you whenever you both aren’t in public or anything.

If you are the type to wake up in the middle of the night with extreme anxiety attacks, he has told you to just call him whenever it happens. No matter what time, he will pick up.

SH

TW: MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM

He saw your self-harm on accident. He immediately demanded to know why you had done it.

He asked what you did it with, and if it was something that was not a part of your body (What i mean by this is like if its a blade or something) he took it from you and locked it in his locker or something.

He isn’t angry at you by any means. He is just sad that he couldn’t stop you before you had done it. He was mad at himself.

Everyday, while you’re healing, Iwaizumi will dress your wounds. He removes bandaids/bandages, gauze, and cleaned them to keep them from getting infected.

______________________________________________________________

*_Requests are open, check profile for details_*

If anyone has other hurt.comfort avenues they’d like me to explore, comment or DM me and ill make another post.

[willsimpforazula]

Sokkla Saturday Wk 3: Earth

My humble submission for sokkla saturday 2023 week 3. not quite good enough to put up on AO3 or FFN, but good enough to make it to tumblr, ig. very heavily inspired by Pictures of the Past, figured it could sorta work for when the kids start asking questions about what did mom do in the EK during the 100 years war *ps: there is the word 'earth' in the fic so that counts as meeting the theme *pps: TalesofOnyxBats is a goated Sokkla writer no cap fr anyways...... ******* It was going to happen at some point, they figured. After all, they figured that their kids had inherited enough intellect between the two of them to put two and two together. Or at least, have a good theory as to why everytime they travelled to Ba Sing Se (which wasn't often, but enough for them to have a semi decent idea of what the Upper Ring looked like.), their mother would often meet them at their granduncle's tea shop in disguise. Or why they would stay in the United Republics' embassy grounds instead of the Earth King's palace, among other questions.  __________________________________

Airship Lounge

Somewhere over Full Moon Bay

If it was any consolation, when the question finally came they were travelling in their private airship instead of on the ground in Ba Sing Se itself.

"Mom?" 

"Yes Miska?"

"Why do you need to put on disguises every time we go to Ba Sing Se?"

"Well…-"

"Also why can't we stay at the Earth King's palace? Aunt Katara and Uncle Aang and their family always stay there." Risa asked. 

Turning to her husband, Azula shot him a glance, which Sokka immediately understood. Taking a deep breath, she answered "Meet me in our room in 10 minutes.". 

"But wh-"

"We'll answer your questions then." Sokka cut them off, his voice taking on a serious tone that Risa and Miska understood to mean I will not repeat myself.  _________________________________

Azula and Sokka's bedroom

"Sokka?" Azula asked, her gaze fixed on the carpet of their room. 

"W-what do I tell them?" Azula asked nervously, simultaneously wanting to tell her kids the truth while not wanting to tarnish their image of her. 

Taking her hands in his, Sokka replied "As much or as little as you think they need to know. It's your story to tell, not mine."

"You were there when…-"

"We didn't know any better, Azula. Whatever you choose, know this: I will always still love you." he replied, kissing the back of her hand. __________________________________________ __________________________________________

Meanwhile, outside their room…

"Riri?"

"Do you think mom and dad are mad at us?"

"I-I don't think so." 

"You saw how mom reacted right? D-d-do you think we shou-"

"If we did they would have shut it down immediately, not ask us to see them in 10 minutes."

"I suppose you have a point."

"Once again, your big sister proves that she is always right." 

"Uh huh…like dating both Min Seok and Sakura clearly wasn't going to lead to…whatever that was."

"A momentary lapse in judgement." she handwaved, not eager to relive that particular set of memories.

"So you say, so you say. I suppose there is no reason to delay any longer?" Miska replied, giving their parents' cabin a quick few raps.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Come in."

Closing the door behind them, the twins waited with bated breath for whatever their parents had to say. "First off," Azula began,  "both of you aren't in trouble. That said, please stay back after this Risa, your father and I have some things we would like to discuss regarding how you conduct your…relationships.", to which Risa swallowed a gulp.

"But back to the topic at hand, what I am about to tell you is only for your ears alone and no one else outside this room. Do I make myself clear?"

When the twins nodded, she continued, giving Sokka's hand a squeeze as she did so. "How much of the Hundred Years War did your teachers tell you about?"

"Um…only that dad was part of the team that defeated the Fire Nation and ended it? Oh and that the Fire Nation staged a coup that toppled Ba Sing Se in a single night and occupied it for six months." Miska answered.

"Mom?"

"Yes Risa?"

"Were you the one who staged the coup and overthrew Kuei?"

"I wasn't alone in that, but yes, I was the one who planned and carried it out, among other things." Azula replied, before briefly explaining what had happened that night in the palace, though there were details that she omitted, choosing to set that aside for another time. If nothing else, they deserve to at least hear my side of the events, she thought.

With bated breath, she leaned against Sokka, a fluttering sensation in her stomach as she hoped against hope that her kids wouldn't outright disassociate themselves from her given her past or worse, hate her for her actions (who could blame them, really, she thought).

As the silence continued, Azula felt the urge to fill the space growing within her and just as she could no longer resist, they stood up and wrapped her in a hug, taking her by surprise as they let their simple action speak on their behalf. At this, her eyes started to tear as her worst fears proved unfounded and she hugged her kids tightly in response, even as Sokka wrapped his arms around them all. 

"Thank you Risa, Miska." she whispered.

[jokertrap-ran]

[スタオケ] La Corda d'Oro Starlight Orchestra Mikado Ukiha Cast Story Chapter 6 Translation

*Starlight Orchestra Masterlist | Mikado Ukiha’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Mikado's Route Tag will be #Ukiha’s Star

Rei: Phew… Returning to the hotel after a street performance feels rejuvenating!

Rei: No matter where we're performing, Kyoto is still such a sight to behold at this time of the year, albeit it is a little cold.

Rei: Did you see the weather forecast? They said that it's only going to get colder tomorrow.

Rei: The winds have been picking up too… Looks like the end of the autumn foliage is near.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Perhaps it might be a good chance to go admire the maple leaves before they fall off.

I'll try inviting Mikado tomorrow.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: …(L/n)-san?

Ukiha: Ah, it really is you. I knew I recognized that silhouette of yours.

Ukiha: What are you doing today? Is there anything urgent on your plate?

▷Choice: I was looking to go admire the maple leaves

Ukiha: So that's why you came here, to invite me? Ukiha: …Hehe, you are truly an odd one to be inviting me instead of one of your friends from the Starlight Orchestra.

▷Choice: Let's go on a date.

Ukiha: Hehe. I have a feeling of deja vu. This is not the first time you have come all the way to the school's main gate to invite me out with you.

Ukiha: You could have asked someone else, you know.

Ukiha: I think it would be a much more enjoyable experience to admire the beauty of the autumn foliage with someone who is not as experienced with Kyoto as I am.

▷Choice: I wanted to go with you

Ukiha: …Dear me. Ukiha: If you are going to be so honest about it, then I suppose I shall have to take you to see a special sight. Ukiha: Come on then… Shall we take another tour around Kyoto today? Ukiha: However, let us go somewhere different for a change.

Ukiha: What do you think of it? Is it to your liking?

Ukiha: Haha, looks like you have been rendered speechless. This is the Philosopher's Path.

Ukiha: It's said that this path was named after a Philosopher, Nishida Kitaro, who often lapsed into deep contemplation whilst walking down this path.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: I would not go as far as to say that tourist spots are bad, but…

Ukiha: I think places like this, which are more relevant to the lives of the people, are where you can see the true beauty of Kyoto.

Ukiha: The scenery here is a stunning sight to behold during the cherry blossom season, you know. With Cherry blossoms blooming up above, and petals decorating the waters, it becomes akin to a cherry blossom tunnel.

Ukiha: And in the early days of summer, this entire place is filled with lush greenery, with fireflies appearing in the evenings. During the winter, this place also happens to boast a beautiful snowscape…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: That being said, however… I still much prefer autumn, where the leaves are as red as flames.

Ukiha: A dazzlingly vibrant world of scarlet…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: Where the absence of sound is enough to make one lose their mind…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

The cool wind ruffled my hair, and I subconsciously closed my eyes.

When I reopened my eyes once more, Mikado was nowhere to be seen.

I was alone in a scarlet world. The hues of the sunset gradually dyed the tips of my shoes with a red hue.

Where did Mikado…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: …Hehe.

Ukiha: Come over here, my dear Maple…

Ukiha: Is something the matter, (L/n)-san…?

Ukiha: Hehe, what an odd expression you have on your face. Why do you look like you have just seen a ghost?

▷Choice: I thought you left��� ▷Choice: That was a little scary…

Ukiha: Did you perhaps think that I had been taken by the maples, and not the cherry blossoms?

Ukiha: It is six in the evening_ The hour of twilight. It would not be odd, should anything have happened…

Ukiha: …Heh, you were afraid, were you not?

Ukiha: That I had left you here, alone.

Ukiha: …

Ukiha: …Pardon me.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: Don't move.

Mikado’s fingers touched my hair.

Ukiha: …Oh mighty sacred mountain, I will not lose my heart to your bright foliage, for even the loveliest things are doomed to fade and fall…

Ukiha: …Look. A maple leaf got caught in your hair.

