#HE NEEDS HIS BOY!!! HE LOVES HIM SO MUCH. I BET HE MISSES HIM DEEPLY!!!

[p-ogman]

as a cwilburian "Silly Wilbur for not knowing hes the first" made me cry real tears. i need them to communicate and to be able to love without guilt.. love your sandduo and your cphil you draw them wonderfully (and cwilbur and his tall legs in his dads small couch make me giggle to this day, loved that comic as well!)

Oh man anon thank you!!!!! I love c!Wilbur so much <3 It kills me that they love each other so much and want the best for each other!! But they are so convinced they are the cause for each others pain that they dont say a word about how awful they feel!!! I love them :((((( (And aaaa!!! Thank you this is making me giggle and smile so much ^_^)

[arminsumi]

what are ur thoughts on a submissive geto suguru?? 😭😭 ive been in a crave for some submissive men👹👹

I WANNA BE YOUR TOY.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

NOTE: oh i have some sub sugu thoughts to spare!! 🤭enjoyyy

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — giving your sub bf some good good head😈

WARNINGS — lowercase used, pretend u never saw errors pls, fem reader, brief ear licking/sucking, pet names for sugu (sweet boy, good boy, etc) handjob, bj (incl. swallowing, cvmming without warning), begging, sub sugu and dom reader, grinding on his lap, dirty talk (incl. teasing), mention of reader using toys and him wanting to be used like one 🥴, sugu's got some hair down there because i SAID SO!!!!! + lmk if i've missed a warning mwa

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.2k

PLAY ME ♪ music to watch boys to

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

he so easily begs.

big hands pawing needily at your thighs, lips leaving encouraging kisses. "baby, touch me please. 'need you so bad, 'need some relief."

"oh yeah?" you smirk, "where exactly do you want me to touch?" you tease him.

his lips hover across your shoulder, pressing kisses to your skin like it was something he worshipped.

"t-touch my cock..." he muttered softly, voice barely audible.

"hmmm?" you maneuvered onto his lap, pressing your pussy right against the outline of his cock to earn a hiss from him. poor boy, he's so sensitive yet you're planning to tease him.

"could you repeat that?"

he looks up at you like he's starstruck.

"t-touch — ah — my cock." he repeats, hissing again when you start grinding into his lap. his head is fogging up with memories of all the things you two have done on this bed.

"ask nicely, sweet boy." you say, starting to pepper his face with kisses.

his heart lurches at the nickname. "please." he quickly says, "please touch me. i'll do anything for you."

"will you?"

"yes, yes i promise — hhh fuck." he whines when you suckle at his earlobe, soft tongue teasing it in a circular motion that reminds him of how you suck his cockhead before lowering your mouth down all the way.

"c-can you suck it too, please?" he asks breathlessly. "need to feel those lips around me, baby, please. please."

"only if you do what i say, m'kay?"

"ah fuck yes, of course." he replies.

you kiss him just how he likes — deeply, softly, sloppily — until his lips puff up and his cock beads with precum. he stains his sweatpants and slightly blushes when you tease him about it.

"remind me, baby, what're the rules again?" you ask him.

"good boys get rewarded." he chokes up, feeling you palm back and forth across the outline of his cock. you can feel the heat through the fabric.

"mhm, that's right. and...?"

"and bad boys don't get to c-cum." he chokes up again when you tug the hem of his pants down. cool air fanning his wettened tip, your fingers grazing over it with such light touches that it makes him buck his hips up. he's so needy that his body shows it — his cock jumps at the smallest friction you give him.

"mhm. you're not gonna be a bad boy, right?"

"no!" he gasps, feeling your finger slide over the slit of his cockhead. "no, i'm gonna be a good boy for you. i promise."

"good." you murmur. and it's that murmur of your voice that causes more precum to bead out his swollen tip. "such a messy cock, 'haven't been giving it enough attention, have you? tell me, boy. i wanna hear what you've been up to when i'm busy."

"f-fuck... n-no, i haven't — hahhh — i haven't given it e-enough attention. i j-just do it sometimes when i miss you too much, b-but i don't do more than that." he moans so softly and tilts his head back, eyes pinching shut for a moment when you start stroking in the slow, twisting motion that he loves. he taught you how to do that, he thinks proudly, he taught his baby what he likes, and she does it so good.

"in the shower... a-and after workouts."

"mhm, when you're wet? sweaty?" you tease, "bet you think of fuckin' me in the shower, yeah?"

"oh god yes i do — "

" — and when you're working out, hm? is that why you always text me at the gym? thinking hard about doing pushups on me, aren't you?"

your words are making him dizzy. he squirms his legs like crazy, toes curling in pleasure, and bucks his hips up staggeringly each time you stroke it just right.

