#the number of things it turns out I wasn't doing because of the pain involved in taking public transit uh

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

So I have made a tactical error

I recently bought a grey SUV (it's amazing, I'm terrified) and now every time I go to the parking lot it's like trying to pick which potato-shaped being in the nursery is your newborn child

Is my car in this photo? Maybe! Hell if I know!

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Time for today's silly Merlin au! This time featuring himbo Arthur!

I think that the show should have leaned into the whole "Merlin's technically a creature of magic" aspect, both in terms of being magic incarnate and kin to the dragons, and I think Arthur should have also been forced to come to terms with it as well. However, this is Arthur we're talking about, so of course he wouldn't come to the right conclusions right away.

In this scenario, around season 5-ish, there's an evil sorcerer seeking revenge against Camelot for the purge who puts a spell on all of the humans in Camelot, one that would weaken them and cause such fatigue that no one would be able to even stand up after a while. But it's a powerful and taxing spell to cast, so the sorcerer can only afford to target the humans in Camelot to keep the number of targets as low as possible. Besides, what could the livestock in Camelot do to stop him anyways?

So everyone in Camelot is falling under this spell, and Arthur and the knights are rushing to prepare for battle against the sorcerer to make him lift the spell. However, with each hour that passes, everyone grows weaker and weaker.

Merlin does, of course, know that this spell has been cast and what it does, but he doesn't feel its affects and assumes that his magic is protecting him. He acts like he's growing weaker so he doesn't fall under anyone's suspicions for the wrong reasons. However, after Merlin summons and talks to Kilgarrah for advice on how to break the spell, Kilgarrah informs him that Merlin wasn't protected by his magic, but rather by the fact that he isn't truly human.

And Merlin decides to unpack the implications of that some other time, because he's got a kingdom and a prat to save.

Fast forwards to the knights getting their asses kicked by the sorcerer and the evil sorcerer preparing to kill Arthur, who's lying on the ground with his eyes closed. All the other knights were knocked out by a blast from the sorcerer, but Arthur's still barely clinging to consciousness, yet he's too weak to even open his eyes. All he can do is listen helplessly as the sorcerer prepares to kill them all.

But then the sorcerer yelps, as if he were hit by something. Arthur's hope skyrockets as the sorcerer yells "You! How are you even still awake?! Every single human in Camelot should be feeling the full effects of the spell by now!" Arthur thinks for a moment that one of his knights has found enough strength to overcome the spell and fight back, but that hope is quickly dashed when he hears Merlin's voice responding like he isn't tired in the slightest, saying, "Well it's a good thing I was never really human then."

Merlin decided to say that to throw the sorcerer off-kilter enough to distract him and give Merlin an advantage in the fight. Besides, Merlin can see that all of the knights, including Arthur, are knocked out on the ground, so there's no harm in admitting it to this sorcerer who he's definitely going to have to kill.

Arthur, meanwhile, is still conscious and completely reeling from Merlin's words. What the hell did he mean he wasn't human?! Has some vile magical creature taken Merlin's place?

After the battle (which sounded to Arthur like a bunch of grunts, pained yelps, and a final, wet gurgle), Arthur could feel the effects of the spell lifting, letting him open his eyes with a gasp. He frantically looks around to make sure Merlin's ok, but Merlin's only a few steps away from him, while the sorcerer lies dead on the ground with a sword buried in his chest.

Hearing Arthur's gasp, Merlin turns to him with a relieved smile and helps pulls Arthur to his feet. Arthur, meanwhile, is too stunned to even ask how Merlin of all people managed to kill a powerful sorcerer by himself, but Merlin's giving some unbelievable explanation that involves distracting the sorcerer and then getting a miraculous opening and stabbing the sorcerer. Arthur's nodding along, but inside, he's really searching man who might be Merlin or might be some magical imposter posing as Merlin, as awful as that is for Arthur to consider, for any signs that he's truly Merlin.

If he's an imposter, Arthur has to give him credit, he plays his part well. The man in front of him looks exactly like Merlin, talks like Merlin, walks with Merlin's lanky gait, and seems to know everything Merlin knows, even their inside jokes. Still, Arthur needs to be sure, so after they get back to the castle, Arthur goes down to the vaults and grabs a secret object that Uther used in the purge that could detect illusions and glamor magics. It was a simple clear crystal in the shape of a sphere and small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand, but if someone or something that was using magic to alter their appearance came into contact with it, the crystal would glow with a bright light.

Arthur plants the sphere in his chambers and disguises it as a new paperweight. The next day, Arthur pretends to accidentally knock it off his desk, sending it rolling across the floor, and orders the maybe-Merlin to pick it up and bring it back to his desk. Maybe-Merlin rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of Merlin and walks over to the crystal. To Arthur's shock and relief, the crystal doesn't glow when Merlin picks it up, so he definitely is the true Merlin.

But then that leads Arthur to a horrible conclusion: the Merlin he knew wasn't a human, and never was. And the only creatures with the ability to look convincingly human were creatures of magic.

Oh god, Merlin was a creature of magic.

Arthur decides that, in order for him to plot an appropriate course of action, he needs more information. Namely, he needs to know what exactly Merlin is.

So, Arthur sneaks into the library and secretly takes some of the bestiaries, searching for what manner of creature Merlin truly is. Arthur tries not to jump to the worst possible conclusions, but all of the creatures of magic that can take human form that Arthur knows of are horrible monsters that prey on humans. Take the sidhe and the lamia for examples!

But people don't randomly go missing or turn up dead from monster attacks very frequently in Camelot, and Merlin cries when Arthur so much as shoots a bunny, so if Merlin's some sort of monster that kills and eats humans, he's doing a piss poor job at being one. So, Merlin must be some sort of creature that doesn't hurt humans, which certainly narrows down the list.

Arthur eventually finds a list of peaceful, human-like creatures of magic, and he starts trying to narrow down what Merlin is. He couldn't be an elf, since his ears were huge and round, not pointed. He couldn't be a gnome, he was too tall and gangly. He couldn't be a nymph, he spent too much time indoors to be a nature spirit. He couldn't be a leprechaun, he didn't have a beard or an affinity towards gold. He couldn't be a fae or a sidhe, he doesn't make deals with anyone (besides when he goes gambling at the tavern). And he certainly couldn't be a dragonlord, they were all dead!

Arthur was just about to give up when he finally found what he was looking for! The book's passage on fairies described them as benevolent relatives to the fae who would often disguise themselves as humans and would bring good luck and fortune to whoever befriended them, while sometimes engaging in some fun mischief! That must be Merlin!

Come to think of it, Arthur did have some great moments of luck, some of them almost miraculous! Morgana's magic failing her the day of a battle, defeating a dragon single-handedly, surviving the questing beast's bite, and of course defeating monsters that were said to only be killed through magic. And Merlin had been there for all of those events!

The book also describes fairies as creatures that love all living beings and are closely connected with nature, which makes perfect sense considering how much Merlin hates hunting! And fairies could see into the true hearts of people, which was how Merlin always knew if a person was untrustworthy!

It all made so much sense! This even explained Merlin's random "visits to the tavern", when Arthur knew that Merlin rarely ever drank. According to the book, fairies could only maintain their human forms for so long before they needed to spend some time in their smaller winged forms.

The book even addressed how fairies could be born from a union between a particularly powerful fairy and a human, which even explained why Merlin never knew his father and how Merlin could be a creature of magic while having a human mother!

Now that he knew the truth, Arthur felt so much relief! His best friend wasn't some diabolical monster, he was just a playful and friendly fairy trying to live as a human! It made so much sense!

And now all Arthur had to do was prove it. All evidence pointed to Merlin being a fairy, but he needed concrete proof before he could take any action. According to the book, the blood of a fairy in a human disguise sparkled under the light of a full moon. So, Arthur devised a plan to take Merlin out on an overnight hunting trip the day before the next full moon and "accidentally" cut Merlin's arm with one of the crossbow bolts. Arthur would then bandage the cut for Merlin and, after a couple hours, insist on changing the bandages, and pocket the first bloodied bandage.

Sure, Arthur felt guilty about purposely cutting his friend, but this was Merlin's fault for keeping the fact that he wasn't human a secret over their ten years of friendship! So, Arthur goes through with his plan, and when he held the used bandage up to the moonlight after Merlin had fallen asleep, he has to hold back a gasp as the red blood on the cloth shimmers and turns a bright golden color. Well, the book was right, the blood certainly sparkled!

(It was a shame that Arthur never read into warlocks, and how the magic in a warlock's blood made their blood turn gold under the light of a full moon.)

Arthur then turned to look at his peacefully sleeping friend, and swore that he would do everything he could to help his friendly little fairy.

Shortly after that revelation, Arthur starts actively noticing all of the strokes of luck he has. Bandits can never land a hit on him because they're too busy getting knocked out by tree branches or tripping over roots, his baths and meals are always the perfect temperature no matter how long he waits, and his injuries all heal at near-impossible rates. Hell, Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he got sick with something as small as a cold!

So Arthur tries to do little things for Merlin to show him his appreciation, like giving Merlin flower crowns (which fairies are said to like and Merlin absolutely adores), giving him a shiny silver mirror (fairies are supposed to like shiny things, and Merlin's never had a proper mirror before), and giving Merlin parts of his own meals as a food offering (which Merlin of course isn't about to turn down).

(Arthur's also kinda frustrated at the lack of information about fairy courting rituals lol!)

But Arthur isn't the best at keeping secrets, so the knights of the round table eventually catch him trying to set up a nice little fairy ring for Merlin in the garden, and they also "figure out" that Merlin is a fairy, and it all spirals from there until the entire castle is trying to show their appreciation for their fairy friend.

Merlin's very confused by all of this (since Arthur's terrible at actually communicating, Merlin doesn't know that Arthur thinks he's a fairy), but he's not about to turn down all of these lovely gifts!

And there's lots of different directions the story could go from there! A pretty funny scenario would be some rival king catching wind of how Camelot's great victories are all because of their king befriending a kind fairy, so he kidnaps Merlin in an attempt to make Merlin grant him such great luck and victory in battle. However, all they do to imprison Merlin is pour a circle of salt around him (since they firmly believe that fairies cannot cross a barrier of salt).

Merlin's just kinda raises an eyebrow and thinks that this is the weirdest kidnapping ever, steps over the salt, and escapes back to Camelot.

Thank you for reading through my rambling! :D

[amarizuu]

"This is your fault" Overblot!Yuu

Note: I made this last year and wanted to post this! There's no proofreading of this.

Small Info: Due to the repeating blots that Yuu has been involved in, some of the blots have gotten inside Yuu's body because of their skin soaking into the blot, it wasn't effective at first but when it's mixed into the mind of a human that has been involved in numbers of magic situations, don't you think a bit of magic would stay

You and Grim were returning from another overblot battle with one of the house wardens, who was it this time? The Housewarden from Ignihyde, Idia Shroud. It was another tiring day, you were tired from constantly fighting and getting involved with their problems. It’s so draining, and dangerous for a person like you. 

“Grim I think I want to give up”

Drip drip

Standing in front of Ramshackle dorm, where You and Grim reside. You weren’t sure how long has it been since you arrived in Twisted Wonderland, days? Weeks? Months? It felt like forever ever since Crowley promised to bring you back home, where you truly belong. Not in this world where normal doesn’t exist anymore, magic, wizards, faes, everything here isn’t just like home. 

You sometimes wonder what happened to your family and friends, are they worried? Are they looking for you? You felt your chest tighten as your thoughts covered your mind.

“What are ya talkin’ about?” 

Everything is so tiring, I just want to rest yet I can’t. I thought to myself as I looked away, hurt and in pain. But you can’t even bring it out because nobody would help this magicless student, all they know is that you have caused trouble and were nothing but a burden to this prestige magic school they call Night Raven College.

“Just– never mind, let’s head back to the dorm and rest up. We have school tomorrow”

“Hey, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here ya know!” 

You smiled at Grim, a tiring smile, turning away from him and going ahead inside the dorm. Will it be another tiring day tomorrow? Will it? 

I just want to go home... 

Entering your room and shutting the door behind you, Grim will probably sleep on the couch as he eats those tuna cans we got from Crowley, the headmaster of this school and the person who has promised you to find a way to go back home. But has he been doing so? Pushing all the work onto you, has he resolved these overblots just at least once or helped out? But all he did was just push you to a corner and tell you it’s your responsibility to take care of them. 

Why is everything on me…

Drip drip

You asked yourself this question whenever Crowley blamed you for Ace, Deuce, and Grim’s problem because you are responsible for their actions just because you are the prefect. 

Hell, your body feels so weak, tired, hungry, and in pain. Memories of the past days flashed before you. You remembered the cruel words of those students who bullied you just because you were magicless yet they can’t do anything in an overblot situation? But what did you do, you stepped into that overblot situation and took care of things, despite being magicless and what did you get in return? Nothing but pain.

Falling on your bed and curled into a ball, hugging the old blanket you found in this abandoned house, not even Crowley provided you things so you can properly live in this dorm. You feel so dizzy and in pain, never at ease even in the comfort of the bed. You stared at the ceiling, your eyes slightly lidded. 

The next day passed as usual but there was something else that took a toll on your body from doing a lot of tasks. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you see yourself, your reflection. There were bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and you were paler and thinner, probably from the lack of nourishment that this school barely provides you. 

You felt like crying, you wanted to cry but what if you got caught by other students again? They’ll make fun of you, how weak you are and magicless.