Ukiha: They say that night falls quickly in fall, so this place will soon be engulfed in darkness. Since that is the case, we should make haste.

Ukiha: Come on, let us head back before it gets dark.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬Ukiha’s Star♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 5) Next Part: (Chapter 7)

[thedearlydepart]

I never thought I’d be writing this, but after much reflection, it’s time for me to step away from the creative space—at least in a professional sense. It's bittersweet, and honestly, a little sad.

Tumblr has been the foundation of so much of what I was doing, especially from 2009 to around 2016. During those years, I poured everything into my projects, but in the end, most of them didn’t take off the way I’d hoped. The reality is, they lacked the momentum to become sustainable.

One of those projects was @untldsound . It still makes me smile when I think about how, two years ago, I filed an LLC for it, opened a bank account—and then… nothing. Life happened, plans fell through. Maybe something will come of it in the future, but who knows? Right now, I’m not sure what will happen with the content that exists there. I’ll try to publish what I can, archive the rest, and by late 2026, the page will likely be deactivated or gone entirely.

Helping people make music has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. But unfortunately, between unreliable clients, strained friendships, and financial limitations, I couldn’t keep the dream alive. Some of the artists I worked with are still going strong—like Mike Lawrence (formerly Whaleman) and Mazi Kabi. Shaun Green, aka Shizzymandias, still creates music from time to time, although it’s no longer his main focus. I’ve lost touch with our producer, Dreams/Deval Dreams, but I’m determined to get his work back onto platforms and into the world. I know he’ll find success. And to @goldpackpapi, aka Ryan Dobson, and all my UNTLD crew—I love you all. I hope one day, we can create together again.

As for this page, aside from managing acts around the Philly area, I also mixed and mastered music under the name @thedearlydepart . This page will stay up as a reminder of those times. While the name @thedearlydepart will live on, I’ll be transitioning most of my accounts to my personal name and email. The domain (www.thedearlydepart.com) is no longer active—someone else claimed it when I let it lapse—but I’ll be using its email service for a while longer. After that, it’ll disappear.

I had considered turning this handle into something more personal, and in some ways, it already was. But I think it’s time to let go of the moniker and start fresh. Over the next year, I’ll keep you updated on what happens with the content across my various platforms.

Then there’s @psocial-light, which I started in December 2009, a few months after my child was born. It was a lifestyle and photography brand that, unfortunately, never fully blossomed. Still, I stand by the work I did there—it was my first real project, my baby. After 15 years (with the last five being mostly inactive), it’s time to say goodbye. I still have the files, and I’ll never forget those times, even if @rawartistsla was a bit of a scam. It was still special, and I’m grateful to Jailon, Ryan, and @ziggy-wiggy for supporting me at my little photo stand, helping me pack up for the show.

At the end of the day, I wanted all these ventures to succeed, and I take full responsibility for them not reaching their potential. I didn’t have the business know-how to turn them into money-making ventures. I couldn’t get anyone on tour, secure major placements, or help these projects scale. I couldn’t make it as an artist, or even as one of the pieces making the machine run.

So, I’m giving up.

I don’t expect many people to see this or care, but for those who do, I’ll be posting updates about the transition process on each page. I expect this to take until late 2025 or early 2026, with the final shutdown happening around summer 2026.

If anyone is interested in acquiring rights to any of the content, feel free to reach out.

[aeriona]

OKAY FINALLY I finished this, another short story set in my Eldritch AU! this one's post-manga.

AND I POSTED IT ON A03 TOO! my other short story is over there as well (it's chapter 1!)

This was my writing prompt: Shadow freaks out during a thunderstorm and runs off to hide. Vio shows up and reassures him. Partially inspired by a short comic I found on Tumblr.