"y-yeah, fuck i think about you whenever you're not around."

"so sweet."

"d-do you?"

"hm?" you pause to squeeze his tip in your fist, just how he likes. he nearly rolls his eyes back.

"do you think of me too, when i'm not there to touch you?" he asks, eager to hear your response.

" 'course i do. think about my pretty boy all the time. i miss this cock so bad sometimes, 'can't get off the same with any of my toys."

"fuck i wanna be your toy." he blurts out.

oh did he just say that? he really didn't mean to. you hit such a heavenly stroke that he lost all composure.

"oh do you?" you smile, stopping your movements. "do go on."

"f-fuck. no way." he chuckles embarrassedly. " 's embarrassing, forget i said 'nything."

"no, i wanna hear more. it's hot." you tell him, causing his heart to lurch. "tell me 'n i'll suck this pretty cock finally, m'kay?"

"goddd, yes fuck alright — i wanna be y-your toy. want you to use my body for your pleasure, 's for you after all. it's all for you."

"fuck, really?" now he's gotten you hot. mouth watering, eyeing out how delicious his cock looks — thinking about how you're gonna lick up all that precum and savor it.

"yeah. 'think about it a lot. want you to use me, please, just have me. i'm y — ohhh god, oh fuck me, y-yes please — fuck i'm yours!" he's dissolving now that you've lowered yourself to meet level with his cock. it throbs and jumps, looking so pretty with that curve you always feel pressing against your walls when he's balls deep inside your pussy.

now, suguru's got a little bit of hair down there. neatly trimmed. pitch-black. your eyes always skim over it when you go down on him, for some reason it's so hot.

"baby, th-that mouth's gonna kill me, i swear to god." he laughs because it feels so ridiculously good when you start licking and suckling the underside.

"quiet. toys don't talk." you tease. he groans, oh you really knew how to play into it — he was so screwed. happily so, of course. your tongue knew how to reduce his mind to mush both by swirling around his cock and uttering dirty talk onto it.

"f — fuck. 'so good..." he rolls his hips up in pleasure, back almost arching. now that's a first. usually when you give him head, he's just squirming and panting and muttering your name like crazy. but never arching his back for you.

you muffle erotic noises on his cock, knowing how those subtle vibrations of your vocals give him a rush of pleasure. lips wettened, tongue flattened up against the underside of his cock, gliding down down down until he gasps as you take it deeper than he expects. he's already melting under the influence of your butter-soft mouth, but when he feels his cockhead poke at the back of your throat?

poor boy cums without warning. a big, gooey mess spills at the back of your tongue, you swallow most of it but slide your lips right off so you can make it a messy show for him, just how he likes.

he's panting. hair strands stick to the sides of his flushed, damp cheeks. "god d-damn... s-sorry that felt too good." he groans apologetically, lips curving into a familiar suguru-style smirk.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[chaotic-mystery]

Drive Me Crazy | Joel Miller

Dbf! Joel Miller x f!reader

✰ smut ✰ 18+ only ✰ minors DNI ✰

cw: phone sex, lots of nicknames, teasing, mutual masturbation, a panty thief.

All of my dbf! Joel is pre-outbreak, but he’s not a father (I’m sorry!)

ꨄ Let me know what you think, feedback and comments are always welcomed as are requests/ ideas! ꨄ

Your phone rings as you pick it up to see ‘Joel’ across the screen and you smile to yourself, clicking the answer button and give a simple, “Hello?” His moans instantly flow to your ear, your eyes going wide. Trying to stay composed, you give your dad an apologetic look and tell him softly, “Sorry dad it’s one of my friends; boy issues. I’ll be back.” He understandingly nods and shoos you away. With that you make your way to the guest room upstairs, locking the door behind you. “Joel are you fucking crazy?! I’m at my dads, you can’t just call and moan on my phone like that!” 

“I’m sorry baby doll I just needed you to hear how fucking horny I am for you right now. I’ve been like this all damn afternoon, just thinkin about you non stop. How your pretty lips feel wrapped ‘round my cock, the way you gag when I start fuckin your gorgeous face-” he cut himself off with a groan, and kept going. “I miss how wet you’d get for me before I’ve even touched you, you drive me crazy, sweetheart…god damn do you drive me crazy.” you could hear the wet sounds of him jacking off in the background, and that made your mind wander. You lay down on the bed and drag your fingertips up and down your torso slowly as you listen to the moans get louder. 