“Hey, Prefect! Are you done in there? We’re gonna be late for class” 

You heard Ace’s voice from the other side of the door with a series of different knocks right after, you can even hear a few scratch noises from the fiery blue cat. Sometimes you wish you could just smile and go back to how things are during your first days here. But remembering all those horrid memories at the same time ruining your smile.

I feel so tired… 

Drip drip

You washed up and unlocked the bathroom door, walking out to see the trio waiting for you. You had to look like you were fine but they noticed it, they always notice the little things in the worst moments.

“Hey, is everything alright? You don’t look too good”

“Yeah, you look like you’re a ghost or something”

You gave them a soft laugh and shook your head, giving them a thumbs-up before speed walking to the classroom, you don’t wanna deal with this right now. Hearing their footsteps behind you it seems they let it go and just hurry with him to their first class of the day.

Drip drip

“Prefect! Finally, you have arrived” You sighed, you thought you could have some time for yourself but instead, you were called into the headmaster’s office because it seemed a trio of idiots had made another mess in this school, what do you think they have done this time? It’s not like every trouble they have caused is something so small or little and guess what, you are always involved despite not taking part in it.

“Yeah, anyways what happened this time”

You glanced at them, their figures at the other side of the office. They were standing in one line all looking guilty. Ever since you came to Twisted Wonderland or this school, they have done nothing but cause so much trouble, and guess what?

“These three have broken a statue this time! As the prefect of Ramshackle, it is your utmost responsibility to take care of them, and you failed to do so... again.”

Why does he blame everything on me, you gripped your fist tight as you felt another pang in your chest, it hurt. Every single damage is always you. You have to take the blame and the responsibility of it to fix it up, if they break something, you have to find the materials of it to fix it up, and if you don’t? He punishes you because you can’t fix their mess up!

“Headmaster! That doesn’t make sense, we made this mess, why do you need to bring them in?”

“Yeah! This is our fault, us three.”

Deuce and Ace protested. Even if they were idiots at least they have a sense of realizing their mistakes.

“Yeah, Headmage! It’s not their fault but us”

Grim hurried over to your side, acting as a small wall between you and Crowley. Sometimes Grim can be a menace or a troublemaker but there are times when Grim acts like this making you feel that someone is on your side. You too wanted to protest but those memories, those horrible memories. 

“Still, it is the Prefect’s responsibility–”

“Look Crowley, I did NOTHING”

You screamed at him, finally, you can’t take it, you can’t hold it in anymore longer, it feels like your chest is about to burst and tears are flowing down your face. You notice everyone's eyes are on you. It went silent, Ace, Deuce, and Crowley looked quite shocked. Grim stood by you, looking angry as ever too.

“Prefect, what is this beha–”

“SHUT UP CROWLEY! I am sick and tired of your crap. Have you noticed? I am doing most of your work of cleaning up YOUR school. Are you even keeping your promise? YOUR PROMISE TO BRING ME BACK HOME”

“Prefect, of course, I am! I am the gracious Crowley-”

“I SAID CUT THE CRAP”

“Every little problem, it’s always ON ME”

Drip 

“Even in those overblot situations, have you done anything to help? Other than tell us to do YOUR work?”

Drip 

“I am someone who does NOT belong here, someone who doesn’t have magic unlike you all have, and yet– why am I fighting them!”

Drip 

“Because of your ignorance, your negligence! lack of involvement, and greedy ideals about keeping this school's reputation up”

Drip

“Have you thought about my feelings, what I feel about these situations? I pretend that these problems don’t affect me but it really does and I just want to go back home!”

Drip 

“You talk as if you are not at fault here. BUT. IT. IS. YOUR. FAULT.”

……

Silence filled the office as you let your emotions spill but was it enough? Was that all you wanted to say, of course, it wasn’t. You glared at the headmaster who looked shocked and guilty, don’t give me that look, you deserve it. Your pain and suffering, it was all because of him.

Your vision began to blur and the silence became more deafening, your head was spinning in circles. Having no clue what was happening, you glanced at the two heartslabyul students who looked terrified.

“Pre-PREFECT!”

“Henchman– Damnit, this is your fault bird brain!” 

Finally, you realized what was happening. You touched your face, your tears– they were black and sticky, they were ink blots, blots that have been causing you so many problems and placing your life in danger. You tried wiping the ink off from your face but the ink kept on flowing, slowly covering your view with ink.

Your mind wasn’t able to comprehend what was happening, it was happening too fast and so suddenly. Suddenly coughing and vomiting ink all over the floor, it tastes metallic and disgusting you can’t help but throw up even more on the floor, clutching your stomach. You can feel yourself drowning in ink despite the number of times you have to throw up. 

You can’t hear anyone's voice and the ink has finally taken over you, the last thing you see is Grim in pain, hugging your arm, shouting at you but you can’t hear his voice.

It seems that magicless student. . . has finally overblot.

“TRAPPOLA! SPADE! Get the house wardens now”

Crowley shouted at the two who were frozen in place, watching as their dear prefect, their dear friend getting consumed by the ink. 

Ace couldn’t move, he was terrified and in pure shock as he shouted the Prefect’s name to snap out of it but they couldn’t hear him, he was too late. The ink covered their body to the point it was just a pile of black ink. He didn’t even notice that there was an overgrowing pile of ink beside it. Deuce was panicking, he tried to pick up his feet and ran to them but the Headmaster stopped him.

“Spade if you do something reckless now how could you help them later? Get the others now!”

Ace finally snapped out of his trance and gave Crowley an affirmative nod, taking Deuce with him as they ran out of his office. He knew that the Housewardens were in a meeting. He could hear the destruction behind him and the school was even shaking.

“GET OUT! A student overblot in the headmaster’s office!’ Ace shouted, alarming the students in the halls to evacuate the school. And just his words, every student in the halls started to run in panic, some shouted to warn the others and some even screamed in fear as some of the school’s walls started to crack.

Ace and Deuce didn’t waste any time anymore as they ran to a far classroom, where the Housewardens were having a meeting about an upcoming event in school. And it seems that the disaster has yet to reach this part of the school, with no cracks and students screaming but there was no student in sight.

The two burst into the meeting room, out of breath, receiving a mix of shocked faces from their Vice and Housewardens.

“Ace Trappola! Deuce Spade! What do you think of bursting into a–”

“There’s no time to explain! A student overblot!”

Now everyone's faces were a mix of worry and irritation because it was just yesterday that a student overblotted and that student was nowhere to be seen in the room other than a floating blue tablet, filling in the absence of this student’s place.

“Another one? Tsk, who was it this time? 

“Prefect”

.........

The world is in a blur, you lost sight around you. You didn’t fight against the blot, instead, you have given in to the pure unfiltered rage that has created this blot of mess. Your appearance drastically changed, the tips of your hair turned blue as it defied gravity, flowing in the wind like little flames, your face no longer existed as if it is only a shadow with a big white smile, a smile that look so drawn onto– it seems mocking your happiness, your eyes became slit, and lastly, and a pair of bat wings made out of ink formed behind you. 

Your hands are clawed with ink,  your dress looks like an outfit for a queen yet a portion of the dress was torn and burned, cards dripping in strands from your waist, and your skin looks so dead, so pale as if you no longer have blood. Around your neck was a nautilus shell with ink formed acting as a place to hold it up, and you noticed that your wings weren't the only ones behind you, 8 snake heads poked with ink dripping from their eyes.

You can’t help but think, that each item of your attire reminds you of your battles, those battles with the housewardens that you risked your life to survive, it’s reminding you of those horrible times, those times when you suffered so much from their hands.

As you were about to charge at the school, you heard a roar behind you, it sounded like a roar of a lion and a dragon mixed in together, hearing not one but two voices. You turned to see a familiar foe but with a different look, it was Grim. But he was no longer small, instead, he was as big as the size of a 3-story house you could say. Their front paws were replaced with a pair of hands, stained with ink, and their back paws were of a reptile, their tail was part of a snake at the end of it you could see the head of a cobra, hissing at you. The more you look, you notice that he too took in some of the features of the past overblots.

The mark of Riddle Rosehearts

The Fur of Leona Kingscholar

The tentacles of Azul Ashengrotto

The hissing snakes of Jamil Viper

The inky gloves of Vil Schoenheit 

The blue flames of Idia Shroud

“Grim. . .You overblotted”

Grim roared as his eyes saw the school, ready to destroy it to bits. You turned and stared blankly at the school, watching from afar the sight of panicked students running out of the school. Seeing their expression no longer makes you feel guilty or bad, Crowley always threatened you to help his school.

“Grim, my dear… friend. It seems in the end, we only have each other” 

In this world full of magic, Grim was always by your side from your arrival at this school. He doesn’t remember much about his past but one thing he knows is that he wanted to attend this prestige school to become the greatest mage in the world. But looking at him right now, his dream has been shattered. 

Wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in a tight hug. The blazing blue fire engulfed us like a protective barrier but our moment was cut short when we heard a familiar voice calling out to us.

“YUU! GRIM!”

Your eyes slowly moved to see familiar faces below you, looks like Ace and Deuce called back-up. Gritting your teeth, your blood boiled seeing them, Grim seeing this, he let out a roar, making the ground shake. Your eyebrows furrowed, and your gaze was cold and sharp. They look frightened and worried.

“Finally you all came. Why are you defending this school now? Did Crowley say that you are gonna be pulled back again? Ruin your reputation?” You mocked them, it wasn’t funny. Those threats you remembered were close to what he said. They made you suffer this long.

Now it’s our turn to make them suffer. Make them realize their mistake.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It's Really Rather Simple

I’ve only had your “It’s Complicated” fic for one (1) day but I’m already obsessed with it and if you would be down to write a “The Slow Path”-esque sequel I would read it so hard!! No pressure if you don’t want to do that though! I hope you’re having a good day! :D – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 2720

Everything changes and nothing changes at all.

Logan is still his roommate. They still bicker over the best way to load the dishwasher, how to set up the movies on the big screen, which character is the best out of any number of franchises. He still fights Roman for the couch pull-out bed when Roman insists that he take the main one, only now that he has his fighting skills back he ends up pinning Roman to the bed which—ends up being a really effective way to shut Roman up, one that he takes advantage of with a terrifying familiarity and an even more terrifying fondness. He has no idea what the fuck he's going to do the next time someone asks him what's going on—he's never been the best at lying, after all, and now that Logan's actually back, he's got even less of a chance. But Logan's still the same, reading his books and doing the crossword at worrying speeds and badgering Roman into eating healthier foods.

Sometimes, though, he catches Logan watching him. Like, watching him. He doesn't know what to do about it, especially since Logan's never addressed it at all, but still, he'd be fooling both of them if he didn't know that the Mastermind was in his living room, eyeing him like he was more than just a thorn in his side or a particularly inviting distraction.

Which brings him to the other problem he's currently struggling with.

When it was The Mastermind, it was easy to push aside the fact that he's a damn attractive bastard. The whole trying-to-take-over-the-world, megalomaniac, complete-disregard-for-human-life thing really put a damper on however objectively handsome he might be. Sure, did Roman notice it? He wasn't blind, for crying out loud, but he had a job to do and that job involved punching said attractive bastard in the face and messing up his plans so the world could keep spinning the way it was going to spin until something else came to knock it off course.

And when it was Logan, with his memory gone, well, that wasn't right either. Logan wasn't in possession of all his faculties, he wasn't operating under the truth of who they actually were to each other, and Roman could shove whatever feelings he may or may not have had—or was currently having—into the box labeled 'Not While Extremely Traumatized and Vulnerable.' Truly, the cognitive disconnect between the cold, calculating villain and the sweet, slightly dorky man that had become his roommate was enough to keep the worst of it at bay. That and the fact that he'd been more than a little worried about what the consequences would be if Logan's memory did come back.

But his memories did come back, and…he'd still been the same sweet dork with the same penchant for devastating quips and cocky speeches as the biggest pain in Roman's ass. Logan wasn't going back to being a villain, hadn't stabbed Roman and left him to bleed out, and hadn't told him that everything was a lie. And now Roman had to deal with the feelings before Logan figured them out, which meant that his days were pretty much numbered from the start.

He could still turn Logan in. But he doesn't really want to do that. Not just because it would require admitting that he's not only known where Logan's been, but that he's waited to do it on the off chance his memory does come back, and he's only doing it now because his memory has come back. And he feels a bit bad about betraying Logan's trust like that—even though he scoffs at himself when it first crosses his mind.

And…maybe he doesn't want to let Logan go either.

Does that mean he's slipping down the 'I Can Fix Him Pipeline,' the way he always gets accused of when he suggests doing more than just trying to kill people? No. He's not trying to fix Logan. He was never trying to fix Logan. But he's a decent fucking person, at least he likes to think he is, and so he wasn't just going to leave someone with amnesia in a really dangerous situation. Even now, it's still fucking dangerous for Logan, no matter what his capabilities might be now—he's still not completely sure, and he doesn't think Logan is either—and he's not just going to abandon him now that things are getting more complicated. That's not who he is.

He just also happens to be the type of person who likes coming home to someone else there. He likes being able to make dinner for two people. He likes having someone else in the house when he's freaking out at stupid o'clock in the morning and he can listen to their breathing through the thin walls and remind himself that everything's alright, at least right now.

"You're thinking very loudly over there."