Enjoy!

~~~~~

“Hey. Can you hear me?”

“...yeah.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?... I can leave.”

There was a long pause. Vio took that as a no, and turned to do just that.

“...um. Please stay.”

Alright then.

There was still the occasional rumble of thunder outside, but it was distant, softened by the walls.

Rain was pelting the window across the room, creating a dull din Vio personally found rather comforting. He could understand why Shadow did not, however.

He was still curled up on the floor beside the bed, and Vio could already see from here that his entire body was tensed like a bowstring ready to snap. Several sets of arms were curled tightly around his body, hiding his face. The end of his hat was still visible behind it all, flicking back and forth anxiously by his feet.

Vio sat a healthy distance across from him on the floor. He opted not to speak or stare, instead examining the darkened window and the rain outside.

They both sat like that in silence for a while, before another bout of thunder rumbled their bones, causing Shadow to flinch out of his melancholy stupor. Surprisingly, he was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry I ran off.” he mumbled, muffled by the wall of limbs over his face.

“It’s okay.”

“...You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“I don’t care about that, Shadow. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I.” he broke off with a frustrated huff. He went quiet for a moment, before Vio noticed a glowing red eye peek through that wall. “Did I hurt you?”

He sighed. Of course he’d ask that. “No, I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

Shadow stared at him, unmoving.

Vio huffed a laugh. It was more of a forceful breath, if anything. “Really, I'm okay.”

“But I scared you.”

Ah. What could Vio say to that? He had been scared.

A thunderstorm had started about two hours prior, causing loud bouts of thunder that trembled the very walls of their home. In retrospect, Vio thought, Shadow had never heard thunder before, so he had likely assumed something monumentally terrible was happening.

Vio had been reading in another room when he heard a violent crack of lightning, followed by a loud shattering-crash from the kitchen. Vio had walked in, horrified to see his partner had been scrabbling about on the tile floor, all fangs and maws and limbs and spitting feverish desperate curses as he bled all over the broken hyaline-glass shards under his feet.

Vio didn’t even have a chance to speak when Shadow suddenly bound across the room on powerful legs, forcefully tossing him aside and bolting into the nearest room with reckless abandon, slamming it behind him.

Yes, Vio concluded, it was certainly scary.

After some thought, he adjusted his approach and assumed a careful expression.

“It was just sudden, that’s all. I didn’t expect you to just,” Vio waved a hand, “y’know?

“If anything, I should be the one asking if you’re alright. You were really scared.”

Shadow said nothing, so they both lapsed into a tense silence. There was no thunder outside this time. Vio waited patiently.

“It’s just…” Shadow began, letting a pair of taloned arms fall to the floor, “it’s stupid.”

Vio stayed quiet to allow him time to elaborate, but he never did.

Maybe a different approach, then.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” he asked.

Shadow chuckled, humourless and wounded. “I don’t know why you’d want to, but sure.”

Vio frowned, scooting closer to squeeze one of his hands. It had sharp claws, and was very cold.

“Do you really think of yourself that way?” Vio whispered.

“What else is there to think, Vio? Look at me.”

Shadow dropped his remaining limbs to his sides, pinning Vio with a fanged, seven-eyed stare.

He didn’t flinch. “I’m looking.”

Shadow deflated and looked down at his hands, dejected. “...just. I’m really fucking dangerous, Vio.”

Vio took another one of his hands, holding them close to his chest.

“I don’t see that, Shadow. You’re not dangerous. At least, not if you don’t want to.”

Shadow looked like he was going to argue, but Vio kept talking.

“Vaati made you in that mirror so you could destroy towns and kill many people. Sure, you may have fulfilled the former to some extent in regards to the local villages, but you’ve never killed anyone, Shadow. You chose not to.”

Shadow looked at him with a conflicted expression. Vio shuffled closer until they were pressed together from hip to shoulder.

“I’ve hurt people.” Shadow spoke quietly, just loud enough for Vio to hear his voice crack.

“You didn’t know how fragile Hylians were at the time. You didn’t know.”

“I’m dangerous.”

“Never on purpose.”

The look Shadow fixed him was tortured, clearly not liking what he was going to say next.

“I could kill you.”

Vio sighed, searching his eyes for a moment.

“...Would you do that on purpose?”

Shadow baulked, caught off-guard. “Wh-no! Of course not!”

“Then it wouldn’t be your fault, would it?”

“But what if I did hurt you? I nearly did, today.”

Vio smiled. “Then I'd forgive you.”

Shadow looked like he was going to argue, but Vio pulled him in for a hug. Shadow tensed for a moment, before breaking down and wrapping all his arms around him, doing his best to hide his face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you. So much, Shadow. 

“Your entire existence doesn’t hinge off of killing people. It doesn’t have to be, you realise that now.”

“You are not a monster.” Vio paused for a bit, then backpedalled,“Uh. Wait, I mean, not like a-”

“I get it,” Shadow laughed weakly, “and um. Thanks.”

Vio kissed his head. “Don’t mention it. I was just terrified I would say something wrong.”

“You nearly did, dumbass.”

As he recovered from his impromptu laughing fit, Vio came to a realisation.

He knew that even if he were to spend the rest of the evening reiterating to Shadow that he wasn’t dangerous and that he is loved, the shade probably still wouldn’t believe it. 

That was okay. An internalised, existential terror regarding the mortality of everyone around you doesn't just disappear overnight. He’d be impressed if it did, this emotional stuff takes time.

“..How many eyes do I have right now?”

Vio leaned back and tilted Shadow’s face with one hand so he could see better. “About seven,” he said, glancing down, “one for each arm, almost. I can’t really see from here.”

“Har har.” Shadow deadpanned. Then, he looked confused. “Wait, About?”

“It’s dark! It’s hard to tell!”

“My eyes glow in the dark are you blind or insane-

They were okay for now.

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Venus enters retrograde zone

Timeline (current events in bold)

Sunday, June 4, 2023, 15:00 UT - Venus’ greatest eastern elongation, 29°06’ Cancer

Monday, June 19, 07:18 UT - transiting Venus enters pre-retrograde shadow, 12°12’ Leo

Sunday, July 23, 01:33 UT - transiting Venus stations retrograde, 28°36’ Leo

Sunday, August 13, 11:15, Sun-Venus inferior conjunction, 20°28’ Leo

Monday, September 4, 01:20 UT - transiting Venus stations direct, 12°12’ Leo

Saturday, October 7, 9:21 UT - transiting Venus exits post-retrograde shadow, 28°36’ Leo

Thursday, October 24, 2023, 02:57 UT - Venus’ greatest western elongation, 14°02’ Virgo

Tuesday, June 4, 2024, 15:33 UT - Sun-Venus superior conjunction, 14°30’ Gemini

Friday, January 10, 2025, 09:59 UT - Venus’ greatest eastern elongation, 7°35’ Pisces

Tuesday, January 28, 2025 - transiting Venus enters pre-retrograde shadow, 24°37’ Pisces

That is rather more timeline information than I usually write - I wanted to show the whole process, if only to enable people to find the similarities and differences between Venus’ and Mercury’s retrograde zones.

But what does it all mean? Here is Martin Bulgerin’s take (from www . biopscinst . com):

When Venus is in retrograde, the emotions and instincts go haywire. Our usual sense of what is beautiful, pleasing and attractive is suspended. Some astrologers warn against buying anything for its aesthetic appeal during this cycle, since the object will seem like a "lapse of good taste" at a later date. Relationships begun now can be the same way. I'd double-check any decisions made by "gut level instinct" or by the way the situation feels while Venus is backing up.

How does this translate into Venus’ areas?

Art - I knit and crochet, and I consistently have found Venus Rx to bring me all kinds of excessively elaborate ideas for dazzling future projects; they invariably fail to materialize.

Beauty - the classic Venus Rx problem here is the drastic haircut that ends up a disaster. Don’t do it!

Love - and the typical event in this category is the return of former lovers, whether we want to see them again or not.

Money - Venus rules money; Leo rules gambling and investment. Not only is Martin’s caution about splurging on something tacky very valid (Leo has a tacky streak), but we are also in danger of spending too much on bad investments eg “get rich quick schemes.”

All our Venus functions are due for a little recalibration. (Venus as ruler of Libra, the Scales, can get behind this.) During these pre-retrograde shadow weeks, we need to be alert for the themes which we’ll focus on.

Venus will make some “three-peat” aspects during her time in the Zone. If they trigger anything in your chart, watch out! The following all occur during the pre-retrograde shadow:

Sunday, June 11 - Venus/Leo square Jupiter/Taurus, 5°37’ (I know, this was technically not in Venus’ retrograde zone, but it’s still a three-peat!)

Thursday, June 29 - Venus/Leo trine Chiron/Aries, 19°42’

Sunday, July 2 - Venus/Leo square Uranus/Taurus, 21°46’

Saturday, July 8 - Venus/Leo trine Eris/Aries, 25°14’

Saturday, July 15 - Venus/Leo inconjunct Neptune Rx/Pisces, 27°37’

Some scaffolding, if you’re in need of it:

Consider your natal Venus by sign and house - this is the cause, the instigator, behind what’s about to happen. (Venus in Taurus and the 6th, conjunct my Descendant.)

Which house(s) of your natal chart will Venus Rx be parked in? Here’s where the action is. (Back and forth between my natal 9th and 10th.)

Will Venus make any aspects to your Sun, Moon, Ascendant/Descendat, &/or MC/IC? These will be Very Big Deals. (Sextile, trine, square, conjunct/oppose - jackpot!!)

Is anything else going on in your chart, Venus-related? (Transiting Jupiter will be conjunct my natal Venus for the whole period; ditto for transiting Neptune semi-square natal Venus; my progressed Venus enters Leo in early August.)

[otaku-tactician]

basically, for a time in my life i really tried desperately hard to be like cu from fate series. but in trying to be like someone who im not, it meant i finally had to contend with who i truly was; as well. i had no choice but to finally see my own reality.

and weirdly many other unrelated events that completely overturned my ideals and exposed the ugly truth- showing me what my life REALLY WAS- happened during this time as well.

during those times, i clung really hard to an ideal image of this blorbo that also shattered to bits, as i began to question and realise that the way i viewed him was full of holes compared to everyone else, whose conception of his personality was rather nuanced.

and it was extremely painful. basically, everything i had suppressed for so long came out in the messiest burst that i have ever experienced. hell at one point it even stopped being about wishing to be like cu and lapsed into some internal hellscape.

and it's weird, as i have a huge list of over 300 favourite characters, none of which had led to such a difficult time. I've been inspired by many others too, such as Naruto (I used to try and mimic his strong will); yet only this time around was I forced to really look inside and face everything.