“Yeah baby? You miss the way I’m absolutely dripping for you by the time you shove my panties to the side to fuck me?” you teased him and added a little moan at the end, and he groaned deeply. “Oh I bet you love when I shove your panties to the side and fuck your hole like a slut, sugar.” Your hand makes it to the waistband on your panties, you contemplate on joining along. Deciding to do it, you plunge your hand in and find your throbbing clit, giving yourself relief immediately. “Joel I’m so wet for you right now you have no idea. I wish you were here right now eating me out. Your tongue all over my pussy, licking all my wetness up as I beg you for more, for you to stick your cock inside me and rail me.” You could hear how much he loved that, his breathing became heavier and the sounds of his hand slipping up and down his cock got faster. 

“Fuck me, baby doll. Keep going please, I wanna cum for you right now with your slutty little panties around my big cock. You nasty girl, you let me keep these after you came on my face in your daddy’s garage” His moans got louder in your ear, and you bit your bottom lip to keep yours inside. “Joel, think about me playing with myself while I'm on the phone with you right now, how my clit feels so soft and slippery under my fingers because of you. Joel I can’t stop it feels too good, thinking about riding you with my tits in your face, you spanking me to go faster” your hand picked up speed and the white hot burning feeling was starting in the pit of your stomach. “Baby cum for me right now, cum in my panties so I can give you a new pair to jack off in” Just saying that made you closer to cumming. Your brows furrowed and your mouth opened slightly as you couldn’t keep your orgasm back any longer. It rang through your whole body as you squeezed your thighs shut, bucking your hips to ride it out. 

“Fuck..baby doll..fuck..fuck..I-I’m cumming baby, Im cummi-” his moans took over and you can tell he came a lot just by how he groaned. “Oh shit baby doll, oh fuck” he said through gritted teeth, and he gave one last sigh before he spoke. “You’re so good t’me sweetheart. So how long before you can be over for round two?”

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 7: conversation

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

' “I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy," she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even blink.

“I’m not.” You are. '

---

Megumi calls you back. You leave for Tokyo again, like a soul yearning for its body.

word count: ~6k; tws: none for now :)!!

19-6-2018

“So you’re really going to let go of them now?” your father asks. 

“...yeah.” 

“That’s good. I’ll miss that Itadori boy, though.” 

You will, too. 

In a way you suppose Megumi and Yuuji are very similar. They’d go well together, be good, fast friends and all that. 

They’re both undoubtedly good people, no matter how they’ve beat people up before and how different their beliefs may be. 

In Megumi’s case, everyone knew how good a person Tsumiki was, her younger brother included. Her kindness and virtue extended itself, inspiring other people around her. But Megumi was a good person, too— polite, patient (most of the time, unless it were Gojo— but who wouldn’t be annoyed by that man, right?), kind in his own way. He cared for you in all sorts of ways in the past, even then you could tell, gentle with animals and objects and your hand. Gentle in his own way. Giving you reminders despite the tiny calumniations sprinkled in (they barely do as much damage as comb bristles can), being sharp because he must have had to, kind because it was in his very nature. Easy on the eyes, tall, deep soothing voice— he ticked all the boxes for that, too. You bet that if things were different, and the two of you had stayed in touch with each other, you’d have fallen deeply in love with it by now. Yet that thought only makes you feel sour now that things hadn’t gone that way at all. 

And Yuuji, too— there was no explanation needed for Yuuji. Even Megumi could tell he was a good person. And at some times he was almost like Tsumiki. You weren’t ever surprised that you’d caught feelings for him, because— who wouldn’t? He was always popular, even if he was ignorant of his own charm around others. But he wasn’t just a good guy with a ripped torso, he was honest, perceptive and smart in conversations. Smarter than he ever credited himself for. Smart in a way you could never be— people with cute faces, nice bodies and good social skills were in a league of their own, practically. You’d thought that for a long time. 

Did either of them ever know how you felt? 

Probably not. Your heart was guarded, intensely so, and you’d never lay your feelings bare and out so easily. You weren’t the type of person to say you loved people as easily as others did, even within your own family. 

This, you presume, is probably an acquired trait, now that you think about it. You were much more different as a child, free with praise and love and unabashed affection as well as appreciation for the people around you. What changed?

(Everything.) 

You miss 2010. You miss Tsumiki the way you miss your mother’s cooking, miss her the way you miss when you wrote emails and letters and text messages to her with multi-coloured pens or your old phone that eventually broke a year after. You miss the conversations the two of you had, miss how you used to be your parents’ little angel. 

And in the end it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? 2010. Nostalgia. Reminiscing on old memories in a way akin to how the elderly do in their youth. That just made you seem more pathetic, because, weren’t you supposed to be making those memories right now, at this time of your life? 