He startles, dropping his pencil—right, he'd been poking at the word search on the back on the magazine that keeps getting accidentally delivered to their address—and when did it become their address?—and bends to pick it up. "Sorry."

Logan just chuckles. "Having trouble?"

"Look, there's only so long I can stare at the same letters before they just start swimming in front of me."

"Mm." Logan leans over the back of the couch, his hand almost brushing Roman's shoulder. "There's one of them in the very top line."

"What? No, there isn't."

"Backwards, dear."

"…shut up," he mumbles, circling it and scribbling out the word from the list as Logan chuckles again. His ears start to burn from embarrassment and he quickly closes the page and shoves it in his pocket, stalking toward the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly, but I have a feeling that'll change before too long. Did you have something in mind for dinner?"

"I was thinking pasta, maybe? We haven't done that in a while and I think the milk's gonna go bad before too long."

"Ah, yes, that sounds perfect. We have some vegetables I can roast that will work as well. Are you up for trying something with a little more spice, this time?"

"Depends, are you going to try and make my sinuses stop working again?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, dear."

"I was in the bathroom for two hours!"

"Yes, and that's the last time I believe you when you say you have a high spice tolerance."

See? This is normal. This is normal. They're just two people talking about what they're going to do for dinner and bickering about it because that's what they do. They're not a villain and a hero struggling to find common ground, they're not a person suffering from amnesia and their caretaker, they're—they're—they're them. And it's not getting any easier for Roman to figure out what the hell he's going to do about it.

"That's the second time you've wandered away from me in the last few minutes," comes Logan's voice, now soft with a worry that makes Roman's heart race, "is everything alright?"

"Sorry," he says automatically, taking the milk from the fridge, "just got a lot on my mind."

"I can see that." And he comes over, because of course he does, and sets his hand on Roman's to coax the milk from him. "Can I help?"

"Uh—"

"With both the pasta and whatever is plaguing you, yes."

Roman swallows. He glances at the stove, makes a mental note to clean it tomorrow, and tries for a laugh. "It's nothing, really, I'm just—y'know. Letting the old wheels spin."

Logan gives him the most unimpressed look he's seen in a while, which is saying something. "You can do better than that."

"It's really nothing for you to worry about—"

"I know, otherwise I'd have figured out what it is already." His hand comes up to brush some hair from Roman's forehead. "But I don't know what it is, and for the life of me, I can't figure it out. I've been trying to give you space to tell me or figure it out by yourself—"

"Wait, you've what?"

"Roman," he sighs, a fond smile curling up the corners of his mouth, "you've been off for days. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Well, he did, or at least he certainly hoped that Logan wouldn't notice. "I don't think I'm gonna answer that."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, I have noticed, and I've deemed it important enough to confront you about since you won't tell me what has you all worried like a fretful deer—"

"Like a what?"

"A fretful deer. The sort that won't go near a tree when the breeze is blowing too hard because it makes the leaves tremble and the noise is too frightening." The smile remains, softening the words to a gentle tease, but the genuine concern behind his eyes makes Roman's throat swell all the same. "So yes, Roman, there is something wrong, I've noticed it, and I'd like you to let me help figure it out."

See, this, this is a problem,. Because it's Logan applying the same flawless—well, sort of flawless—logic that he would when he was The Mastermind, except it's about Roman and his fucking feelings, and he doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to stand here and not break down into a blushing flustered mess. But Logan's staring at him, still staring at him with that face like he's expecting Roman to just spill his guts, and Roman might just have to spill his guts about it.

"I'm having feelings," he admits, voice mumbling and half buried in the buzzing of the fridge, "that's it."

"Mm." Logan lightly bumps the milk against his hand. "These sorts of feelings, or these sorts of feelings?"

Before Roman can ask what that second type of feelings is, there's a gentle hand under his chin and he's being turned to face Logan—oh.

Why the fuck is he so close?

Roman jerks back with a mortifying squeak and collides with the fridge, flailing in an attempt to keep himself upright. Logan just stares at him with the same wide-eyed wonder of watching a zoo animal do something oddly endearing and very strange. He feels his ears starting to burn again and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Does that answer your question?" he mumbles again, still staring at the floor.

Logan puts down the milk and comes closer. No, why is he doing that? He's gonna make Roman look at him again, isn't he? Sure enough, the hand cups his chin again and this time, doesn't let him pull away. Logan just watches him, the same amusement mingling with soft concern until Roman's head starts to spin and he's gonna freak the hell out if Logan doesn't start talking right now.

"Breathe."

"What?"

"Breathe, dear," Logan repeats, "you look like you're about to faint. It's alright, I'm not going anywhere, just breathe for a moment before you pass out on me."

Roman does as he's told, trying to steady himself, but that's really fucking hard when Logan's still looking at him like that and he knows that as soon as he's calmed down enough for Logan to be comfortable talking to him, they're going to talk about what he just confessed to and he doesn't really want to do that right now.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, you haven't done anything wrong." He glances at where they're standing. "Though this conversation might be better suited to the couch than up against the fridge."

He lets Logan walk him over to the couch, sitting down and shoving his hands between his knees. The other end of the couch dips with Logan's weight and he hunches his shoulders a little. After a moment, though, he feels a hand on his knee and looks over to see Logan watching him with way more obvious concern.

"You look—" he cuts himself off. Swallows heavily. Opens his mouth again. "This feels too familiar, Roman. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

Too familiar?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"N-no, sorry, I didn't mean to—I'm not—" he buries his face in his hand— "fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was doing that, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Logan says, again, with far too much understanding, "I didn't…I suppose I haven't been allowing myself to give much thought to all of this either."

The fridge buzzes. The heater turns on. Someone upstairs puts something in the garbage chute.

"The last time we talked about anything like this," Logan says eventually, "it felt like you wanted to talk to me, but felt you couldn't. I had assumed it was because you didn't want to risk triggering my memories, but…that's not quite true, is it?"

Roman lets out a long breath of his own. "…not entirely."

"Would it assuage any of your worries to know that I have all of my memories back, so that wouldn't be a problem anymore?"

"Only partly."

"Can I help with the rest of it?"

He lets his head hang. "I don't know, Logan, I—I'm struggling."

"I can tell."

"I'm sorry."

"Not like that." The hand on his knee squeezes. "Can I help? At all? Even if it's just to take your mind off of it?"

He turns to look at him. Really, actually looks at him. Logan isn't—he isn't The Mastermind. Not anymore. Even the glimpses he gets are just that: glimpses. And as if he can tell what Roman's thinking, Logan's hand moves to his shoulder. "I'm not going back," he says in a near-whisper, "I'm not going to be that person again. I…I don't know what I'm going to do, I know I have so much to answer for, but I don't want to be him again. I like this life we have. I like—I like the version of me that can argue with you over little things like spice and sleeping arrangements. I like the version of this where I can tell you that I'm worried about you and you…"

He allows himself a small, self-deprecating laugh.

"…you might let me worry."

The lump in his throat returns with a vengeance. "I—fuck."

"I know I'm being a lot right now," Logan says, "but this has been—well, I daresay this has been brewing for as long as you've been worrying about whatever it is that's upsetting you. I fear if I don't get it out now, I might never have the courage to say it."

"Say what?"

He's given a withering look. "I don't recall you being this obtuse."

"What's—"

And then there's a face very close to his and he could laugh at the absurdity that they'd both been worrying about the same thing.

"Logan," he whispers, "if I'm—if I'm wrong, please don't hold it against me."

"If you're wrong about what, dear?"

Roman takes a deep breath, prays to every god he doesn't believe in, and presses his mouth to Logan's.

For long, glorious seconds, neither of them moves.

Then, just as an icy cold hand takes hold of Roman's chest, Logan sighs and melts against, him his hand coming up to cradle the back of Roman's head as he's kissed so softly, so sweetly, he feels tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes.

"No, my dear," Logan murmurs when they part, voice wonderfully hoarse, "you weren't wrong."

"Thank god, otherwise that would've been awfully embarrassing."

Logan chuckles, ruffling his hair. "I propose we finish dinner first, then talk about this, hm?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, dear, we should talk about this."

"But I want to kiss you again."

"I didn't say you shouldn't kiss me again. I said we should have dinner first and ta—"

Roman shuts him up with another kiss. Logan chuckles into his mouth, so he figures he doesn't mind too much, and delights in learning that he's found just as effective a way to get Logan to shut up.

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[ashsostrange]

hey y'all so i wasn't initially planning on talking about what rashad posted earlier today bc it's literally all bullshit, but i might as well! i’m not actually tripping over anything that’s going on. if anything, i’ve been laughing my ass off all day at this foolishness.

this is gna be long as hell, so don't even grab popcorn, i suggest a five course meal.

for some background, rashad became mutuals w this girl. right off bat, he’s making hella race jokes ab this girl being white. i b doing the same, but with my FRIENDS. people i am CLOSE WITH. and i don’t over do it because that’s lame and annoying. anyway, she eventually stated that she was uncomfortable and rashad blamed his behavior on the fact that he was on pain meds. she eventually blocked him and told one of her mutuals, and to rashad, that’s her “spreading rumors” about him. he did the most on his page and in ppls inboxes crying and complaining, saying he was gna eat glass and shit.

so now let’s look at his fuckass post:

number one, how can a rumor be started about you if nobody.. knows you? like, you are not a celebrity. nobody talks about you. and nobody was talking about you “being on drugs” other than the girl you made uncomfortable and her two mutuals. i know you send yourself anons too. you make it seems like anyone actually cares about your “hot takes” for some strange reason. don’t even try to deny it, bc there’s no way you’re getting more anon msgs than my friends with larger platforms than yours.

you’re also messier than a mf, sending your own mutuals anon msgs. me and lia know you were the one sending her anon msgs bc she blocked you, and you know it too! talking ab how her username is “corny” then reblogging the posts of her clocking your ass??? acting like it wasn’t YOU.

you tried to turn two writers who were already arguing against each other even more. we sat there and defended your ass even though you were the anon the entireeee time. you made a post saying “war has begun” to try and get us to attack bree’s friend. your weird ass stayed in that girl’s inbox after i told you to block her instead of doing the most. you’re lame and you’re bored.

it doesn't matter if you tagged her or not, you still said it. sliding into sb's inbox and telling 'em you're going to eat glass bc you made someone else uncomfortable is ABSURD. it doesn't matter if it isn't my drama, if i see bs ima say something, and there isn't a thing in the world you can do about it. your "rants" are a form of guilt tripping/manipulation. you're trying to victimize yourself and make us feel bad for you. well, we do not! i checked you once on discord. you said thank you. you said you were going to make an apology, but in that same “apology”, tried to justify your actions. i clocked that and unmutualed you. you then went to lia talking ab some "tell ash i said thanks for checking me" nd now you switched up. your thanks was revoked. all of a sudden, you're the victim again. all of a sudden, i’m ableist?? okayyyy niggaaaaaa 👎 boooo

you say you're "blocking me for your safety" when i wasn't even planning on talking ab your lame ass again. i won't baby you about your behavior because you're not a goddamn baby! and yes, you CANNOT be the victim every time. you bitch and whine on your page when you get into it with somebody, and unless we're defending you, you don't want us getting involved! it doesn't work like that. nobody else was calling you out, so me n my girls did.

idk why my name stays steady coming out of your mouth. my "daily activities" that i "broadcast" are what i ate for lunch/dinner and complaining about school. you run your mouth about all sorts of mess. you put every aspect of your life on your blog. we are not the same, so don't even try to make it seem that way. the people on my blog that i don't talk to outside of tumblr don't know everything about me. you cry in people's inboxes unwarranted and say explicit shit with tw's in your TAGS. i'll say what we're all thinking, NOBODY IS TRYNA SEE ALL THAT!!! coming from someone who struggles with mental health, venting on tumblr will not do anything for you. these people are not licensed professionals. invest in a diary, don't you have a boyfriend to vent to?

you are quite literally the only one looking for drama. we never defended that girl bc we don't know her.. we know you though. and you were venting about catty, but i never said ALWAYS, so don't lie in my face like i'm stupid bc i'm not. ion know what you thought you were doing with the last part, but god bless.

i am a good person my nigga, i don't need confirmation! i know who i am. if you're debating suicide because you're confused about something, you just need to get off the mf internet bro. it’s never that serious. you're not gna sit here and tell me you were debating suicide bc me n my girls put you in your place. you made your own mental worse by refusing to take accountability.

he also made an edit saying he has nowhere else to go… if you have nowhere else to go, then i'd be happy to buy you a damn journal so you can write in there and leave the rest of us the hell alone. and there isn't shit to be sorry about bc you're not putting jack shit on me, all of it is on you. you wna be everything but wrong. 🚶‍♀️should’ve just kept it cute and kept it quiet.

allat being said, good riddance, r*shad. leave me and everybody else alone! and if you fw him, then there’s the door 👉🚪 good riddance to you too.

[skaruresonic]

You seem like a very cool friend to have, you have a bigger heart then I, I just can't tolerate death threats and wishes. Offcourse in politics you see it all the time, but people in politics have power over us and sometimes their decisions is a matter of life and death. It's different then someone being involved in comic books and games like flynn.

As someone who was bullied both irl and online, death treats trigger me. I had panic attacks over it. Strangers telling me to die because of how I looked or because of my Sonic opinion. It also made me lash out, and hurt me friends. Not excusing my behavior but I wasn't myself anymore. That's why my tolerance is zero to people like that. I'm just weaker or too sensitive.