Even now, I've not faced everything. The reality I live with now its so unreal and so beyond everything i thought i was, that i just don't know how to accept it. I want to talk openly about it, but fear holds me back.

It really is scary how all it takes is one thing (or in this case, one blorbo) to turn a life upside down...

[azriel-edgemont]

I've been meaning to write this one for awhile. This happened in session #3 or #4, we're now have session #14 in the books as of last night. It finally made its way out of me.

The coterie encountered a group of Society of Saint Leopold Hunters early on in our story; we killed most but captured one for interrogation, a young French university student named Jacques, in Chicago on a scholarship from the Vatican. During the altercation, Aggie was struck by a Compulsion--to possess the captive, own him, by any means necessary.

For Aggie, that ended up meaning Kiss him, take him back to the safe house, let the muscle chain him up so he can't escape and kill us all--and seduce him for information, and also sex.

Jesus fucking christ this ended up so long what the fuck

ETA: JFC HEY THIS THING IS LIKE 4k WORDS THAT IS LONGER THAN MOST OF MY AO3 FIC. FUCK. WUT.

Now on AO3 for easier reading if you prefer!

---

Rating: E Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: M/M Word Count: 4,275 Some definite warnings for this one:

Mildly Dubious Consent*, Blood/Blood and Torture/Blood As Lube/Blood Drinking, Power Imbalance/Power Dynamics, Restraints, Vampires/Vampire Hunters, Light Sadism/Light Masochism/Light Bondage, also: judicious use of Google Translate**

*Our Storyteller was pretty clear that Jacques was Into Aggie at the time, even despite his precarious situation and status as a Vampire HunterTM. Also, a Lingering Kiss doesn't really take effect until a few days after it's delivered--and doesn't mess with consent so much as just make the victim crave to be fed from again. Still, it is entirely possible to argue that this whole thing is BadWrongMessedUp.

**I make no promises about the French. I've got a decent grasp of foundational basics, and a linguistics background, but vocabulary--especially casual, colloquial, non-high school appropriate vocabulary--is not my strong suit, so Google was a friend throughout. Hopefully it's not too egregious. I'm just proud of the amount I was able to do with minimal assistance! Go me!

It's easy, slipping into French as the door shuts behind him. No lock to speak of--everything else in the austere condominium the height of luxe, but a lock on a bedroom door is evidently a bridge too far for Briar. Still; the door shuts with a reassuring click. Azriel's back meets it, resting against its solid weight, as he finally takes a moment to do what he's been wanting to all evening and looks his fill.

It's not entirely dark. There is a small bedside lamp on the table at the far side of the bed taking up most of the space. It casts a warm yellow light over the room, spreading shadows like bloodstains over the coverlet, limning the man's hair in a halo of gold, cresting over the slight swells of muscle before being swallowed by the shadows they cast on his skin. The room smells like blood.

Aggie's mouth doesn't water anymore, but he feels it's absence. He sucks in a short breath, eyes closing briefly to center himself as he gives just a little tug to the chains of the Beast within, and his mouth fills with saliva. When he opens his eyes, Jacques is looking back, and Aggie is pleased to see the open, naked want in his expression. Lapsed, indeed, he thinks. It's early, yet, for the Kiss to have taken hold; it's typically days before they feel the pull, the yearning aching need for it. No, this look, this want--its all the Hunter, and all for him.

"Bonsoir, ma beauté," he greets the man in his native French, and is rewarded by a quick flush to Jacques' pale cheeks; the scent of blood thickens, ever so slightly, as his elevated heart rate forces more of it out the wounds in his leg. It's a matter of steps to the bedside, feet muffled in the plush carpet; Aggie's fingertips find Jacques' ankle, then trail up his leg as he draws nearer, sidling into the vacant space between the bed and closet.

"Salut," Jacques responds cautiously. "Tu es venu a me torturer, alors?" His tongue darts out to wet his lips as Aggie's traveling fingers draw near to the wound. It weeps, dark red blood seeping black in the low light from the seared flesh. Despite his apparent nerves, though, Aggie notes that he doesn't try to pull away; just holds, still and trembling, waiting and watching. How very interesting.

"Non...mais je pense que tu as moins peur de moi, et de la torture, que je l'aurais supposé." As though to punctuate his point, Aggie lets the pads of his fingers skate over the raw edges of the wound, applying pressure ever-so-slightly. He is rewarded by Jacques' sharp inhale, the sight of his eyelids fluttering in involuntary response. His plush, full lips part around the gasp, and Aggie feels his mouth drop just a little slack in response. "Sí belle," he murmurs, drawing out the lateral like sticky honey on his tongue. "Je le pensais. Papistes." The laugh that accompanies this is affectionate, amused. The wound pulses with another erratic heartbeat. His index swipes through the shiny, sticky blood; he watches Jacques watch him bring it to his mouth, tongue protruding just enough to lay the pad of his finger on it. Choleric, Melancholic--but there, bright at the edges of his tongue: Sanguine. His lips twitch up in a smile, and he blinks down at the young man.

"Je sais mieux qu'a penser tu ne veux pas quelque chose de moi--plus qu'une baise," Jacques says, and Aggie is startled into a laugh by the bluntness of his speech. He licks his finger clean, then helps Jacques shift his legs away from the edge of the bed, settling into the space by his hip. The mattress is firm and unforgiving, like any bed in any anonymous three and a half star hotel (not that he would know from personal experience, you understand). He plants his hand on the coverlet anyways, bracketing Jacques' hips with his body. The man is warm to the touch, against his own cool static temperature.

"Oui," he states, conversational. "J'espère que tu me diras ce que j'ai besoin de savoir--sur Alice, sur ton petite groupe. Mais--ça ne doit pas être désagréable. Pour toi, ou pour moi." From this close, he can smell Jacques' breath; it's sour with fear and pain, but the way it picks up at Aggie's proximity speaks of a different type of arousal. Still, that is unpleasant; so instead, Aggie lowers his face to Jacques' neck, pressing his lips to the jumping pulse point there. He smirks to feel Jacques' entire body tense, the instinctive reaction of prey to a predator. But when he doesn't bite--when he mouths wet, open kisses at the warm skin instead--some of that tension dissolves beneath another wave of desire.

"Et--et après ça, que alors? Tu me abbas? Tu me...comment le diz vous...m'embrasses? Ah, merde..."

Aggie's laugh is warm, delighted, at the way Jacques' breath catches at the same time his teeth do; the utter subsumation of any real fears about his fate beneath a wave of emboldened desire. His nose is filled with it, his ears recognizing the staccato beat of a heart thumping in wild need. The fingers of the hand not holding himself above Jacques find their way to the hem of his shirt, instead, rucking it up to dig into the planes of hard, young muscle in his abdomen--he hums in appreciation. He can't resist a brief nibble, giddy to hear Jacques' bitten off cry in response. The scant drops of blood he sheds are almost entirely Sanguine, now, heady as they fall on his tongue, and he licks the love bite closed.

"Impressiones-moi," he murmurs in Jacques' ear, before sitting back to look into his face. "Et nous verrons. Je peux être un amant...généreux."

Jacques, may his absent God help him, looks bereft at Aggie's sudden distance. There is a rattle of metal on metal--the handcuffs rattle against the headboard as he makes an aborted attempt to reach for the Kindred. Aggie tuts at him, but takes pity, letting his hand stroke along Jacques' thigh and delighting every time his fingers catch on the calloused skin and slick blood of the wound. The way it makes the prominent apple of Jacques' throat bob, each time; his eyes flutter and glaze. His breath catches. And Aggie watches with keen delight as the flesh beneath the zip of his jeans swells.

"Qu'est-ce que tu veux savoir?" Jacques groans out, and Aggie grins.

***

It is a...fruitful interrogation.

An outside observer could be forgiven for viewing the scene and thinking it torture. Aggie hovers over Jacques in a way that cannot suggest anything other than predator and trapped prey, Jacques' hands trapped to either side of his head by the police cuffs, his legs similarly restrained by the ankles near the foot of the bed. Despite Aggie's smaller and slighter stature, it's clear who has the power--not least because of the insistent, probing fingers Aggie delves into the grotesque wound on Jacques' leg. His hand is slicked with blood to the wrist, and Jacques twists and writhes in his bonds with each idle circle Aggie draws around the edge of the seeping flesh, even as their conversation carries on as though nothing remarkable were happening.

But an outside observer might not see what Aggie sees. The way Jacques' pupils are blown, wide and wanting; the way he swallows and gasps, and dares Aggie with his gaze to do his worst as he stutters through his answer to a question. The confusion--the seedling of a pout, even--that dawns on his face if Aggie pauses too long, distracted by thoughts and theories introduced by the information that spills freely from Jacques' parted lips; the relief of his expression when Aggie resumes his idle movements, learning the patterns of the phosphorus burn until its landscape is as familiar as his own hand. The way Jacques' hips hitch, seeking friction, seeking relief, as pain and pleasure coalesce into one singular sensation.

Find the prettiest thing in the room. Make them want you. Then give them what they want.

"Tu chantes si bellement," Aggie murmurs to him, as a thumb swipes an invisible streak of blood up the blood-soaked denim of Jacques' inseam. Jacques groans under his touch.

"Comme une canari," he complains, half-hearted, and Aggie giggles.

"Non, mon cher," he reassures; and, merciful, flattens his palm over the hard ridge of Jacques' cock beneath the fabric. Jacques nearly shouts, folding forward as far as his shoulders will allow, curling in on himself at the sudden provision of long sought-after touch. "Non, ça c'est la chanson que j'aime. Ton plaisir chante si joliement, si sans vergogne. C'est très beau."

His heel drags up the length of Jacques' cock, feeling the heat and swell of it, leaving an angry red streak smeared against the acid-washed denim. Jacques trembles under his touch; his gaze drops to watch, heavy-lidded, as Aggie strokes him through the fabric. He licks his lips. "S'il te plait, Aggie, please, Jesus--"

"Il blasphème! Ça doit être très sérieux," Aggie teases, and Jacques laughs too, breathless, rattling the cuffs next to his head. "Oui, mais oui...tu as été très bon--toi, et moi aussi. Je pense que nous méritons un prix, non?" Another pointed, agonizing stroke--drying his hand of excess blood-- and then he removes it, shifting to the button at the waistband of Jacques' jeans.