You’re a teenager. You should be going out with friends, and having fun, not rotting at home ruminating on the past, with the only friends you’ve ever had hundreds of kilometres away from you (you weren’t sure if you could even call one of them a ‘friend’ anymore), and your acquaintances not close enough to replace them (how could they ever? How could there ever be a replacement for Yuuji?) 

In a way you feel your life is miserable: awkward, socially-impaired teenage girl with her only friend practically out of her life at this point; nothing special to your name besides a cursed technique that most times does you more harm than good; stuck not being able to completely get over friends she met at eight who left her as quickly as someone can blink their eyes; with the thinking process of a nagging, stubborn mother sometimes, or if not that then a blurry, mingled train of thought that gets delayed or lost when moving from station to station; someone not of use at all. Not miserable, you think to yourself like a slap to the face, pathetic. 

You’re not sure how Tsumiki is now— maybe she has a partner, or better friends than you were, or she’s busy being president of the student council or something (she’d be a sterling leader, of that you’re certain, that girl who you’d always known was bound to go places in the span of her lifetime). 

Hopefully, she’s alright, and doing the best she can in life. That’s all you wish for when it comes to Tsumiki. 

At this point, there’s no point in wishing to join them, or to linger on them and memories of the past. It’s a mosquito in summer heat, which is why, if it stays, you decide, you’ll just suppress and ignore it until it goes away. Even if you didn’t know how long it would take you to get over them— weeks, months, but goodness forbid a whole lifetime or forever— you needed to accept that you’d be like this for nearly the rest of your life: pathetic, lonely— ah, that’s the word that so very perfectly delineates the situation you’re in— and then some. 

So that’s why, when you hear your phone buzzing on your bed like a cicada during a balmy night, you assume it’s someone else. Yuuji must be busy settling in (he’s been texting you, and you took that as a sign that he wouldn’t call), and Megumi must be… —Well. Megumi has made a promise, and it’s not that you don’t believe in him, but it would be better to expect less than what you’d like to in order to evade disappointment. 

Must be someone else. A prank call, or a scammer, or something. Or a telemarketer, but you’d be surprised if telemarketers were calling you and not your father. And you were never one to pick calls up mindlessly anyway, so if it were some stranger out to get you or swindle you, you’d just hang up or check the number. 

If not either a scam or a telemarketer (well you suppose both of those could be scams in certain contexts), though, then you’d suspect it would be either Yuuji (Yuuji’s the one who has been texting you, after all, conversations strewn over checking in with the other over the past few hours or snippets of advice from you telling him not to bother Megumi very much, and to be cautious and keep himself safe) or Gojo— definitely not Megumi, and probably not Gojo either, but still it was more likely that Gojo was calling you instead of Megumi, so you’re considering it— and you can’t really remember Gojo’s number anyway, so what if an unknown number wasn’t a prank call or something—

You wonder if you should just pick it up instead of burying your head in your study notes and overthinking everything. 

But you know it’s definitely not Megumi. 

You check the phone. 

Well, you’ll be damned. 

It’s Fushiguro Megumi. 

You know his number by heart, after all. Keyed it in too many times to forget, and it’s not like he’d have any reason to change it. Not with the way he cares for things, inanimate objects, not with the tenderly quiet, secretly caring, emotionally jaded way he maintains them. 

“Ah… hello?” 

Your heart thumps in your chest and heat flares up in your cheeks with a frenetic speed. 

“Hi,” you blurt out, shakily. You’re sure your voice is quivering, yet your mind feels like it’s barely functioning, almost about to drown in a seven-feet-deep pool, so you can’t really tell. You can’t really hear yourself. 

You don’t know why you feel like this— no, you know exactly why, actually. It’s because you haven’t gotten over him. Your thoughts are scrambled but you know, for sure, that you’re like this because you want to get rid of feelings like these but you can’t. Or because you’ve been saying that to yourself like a mantra, for so long, even though a part of you wants it to stay— out of what, that’s what you don’t know; maybe desperation or nostalgia or an inability to stop dwelling on days long gone. But you know what this is— you’ve seen the movies, read the manga, watched the dramas. It’s romance. Crushes. Something you’re not quite able to call love yet, something you’re too scared to properly name, still, but something you can understand is one-sided nonetheless. 

“…hi. [Name].” 

“Hello…” 

What happens when two estranged childhood friends with a book’s worth of history behind their relationship that happen to be socially awkward teenagers actually have a conversation semi-beyond what keeps them estranged in the first place? 

“Hi— no, wait… how are you?” 