I don't think I'm tolerating his behavior by forgiving him, per se. I'm saying, "I expect better of you because you are my friend and I am giving you a chance to Do Better." Because, bear in mind, my first reaction was to unfollow him. After giving it some thought, I realized it didn't really make sense to abruptly cut ties with someone I considered a friend because they said something fucked-up at 3 AM. IDW fans tend to cut ties with no explanation, and upon reflection, I asked myself, "Am I really doing any better if I react first and don't ask for context?" The disappointment I felt was because I'd held him to a higher standard; the reason I unfollowed was because of that. It wasn't like I cheerily condoned it or anything, I really was disappointed and told Random as much. We continue to be friends because he hasn't repeated the offense, but also because we just like each other as people. But, again, because I didn't broadcast my disappointment early enough for the public's liking, people assume I blithely tolerate death threats towards Flynn. I don't. You'd think folks would realize that by looking at how I abide by a strict no-contact policy. (Then again, they may just interpret that as an act of cowardice on my part, so who knows.)

That being said, anon, you shouldn't beat yourself up over your reactions to things no one should go through. That's like calling yourself weak or too sensitive for crying out in pain when somebody punches you in the face. Of course it's going to hurt; of course the natural reflex is to first yell "Ow!" and then "Hey, what the fuck?" People mocking you for doing either are only being sickening and also don't know how psychology works. We're not punching bags, we're people.

And the worst part is, they act like they act like you have a victim narrative, and then turn right around and paint themselves as victims of harassment because you… reblogged a post of theirs. On the Reblogging Site. Forgive me if I don't exactly feel sorry for you, you know?

I was once on Twitter. I can count the number of conversations I've had where people didn't twist my words on one hand. On Tumblr, at roughly the same time, I was receiving harassing asks attacking my character at least once a day. And that was on top of people in general sneering at Le Haters.

They mock us for being part of a clique, but honestly, I feel like my friends are the only ones keeping me sane through all this. At least they won't judge even if I go off the deep end. At least they know where I'm coming from. At least there's someone out there who knows this situation isn't fair or balanced and acknowledges that it's actually kind of fucked-up.

Of course, folks will say "You're only friends with Random because he agrees with you," which... paints a rather narrow and sad view of how they approach their online friendships, tbh. Do you require conformity of thought in your friendships, then?

Imagine months' worth of this. Imagine people attacking every angle of your character, from your intelligence, to your character, to your friendships, to your status as a Sonic fan, to your mental health, and then on top of that the majority of them proceeding to imply what you went through was invalid and didn't happen, and even if it did, that it didn't matter, at least not in comparison to what the people hurt by looking at your blog went through.

In other fandoms, we'd call that victim-blaming, but Sonic is a unique cesspit where a shocking amount of abuse apologia slips through the cracks:

This? Is fine in the mainstream's eyes. Because we "deserve" it somehow.

Legitimately I was afraid when I announced my mom's death online that they would mock me for it. And they did. And they didn't do that to just me, they pulled it with my friends' and their deceased loved ones, too, even when they hadn't said anything.

On Mother's Day, I received a nasty chain of reblogs mocking my mom's death and the language I'm studying, which is very important to me because it is our tribe's language and a language we nearly lost to residential school. I didn't grow up learning it, but I'm learning it as as an adult, filling that void.

What really put the nail in the coffin and made me decide to delete my second blog was when they said, quote, "Maybe she wouldn't have died if you weren't such a cunt."

My fears about being mocked online for it turned out to be entirely valid. Tbf, a few people backed off when they heard the news, but then you had shitheads who just wanted to stir the pot because haha isn't it funny to watch Le Hater suffer. (tw for parent death below)

Truth is, I harbor a great deal of guilt over her death because I had to watch her suffer for a long time at the hands of inept and sometimes abusive hospital staff and was unable to do anything about it. There were some cases where I might have exacerbated her suffering, such as when I cleaned the tub days before her death (with good intentions) and she slipped and cracked her head, got a hairline fracture in her skull on top of everything else.

I don't like thinking about it.

I feel like there's maybe some unprocessed trauma there in that I tend to think about it at least once a day, but I push it into the back of my mind. That's kind of what Natives do: we don't have the resources to deal with our trauma, so our solution is to just stop thinking about things that bother us, like closing a door in our minds. Out of sight, out of mind.

However, it's difficult to close certain doors when people keep trying to push them open. I can handle Not Thinking about That Particular Thing, but how can I avoid thinking about IDW discourse when people in this fandom are constantly reminding me of how I'll never be forgiven my heathen ways? And kicking sand in my face by saying I have a victim complex when I have pulled every stop possible to draw proper boundaries? What they really want is for you to shut up forever, and fuck that.

I won't say I've been perfect, either, but based on the way folks talk, you'd think we want Flynn homeless. And that's a degree of bad faith you just can't work with. You can't work with supercilious centrists who'll sneer "you're just as bad" when all you're doing is posting on your own blog, who act like you getting snarky in your blogging is the equivalent to being told your mother would still be alive if you weren't "such a cunt."

Again, you cannot win in a situation like this. The only solution is to walk away because it's clear they need an eternal scapegoat, and it seems nothing I can do or say will convince those whose minds are already turned against us that we're not terribad people.

[cass1x1]

[ 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 ] : sender and receiver are finally about to kiss, but are interrupted. | sasha + theo~*~

@gerrykecy

Sasha's hands card through soft, sable hairs. He has a firm, strong grip, and his fingers move with a movement that Theo can't help but call sensual.

They agreed that their first date ended with a kiss. It suggests a speed of movement that makes sense, given that they've apparently lived together most of their relationship. Theo has to admit, for all of Sasha's faults, he's been consistent and reliable when it has come to the details of their story. Not only has his story passed inspection of their friends, but it's all been executable. From start to--well, they're at the finish now, so they'll see.

When pressed for details, Sasha answered their friends with a laugh, "Oh, they came on to me." But he wasn't specific about which parts they were supposed to do. So they made a handful of overtures over the course of the date, all of which Sasha responded to with that breezy manner that makes him so good at these things.

The date is over, though, and the suppose nothing would be more coming on to him than initiating the agreed-upon kiss. They have thought about it in the last few days--that they have to, how they might approach it, how it might feel.

They've tried not to think about that last one, but they can't seem to help it. Kissing has always been a chore, one they avoided whenever possible. Sasha's file is thick with his known cases, a fair number of which were or involved honey-traps. And if they know about those ones, they have to assume there are twice as many they don't know about. He must not resent them like Theo does. That, or his handler can't stand him--a sentiment they have no problem saying they can imagine.

The puppy lets out a soft snore from Sasha's lap, and he stops his little caresses. Theo's eyes has been lingering on his hands, but now they are self-conscious of the fact and turn away completely.

"Does that conclude our date?" they ask, unable to muster their usual impatience. It has been, despite their instincts to distrust him, a reasonably decent afternoon.

Sasha takes a moment before answering. "Yeah. We kiss and part ways."

Theo sighs. Sasha, seemingly without thinking, stretches his fingers out in the pup's long, soft fur, and Theo wonders why it seems to transfix them so deeply. "Okay. Let's get it over with."

Sasha blinks. "We don't have to do it. We can do another--"

"No," they interrupt in a rush. "No, I want to do it accurately. First kiss at the end of the date. And then it will be done." Sasha shrugs, no comment for that. He keeps up his gentle petting, slow but steady. They huff out another sigh and approach him, sliding down the wall to sit next to him.

They've been closer to him before. There was the time a few years ago at the auction, when they should have killed him but didn't, but they'd had him pinned to a wall, pressed between their body--their knife--and the wall. But this feels more tense. Probably because they wield a knife better than their own lips.

They lean in painful inch by painful inch. They might have expected Sasha to help a little, but he doesn't. Oh, he waits patiently, watching them, open for a kiss. But he does nothing to help. Doesn't even close his eyes until they're so close they can sense his lashes flicking down. It's the moment before a kiss, the moment at which Theo usually begins to recoil and--

Perhaps the most disgusting scent they have ever had the misfortune to smell wafts up from Sasha's lap. His hand freezes, but his face pulls away, that silly smile already warming his features. "Excuse you," he says, his voice teasing. The pup lets out a soft snore, but the sound coming out of their other end is much more disturbing.

Theo wants to try to be stern, but they can't help but let out a small chuckle. Truly, this would have been a better story, if either of them had been clever enough to come up with it. Even they--poor as they are at this part of the job--can see that.

"I'm guessing that's a rain check on my kiss?"

Theo turns their nose up, genuinely trying to avoid the smells coming off the pup. "A fart-kink is a deal-breaker, I'm afraid." They try not to look a the glint in Sasha's eyes; it's one thing to be transfixed by his hands but entirely another to want to ogle at his face.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Thank you. It's... progress? It's not fun... I haven't slept. And, I think that I know in my head that it's just constipation, but it's been coming in waves.

Normally, it's a 1 or 2 on the pain scale, but there've been 2 or 3 times where it'd be just... really bad. Like, the last one went all the way up to a 6 or a 7, which was the worst it's been.

Whenever I walk, my stomach feels bloated & achy & like it's gonna burst... Let's just say that I've got some less than great memories involving such...

And, when I move, I get this pain in the junction between my neck & shoulder on the right side.

Normally, it isn't very bad, but when it's during the waves, it can be pretty bad. But it's worse when I try to do that downward dog position. Like, I managed to get down, but then the pain in my shoulder skyrocketed to an 8 or a 9. But when I sat back up, it went back down.

This is just... it's not fun because my mom went through something that had seemed like constipation, but it turned out that her intestine had twisted & everything was backed up. We took her to the hospital & the doctor was... he wasn't okay... he didn't believe her, so when he went in, he was shocked to find it packed. It burst all over her insides.

This is actually part of the reason that I'm absolutely sure that God is there & He loves us, because they said it was a miracle that she didn't get so much as an infection.

She's still alive, but they had to remove a decent chunk of her intestines because of it...

So, I know that, no matter what, I'm gonna be okay even if this does end up being like that & I die from it, because I'm saved & baptized & I love Him.

... But that doesn't stop me from remembering it & being a bit scared...

Like, even though, logically, I don't think it's like what happened to her as there were a number of extenuating circumstances involved that led up to it that I haven't mentioned. It's still scary.

I could really use some prayers, if it's alright to ask?

Hmmmmm 🤔

I would try the stool softener remedies first, it if it doesn’t resolve soon/those other symptoms I mentioned pop up, get it checked out sooner rather than later. An ileus, what your mother had, was what I was thinking too when I was talking about things worsening. But it could be as simple as constipation! Try to resolve it as you would for that first. 👍🏻

And it’s understandable to be anxious given everything, I’ll definitely pray for you hon ❤️

[riddlerosehearts]

bg3 playthrough thoughts!! i'm still basically just doing sidequests, but they've been interesting and it feels like a lot of important stuff has happened even if it isn't part of the main story.

i... ran into gortash's parents at the cobbler shop while wandering around? i had no idea that would happen. i also got an option to use illithid powers on the mother, but did not do it because my tav is someone who has been adamantly refusing to use the powers this entire time. may have to keep that in mind for another playthrough!

OMG I FOUND THE INSTRUMENT STORE!! got excited about that because elenion lost their lyre when they got taken by mind flayers and they've been trying to find a new one this entire time. i'm still annoyed that volo didn't stock one even though he stocked like every other instrument. also omg if you're a bard you get special dialogue with the shopkeeper!

i brought both karlach and shadowheart to the graveyard, specifically because i knew in advance that they had things they'd comment on if you did. so i got to see karlach speak to her parents. :( i also put some flowers outside their graves, and a night orchid at the grave of the guy shadowheart mourned for.

YESSSS THE PARTY HIT LEVEL 11. after suddenly getting attacked by a bunch of sahuagin on the beach lol but i'm not complaining! i can't wait to use otto's irresistible dance in every battle from now on.

...i had used up a lot of spell slots and such from various quests so i went to take a long rest. and it was nice to finally rest, except for the fact that lae'zel got kidnapped! i actually knew that someone was going to get kidnapped, but i didn't know when it would happen and i don't know how the game determines who it is either--though, storywise, for my tav, i really like that it ended up being lae'zel. also, orin made it look like lae'zel was trying to kill yenna, and now i wonder what would've happened if someone else had been taken instead?

it's a good thing saving orin's victim isn't time sensitive LOL because i have sooo much stuff left. and storywise it feels wrong to be going around completing a bunch of random sidequests and helping out the rest of the companions while lae'zel is in trouble, but in terms of gameplay it feels like dealing with orin and gortash should be some of the last things you do! so i'm just going to say we need to take our time to come up with a plan and lae'zel is strong enough to handle herself until we get there.

looking for minsc now--i know i said before that i wasn't very attached to jaheira, but she gets better the more i see of her LMAO. i mean, she approves of being sarcastic with nine-fingers and saying "just exploring the local sewer life" when asked what you're doing in the guildhall! maybe on my next playthrough i'll try to use her a bit more.

i'm sure there was a more reasonable and normal way to get past the vault puzzle than by literally throwing water all over the buttons and short circuiting the contraption with lightning magic. but would a reasonable and normal method have been as FUN as short circuiting the contraption? i doubt it.