"Ça va faire mal," he warns idly; and both men pause for a moment at the ridiculous, needless warning, before Jacques breathes out a laugh and Aggie grins at him with bared Kindred teeth on full display. The laugh becomes a pained shout as Aggie tugs the denim down, over the wound, not bothering with gentleness, and he is rewarded by a broken, gasped string of curses from Jacques as he yanks the clothing--jeans and boxer briefs together--down past his knees. It leaves him exposed, bare from the waist down, and Aggie can see the furred, bruised calves, the angry phosphorus burn, the knobs and ridges of bones and muscle shifting under skin--the thick thatch of dark brown hair, and his cock, uncut and intimate, standing stiff and erect between his parted thighs.

"Vraiment, Jacques--si beau, si bon pour moi," Aggie admires, as he stands near the foot of the bed, looking his fill as he methodically removes his own clothing; tugging the tight neck of his sweater over his head, unbuttoning his slacks to let them pool, in a whisper of expensive fabric, around his ankles before gracefully stepping out of them. He takes a moment--turning to catch the best light from the lamp, long decades of experience putting his body on display to best effect in the golden glow. Jacques' gaze rakes him, up and down, in a way that suggests he might have entirely forgotten that this is is monster he is about to bed. Hunger, want, desire stoked by pain and pleasure both are all visible in Jacques' gaze, audible in his breathing and evident in every taut, quivering line of his body. But Aggie sees his face fall as his gaze focuses on the lack of interest from Aggie's own cock.

"Je suis mort, chéri, souviens?" Aggie offers; and his voice is gentle as he steps back forward to stand next to Jacques, who cranes his neck to look up and meet his gaze.

"Est-ce...pourquoi?" Jacques asks.

"Pourquoi est-ce que je veux te baiser?" Aggie laughs, and Jacques nods. "Chéri, parce-que il faire bon! Je n'ai pas besoin d'une érection à savourer ta bite, crois-moi. Tu es trop gentil, penser à moi comme ça."

Jacques shudders at the matter-of-fact words, delivered as though it weren't painfully erotic. Aggie sits on the mattress, then swings one knee over him, straddling his hips. Both men react, audibly, when Jacques' cock nestles in the cleft of Aggie's arse. "Oh, yes," Aggie murmurs in English, eyes fluttering shut at the promise of pleasure, so near. Jacques gives an experimental flex of his hips; even restrained as he is, even with the pain of the wound which must, must bother him with a movement like that, the strength and power of him is a delight, and Aggie sighs happily. "T'aimes ça?" Jacques asks, voice rough and strained, and Aggie beams at him.

"Oui, jusque comme ça. Je vais te cheveaucher jusqu'à tu vous des étoiles, chéri." As though to demonstrate the promise, Aggie rocks back against Jacques, his hips and arse and body all moving in a sinuous line. Eyes locked to Jacques' gaze, he rakes a hand back through his curls, down the side of his neck, pinky finger catching on a sharp fang as he tosses Jacques a wink. The other hand cradles around the base of his throat, squeezing lightly--visibly--before traversing a path down the center of his body. He catches, tugs at the manicured nest of curly hair, carding his fingers through before those elegant digits wrap around his cold, flaccid cock, tugging at it lightly with a pleased, self-satisfied groan.

"Putain de merde, je veux te toucher. Tu vas me tuer, Aggie...!"

Aggie's eyes flash, and a wicked grin crosses his face. "Je l'éspere, Jacques. Un petit mort, et un autre, et un autre, et un autre..." Each promise punctuated by a perfunctory stroke of his cock, rocking his hips back to meet the hard, hot line, grinding down into Jacques' lap, Aggie lets himself feel the dull spark of arousal it brings. Like a song playing from another room, he is aware of the sensation, but distantly; the feelings somehow at a remove from his body, not roused enough for full sensation. Still, though, he likes the tease of it, and the positive encouragement from Jacques is heady, and Aggie knows he looks good like this--he has a painting to prove it.

Jacques groans, another plea gritting out from between his teeth, the cuffs rattling again as he gives an insistent shove against Aggie's backside, and Aggie takes pity on him. He lifts up on his knees, just enough to get a hand beneath his legs; reaches back, past Jacques' weeping cock, drooling pearly precum down the length, and liberally coats his palm in blood from Jacques' wound.

To his credit, Jacques immediately grasps his intent--and, further to his credit, locks a hungry, lustful gaze on the sight of Aggie's hand spreading blood along his length. "Sa mére, c'est tellement foiré," he breathes out, rapt, as his cock is slicked in blood, mixing with his body's natural lubricant. Aggie feels it jump in his hand, eager for the attention, not remotely flagging at the inclusion of his own blood in their play.

"Je pense que tu es un petit peu foiré," Aggie teases. "Qu'est-ce que l'église t'a fait?"

He doesn't give Jacques a chance to respond before he is pressing the blunt head of the blood-covered length against his hole, sinking down with the full weight of his body. The stretch and split might have been agonizing for a mortal body, unprepared, unstretched, with only blood and precum for lubricant; but where the feel of a hand on his own dick felt disconnected from his body, this intrusion sends sparks of pleasure racing along his Blushed nerve endings. He lets out a long, loud groan, echoed by Jacques as he is slowly, inch by inch, engulfed by Aggie's body.

The room reeks with the scent of sex and, to Aggie, Sanguine blood, filling his nose as he works his way down the cock impaling him in Jacques' lap. He doesn't feel any pain--the stretch, the discomfort, sure, but mostly the way pleasure radiates through him, forming a feedback loop with the Sanguine tang of the air to fill up his senses and drive him mad, needy, with want. He could seat himself fully in an eyeblink, he knows, shove down and take it all at once--it would heal by morning--but the awed, slack-jawed look Jacques is giving him makes him want to take his time and put on a proper show. So he braces his bloody hand in the center of Jacques' chest, and works his hips. He takes it slowly, savouring every hit of pleasure; tiny movements back and forth that make Jacques whine. His hands flex and Aggie considers what it might mean to release him--final death, almost certainly, but surely Jacques would want to finish fucking him first, and with those hands on Aggie's hips and that powerful arse and thighs, he's fairly certain the Frenchman could do some real, glorious damage. Still--that would mean finding keys, and that would mean getting off, and as Jacques' cock brushes against some part of his anatomy that currently houses the banked embers of thousands of roused nerve endings, he finds himself entirely unwilling to make that sacrifice.

Jacques keeps up a murmured, groaning litany the whole time. "Tu es très beau," he says, and, "Tu me prends si bien," and, " J'adore voir ma bite dans toi," and a healthy number of blasphemies, which are a complete delight every time, if a little distracting. He can feel Jacques trembling with the strain of holding back--almost wants to tell him to let go, just give it to him, release his own inner gay sex demons--but watching him shake with restraint is far too much fun. Finally, though, Aggie is resting fully seated in Jacques' lap, Jacques buried to the hilt inside of him.

"Ça va?" Jacques asks, licking his lips as he shifts slightly under Aggie's weight. His cock shifts inside of him, and Aggie lets his head loll back at the sensation, humming with pleasure as he rocks experimentally.

"Très, très bien, chéri," is his response. He rolls his head back around to fix Jacques with his gaze, delighted to see heat and want reflected back at him--and then he moves.

***

Nearly two hours after first coming into the room, Aggie pulls off of Jacques with an audible pop, the soft, malleable flesh of his flaccid cock falling limp from his mouth. His lips and teeth and chin are a mess of blood, his fingers and palms and inner thighs, too, smeared like a crime scene from cheek to cheek, drying against his skin and flaking rust every time he moves. He leans across Jacques' thighs, elbows digging into the mattress for leverage, to give the wound an affectionate kitten lick. Jacques groans out a laugh above him.

"Désolée, Aggie, je pense que--j'ai finis. S'te plait."

"A plusieurs égards," Aggie chides, but laps only once more before pushing himself to his knees besides Jacques. It's true--despite his best efforts, it seems he has wrung every "petit mort" from Jacques that the man's body can muster, and even his own stamina is relatively finite. Besides which, he's sated; he's drunk and fucked his fill, gotten all the information he can think of to ask for from the pliant young man, and while he wouldn't be opposed to another round, the sticky itchy feeling of drying blood and cum on his skin is threatening to become a major irritant. "Attends ici."

Jacques hums, watching him go from half-lowered lids, chest still heaving with the effort of pain and exertion. Aggie slides backwards and off the bed, revelling in the lingering feeling of soreness in his backside; already fading, sadly, but still there as a pleasant echo. He pads on bare feet into the en suite as he allows Jacques a moment to recover.

There are hotel-style towels folded and waiting on a rack above the toilet. He grabs a washcloth--using it to turn on the tap--and waits out the water until it runs warm. His hands are first, thrust under the gushing water, which quickly turns pink and then bright red beneath his hands as he methodically scrubs them free of the worst of the blood. There's blood under his nails, he notes; but no vanity kit here. Pity. He leaves it there for now, and takes up the washcloth again, soaking it in the flow. Face and neck are next, scrubbed and blotted free of bloodstains until the cloth is soaked with it and his skin is shining white. He tosses the cloth in the bathtub, and grabs another, now wiping the blood that is smeared over his thighs and arse and bollocks, swiping away the pearly pink mixture sliding down along his inner leg.

He presses the damp cloth to his mouth, biting down around it and drawing the liquid--water, blood, cum--into his mouth. It aspirates over his tongue, and he moans quietly, happily, at the flavour, sucking at it until it gives no more. It joins its fellow in the bathtub, and he draws down a larger handtowel from the rack. This one, too, is soaked in warm water and wrung out, and he carries it with him back into the bedroom.

It's clear immediately that Jacques has passed out. Exhaustion and exsanguination have done their work; his hands hang limp from the wrists in the handcuffs next to his head, and his head droops uncomfortably against his shoulder. Aggie tuts a little, and drapes the warm towel over his lap to soak up some of the excess blood and fluid spread there. He grabs a pillow and props it between Jacques' shoulder and his cheek, then goes to retrieve his clothes, dressing with graceful efficiency, patting for the reassuring feel of the stiletto dagger in his inside pocket.

Returning to the bed, Aggie takes up his spot next to Jacques' hip, setting to providing him a perfunctory clean-up. He laps up the blood that has dribbled in shining trails down the side of Jacques neck--he had asked, in fairness, to know what it would feel like to be fed from during the act, and Aggie was only too happy to oblige. He licks at the wounds until they seal shut. He wipes the skin clean from waist to knee. He takes gentle care with the flaccid cock that, exhausted, doesn't even attempt to stir in his grip, wiping it clean as well; and makes an attempt to wash around the outside of the leg wound, cleaning his thigh of excess.