Pot, meet kettle, because you’re going off nothing but the fact that you’re at the very least surprised (the other emotions are too complicated to explain) that he’s speaking to you again, and not just on text, but he’s calling, and he sounds like he’s reading off a script, but the script is in a whole other language, somehow, and the uncertain nervousness in his voice is tangible, even for a deep, low voice like his. 

Script or not, you appreciate the effort, though. 

“I’m good, um… I’m happy you were able to call. It’s been a long time.” 

“That’s good.” 

There’s silence on the other line; time feels like it’s moving achingly slowly. But you’re mildly happy. 

Not happy, maybe, but you definitely feel light, as if you’ve been severed from the heaviness of everything else that has happened lately. This is the first time in years something like this has ever happened. 

“Ah, wait, I forgot to ask! Sorry, um.. how are you?” 

“I’m doing alright, too. Oh, wait, I should apologise. I didn’t tell you— thanks for helping with my injuries the other day. Gojo told me about it after you left. You… you didn’t have to, though. You shouldn’t have risked your health like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t mention it. You know why I do this, anyway.” Out of necessity or a need to be useful, you’re not even sure yourself, but he must know, to some degree, right? It seems as if he’d be the one to know the most of this, of you— at least, when matters came to this. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Dr Ieiri probably ended up helping more with the bigger ones once the three of you got back. I mean, she did, right?” 

“…no. She said that she didn’t want to waste her time, so if injuries were more minor like mine, she wouldn’t heal them fully.” 

“...ah.” More minor? Seriously, doctor? You’d normally not question her judgement over matters that she had more expertise in dealing with, but seriously? 

“I’ll be fine, though. Most of the bandages have come off, and all.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

You wonder where he is now, on the bed, maybe, or sitting on the floor. You’ve seen the classrooms, but not the dormitories— you hope wherever he is, that it’s comfortable. That he’s okay. 

“We’re going to see a new student soon.” 

“Really? Have you met them before?” 

“No, but Gojo said she’s from the countryside. But we’re meeting her in Harajuku, for some reason.” 

“Oh, Harajuku! I miss it,” you let out a plaintive sigh, “I can’t wait to be back in Tokyo. You know, whatever happens, I still love that city like nothing else. I know how many people hate it, but I love it so much.” And you love it so much in the first place, mostly because of Megumi and Tsumiki. “Maybe she just wants to chase a bit of the sweet city life— I mean, you know how it is when country bumpkins go to the city for the first time… kind of. Or when they love the city— yeah, that’s a better way of saying it. I was like that, kind of.” 

“...if you’re worried about the train ride here and want to travel alone, I could always pay for you. Uh… wait—” 

“Oh, no, no! There’s no need, uhm— thank you anyway, it’s just—” 

“It’s Gojo’s money anyway.” 

“Pft,” you snort. Anything to seep out some of Gojo’s money like gluttonous leeches, right? “Nah, I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even think I’ll be able to come back in a few years’ time, and by then I won’t even be relying on my parents’ money for this stuff anymore— I mean, I will still be relying on their money, but I’ll be managing it as my own.” 

He chuckles lightly over the line, the silent way he shows his emotions, the way that goes unnoticed if one is not attentive to it. It feels like he’s whispering directly into your ear, and the heat on your face (which you weren’t even sure was still there until that point). Your heart skips a beat and it completely, absolutely shocks you. “...the offer still stands.” 

Yeah, you can get behind it if he’s like this now. What happened to him, anyway? Puberty hit him like a brick and gave him, like, one more ounce of emotional maturity? 

You shake your head like a character in a piece of crappy romance fanfiction. No way. Not now, at least. Calm down. 

(...you’re just a girl.) 

“Well, no take backs from now on, okay? Even if it’s, like, five years into the future, you’ll still be using Gojo’s credit card to cover for all my travel expenses.” 

He does it again, that low, soft, attractive sound. Makes you want to hit him and hit yourself at the same time, and then kick your feet up in the air giddily, and then throttle yourself, if it were possible, out of sheer embarrassment. “Yeah.” 

You’re having the time of your life. 

“Anyway, how is everything else? Like, are your studies and grades okay? Is the training you do alright to handle?” 

“My grades are pretty okay,” he answers, “Not like Gojo cares, honestly. And the training’s fine, it’s nothing I’m not used to.” 

“Gojo seems like he’d be a good teacher. When he wants to, he can command respect pretty easily, too. I guess he just… chooses not to. But I saw it yesterday, when you and Yuuji were passed out in the hospital.” 

It still strikes a pang of guilt in your chest, your inability to have done anything else besides calling Gojo over for help. 

“...I suppose he does.” 

“Yeah.” 

“How about you? Itadori, he… he can be an idiot sometimes, but he speaks of you really admirably. He talks about how smart you are a lot.” 