MAN i wish there was a way to speed up the combat specifically when it's the enemy's turn, at least. fights with a large number of characters involved, like this one i just did at the counting house, can just get painful to sit through when it isn't my party's turn to move. especially since with this particular battle i messed up and got party wiped once and there's a lot of enemies AND a lot of bank employees helping out MISSING EVERY ATTACK and it's just ajksgshgdh. i'm so glad to be done with that now.

got jumpscared by astarion's siblings appearing at camp! after that i tried to continue the mystic carrion quest (which i started as part of the free the artist quest) and realized it was leading me down the sewers, which is also where we need to be to find minsc, so to the sewers we go. i found a woman there who had been lured by a vampire--wonder if astarion would've had any reaction to that if we brought him along.

i now have the single most important companion of them all--boo! okay, and minsc is here too. i talked to him a bit back at camp and he's really funny, actually. now i actually wanna try using him a bit and seeing if he has any funny reactions to things around the city.

also, i finished the free the artist quest and oh my god it was unbelievably annoying just to navigate the house. and the massive detour you have to take to deal with mystic carrion... well, that was actually interesting, but was it all worth the reward you get in the end? nope! maybe in the future my characters won't stumble across the zhentarim hideout and just won't know oskar exists...

[chemnections]

Why the fuck would Gerard reference Frank’s accident in UA? Sure there might be some tension behind the scene but doing that would be unnecessarily cruel. The idea Gerard has chosen to spend the rest of his life playing mind games with people in his life like Frank is absurd.

i'm trying to hold back my judgment until its confirmed and i see it in context - but my own trauma from a vehicular accident is really jumping out of me so i'm incredibly spiky on the topic.

because i already thought the bus in the stage set, not enough acknowledgment of it in my opinion at the sydney shows, five carrying that rucksack in season 1 like frank did was the trauma was still fresh was pushing it (including the removal of five's hand).

i think it would be included because unfortunately it has become part of their lore as the turning point that eventually led them to reuniting the band again. probably made them rethink and attempt to repair their relationship and attitudes, etc. and a point of contention - thinking of lindsey's meme of 'lets eat trash and get hit by a car'. and the umbrella academy is ultimately about mcr, and a huge chunk being gerard and frank's conflict.

but even more unfortunately, i think gerard is just continuing to show us who he is.

i think he greatly enjoys being cruel to frank. i think he likes that frank almost always comes back and when he doesn't gerard lets himself fall apart to a life threatening state to reel him back in.

i think a part of why gerard and lindsey work is that they have a built in common enemy (but probably many to be honest) to bond over. i've observed relationships that work like that before, and how they tend to fall apart when the 'enemy' - usually a friend or family member - has been removed. and i think that's also part of the pattern of gerard falling apart when frank puts distance between them.

but another key part of gerard reeling frank back in is the band. i believe if it wasn't for the band frank would have found it within himself to complete remove himself from gerard. mcr is the greatest hostage gerard can hold - and he has pulled the trigger on that hostage before and milked it to cause to most pain he could, lets be honest.

and we can't say anyone is making him do this. even with mental illness - with access to all the care in the world it can only make you better if you want to be better. i don't think he does. again, i think he likes being cruel and likes the reactions he can get out of frank by pissing him off. and getting truly better involves too much work and facing reality and feeling remorse for said cruelty.

so he has chosen to continue the head games. and at this point, i guess it is for life. and it's so fucking hard to watch.

because for most people would be the assumption that naturally they are working towards resolution. but gerard is not.

why? who knows, could potentially be a number of things. power, entertainment, sadism, trauma and the list just goes on and on.

my other thought with the ua is that this makes the five and frank connection even more visible. . . it's a little reckless on that side of things

[sesshy380-rp]

(Alright I'm trying this!! I hope it's alright!!)

[Post-Millenium World • nb lesbian TKB • use he/him for the moment]

Bakura had no idea how much time passed since he lost the dark rpg. Maybe a lot. Maybe only a few days. Time wasn't really a thing when you were dead.

Well. He already technically died 3000 years ago. The right words would be when you passed away. Kind of. Because the thief knew he wasn't close to Aaru. He was a lost soul trying to find his way in the Duat.

Two things surprised him. First, his soul was still intact. After his defeat he expected to disappear into nothingness with Zorc. Not to be separated from the Dark god, to be his own person again, and to end up here. This was a little confusing, but it was nice to have his own body back instead of the weak shape of Ryou. It wasn’t against his landlord, but that boy should really go see the sun and do exercise from time to time.

The second thing that surprised Bakura was that the Gods didn't immediately take him to throw him into Ammit's maw. Did they really intend to let him walk through the Duat like any other soul? Or did they simply not notice him? He didn’t have the answer, but he was sure about one thing. Justice was on the Pharaoh's side, no matter what injustice Bakura suffered himself. They would rip his heart and it wouldn't pass the judgment. Even dead, he was a persistent bastard. He would not let them erase him so easily. And if he couldn't escape that fate, at least he was going to make it a pain for them to catch him.

But right now, he had to decide which direction to take.

Sanura was on the verge of wanting to claw her ears off as the god, Set, recited (yet again) his triumphs over the Serpent of Destruction. She wasn’t certain which tale was worse: This one, or his altered version of the Ennead where he wasn’t completely left looking like a fool.

She’d lost count of the number of millennia she’d endure this torture. Surely spending eternity in Ammit’s gut would be less maddening.

Unable to sit there for another second, she spread her wings and leapt away from Ra’s barque, heading towards the bank of the River of Night. She ignored Aken, the ram-headed ferryman, as he shouted for her to return. She didn’t care that her father, Anubis, had stated multiple times that the stupid barque was the safest place for her…she’d rather take her chances with the abominations that lingered in the Duat.

Being that only half of her blood was from that of a god, Anubis feared that she might fall prey to those who had changed due to becoming forever lost in the fog of the Duat. Little did he know, she had taken a few lessons from both Sekhmet and Maahes, and had already successfully defeated several mutated souls…although…there were a few times she had to ask Sekhmet to heal a few injuries before her father saw them. She was grateful that her aunt was willing to keep a secret (though she suspected her aunt didn’t want to have to explain her involvement in training her niece).

She landed on the bank, shouting in frustration like a child throwing a tantrum (which was exactly what was happening regardless if she chose to acknowledge the fact or not). She wrapped her hands around an imaginary version of Set in an attempt to strangle it.

She caught movement in her periphery, and turned to look at it. There was a confused looking figure standing there wrapped in a crimson cloak. She lowered her hands, tilting her head in curiosity of the…person? The apparel was ancient, and something usually worn only by men…but certain features presented the person as female. Perhaps they were sekhet?

It appeared the person hadn’t noticed her yet. They were probably still in the early stages of trying to figure out where they were…which was common when souls first entered the Duat. Seeing a giant anthropomorphic feline with wings was probably the least of their concern.

((@resuri-art))

[priestessofspiders]

The Masochist

I'm a sadist. I figured I'd just get that out in the open first. Without going too much into the details, it feels extremely cathartic to hurt people. It's something about being in control, about someone else experiencing pain for my benefit, that just makes me feel very, very happy, like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. Of course, it also just turns me on, but like I said, I don't want to get too much into the details of that side of things.

I'm not a monster of course. I don't go around beating people up in bar brawls to get off or anything like that. I'm only interested in acting out my fantasies with willing participants, and I care a lot about consent. I understand that the experience of being hurt can be just as pleasant for some people as hurting them is for me, and in the end I really am wanting all parties involved to be as happy and safe as possible. It's an unorthodox pastime, sure, but in the end it's all happening between consenting adults.

Fortunately for me, genetics blessed me with just the right balance of facial symmetry, fat distribution, and skeletal structure to be considered fairly attractive by mainstream standards. You'd be surprised how many people out there want to get the shit beaten out of them by a beautiful woman. As a result of this, I'm reasonably well known in my local BDSM scene, which is one of many reasons why I won't be disclosing that much information that could be traced back to where I live. It wouldn't be especially difficult to find me.

Because of my relative popularity, I have gotten a little used to complete strangers knowing who I am. It's why I wasn't too surprised when I was approached at a kink party and greeted by name by someone who I'd never seen before in my life. I'll be the first to admit I was smitten at first sight, she was truly gorgeous. I can't exactly explain what it was about her that made her so attractive to me, it's difficult to put into words. I can easily describe her of course; short, red hair in a pixie cut, slender limbs, expertly applied makeup, but this doesn't really explain the aura of almost divine beauty that emanated out from her. Unlike many of the other attendees of the party, she wasn't wearing any sort of fetish gear or even particularly revealing clothing. Just jeans, a gray t-shirt, and an unzipped gray hoodie.

While I'm inclined to swing both ways, I've always had a certain preference for women, but that predilection towards sapphism doesn't mean I'm likely to fall head over heels at the first sight of just any pretty girl. She was special, there was something different about her.

She introduced herself as Julia, and then immediately asked me a question which, in retrospect, should have raised more red flags. Speaking in a calm, measured voice, she asked, "I've heard you hurt people if they ask you to, is that correct?"

It wasn't an incorrect thing to say. She was right, and I told her so, but the phrasing of the question should have bothered me more than it did. Nobody phrases things like that in those sorts of spaces, they use jargon, community specific terminology, that sort of thing. Someone might ask something like "You're the sadist who's into impact play, yeah?" perhaps, but the phrasing of "you hurt people if they ask you to" is utterly bizarre. Nobody at that party would have said something like that. It's the sort of question an 80 year old who was just introduced to the concept of BDSM would ask.

It only got weirder from there. After my affirmative response, she nodded her head thoughtfully and told me she would meet me at my home, and asked me when I would be free. I told her I wasn't doing anything the next day, and she nodded again and said she'd be there at 2 o clock. Then she just walked away. She didn't even ask me for my address, or a phone number, or anything. The worst part is, at the time, none of this seemed in any way unusual. A complete stranger had just told me she was going to come to my home the next day, which she evidently already knew the location of, and it felt completely natural. I can chalk up some of it to a bit of giddy excitement at the prospect of indulging in my more unusual interests with a willing and beautiful participant, but that just doesn't explain it. I'm not an idiot, I know you can't just trust complete strangers because they're attractive. It's like the part of my brain that should have been warning me something was wrong had been completely turned off.

The remainder of the party went as expected, though I was somewhat distracted from my encounter. I didn't see Julia at all for the rest of the evening. I imagine she just left after informing me she was going to come to my house the next day. I left early and went home giddy with excitement for the day to come.

At the time, part of me was worried she wouldn't show up. It's funny, looking back on it now, that the thought of Julia not showing would have been a source of fear rather than relief. But she did, of course. The knocks on my door were perfectly in sync with the alarm I had set up on my phone to remind me of her impending arrival.

I opened the door as casually as possible, trying my best to hide my excitement, and found Julia standing there, smiling pleasantly. She didn't seem to have changed her outfit at all since the night before, either that or she simply had multiple sets of the same clothes like Einstein. To be honest I was a little embarrassed, part of me worried I had misread her intentions entirely, and that this was meant purely as a social call.

I showed her inside politely and asked if she wanted anything to drink, and she gently declined the offer, looking around my house methodically like the camera of a Mars rover surveying an alien environment. There was a bit of awkward silence that I attempted to fill with one-sided small talk whilst she wandered about the house, seeming to scan every nook and cranny. I followed behind, feeling increasingly awkward. Finally, she turned to look at me and spoke simply, "You will pierce my skin with needles."

I'll admit I'd never been especially fond of needle play. It had always seemed too gentle, too tame for my specific proclivities, but that's not to say I was inexperienced with it, and I was only too eager to indulge Julia if that was what she wanted. In the end, pain is pain after all.

Now of course, I gave my whole spiel about safety and consent, talking about the whole "traffic light" system, soft limits versus hard limits, etc. Julia nodded along, still smiling pleasantly, maintaining eye contact somewhat uncomfortably throughout my entire monologue. It was only when I got to the concept of safe words and asked what would work for her when she opened her mouth.

"There will be no safe word," she said.

Now I'm familiar with newbies to this sort of thing who get cocky and insist that they can take it, that they don't have any limits, but this felt different. This wasn't a statement of confidence, this wasn't bragging, Hell, this wasn't even someone with self-worth issues who thinks that getting hurt beyond their limits is what they deserve. This was a statement of fact. There would be no safe word. I wouldn't need one.

I wanted to argue of course. I wouldn't be a safe sexual partner if I just did away with important safety techniques because someone told me they weren't necessary, but my words just seemed to die on my lips as I looked at her unsettlingly calm smile. This was around when I started to fully realize something was wrong, but it was as if I couldn't do anything about it. The stage was set, and there was no changing the role I was about to play in the proceedings. Torturer, enter stage right.

She lay face down on the couch, removing her hoodie and shirt to reveal a completely unblemished back, skin smooth and pale as cream. Despite my growing anxiety, I was still, at this point, somewhat excited.

In case you aren't familiar with the subject, needle play is exactly what it sounds like; it's essentially a somewhat sexier version of acupuncture. I have a set of acupuncture needles with jeweled tips at the blunt end for this purpose, a gift from a friend of mine. I removed the needles from their case, making sure to clean them with an alcohol soaked cloth before setting them on a sterile tray for further use. Once I had prepared all of the needles, I began to gently pierce them one by one into the flesh of Julia's back, arranging them into a symmetrical pattern.

You don't go deep during needle play, as with all properly done BDSM the end goal isn't to seriously injure one's partner, but to explore different sensory experiences. When done correctly, one doesn't even leave much in the way of marks or bruising. Ultimately you're far more likely to receive a scar from an upset house cat from someone who has the proper experience with needle play.