Throughout his ministrations, Jacques barely stirs, and Aggie pauses a moment to watch him in his sleep. It would be so easy, he thinks, to take his life right now. To bleed him dry and leave him for dead; the way he and his Hunter friends would no doubt have done to us. It's no less than he deserves. He feels the weight of the stiletto in his pocket; a stab through the heart, in his sleep. Not such a monstrous way to go.

Sleeping, though, Jacques looks much more the part of the boy he is, rather than the man he pretends to be; his face softens, showing hints of clinging baby fat still around the edges of his otherwise chiselled face. Not once had he pleaded for Aggie to free him, not even under the guise of sex. He hadn't even asked for anything, except more, more, more.

Fucked up little Catholic boy, confused about so many things, Aggie thinks with a snort of derision. Pain and pleasure, need and want and desire, men and monsters. But in the end--Aggie got everything he wanted out of him, and Jacques, apparently, didn't want anything more from him than this.

"C'était la meilleure baise de ta vie, chéri," Aggie tells him fondly. "You should at least be allowed to keep it for a little while."

He rises, tossing the now cool and blood-soaked towel into the bathroom; returning to the bed, he pulls the dagger from its hidden sheath and uses it's sharp point to start a tear through the fabric of Jacques' ruined jeans and boxers, adding the scraps to the pile of laundry in the bathroom. The shirt is next, covered in Aggie's bloody handprints; he rips that one by the seams, entertaining for a moment the romantic idea of a smitten young Frenchman desiring a token to remember him by. That he discards in the waste basket next to the bed--in easy reach, just in case.

There's a spare blanket in the closet. He can't do anything about the blood-soaked coverlet and sheets--and probably mattress, at this point--underneath him, but at least he doesn't need to freeze to death. Aggie tucks him in under the blanket, covering as much of the man as he can given his posture; and for a moment, then, he hesitates.

Dawn is so close. It wouldn't be so hard to lie down here; to curl against this warm body, which has grown so familiar in these past two hours, and allow himself to keep it for just a little while longer. But the Compulsion is fading along with the ache in his arse, and the hoarse soreness in his throat, and the idle fancy is just that. He is older, and wiser, than Jacques is or will likely ever be.

He knows better than to lay down with a monster.

[bagelbun333]

Writing WIP

I've never done this before but thanks for the tag @tanaleth

Idk who to tag but anyone can feel free to join in ^-^

I happened to have this Wrightdot fic WIP that’s just been collecting dust for more than a year, so I might as well use this as an opportunity to share what I have so far c:

Major spoilers for aa3, minor spoilers for aa4, aa5, and aa6.

For context, this takes place after aa6.

Diego Armando is a man who had far from an ordinary life. From being poisoned in a courthouse cafeteria, to being comatose, to waking up alone, to taking a life of another person, then to rotting in jail… alone. But his life didn’t end there — no, far from it. His sentence was lessened down to 10 years due to his circumstances. But that’s not to say it wasn’t a long time, it’s still a whole decade out of his life after all. Five years in a coma and ten years in prison, a third of his life just… gone.

He was a broken shell of the man he used to be — he still is to be honest — but there was one man who saved him, a certain spiky headed idiot, who goes by the name of Phoenix Wright. He’s the one who put him in prison in the first place, but that didn’t matter to him. Phoenix saved him from further descending into madness, into Hell. Even though he still killed a person, he deserved to be saved. He had to be saved from the vengeful persona that was ‘Godot’, because he wasn’t the man that he truly was — Godot was an inner demon that was slowly but surely taking over his mind and body, something that Mia would’ve hated to see.

Once his prison sentence was finally over, he actually had someone waiting for him… several people in fact. More than he ever had in his life. Some people he recognised and others he had never even seen before. Of course, there was Phoenix, Maya and Pearl… but who was the little magician, the horn headed boy and the futuristic space girl? Turns out, they were Phoenix’s subordinates and family. It was strange to be welcomed back with open arms. He never thought he would have anyone waiting for him ever again, especially not after that unforgettable crime he’d committed.

He eventually settled into the Wright Anything Agency as an assistant — and with Phoenix and Edgeworth pulling a few strings, he was actually allowed to be a prosecutor again. If Blackquill was allowed to prosecute while serving his sentence, so could he. Phoenix even let Diego live in the same house with him, because he had nowhere else to go.

After months of taking cases, Diego was slowly getting his swing back. He often took cases against his colleagues — including Phoenix himself. Diego was so good at handling cases that he even gave Phoenix a hard time, he was a tough guy to beat. Even though they’re not enemies anymore, Diego still loved making Phoenix fall apart like a house of cards — but not in a vengeful way, more like in a playful way. He was happy that he still had that fire in him and could still embarrass Phoenix in a tease.

His new life wasn’t 100% perfect though, he still has his drawbacks. His health was far from stable. He still relies on his visor for vision of course. Not only that, but he needs to take a concerning amount of medicine every day. Medicine such as blood pressure control, cardiac pills, pain relief, antidepressants, and anti hallucination pills — his hallucinations worsened during his time in prison. Only Phoenix knows about the amount of medicine he needs to take, and it does concern him quite a bit. Diego doesn’t want anybody else to know about it so Phoenix promised to keep quiet. Maya and Pearl already know about his broken down body because of the poisoning incident and why he had to wear a mask, but they didn’t know the extent of how bad his health actually was — especially not his hallucination problems.

He also has a lot of trouble remembering things sometimes. Like random memory lapses that just hit him out of nowhere. Most of the time they aren’t too bad, like sometimes he just loses his train of thought. But other times he forgets too much. Trucy witnesses this at home every now and then. She notices Diego stressing out, forgetting where he puts things, and even forgetting things that happened five minutes prior. Sometimes Trucy would ask her dad about it. “What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” She would ask, but Phoenix could only respond with “We all have days like these, it happens…” then later he said “It’s a long story…” Trucy was just left confused and a little worried, but she decided not to question it further.

While living with Phoenix and his daughter, Diego felt like he was part of a new family. It felt like he belonged somewhere. When he first found out that Phoenix had a daughter, he couldn’t believe it. He was so shocked. People younger than himself were already moving on with life much faster than he was. Everyone else was moving forward while he was just frozen in time. He was like a human artefact, for everyone to gawk at. It made him feel much more inferior to everyone else.

But even so, Trucy treated Diego as if he were her other dad, she even started calling him Papa. This wasn’t a position that he thought he would ever experience, but he greatly appreciated it nonetheless. Trucy loves showing Diego her magic tricks. He was genuinely entertained each time he watched, although he was very confused and concerned when she first showed him her magic panties — he wondered if Phoenix raised her right.

Eventually, one day, during a trial… a scary and unforgettable event took place. Phoenix and Diego were working on a case against each other. Diego had the upper hand on this case as usual, he was making compelling arguments and had hard evidence… but something unexpected happened while he was in the middle of explaining something.

The judge banged his gavel. “Prosecutor Armando, please explain to the court the significance of this evidence.”

“The footprints left at the crime scene only belonged to the defendant and the victim. There were no other traces found at the-” Suddenly Diego went completely out of it and lost his train of thought. He stared blankly at his desk for a solid minute until someone snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Prosecutor Armando? Your evidence?” The Judge asked with a confused expression on his face.

Phoenix looked across at him and immediately knew that something was wrong. Diego was clearly becoming more and more stressed. “Your Honour! I humbly request for a recess! Just for ten minutes. I think… he needs a quick break.”

The Judge nodded. “Very well. The court will now take a ten minute recess.” He banged his gavel.

Diego sat in the prosecutor’s lobby, still clearly out of it. Phoenix and Trucy decided to check up on him while they had the time. Phoenix sat next to him on the sofa. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked, holding his hand.

Diego was rapidly losing his memory. He was so confused when Phoenix sat so close to him. In his head he thought “Why… why is he sitting so close to me?” Then when he suddenly felt Phoenix’s hand on his own, he flinched and hissed at him aggressively. “Don’t fucking touch me, Trite!”

Phoenix gasped at his sudden bitter remark. He covered Trucy’s ears because his fatherly instincts told him to. “Diego… what’s wrong? Why are you acting like this?”

“H-How…?”

“Huh?”

“How do you know my name…?”

Phoenix looked heavily concerned. “W-What?”

“I never told you about- Why do you know this??”

“Arman- Godot! Calm down…”

Trucy moved Phoenix’s hands away from her ears. “Daddy? Papa? Is everything alright?” She asked as she looked at Phoenix and Diego.

The prosecutor was completely baffled by Trucy’s question. It felt like she was referring to him as her “papa”, but how could that be? He had no idea who she was, at least that’s what he thought at the moment anyway.

Phoenix got up and whispered to her. “Ah… I think he’s having another one of those brain farts again. Let me handle this.” Trucy nodded and stepped back while Phoenix tried to sort this problem out.

Diego was looking around the lobby being completely confused. Himself, Phoenix and Trucy were the only ones in the room so that could only mean that Phoenix and himself were Daddy and Papa. “I… I don’t understand… what did you just call me?”

“Papa?” Trucy tilted her head with a bit of worry.

“I-I’m not your Papa…”

“Well… I guess not… but…”

“Godot…” Phoenix interrupted. “Don’t you remember? It’s been six months since you and Trucy met…”

“What are you talking about? Who’s Trucy?”

Phoenix stared at him for a second and then sighed. “Okay, this is worse than I thought…”

Suddenly Gumshoe entered the room, wondering if everything is okay. Unfortunately it wasn’t, so Phoenix asked Gumshoe to ask the Judge for another trial day. Diego wasn’t in any state to prosecute in this trial and a ten minute recess just wasn’t enough time to sort this out.

“Alright, we have an extra trial day. So let’s head home, you need some rest.” Phoenix said, holding his hand out for Diego.

The prosecutor just slapped his hand away as he kept getting more and more confused. “You… But you don’t know where I live??”

“You live with us, Papa…” Trucy said, becoming more concerned.