The thought of Megumi calling Yuuji an idiot of all things doesn’t feel like it falls short from him, but it still makes you frown— though, you realise that that’s just his way of expressing things, because in a way he’d treated you somewhat the same in the past, even if he hadn’t shown it outright or expressed it very vividly. Classic Megumi. 

“Hey, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, okay? Wait until you see how talented he is at things other than sports and martial arts. You’d be surprised after trying the meatballs he makes. Would be good if you asked him to give you the recipe sometime; I make them, like, once a week, at least.” 

He sighs, “...I will. But the point is, he cares for you a lot.” 

“Yeah, beautiful soul, that guy. Loves people the way curious children love nature.” 

“That would be a fitting way to put it.” 

“How are the dogs?” 

“My shikigami?” 

“Yeah. Do they have names?” 

“The black one is Kuro and the white one is Shiro.” 

“You named them black and white?” 

“Look, I named them when I was barely six years old, and six year olds aren’t exactly the best when it comes to these things…” 

You giggle, “So the name stuck?” 

“Yeah, sort of.” 

Real cute. 

“What about your father? How is he?” 

“He’s okay, but, well. I guess we’re not that close anymore.” 

“...I see.” He probably can’t imagine a version of you who wasn’t immensely close to her parents. You couldn’t then, either. 

“We’ve been talking even less now that my mother’s in the hospital, but at least I get to talk to him before he eats, maybe. I’ve been doing most of the cooking now that my mother isn’t here and my father doesn’t really know how to handle himself in our kitchen without her guidance.” 

“Oh… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?” 

“Cancer.” 

You can practically hear the gulp he’s taking, the bobbing of his throat— sensitive topic. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s okay, don’t be,” you reassure him, “I should have told you that day anyway. I was just… exploding at everybody on that night. I should apologise— I’m sorry for how badly I treated you.” 

“No,” he goes, “No, you shouldn’t. I understand why you were like that that night. And it was mostly my fault, too, so…” 

“No, no, I’m serious! Feel free to ask almost anything as long as I have actual answers to your questions and all.” 

“Still… I just wanted to know. Sorry if I caused you any trouble.” 

“No— you didn’t do any of that at all, don’t worry! I’m alright with people asking about this. Ah, anyway… besides Yuuji, do you have any friends?” 

“Itadori and I aren’t friends.” 

“Trust me, if I asked him, I bet he’d beg to differ. Yuuji’s like that with people— soon he’ll be more important to you than you could have ever thought at first.”  

“Whatever you say,” he sort of grunts, “But I don’t have any friends, I think… except you, maybe. What about you?” 

You were honestly expecting him not to consider you a friend at all, and at this point so much has happened that wouldn’t even be that bothered if he no longer thought of you as one but called you anyway out of his commitment to his promises, or as an apology. 

“I’m surprised you can still call me a friend,” you say. Calling people instead of talking to them physically does something to your inhibitions. 

“...should I not?” 

“No, no, I’m happy,” you say over the phone. You’ll forget this conversation tomorrow, at least, when the sun has risen and the night returns back the hold you have over yourself, your composure, to you. You’ll act like this never happened. So you’ll say whatever you want to now, disgorging yourself of years of withheld secrets. “I’m happy that we’re still friends. I think I like that. 

“Yeah?” 

“Um— yeah, it seems like a good place to start,” you grin slightly. “And I, well. I don’t really have any friends beyond Yuuji,” —You’re not even sure if Tsumiki still sees you as a friend— “Even if I may have acquaintances like Sasaki or Iguchi it still feels like Yuuji’s one of the only people I can give that kind of title to, so, um… the more the merrier?” 

“That’s… nice.” 

“...it is, isn’t it?” 

“Thank you.” 

Why? “Okay.” 

The two of you go through the next few seconds in silence, time feeling like it’s blending and bleeding into a mix of years and events. You can hear the light, steady sound of his breathing from the other line. If you could, you’d sleep to it— fuck the phone bill, you’ll be the one paying it in your father’s stead this time if it was for this. 

It’s comforting, and you don’t want to break it— the quiet. If he can hear you now, can hear how you’re breathing through a smile with your chest only slightly moving, you hope it feels the same as the sound of his breathing did for you. You hope it feels just like home. Like a warm pillow in the one place you love the most that you bury your head into when the weather gets especially cold. 

“Fushiguro!” 

Oh dear. 

Wincing at the sound of the creaking door’s shrill shriek as it's opened and then hits the wall, you know exactly who it is— you’d recognise that voice anywhere. 

“Is that Yuuji?” 

“Oi! I told you not to barge into my room like that!” Megumi shouts. 