Now, usually folks tend to have a fairly noticeable reaction to being pierced with dozens of needles, even if said needles are only inserted gently and to a shallow depth. While it's certainly not the most painful form of sadomasochism I've indulged in, it's far from mild. There is usually a hitching of the breath, a faint shudder, even moaning if one gets really into it. Julia, however, remained totally motionless, and the steady rhythm of her breathing continued uninterrupted.

I'll be entirely honest, I was a little concerned that I was doing a bad job. The whole joy of sadism, to me anyway, is to see the reaction someone gets from what I do to them, to know that they are feeling these sensations because of me. It makes me feel powerful, in control. To receive no response whatsoever was, frankly, a little embarrassing.

I'd finished inserting the last of the needles when Julia finally spoke.

"Push them all the way."

I shouldn't have to tell you that's not how this works. These weren't short needles, they were several inches long each. Pushing each one down to the base wouldn't just be agonizing, it would be incredibly dangerous as well; I could easily perforate her lungs at a minimum.

And yet, I found my hands moving to the last needle I had pierced her with. I felt myself grasp the jeweled head and begin gently pressing downwards, slowly burying the entire length of the needle into the flesh of her back.

It's surreal, not having control over one's own body, to experience taking actions which you do not want to perform. It's not like watching a movie, you can feel yourself doing it the entire time, all the while you're filled with a dawning horror that you're nothing more than a puppet on a string. To feel your own body betray you is the most viscerally upsetting sensation I've ever had.

One by one, each of the needles were pushed to the base into Julia's back by my trembling, sweaty fingers. I'd like to say there was no blood, that it was as though I were simply pressing sticks into wet clay, but that would be too kind to me, wouldn't it? No, I had to watch as deep rivulets of crimson bubbled up from the dozens of puncture wounds I was inflicting upon my still seemingly uncaring victim. She didn't so much as twitch, just continuing to breath methodically even as I saw bubbles of air form in the blood pouring from those wounds which pierced her lungs. My mind was attempting to retreat into itself, horrified at the loss of control I was experiencing, overwhelmed by the total absence of agency. My face was streaked with tears, ruining the makeup I had put on in the hopes of impressing her. God, to think I once worried about how she would think of me. It took me a moment to notice when she got up from the couch, putting back on her shirt, blood soaking through the fabric.

"Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon. I will be stopping by next week on the same day, at the same time. You will meet me then," she said, sliding her hoodie over the stained t-shirt. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded stack of hundred dollar bills, placing it on the coffee table while I sobbed. With that, she left and walked out the door.

Somehow, by the time I managed to pull myself together, I still had the wherewithal to feel self-conscious about the money. I don't do this sort of thing for pay, I've never wanted to do sex work. It isn't that I have any sort of moral qualms with that, but this sort of thing is basically a hobby for me, one that admittedly is a rather an important part of my life, but it's not my job. Being paid for it felt deeply wrong to me. It made me feel dirty, accepting that money, but it was more than enough to keep me financially stable for a week, and there was no way I was going to be able to go to my day job any time soon after what I'd experienced. I called in sick as soon as I was able to speak without crying.

I spent a while processing what happened. It wasn't just traumatic because of the lack of control, though that certainly doesn't help. I've often been self-conscious about my proclivities, worried that I'm somehow predatory, that I'm a bad person. Something that helps is knowing that what I'm doing isn't really that dangerous, that it's just a bit of unusual fun. Even at my most vicious the only lasting damage are a few bruises. To watch someone have needles pierced into their vital organs by my own hands, it's different. It's not just harmless fun anymore.

I came up with all sorts of explanations for what could have happened. Maybe Julia was a master hypnotist, and she had put me into some sort of trance. She could have replaced my regular needles with telescoping ones, like those prop knives they use in theater. Perhaps she was wearing some sort of prosthetic makeup on her back filled with fake blood. Maybe she drugged me. In my heart of hearts though, I knew that none of these rationalizations held any truth.

A week came and went, and I found myself waiting at my home for Julia. I didn't want to, I tried to call up a friend to stay with, but my vocal cords froze up whenever I attempted to ask them. I tried placing a reservation for a hotel room online, but my fingers refused to let me click the mouse. Even when I tried leaving on foot, I found myself steadily walking back to my house as soon as the clock struck noon. My appointment with Julia would be kept.

When she arrived, Julia was still wearing the same outfit as the last week, albeit cleaned of blood. She held a small package wrapped in brown paper and twine in her left hand. She greeted me by name cheerfully enough, and despite the terror I felt at the sight of her, I found my mouth twisting into an involuntary smile as I welcomed her into my home with a tone of similar warmth. Only the tears flowing down my face indicated my true feelings. My mind kept playing back images of me pushing the needles into her back, of the blood bubbling with the rhythm of her breathing.

She got right to the point, informing me that today I would be whipping her. Even now, I'm still not used to the way she phrases her instructions. When you use the proper terminology for these sorts of things, you're reminding yourself that it's not actually harmful, that it's just, in essence, a game. "Impact play" feels so much less cruel than whipping. But Julia doesn't care about what I feel. She just makes me hurt her.

I went to go retrieve one of the various floggers I owned, deciding I would choose whichever one I thought would cause the least damage, when Julia simply said, "Stop."

Instantly I froze in my tracks, not moving a muscle. I heard the rustling of paper from behind me, the sound of her unwrapping the object she had brought with her. "Turn around," she instructed. I did so instantly, without hesitation, despite how strongly I didn't want to see what she would present me with.

It reminded me somewhat of a discipline, a type of scourge used in certain Christian denominations as an instrument of penance, a tool for the mortification of the flesh. It was composed of seven lengths of slightly rusted chain, with three jagged knots of barbed wire sticking out along each one. She held it out to me, and I took it, shaking slightly. I felt like I was going to be sick. Getting a closer look at the discipline, I could tell that the links of the chain were sharpened to a razor's edge.

I must again reiterate; I enjoy hurting people. I like seeing people in pain, I like seeing people submit their bodies to me, to watch them be hurt because they willingly give me the power to inflict suffering upon them for my own pleasure. I know there are probably a lot of people out there like me who would be overjoyed to spend time with Julia, to be with a partner who truly has no limits, for whom you can do whatever you want to her and she'll just take it, wordlessly. They probably wouldn't even need to be controlled in the way that she does to me, or if they were, they may not even notice it. But I'm not one of those people. I enjoy hurting people, not maiming them.

She took off her shirt again, this time kneeling on the floor instead of laying down. By some terrible miracle, her back showed no scars from our last session. I was once again greeted with that same creamy, unblemished skin. She told me to begin, and I did. I felt my hand clench, white knuckled, around the handle of the discipline, and I began to swing it with all my might against her back. The rusted, razor sharp metal tore into her flesh like a knife through butter, leaving terrible gashes from which blood flowed like the tears of weeping saints. I tried to keep track of how many times my body swung that terrible scourge, but I lost count at one hundred lashes. By the time she told me I could stop, her vertebrae and the back of her rib cage were visible, peeking out from the ruined, bloody flesh of her back.

Like before, impossibly calmly given the utter ruination of her body, she stood up, put back on her clothes, and thanked me for my time, informing me once again that I would be seeing her the same time next week. She left me another stack of hundred dollar bills, more than the last time, and left. I curled in the fetal position upon the blood soaked floor and cried until I passed out.

That was months ago. Since then, it's only gotten increasingly worse.

I quit my job. I have long since run out of excuses to explain my continued absence, and the money from Julia more than pays for my expenses, so I just sent in a resignation email and didn't show up for work after that. I wish I could say it was an improvement, not needing to work anymore, but all it means is I have more time to focus on the terrible things I've been made to do against my will.

Every week is different, some new torture she wants me to perform on her. Each time she is completely healed from the previous session, and each time her requests seem to get more extreme, further from anything even vaguely resembling something remotely conventional. I don't want to go into detail as to the specifics, just reliving our first two meetings is traumatic enough, but it has become increasingly rare for me to use any of my own equipment, instead she usually comes in with some new object wrapped in brown paper and string. A potato peeler, a power drill, a nailgun, a branding iron, etc.

Most recently, the package she brought was small, compact. She unwrapped it to reveal a smooth, black, handgun, a Glock I think, with a suppressor already threaded into the end of the barrel. That session was very quick.

Even with the bullet wound clear through her forehead and out the back of her skull, she kept up that polite, gentle smile. I looked through the newly created tunnel of flesh and bone that marred her otherwise beautiful face as she politely thanked me for my hospitality, informing me that she would meet with me again next week at the same time.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

I could name a couple of John stans with this mentality against Bri and Rog and honestly I hate it. (Thankfully it's just a small number of ppl) But I also hate those who put John on a taller pedestal "because he's done the right thing, he truly respected freddie unlike the others!" (Which seems a common POV not much in John's corner of the fandom but more from generic Queen fans)

It's so awful and disrespectful, the three of them tried to handle their grief in their own way and Freddie's death was the turning point of their lives... John decided to do what felt right for him, he wasn't happy with the rockstar life, but he retired in a way that hurt the others. And the others probably pushed him too hard and didn't understand his reasons to leave. They were all hurt by the rift and pointing the finger at specifically any of them is wrong.

Also, we can only speculate about what happened because obviously we don't have the full picture. Who knows, there's also the possibility they actually do have sporadic contacts with John but prefer to keep it a secret to respect his will to be left out of public business. We know they lied profusely to protect Freddie's privacy.

I remember making a long post years ago about how Queen fans in general use John’s silence and absence to their advantage to project their grievances onto him; because they think it’s disrespectful for Brian and Roger to keep playing as Queen, they think John must have retired out of this false sense of respect towards Freddie they made up in their heads, and John isn’t around to refute that. He’s their perfect blank slate who, in their heads, just so happens to share their exact opinions on Brian and Roger. It’s pathetic lol. It reminds me of when I saw a post in the movie era calling Brian and Roger homophobic and saying John wasn’t involved with the movie in any way because he disapproved of it so much. That was just top tier copium.

I know they lied about Freddie’s illness, but I honestly don’t think they’re doing so with John because the pain seems pretty raw (“I constantly ask myself what I could have done differently”/“John is a sociopath”) and Brian and Roger have been in the public eye for a long time, so I don’t think they would have any problem saying they had some contact with John while shutting down any further questions about that. It’s not like saying they still have some contact with him would be a big scandal like Freddie’s illness was. We don’t have the full picture, sure, but what we do have more suggests total ghosting than not.

[boopjuice]

@bluerosefox you have twisted my arm by giving me motivation to follow through on some ideas. Hope you enjoy this part

The logistics talk had to wait. Danny got a call from his parents, and it seemed to panic him because he immediately handed the phone back to the first person who'd had it. Dick thought his name was Tucker, is the second voice was to be believed.

"Sorry about that," the young voice said into the phone. "It's better for Danny to answer that, the last thing we want is for the Fenton's to not be able to get a hold of him and end up creating another world ending- I mean, they'll, uh, break down Sam's door! Yeah, because they're looking for him. Because he wasn't home at a normal time."

Well, if the others were as terrible liars as Tucker was, then there wouldn't be much of a problem figuring out who these people were. Not that there was going to be much of one anyway, considering how bored Tim looked typing away on his laptop.

"Sure. I get it. Overbearing parents can be a nightmare," Dick responded, ignoring the small look B sent his way. "I take it he still lives at home?"

"I mean, I guess we all do? We don't really have much of another choice."

"Danny mentioned school schedules. Are you all students?" Kori asked. Her grip on his shoulder had relaxed significantly since hearing their daughter's voice, and it showed in her speech too.

"Well, yeah."

"I see. What college do you go to?"

"College? I mean, I really want to get into MIT, but I'd settle for-" Tucker let out a pained huff on the other end, like someone had just hit him. There was a furious whisper session, possibly muffed behind a hand, before Tucker came back on the line.

"So, uh, Mar'i said you were a cop?"

Dick had the advantage of being a Bat almost his whole life, or he would have missed how the whole family perked up at the mention of wanting to go to college. Paired with the young voices and living at home, these kids couldn't have been out of high school yet.

"Yeah, a detective. But you managed to get a hold of my personal phone number less than three hours after my daughter went missing, so I assume you know at least that much."

"Oh, uh, well I- we! We have a, um... a really good... social media stalking method!" Dick heard Steph and Tim stifle laughs. He thought he heard a "Seriously, Tuck?" come through the line, too.

"I was better at deception by the time I was six," Damian whispered with a scowl that mirrored Bruce's. He'd bet money that the scowl was mostly genetic. It was kind of cute, how the two looked so much alike.

Aunty Ri-ri. Why had that kid, Dan, said that? There was no way Mar'i had any relation to him, and he'd be willing to bet that she definitely looked different enough that mistaking her as a relative wouldn't be an option.

There was your amnesia year, he thinks, and it twists his stomach into knots. Who knows what happened? Certainly not you.

"Perhaps we could begin to discuss how we could pick our daughter up? It sounds as though my husband needs to speak to your friend. When is a good time to meet?" Kori spoke up.

"Well, that's sort of... we'd have to do some coordinating with a few people. You know, because of club meetings and stuff! Danny's really involved in local clubs."

There was more scuffling over the phone, and Time tapped Dick's shoulder as the group waited for the two teens on the other side to stop fighting.

"The call's coming from the house of the Manson family. New socialites, so they don't have a lot of connections yet. They definitely try, though. They have a child, one Samantha Manson. I'm working on finding her connection to Danny and Tucker."