Diego’s heart sank. He felt ill. He felt like he was in a completely different world. The only familiar face he recognised was Phoenix, but he wasn’t someone he wanted to be on friendly terms with — not to his knowledge anyway. Diego hates him, he wants to humiliate him. So why is Phoenix being so friendly and openly concerned about him? Why is there suddenly a little girl who sees him as a father? So many unanswered questions. It’s making his head spin.

Suddenly, Diego stood up and tried leaving the room. His mind was racing with thoughts and he didn’t know what to do about it. Phoenix followed behind him. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“I’m going home! I don’t want you near me!” He hissed.

“But… you live with us now…”

“In what world would I live with you? I hate your guts!”

“Godot, just please listen to me! This is serious.” Phoenix shut the door before Diego could leave.

“And why should I listen to a lowly, worthless scum of a lawyer like you?”

“Because… you’re a different person now. You have a new life.”

“What?”

Trucy took out her phone and showed Diego her lock screen. It was a picture of the three of them at a zoo together. It also pictured Diego carrying her on his shoulders. Once Diego saw this image, he was at a loss for words.

“I…I don’t understand… When did this happen?”

“Just last week, Papa…”

“Huh…?”

“Diego… let us take you home. You’re clearly not well. We’ll try explain everything once we’re there.” Phoenix explained and led the way. Diego sighed and slowly nodded and then followed behind them until Phoenix remembered something. “Ah! Actually, I left some things back at my office. We should go there first before I forget again.”

The three of them headed back to Phoenix’s office, or as it’s now known as The Wright Anything Agency. Once Phoenix opened the door, they were greeted by none other than Apollo and Athena.

“Oh hey, you guys are back early!” Apollo said as he was watering Charley.

“So, who won the case? I’m placing my bet on Mr. Godot!” Athena said in her usual high-spirited attitude.

Diego just became more and more confused as they continued talking. He felt so uncomfortable by everyone acting overfamiliar with him. He’s never seen these people in his life. Why are there so many people being so friendly and close to him? He was becoming overwhelmed. Not only does he not know who these people are, he is also far from used to talking to this many people at once. He’s so adapted to his crippling loneliness, he has no idea how to react to this kind of attention.

Phoenix could tell that Diego was quickly getting stressed. He kept giving confused glances around the room and was nervously sweating. “Not now guys, he’s not feeling too good…” The blue lawyer said as he dragged Diego into the other room and switched the lights off before he quickly shut the door behind him.

Apollo and Athena just gave each other worried glances as they watched their boss pull Godot into the other room. They could hear him breathing heavily, almost as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown. Trucy understands what was going on, but she had never seen it get this bad.

“Ehh… what’s going on?” Athena asked with obvious concern all over her face.

“Papa is… having one of those… hard times again…” Trucy suddenly said.

“Again? This isn’t the first time?” Apollo asked.

“No… well… not exactly. You see, he has these… memory lapses from time to time. Although it’s over small things like forgetting where he puts things and where he was going. And in the trial today, he was in the middle of talking until he suddenly stopped. I thought he lost his train of thought like he usually does but… it got much worse than that.” Trucy obviously didn’t like talking about this particular subject.

“Wait! Don’t tell me…” Athena gasped.

Trucy nodded. “He forgot who I was. He forgot what happened during these past six months. He forgot a lot of things. And I guess seeing you two made him lose it even more…”

“I see. That’s very… unfortunate. That would explain the overwhelming shock and sadness I heard inside his heart.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Apollo asked, determined to help.

Trucy just averted her eyes, looking concerned. “I think… we just have to hope that this will all pass soon.”

“I know! When Boss lets him out of the room, I can give him a quick therapy session with Widget!”

“Of course! That little toy has worked wonders in the past!”

Athena pouted. “It’s not a toy, Apollo! It’s my trusty partner!”

Eventually, Phoenix and Godot came back out of the room. Both of them looked exhausted. “Okay, this isn’t working…” Phoenix sighed.

“Is everything alright?” Apollo asked.

“Simply put… no. Everything is not alright.” Phoenix said bluntly.

“What isn’t working, Boss?”

“This is hard to explain… but Mr. Godot isn’t well today. He needs to go home.”

“I sense a lot of discord in his heart. How about I try using Widget on him?”

“Widget…?” Diego mumbled.

“Well, no harm in trying I guess. Go ahead.”

“Wait… what are you doing…?” Diego nervously asked, still trembling.

“I’m going to give you a little therapy session, Mr. Godot.”

“Therapy? I don’t need therapy! Leave me alone!”

“I-It’s okay! It will only take a moment.”

“No! I refuse!”

“We’re only trying to help you…”

“Please! Leave me alone! I don’t know who any of you are!” He yelled desperately.

Phoenix sighed. “Perhaps we should do this another time. He’s being very uncooperative right now.”

“Alright… fine.” Athena sighed and put away Widget.

Phoenix grabbed the case file that was left on the desk and headed for the door with Diego.

Apollo tilted his head. “Mr. Wright? Where are you going?”

“Well I said we’re going home, didn’t I? We came back here because I left one of the files behind. I wasn’t planning on staying long.”

“So you’re staying home for the rest of the day too? What about the trial?” Apollo asked.

“The trial will resume tomorrow. I’m going to prepare for it of course. You two stay here and take care of the office and other errands.” Phoenix said. “Oh, and Trucy? Are you coming with us or are you staying here?”

“Oh! I’ll stay here actually. I can help Polly and Athena out with stuff. You go on ahead with Mr. Godot and sort his problems out.”

Phoenix smiled softly. “Alright, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The esteemed lawyer waved goodbye to his little family as he left the premises with his confused and agitated adversary. The three youths were still very concerned about the unusual man’s circumstances, so they hoped that things will blow over without any dire consequences.

[lovelyfanatical]

I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 9.1

Good evening fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever time it is for you! I honestly don't know how it happened, but somehow, we have reached Chapter 9! Patisserie week is here! If you need to catch up on any previous installments, you can find them all on my Table of Contents here. You can also find me on AO3, though you'll need an account to read it there. Things got a bit complicated between Druig and Makkari next week, but can they overcome it? Find out now, in the next mini-chapter of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off!

Druig had been in such a state all week that Hunter was convinced there was an invisible storm cloud following him wherever he went. As such, he'd dragged Druig to a bar after work mid-week, claiming he needed to do something before Druig scared off all their customers again. Druig had barely started on his first drink when Hunter blurted out the real reason he'd brought him out.

"I started seeing Bobbi again."

Druig put down his drink.

"Seriously, Hunter? You're actually going for a third time?" he asked, utterly incredulous.

"I know how it sounds," Hunter protested. "But we ran into each other a few weeks ago, and we're both in a much better place than we were during our previous marriages. And you know what they say: third time's the charm."

"Yeah, for trying new recipes or throwing darts. I don't think the same logic applies to marriages," Druig retorted.

"Well, you've never actually been married before, have you?" Hunter snarked back. "Can't even ask one woman out for a bloody drink."

"Don't start. I thought you brought me here to take my mind off of that."

"That was before you started judging my life choices," Hunter replied huffily, taking a long sip from his drink. "If you're gonna get all high and mighty on me now, I reserve the right to do the same."

"Yeah, well, I'm never gonna get the chance to now," Druig muttered. "I screwed up."

"Wait, how'd you screw up without even asking her out?" Hunter asked.

"I overstepped. We fell asleep together and I didn't wake her up," Druig explained. This only seemed to confuse Hunter further.

"Didn't she fall asleep on you before? What's different about this time?"

"That was on the train. This was in my hotel room. We slept through the night and when I woke up, we were… entangled."

"Oh." Hunter lapsed into silence as he contemplated his words. Druig took a long swig and nearly drained his bottle. As Hunter ordered another round, he continued, "So, how did she react to that?"

"She woke up, saw me, and left almost immediately. Then she barely spoke to me for the rest of the day, and she hasn't said a word to me since."

"Have you tried to talk to her?"

"No. Don't think she wants to hear from me."

Hunter was still mulling this over halfway through his second drink. After another few sips, he said, "I'm not gonna lie. That doesn't sound too good. But you can hardly blame the woman for going into shock if she woke up to your ugly mug staring at her."

"Piss off," Druig said, but there wasn't much venom to it.

"Let me finish. She was obviously surprised, but maybe she's waiting to see what you say about it first. Women do that sometimes."

"You think she wants to wait and see what I say before she says anything? Like, 'Sorry I was a creep and watched you sleep instead of waking you up after you fell asleep on me in my hotel room?'"

"How long did you take to wake her up?"

"A few minutes."

"Okay, that's not that creepy. Maybe you didn't screw up that badly. I mean, she could be waiting for an apology, or she could just be waiting for… something else."

"Like what?"

"Druig, you're never gonna know unless you actually talk to her. And it sounds like you're avoiding her just as much as she's avoiding you."

Druig turned these words over in his head as he started his third drink. He hated to admit, but even drunk, Hunter had a point. "Alright, Mr. Third Time's the Charm. I'll think about it."

"That's what I thought," Hunter replied smugly as he downed his third drink.

-

Druig thought carefully about what to say to Makkari over the remainder of the week. He had little doubt that she must see how he felt about her by now, and at this point, he didn't have much hope that she returned his feelings. He might've thought differently before, but the memory of her embarrassed face upon waking up and her swift exit afterward had convinced him. But as painful as it was that Makkari didn't feel the same way, the thought of losing her friendship altogether was too much to bear. Once he realized that, Druig knew exactly what he needed to say.

The morning of the semi-final, Druig got up earlier than usual. He was the first one waiting for the shuttle, and just as he'd hoped, Makkari was the second. As she came out of the hotel, she hesitated just for a split second before she approached him. They greeted each other politely, but there was still a clear sense of unease between them. For a moment, they just stood there, letting the atmosphere grow heavier. Before it could get any worse, Druig steeled himself to say what he'd prepared.