“Huh? You’re calling someone? Sorry. Wait, is it [Name]?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“Hi, Yuuji.” 

“Can I talk to her?” 

“Is it alright if we do, Megumi? Just for a few seconds.” 

“Fine,” he sighs. You can practically hear that eye roll. 

“Yo!” he cheers. 

“Has everything been okay lately?” you ask. 

“Yeah. We’re meeting a new student soon.”

“Ah, yeah. Megumi told me.” 

“—Oh, and my uniform came in! It looks pretty neat.” 

“That’s good. Maybe you can send me a picture once you start wearing it, then.” 

“I will!” 

Things are going better than you thought they would. 

21-6-2018

It’s been a few days now. 

You don’t know Sasaki and Iguchi well enough to call them friends, but the three of you do know each other. You had never decided to change any contacts with them, and considering that they and you were never closer than acquaintances, friends of a friend— you had never really regretted it. But now that Yuuji is gone— and you know he’s not dead, but still— you wonder whether you should have gotten closer to them, just to be less alone once Yuuji left, even if it could not be the way things were with Yuuji. (“I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think,” he had told you as you patched him up.) 

Still, Yuuji and you were two peas in a pod— so they’re bound to ask what happened to him soon enough, especially Iguchi. 

You’ll have to start getting used to spending your Thursdays alone. And then you’d have to start getting used to every other day without him, too. If you went to the arcade or watched movies or sing-screamed the lyrics to English songs you don’t know the Japanese translations of without his presence there, you know how it wouldn’t feel the same. In life it’s not what you do that matters, you’ve come to realise— it’s who you’re doing these things with. That’s what puts meaning to it all and makes all things done in your life worthwhile. 

The two of them pass you by during lunch. 

“[Last Name]? —Oh, hey!” Sasaki says as she turns around. 

You almost scream and run away like a mouse fleeing from the eyes of a vicious house cat, tremors in your voice. “Hello…” 

“Where’s Yuuji, by the way? The occult club’s going to fall apart without him.” 

You pause. “He transferred to another school…” 

“Huh?” she goes, Iguchi almost reeling back in shock. “Transferred? But why? We’ve barely even made it to the middle of the year!” 

“I… I don’t know, it was something really urgent,” 

23-6-2018 

Your room is a cluttered mess— lucky as you are that it’s the weekend, the past week has been a rollercoaster that knocked your room’s usual standard of cleanliness off track. Scattered all over your desk were worksheets, notebooks, graph paper pages and foolscap paper, chicken-scratch writing and meticulous notes scribbled all over them to compensate for your absence the day after the incident took place. 

It isn’t the time or the discipline you lack— it’s just that it’s going to be awfully tedious. You’ll have to wipe your desk again, and clean the walls, and sort through all your clothes, too, since you haven’t been folding them in any way that isn’t merely fastidious and nearly careless. So as you get to work, you suppose that calling someone wouldn’t hurt. 

Maybe you could call Megumi. That would be okay. 

For the past few years, you’ve never noticed it. So when you do, it hits you like a bullet train at the fastest of speeds. 

You miss him. Not just in the way you miss 2010, the way you miss the past, the way you miss and mourn the person you used to be. It had been so obvious for Tsumiki, but not for him, and now that you know this it’ll be another quiet revelation— another rediscovery of fragments of yourself concealed by memories. 

You miss him— all of him; you yearned to be his friend again because he was unlike Tsumiki who you knew cherished you as you did her; you miss him regardless of who he is now, because somewhere inside him is the boy who read dog books and brought you to the school library and ran your finger through water when you burned it. Somewhere inside him is the person who offered to hold your bag as he walked with you through a snowy garden, and helped you when your nose bled. 

So it would be okay to call Megumi right now. 

“Fushiguro speaking.” 

“Hi, Megumi. Are you busy?” 

“Not right now.” 

“Want to call?” 

“Fushiguro!” It’s Yuuji. “Wanna go—” 

“I said I’m not going!” 

You chuckle, “Be nice. Were the two of you supposed to go somewhere?” 

“Nothing important. Gojo said he wanted us to ‘bond’ with each other, so he concluded that we could watch a movie. Some kind of gory horror film or something.” 

He’s… actually making an obvious effort not to scold Yuuji that much or call him some insulting, derogatory term this time… wow. 

“Ah, yeah. Yuuji likes his horror movies.” 

“Anyway, anything urgent you wanted to tell me?” 

“No, I’m just… uh—” you laugh nervously, “I’m just a little bored.” Nowadays you’re not really sure what he’d do— scold you, maybe, or roll his eyes so hard that you can hear it over the line, or he may even flash into a quick bit of awkwardness and hesitation through his words. 