Dick nodded, turning back toward the phone as the female voice from earlier, Sam, began speaking.

"Danny's going to need too do the talking about logistics. He'd have to get away from his parents and clubs, but it might help when he gets back if he knows when some good times to meet you and your husband are."

"Of course. Richard, when do you think you can get time off so we can get Mar'i?"

"I can cover his patrol for a night if it runs long," Jason volunteered, and Dick really hoped that wouldn't be necessary. Jason pretending to be him would no doubt be the best time for his younger brother to set up some pranks that he'd rather avoid right after getting his daughter.

"No," B shut down. "Nightwing can ask one of the Titans to cover for him. If they all turn him down then you'll cover for him."

"I can call the captain. I might be able to get tomorrow off, but the day after's more likely. How long do you think the conversation's going to take? It'll be easier to set up a time if I know how long to expect to be gone."

"I can't give you a good estimate. But I would plan for a minimum of two hours."

"Alright. I'll ask the chief as soon as this call is done."

"Sounds good. The sooner we can get her home the better."

"You said it," Danny said. His voice was distant, and tired. "They still on the phone?"

"Yep," Sam said. There was a whooshing sound, and then a thunk. Sam had tossed Danny the phone, as evidenced by his now much clearer voice.

"Sorry about that. My parents wanted me to stop by for dinner with the frui- my godfather. They can be hard to get off my back about stuff to do with him. Anyway, we were about to discuss picking up Mar'i?"

Dick, Kori, and Danny ironed out details as best they could, agreeing to call each other in an hour with answers about getting out of their responsibilities elsewhere. Danny had sounded caught off guard when Dick brought up getting out of clubs, just solidifying that Tucker was lying on the spot.

Once he ended the call and texted his captain to ask for the following day off to get Mar'i he finally took in his family again. Bruce was busy supervising Damian digging through school files to look up Samantha Manson, but Tim was staring at his laptop in shock. As if that wasn't bad enough, Jason was standing behind Tim, also staring in shock.

"What? What did you find? Is she in danger?"

"No," Tim said. "But... Well, I think I know why Danny wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

"You're going to wanna see for yourself, Dickwing," Jason said, plucking the laptop off Tim's lap, much to his displeasure, and handing it to Dick.

Tim had successfully found Samantha Manson's social media accounts, as well as those of the two people on the phone. Tucker Foley and Daniel Fenton were the two most tagged people in Manson's posts, and featured in several photos.

Quick scans showed that the three appeared to be romantically involved, having been close friends since early middle school. In the past several years there were few photos of Danny, and photos with him in them often had him blurred, even if the rest of the image was clear.

Thankfully, Tim already had a picture of the boy from what must have been their freshman year pulled up. The three were posed in front of Casper high, which must be their high school. Tucker, to the far left, was smiling wide, an arm wrapped around Samantha, who stood in the middle. She would have looked bored, save for the small smile on her face and the way her arms wrapped around Tucker and Danny's shoulders.

And Danny...

Dick understood why Tim and Jason were so shocked. He doubted anything could have prepared him to seeing his own face staring back at him through the screen.

He heard Kori gasp as she looked over his shoulder, and it was everything he could do to not drop the computer. Danny Fenton had his dark hair, his eyes, his cheeks, and the start of his build. At least, he had in early high school.

"That was the most recent clear photo I've managed to find of him," Time said. "I tried using the image sharpening software, but it never turned out anything recognizable."

"Bruce..."

His father was behind him in a moment. He could feel the man's hesitation as he saw the photo, before he took the laptop and set it down.

"I... I have..."

"We don't know for certain," he said, turning Dick so they were facing one another. "We need to get more information. DNA, school records, birth certificates. But, if it turns out he is, how do you want to handle it?"

How did he want to handle it? He might have a son that he'd never gotten to even meet. That he was planning to go meet in the next few days. He had no idea how he wanted to handle it.

"We should finish deciding how we will be getting Mar'i home first," Kori said, slipping her hand into his own and giving it a squeeze.

"Yeah. The kid, Dan... He called Mar'i Aunty, and Danny didn't correct him. Which means they either strongly suspect a relation, or they know for certain. If I had to guess, that's why they want to talk.

"Don't think that just because Fenton may have some kind of blood relation to you that he can be brought into the fold immediately, Richard," Damian said. "I am more than capable of besting him should he try to take the mantle of Robin."

"I'm not going to tell him, Dami," he reassured his youngest brother. "Besides, I doubt he'd want to get wrapped up with our nightlife. He's clearly got his own normal life, I don't want to take that away from him."

~~~

Danny was going to kill Tucker. Since when had Danny ever been in any clubs? Now he'd have to come up with clubs to talk about if his maybe bio-dad asked about them. Sure, it'd be a little difficult since both of his partners were as liminal as Jazz, if not more by now, but he'd find a way.

After he contacted the Observants and made sure his usual band of rogues and friends left him alone for a week. Just in case his maybe dad (he had to come up with a better title) couldn't make it tomorrow or the day after.

Ancients, this was going to be such a hassle.

He'd probably meet outside of city limits anyway, just for an extra layer of security. If any ghosts decided to attack against his orders while his... while Dick was here, he wanted him as far away from the fight as possible. No point endangering him and Mar'i any more than necessary. Plus, they weren't Amity natives, ghosts wouldn't probably freak him and Mar'i out, not to mention Dick's wife.

Who was, apparently, an alien.

He hadn't thought about that really until just now. He could already feel the questions starting to bubble up, but he pushed the curiosity down. Schedule a week of with the Observants first, meet Dick second, ask the cool alien lady every question in the universe third.

"I'm going to go talk to the Council," Danny said, tossing the phone back to Tuck. "Am I okay to leave the kids here for a while?"

"Of course. You know they listen to us more than you anyway," Sam said, walking over to give him a quick goodbye hug.

"Yeah, and I'm eternally jealous. But at least they listen to someone," he said, walking over and kissing Tucker bye before walking into the kitchen and opening a portal to the Infinite Realms.

Every time he did that, he found himself grateful that Wulf had taught him how to get back and forth without the Fenton Portal. He'd destroyed midway through his sophomore year, and they'd been trying to rebuild it ever since.

He shuddered as he thought about it, shifting into his ghost form and feeling gravity revoke its hold on him before slipping through the portal. They'd called him earlier to ask if he'd seen where they left the blueprints they'd made from memory.

He did remember, he wasn't as stupid as his report card made him look. Which was why he wasn't stupid enough not to burn the blueprints when he'd found them.

~~~

He only barely got back in time to call Dick back. He hadn't gotten a week off, like he'd hoped. But they agreed to at least restrict access to the living world for a couple days. Not ideal, but at least it was better than nothing.

"How'd it go?" Tucker asked from the kitchen. He was setting out three plates of tacos for the kids, his own and Sam's sitting near the stove.

"Not ideal. But I got the eyeballs to at least lower the chances of any attacks for a few days, so at least it's not a sharp stick in the eye."

"Ouch, only reduced? Did you bring up her being... you know," his boyfriend said, stepping over to give him a hug. Danny felt like he could melt into his arms. It was unfair how good Tuck's hugs were when he was stressed.

"Yeah. That was why they decided to restrict everything. I probably should have talked to Clockwork first, gotten some advice, but you know how time works with him. I might've come back yesterday or two weeks from now."

"I hear ya. Come on, there's time for you to enjoy a taco before we call your maybe-bio-dad back. Sam's getting the kids together, so they'll be distracted during the call."

"Thanks, Tuck. You two are the best."

"Of course we are. Now, food. You know Sam won't let you get away with not taking care of yourself."

The taco was great, and Danny had vacuumed up half of it by the time the kids flew downstairs, chattering away between the three of them as they came to the kitchen table. Dan and Ellie were in their ghost forms as they sat, and Danny had to remind them that ghost powers weren't allowed at the table to get them to return to their human forms.

The dinner was uneventful, thankfully. Dan and Ellie had been busy showing Mar'i around the house, eventually turning it into a game of hide and seek tag. Ellie had gotten into a small fight with Dan when he'd used invisibility to cheat, but nothing to large thankfully. Mar'i, thankfully, seemed to be settling in well, and the other two weren't calling her Aunty, so small mercies.

"Alright. I'm gonna go call Ri-ri's dad back. Dan, Ellie, once dinner's done get ready for bed. See if you can find anything that would fit Mar'i to sleep in."

Danny stepped into the backyard, going ghost just long enough to fly up to the roof before changing back and dialing Dick's number.

"Hello, Dick Grayson-Wayne speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hey, it's Danny."

"Oh! Hi, Danny. Um... I guess the first thing to ask is if you managed to get out of your clubs?"

"Mostly, yeah. I might get called away last minute, but hopefully that won't be happening. School's a little harder."

"Yeah, I get that. I managed to get the next two days off, so Kori and i can be there by tomorrow. I assume after school works better for you?"

"Please. Mr. Lancer's going to have my head if I miss another class this week." Shulker had decided to attack right in the middle of English. It had been halfway across the city, though, so Danny'd had to make an hour long bathroom trip. lancer had been... less than impressed with him.

"You're missing class?" Shit.

"It's not important. I just... um... We should meet outside the city!" Danny prayed Dick would just drop the skipping school angle.

"... I was going to suggest the same thing. I'd rather not risk running into paparazzi. We've managed to keep them away from Mar'i so far, and I'd like to continue that if at all possible." Thank the Ancients.

"Yeah, totally. I get that. Is your wife coming with?"

"Yes. I figured she can take Mar'i and then we can talk like you wanted to." Danny sat, leaning against one of the chimney's on the house and looking up. It was a clear night, and even if the sun hadn't set all the way yet he could see the stars.

"That sounds good. There's a small mom and pop shop right outside the city. It's got indoor and outdoor seating, whichever you prefer. I know I'd rather keep the conversation private, for both our sakes, so if we could sit there there's fewer people that would be appreciated."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Before you go, though, could I talk to Mar'i?"

"Yeah. It might take a minute to get down- to get the kids downstairs. They tend to be a bit hard to wrangle, especially when they have a friend over. I'll put you on hold."

Danny didn't wait for a response before hitting the hold button, going ghost to float to the ground before becoming human again. He strode inside, taking a deep breath before shouting for Mar'i, only to be met with three small voices, plus Sam's, yelling at him for yelling inside.

Shortly after, a stampede of two sets of feet came barreling down the stairs towards him. Mar'i was still flying, but Danny could tell that the bandages under her robot pajamas were fresh. hopefully, she would be able to walk with only minimal discomfort tomorrow.

"Woah, woah!" he said, holding the phone up. he felt the haptics that told him he'd hit a button on accident, he just had to hope that it wasn't the button to hang up.

"Dan, Ellie, it's bedtime for you two. Did you remember to brush your teeth?"

"Yes, Daddy," Ellie said, "but we wanna say hi to Au- to Ri-ri's mommy and daddy too!"

"How did you know that's- doesn't matter. It's bedtime."

"Aw, pleeeaaaassse, Daddy?" Dan said, teaming up with Ellie to give him puppy eyes.

"No. You heard your dad, it's bedtime."

"But Mama," Ellie whined, only to be met with Sam's hard stare.

"Bedtime. Mar'i Will be going to bed after she getes to talk with her parents, and I'll send Papa and Daddy up with her to tuck you in. Now, move your butts upstairs."

Dan and Ellie sulked their way upstairs, followed by Sam. She'd be back down in a few minutes after reading the four and six year olds a story and tucking them in. Which meant Mar'i would have some privacy to talk with her parents.

"Here you go Ri-ri," he said, double checking that he hadn't accidentally hung up. He hadn't, but Dick was very definitely not on hold like Danny remembered. Well, it wasn't like they'd said anything about ghosts, so it was fine.

"Stay in the living room, and then bring the phone back to me when you're done. I'm going to be in the kitchen." Mar'i was quick to snatch the phone from his hand, flying over to sit on the couch.

"Hi daddy!" he heard her say as he stepped into the kitchen to make another taco. Say what you would about Tuck, he could make a mean taco, even if they were vegetarian for Sam.

He intentionally tuned out Mar'i's voice. She, like Dan and Ellie, didn't have the best grip on volume control, especially on the phone. The conversation had nothing to do with him, so he instead busied himself looking up what he remembered from early.

Tamaranian was fairly easy, since Ri-ri had already mentioned they were a kind of alien. He found a few things about their home planet of Tamaran, power sets, and the like. Nothing struck him as too alarming or dangerous.

Which left the Joker. A quick search brought up two dozen articles, all from news sites located in Gotham. From what he could gather, the guy was a grade A wackjob. He'd killed dozens, caused significant damage to the city he lived in. He seemed to enjoy playing with lives like some kind of game.

The only reason he hadn't done more damage and hurt more people was because of someone called Batman, apparently a vigilante local to the city. Some research into him showed that he'd started as a solo hero, but had built a team that people called "The Birds" over the years. He also was apparently a part of a group called the Justice League.

He was about to do some digging into them when Mar'i ran in with the phone.

"Here you go, Mr. Danny! I'm going to go to bed now. See you tomorrow!"

"Night, Mar'i," he called after the girl rushing upstairs. he brought the phone back to his ear.

"So, I guess We'll talk tomorrow?"

"You're in high school, right?"

"Um... yeah?" Dick was quiet for a minute, enough that Danny wondered if he'd hung up.