Look, about last week. I'm really sorry about everything. I woke up first, and even if it was just a few minutes, I should've woken you up right away. I didn't mean to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable.

His speech had caught her off guard. Druig stilled as he waited for Makkari's response. After she'd finished blinking in surprise, she said, Druig, I was embarrassed last week, but not by anything you did. I was embarrassed that I treated you like a body pillow. I thought I'd embarrassed you. You don't need to apologize.

Druig instantly felt the tension start to dissipate. He was so relieved that he started to laugh, and before long, Makkari was laughing as well. Once they'd calmed down a bit, he asked, So, I've been worrying all week that I embarrassed you while you were worrying all week that you embarrassed me?

It would appear, she confirmed with a genuine smile.

Clearly, we're both great communicators.

Clearly.

This made them both chuckle. As they fell into a more comfortable silence, Makkari added, Hey, can we just pretend that that never happened?

As you wish, milady, he replied. Makkari grinned as she thanked him. Although he grinned back, Druig felt his heart sink. Considering how wrong he'd been about why Makkari was avoiding him, it was logical to conclude that he was also wrong about her knowing how he felt about her. For a moment, he had hope that he could tell her someday. But if she'd rather forget, perhaps he was better off keeping it to himself. As Phastos and Gil joined them, Druig did his best to bury his feelings, along with the memory of waking up with Makkari in his arms.

-

My attempt at drama, everyone 😅 Let me know how I did!

Part 31

[littleragondin]

👀 So,,,​any new thoughts after your Grand Guignol rewatch? (I know you want to talk about this movie. I need to talk about it. Please kaksjsjs)

Truth be told, the more I think about that movie, the more questions I have lol. Which is not a bad thing, given how there was never any promise of a fully cohesive narration. So I guess I'm just going to give you some smaller stuffs I saw this second time around!

The Director and Nikishi (even Teshio and his cartoonish looks frankly) are SUCH caricatures that I remember it ticking me off a little the first time. But. We know the whole world cult is watching, and they are putting on a show for the viewers (the cult and us) so I guess it does make sense. Especially the director, she always feel like she is playing a role - the worst of it is when she is being "maternal" with the boys, she holds them and you can see in her whole posture, the way she moves so slowly and deliberately, that she is replaying a choreography and not being genuine.

I tried to track the red light and the red roses too, because at first I thought they linked to Teshio (who very often brings the red light with him) but there was no red light at all during the swimming pool murder. The roses always appear prominently when some sort of "depravity" happens (the first murder ofc, but also in the Grand Guignol club room, or when Homura masturbate, and when Minakami and Amagami have sex) but shit happens without them, too. So I am wondering if there was a strict intent there (which, probably, but I can't see it). I will take any thoughts or opinions about that!

When we talked about it previously, I said I thought the end meant that the demon had possessed Homura, and the last scene was him metaphorically killing the human part of himself. This time around, I am less sure about the supernatural part. The only moment that feels a little supernatural is when Minakami sees maid!Homura (who flickers and seems to disappear magically) and even that is very brief and could be either a lapse in the man's sight or a glitch in the cult cameras (I am not counting the final scenes I'll tell why). Everything else is just a bunch of murderers running around in a costume and killing kids. On top of that, one of the hallmarks of Grand Guignol was that it introduced horror grounded in reality - no ghosts or demons, but humans losing it horrifically - playing on panic and insanity. Consequently, I think the scenes at the end are Homura's hallucinations as his mind fractures entirely as he gives in to the violence within - and once there is no one to inflict violence on, he inflicts it upon himself. (Side note: the rest of the cast only appears as spectators after Homura slices his own throat, which feels to me like "proof" that he dies there.)

All in all, it's still such a fun watch! it's exactly what it says on the tin and I love it. My only complaint, really, would be that the few times CGI is used for blood (at the very beginning and when Amagami gets his back skinned especially) it looks pretty bad while the practical effect are usually really good!

Now, please, tell me what new things you spotted and what you think after your rewatch!

Also, I have now started tracking infos about Grand Guignol and its influence on horror because thinking about all of this makes me want to learn more about the 'original' products ^^

[horizon-verizon]

rereading F&B (again) makes me think what was Rhaenyra doing when she and Daemon were exiled/banished/confined from KL after they married. like what was her state of mind? like i know the blacks would know that there can be a war but i also feel like it must have sent them all into such a horrible state. We already know Rhaenyra took it the most horribly ofc but i think of the rest of them too. the kids, daemon, even Corlys and Rhaenys. Their world literally tilted in the matter of days and it just kept getting worse, losing one person after another. all this while Alicent in the keep had a whole protocol of what to do when Viserys died. not mention power of court while Rhaenyra was way for years. she literally had the central power place of westeros. like ugh. but it also makes me proud that the blacks took KL during the war and like 95% of people who were sworn to them were loyal way after Rhaenyra and Daemon died. did what they could. like it makes me so fucking sad cuz: viserys out of his pettiness i'd say kept the blacks away for a significant period of time. he was a shit father to Rhaenyra and loving too as he was towards his other kids but she loved him despite all of the wrongs he did towards her. also, do you have any meta on Rhaenyra's character?

Disclaimer:

I have, in older posts, explained the thinking (that I suspected) that inspired such a lapse in judgment on Rhaenyra's part. One of such post is linked in one of the paragraphs below. You could also search for them in my site's tag of "Rhaenyra in Dragonstone" or go to my pinned post and click the link to said tagged posts.

Doylistically, Rhaenyra's lack of "focus" (not to be that Try Guy) on what would happen after Viserys died can be attributed to GRRM just wanting her to be at a huge disadvantage at the beginning of the war, for that effect of off-kilterness and foreshadowing things never being the same again after 10 years of peace and presumed happiness with Daemon and her kids.

However, writing this error -- without providing any sort of other reason other than she made Dragonstone her home -- does still belies her intelligence, or at least sacrifices that for that effect described. Because she had 10 or so years to contemplate the aftermath of her father's death. *EDIT (8/21/23) *And perhaps he did that on purpose to highlight how misogyny doesn't care what kind of person a woman is so much as it tries to reshape her into an evil being needing destroying so she could become the reason why women, in general, shouldn't rule and "disturb" the "natural" order of male rule. *END OF EDIT*

At the same time as I said in this post, I can't help but think that (whether GRRM intended this or not) was the point of her tragic flaw: needing to self determine above all else (coming from the misogyny and direct attacks) and thus glomming on to the present reality of love and happiness so not being or performing real preparations.

Again, I do not think her going to Dragonstone in the first place and leaving Viserys was a bad move or even dumb, because she truly needed to be on her own away from Alicent's harassments, to rule a domain without the greens' interventions, and to make sure her children are raised apart from the prejudices and intrigue of court. At the same time, I also would have liked to see some acknowledgment of a need to plan ahead (criticism of GRRM's writing). At least a little more.

*EDIT (8/21/23)* At the same time, I can see why forcing a character into a position where it is easy to judge their lack of foresight using all sorts of reasons, and sometimes fans use misogynistic ones.

Which goes into GRRM making Rhaenyra too mentally vulnerable to the greens even after she had gotten her "tribe" (as Emma D'Arcy calls it, since the situation is still the same) and domain. Room to plan, ponder, strategize. GRRM is basically saying (by the negligence) that Rhaenyra was so blissed out and/or unwilling to really deal with Alicent and her crew when she did visit Viserys and strew in long term plans because of the stressors that they are and her past with them that stretched into the present.

I think this setting aside of strategization was for mainly the sake of plot but there you have it, my thoughts.

Perhaps GRRM was just being sexist-ly clumsy with such a key character. After all, he could still could have had her strategize more, put that much more attention to her political stances and come up with ideas AND keep the fact of her supporters coming in after her death and her/Daemon retaking KL AND show more of her inner struggles with acknowledging her own faults, her past, relationship with Alicent etc. Perhaps, in his eyes, this would have undermined the "most unreliable story told in F&B" goal, though. IDK. These things do not have to be mutually exclusive.

Finally, yes, Viserys is still responsible for much that goes on after he dies (apart from all those kings that came before him, esp Jaehaerys). His:

suspicion of Daemon was unfounded

forcing his daughter to marry a gay man

refusal to acknowledge his wife and daughter hate each other or that the first was plotting against the latter (to the full breath that it needed, by reinforcing Rhaenyra's base)

marrying Alicent at all, even if Laena didn't exist (which goes into how ambitious Otto's and Viserys not seeing or willing to acknowledge how much influence Otto had and was trying to get)

not allowing Daemon and Rhaenyra to marry sooner or allowing Daemon to annul his marriage to Rhea Royce (that alliance went nowhere and really want necessary after Rhaenyra was born, of marriageable age, etc.

continuing to have kids with Alicent after the first boy

recalling Otto back after Harwin and his father died...after he himself dismissed him for, and I quote, protesting against Rhaenyra's continued position as heir

Just...so much could have been easily preventable.

Okay, so I have an admittedly loose definition of "meta" that fandoms produce. From what I've seen, a meta is a nonfictional piece discussing/analysing/describing anything to do with the characters, original plot, adaptations, etc. AS WELL AS anything fan created. However, googling it, I find it is only discussing/analyzing/etc. fan-created content.

So if it is the former, then I have many of Rhaenyra metas. You can search up the tag "Rhaenyra's characterization" for any meta I reblogged from others as well as my own. If the latter, not really? I remember a piece of fan art of HotD Rhaenyra and her kids (except Baela and Rhaena) plus Daemon and criticizing the artist's decision to leave out Baela and Rhaena AND the reason they gave for doing so.