"Ri-ri was telling me about your kids. I take it they're Miss Manson's?"

"W-what?!" he sputtered. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm a detective, Danny," Dick said. it sounded a lot like Jazz when she was explaining why it was important for him to get enough sleep. "It wasn't hard to find out that you two and Mr. Foley are involved together."

"Well, yeah, but we're not- they aren't- look, it's a long story that involves a fruitloop who was obsessed with me being his son, and I'd rather not try and explain over the phone."

"Right. Sorry, just... Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Talk to you then. Night."

"Night, Danny."

Danny hung up, staring down at the phone. He'd have to see if Sam or Tucker could pick up the kids tomorrow. Oh god, how was he going to take care of Mar'i tomorrow? Well, the daycare attendant had said a while ago that she'd owe Phantom a favor for saving the daycare. Maybe he could show up early as Phantom and ask that she take care of an extra kid?

He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. The phone smacked uncomfortably against his forehead, but he paid it no mind. He already agreed to help his parents look for those blueprints, which meant he was going to have to spend the night at home, which meant he wasn't going to sleep, which meant-

He shook himself out of his spiral. One step at a time, that's what Jazz always said. One step. Right now, the next step was to tuck in his kids and kid sister.

Right. That was a task he could manage.

Hmmm

I'm on a Danny is Dick's child kick rn so I'm making more.

But lets add in some Ghost King Danny!, Dad to a deaged Ellie and Dan! And toddler Mar'i Grayson.

Danny was conceived during Dick's amnesia year when he was Ric and the woman couldn't find him to tell him (or maybe the Owls caught wind of the pregnancy and took her) and he ended up somehow (hmmm maybe a meddling time keeper?) with the Fentons.

Danny grows as a Fenton, he knows he was adopted btw, then becomes Phantom, protects Amity, becomes the Ghost King and things seem to be going okay between Amity Parkers and the Infinite Realms since they took care of the GIW problem, AND has been a good doting teen dad to his deaged 'cousins/clones' turned kids.

Danny was going to go pick his kids up from daycare one day when CHAOS happens. Just as he wrangles Ellie onto his shoulders, cause she wants to be tall today, and about to take Dan's hand cause he's and I quote "A big boy and not a baby like Ellie, Dad!" he suddenly feels the tug of his family being in danger.

Thing is, its a blood related danger. Meaning someone blood related to him was in grave danger, and by the emotions he can feel, its someone young, way younger than him.

Problem.

The only people Danny knows with his blood in their veins and are young enough for the feeling are with him.

So who?

But due to Danny being a protector spirit AND knowing the feeling is from someone as young as his own kids, Danny decides to use his Ghost King Powers to summon said person from the danger to him.

Danny opens his free arms out just as a tiny toddler with black hair like his own but with bright green eyes, even the sclera were green, in a ruined party dress drops from the sky from the summoning circle that had opened above him.

Danny stares at the terrified child, whose hands are tied by rope and was crying, and takes notes of certain traits she had that he saw every time in the mirror or on his own kids, same eye shape and cheekbones. He can tell his ghost core has claimed her as family but not as his kid though.

No the connection that formed was almost like his connection with Jazz but a bit stronger.

This kid, was his sister. His blood related one.

-Meanwhile-

Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and his family were freaking the fuck out.

Dick was already panicked when his daughter Mar'i had gotten kidnapped just a few hours ago by the Joker.

Now he was feeling pure dread when his daughter, who was about to be killed, was suddenly pulled into a strange glowing circle at the last minute and disappeared into thin air.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Blue's Rose - Chapter 32 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Boys Will Confess

Blue Cavanaugh & Kulap 'Kool' Somboon

Blue lay naked on his side, his hand propping up his head as he quietly watched Kool sleep half a foot away from him.

Kool was laying sprawled on his belly, turned towards Blue his face smoothed out looking peaceful and angelic.

Blue wanted to let him sleep as long as he could.

He knew when Kool woke the frown between his brows would return, his lips would lose their plump suppleness and his eyes would lose their customary softness.

It would all be replaced with tension, lines and wrinkles caused by worry and stress.

Though gorgeous no matter how he looked, Blue hated seeing someone as gentle and lovely as Kool in such turmoil.

It made his head hurt and his belly hurt and it absolutely crushed his heart to see his lover so lost but Blue had to admit to himself as he lay here watching Kool, he was quite angry too.

He was angry at the situation, angry at his mother, angry at the unjustness and he was angry at Kool.

Right or wrong and it definitely felt wrong, he was frustrated that Kool didn't make more of a stand for himself.

He was allowing his life to be dictated to and Blue just did not understand that.

His anger wasn't just about what involved him as well but for Kool's life in general.

Kool was a gay man and he was agreeing to marry a woman.

How would that possibly end well, for either he or Mia?

'Mia.'

Blue was just as aggravated by her as she was not helping the situation by agreeing to the marriage herself.

These two people were so burdened by family duty that they were about to make a huge mistake that would most likely cause so much damage in time.

Blue could see how the two relied on each other.

Their friendship was solid and strong but even the best of friends can become resentful over time.

If the two of them ultimately lost each other by agreeing to this sham of a marriage, that would be a tremendous waste.

Blue knew how much Kool depended on Mia for her loyalty, warmth, and unconditional understanding.

If Kool lost that Blue shuddered to think of the cold unfeeling man he could turn into because in the end, Blue would not be here.

Blue would not be able to do a damn thing for him and that cut Blue deep.

A profound sadness enveloped Blue.

In just a few days he would be nothing more than a memory to Kool.

He would never be able to return here.

When he left it would be a permanent departure.

How did a person prepare to leave someone they loved indefinitely?

Blue simply had no clue.

What an idiot he had been.

Thinking he could spend this time with him with no regrets and if he had them, he would deal with them later.

Those thoughts had been utter stupidity.

He had bullshitted himself into thinking this wouldn't come at any real cost.

Who would they be hurting?

Well, Blue knew now, he had really done a number on 'himself'.

He knew Kool, too would suffer.

Had this all been worth it?

His eyes lovingly caressed Kool's sleeping face and his eyes fluttered down his naked length as his mind's eye remembered countless laughs, talks and shared moments that were quite simply too precious to put into words.

Yeah, Blue thought with a tired sigh, his head nodding perceptively.

It 'was' fucking worth i.!

The miserable gut-wrenching pain would come and he would have to learn how to live with it but he could not imagine having lived this life without this time with Kool.

The memories they had created, the time they had shared were something Blue would treasure always.

He glanced own at his hip, the newly inked blue rose and smiled.

He would carry his memories like the small tattoo with loving fondness and a determined desire to never forget.

He grinned suddenly when he realized Kool hadn't said a word about his tattoo.

He wondered now if Kool had even seen it.

They 'had' been otherwise occupied.

When Kool had power housed his way through the hotel door earlier and pinned Blue against the wall, he had been incredibly turned on but at the same time, he had known something fundamentally horrible had happened as well.

It had been a disturbing mix of emotions as his body, excited by Kool's dominate approach had immediately responded by getting hard and pulling Kool up into him but his mind had filled with anxiety, making him want at the same time to push Kool away and find out what was wrong.

Kool hadn't liked that and had determinedly seduced Blue into giving him what he wanted.

As arousing as Kool was, it hadn't been that difficult for him to get Blue to see things his way.

What had followed had been powerfully exciting.

Blue couldn't ever remember feeling as turned on.

Kool had pushed him and pushed him, exceeding Blue's limits and then dared to push him some more.

Blue was so thankful that he hadn't hurt Kool as he lost his control.

He wouldn't have been able to do anything about it if he had.

Once you set a flame to gasoline all you could do was stand back and watch the whoosh of fire and hope you weren't singed by the heat.

Feeling as if the few inches separating was more like the width of the Nile, Blue scooted in closer to Kool.

Blue lay his cheek on his arm as he settled himself nose to nose with the other man and wrapped his arm carefully around Kool's back, his hand palming Kool's waist, enjoying the warm tight skin.

How is this wrong?

Why is it wrong?

Why did Kool's mother see this as repulsive?

This was anything but sordid.

Their two bodies touching, joining, there was no ugliness in that.

They shared and gave to each other with natural and normal feelings.

Who was she to treat it as something filthy and revolting?

Blue knew Kool would never tell him everything his mother had said to him. He didn't really need to.

After having met the woman Blue had a pretty good idea of the harsh judgmental brutality she must have unleashed on Kool.

How she must have hurt him, Blue thought, gritting his teeth.

Kool, deep inside was so sweet and sensitive, his mother's words would have left scars.

Blue tried to imagine going through something similar with his own mother and he just couldn't.

His mother had always been supportive.

Sure, she had gotten mad at him over the years, sometimes really, really mad but never to the point where she called him names or berated him as a failure and she would never have approached one of his friends as Kool's had approached Blue.

Trying to imagine her being anything less than southern sweet was impossible.

Mothers were supposed to love you no matter what.

They were supposed to care about your happiness above their own.

Kool's mother didn't seem to understand that concept or she just didn't care.

Why did it matter who Kool loved?

Why did she treat him like a commodity and not the precious human being that he was?

And not just any human being to her but her own son.

Her own flesh and blood.

Momma Somboon's actions flabbergasted Blue.

They made absolutely no sense.

How hard it must have been for Kool to openly admit to his mother that he was gay.

How hard and scary.

He could not imagine how distressing her cold and sickened reaction must have been to Kool and to put the cherry on the sundae the woman was still continuing to insist that Kool marry Mia, a woman.

'Jeez.'

Blue closed his eyes, his heart throbbed in physical pain as he contemplated what Kool's mother was forcing him to follow through with.

Blue could have probably gotten through their parting if he thought Kool could possibly find happiness.

A lot of arranged marriages worked out just fine.

He didn't judge that at all but Kool wasn't being allowed to marry someone that he could potentially find that happiness with because Kool was gay.

No matter how hard those two worked at their marriage, lover-like love would never grow and that aggrieved Blue.

[mepposprincess]

how about uhhhh 69 for the jokes lol and ummmm 24 and 36

OH BOY LADS ITS ALL TO.KU IDIOTS LETS GOOOO

f/o ask game !

NUMBER CHOSEN: 69

F/O CHOSEN: Azuma Mic.hi.na.ga !

SO LUCKILY ENOUGH IVE ALREADY POSTED SCREENSHOTS EXPLAINING THE AZU LORE BEFORE

Which is nice because there's so. So. Much.

Link for the lore please appreciate my insanity

So here's some silly facts: my s/i calls him azu ! All the time. Frequently

He also takes every cow, bull, or buffalo plush he finds and buys it and then shows it to azu and is like "this is u"

He annoys azu so much but in an affectionate way ya know

NUMBER CHOSEN: 24

F/O CHOSEN: Ignis !

This insane bitch

Okay ! So my s/i works for guts-select ! And accidentally sees kengo turning into trigger one day and well. Cover blown. Not that kengo was hiding it well.

So he is dragged into so much chaos and well! Fucking ignis appears. And takes and interest in him bc he's fucking insane..and tries to attack ignis with a giant hammer. It's fine.

ALL JOKES ASIDE the two start to get closer and at some point have a genuine heart to heart when ignis is ✨imprisoned for his crimes✨

Fun fact the confession is actually dumb as fuck bc there's an ep where everyone's hallucinating their desires and well. Guess what happens to my s/i ✨ and guess who is there to see it ✨

It's fine it works out Ignis is ecstatic

Though Ignis does still do some insane ass shit (plan to sacrifice himself to kill the guy who destroyed his planet) ONCE EVERYTHING IS SETTLED AND OKAY they go travelling through space together!!! Yay !!!

NUMBER CHOSEN: 36

F/O CHOSEN: Shuichi Ki.ta.ok.a !

WHERE DO I EVEN. BEGIN.

Uh beware there is slight nsfw talk here but it's not detailed

Okay so me and twin have uh. Complex lore for ry.u.ki in which we changed up a lot but also not a lot at the same time. So my s/i is similar to think like. tsu.mu.ri in ge.a.ts, kinda helps explain shit and keep things running properly

Only because he and his twin got dragged into the blast that started all of this and also got kinda. Trapped in-between the mir.ror world and regular world

ANYWAYS THID BITCH will NOT leave my s/i alone constantly calling him up to ask stupid questions and bug the shit out of him

A lot of shit happens, the two actually at some point begin a fwb type situation lol because ichi is annoying and is into him and my s/i is always stressed

Eventually he finds out about ichis illness and why he's even agreed to take part in the ri.d.er war, and yeah.

The two get in an argument at some point about ichi nearly dying which leads into my s/i confessing in a panicked moment of fearing losing him and well. Yeah.

Goro is also involved! It's a poly relationship all three are dating each other but he wasn't the one rolled so we won't go deep into that

ANYWAYS ichi eventually succumbs to his illness WHICH IS SO FUCKED and that mentally destroys my s/i and goro takes ichi places to try to win to wish him back BUT WELL THST GOES BACK TOO AND PAIN AND SUFFERING.

And then the world resets ! Fun !

But hey everyone is alive again ! And it's all ! Totally okay! Totally! Sure ! Let's say that. Alas they all forgot their memories

Though me and twin decided fuck that and they do get them back after a while (similar mechanism to bu.il.d we decided) and well!! Happy reunion !!!!

This is such a watered down explanation of events BUT GOD. SO MUCH. HAPPENS. IN THIS DAMN SHOW.

The three are happily married the end JENDJDJJD