Or maybe— and this was the worst of it all, he’d ask why you were calling him, and his bouts of awkwardness would have only been something temporary, soon to be replaced once again by anger and annoyance, the same he gives to everyone else— even if you knew he didn’t always mean it, per se. No more special treatment for you. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, uh… I have to clean, and usually it’s not as much as what I have to do today, so I just thought that since the only other person in the house is my father and we don’t really talk much anymore, we could, um… chat for a while. Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“Uh-huh, so.” You stand up, leaving your phone on your desk and putting the call on speaker mode. The mountain of papers and books is a wasteland and your desk has been degraded to a landfill— the state of it would make your mother a wailing mess— no, she’d faint instantly as soon as she saw it, becoming worse of a mess than the table itself was. “Anything interesting happened lately?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh—! Yuuji sent me a picture of his uniform the other day. Was that one special?” 

“Yeah. But they let students make adjustments to the uniform, and he said he hadn’t changed anything, so I think that was Gojo’s doing.” 

“Oh, well, that’s Gojo. It suits him, though, right? Not to sound mean or be presumptuous, but…” you chuckle, “When you wear the uniform, you look so formal. It’s not a bad thing— it’s just that Yuuji’s just always been more casual like that. And the red of the hoodie goes with his hair, too!” 

“I guess so.” 

“I can’t imagine you wearing anything other than the default uniform, though. Not to insult you, I mean, you still look good in the normal uniform, I just— can’t imagine it.” You remark, sorting the materials and books by size and subject. You’ve got to handle some of the drawers, too, now that you’ve started and can’t stop your momentum just yet. You can already feel the dust particles that have gathered on whatever is inside them still, jostling around once you’ve taken them out. 

“If you’re going to say it like that, you can just say it outright.” 

“No, no! I mean that I just can’t imagine you wearing, like, Yuuji’s uniform. Wait, what do the other students’ uniforms look like?” 

“The second years?” 

“Yeah. Did they choose the normal ones?” 

“Inumaki did. They have three boys and one girl, but only two of the boys wear the normal uniform. Okkotsu has a special uniform in white.” 

“Oh, I see,” you nod your head, “It’s a nice uniform, though. I wish I could wear a uniform that pretty.” 

“You could always enrol yourself here,” he suggests, “They’d welcome you with open arms.” 

“Maybe they will,” you chuckle, “But my mother would be adamant on me staying in the ‘normal’ world. She’s unyielding like that.” 

“And your father?”

“Wouldn’t mind, at least I don’t think…” you say, “I’ll have to wonder when to tell him if I do end up in jujutsu high; you never know when he’s mad. He’s always unpredictable like that nowadays and it’s not… particularly pleasant.” 

“I see. It would be good if you were here, though. You would be closer to Dr Ieiri that way. And it would do good, because, um… well, I’d like you here. You’d be… good for the people around you here.” 

“Ah, you— you would?” you ask, slightly phased— not like he hasn’t been a bit nicer to you since you’ve seen him again (maybe it was the awkwardness, maybe it was the guilt). “Thank you,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging up sheepishly, heading to the dusty drawer (you haven’t touched it in what feels like years, usually excluding it from your list of things to clean). 

After a scrupulous amount of wiping away at the dust outside of and surrounding it, you open the drawer with a slight bit of anticipation— you don’t expect much, but you’re a person who lingers on the past like a ghost that has forgotten how time has passed. There wouldn’t be much in this drawer to reminisce on, you presume, but you still approach it with an eager fascination— you’re the type to do so, after all. 

Of everything there, the most noteworthy are two things you grabbed almost immediately— you could never forget how they felt, and the weight that they held in your life back then: a letter, addressed but never delivered to the person you were talking to right now, and a cigarette with a hastily scribbled slew of numbers on it and a lipstick mark on its end. 

Oh, that letter. That letter.  

From what you remember, you’ve never rebelled against your parents before. At least, not with anything major— for a long time, you were their good girl, and you never disobeyed them, as much as you wanted to at times. You still are, still stuck with that age-old drive to be useful. (But was there even a point in that anymore? At least, was there one with your parents?). You didn’t picture yourself as any kind of righteous goody-two-shoes, but you definitely weren’t a rebel or a delinquent. You followed their instructions and seldom ever questioned what they told you, and so it had always been subtly implanted in your brain that they would be alright with anything you did or said. Yet the first time you did actually start to question them, you realised that their belief in your ‘obedience’ as pure love— and maybe it was; you loved them so much you were blinded and trusted them with everything and did anything they wanted their baby to do— you realised they only treated you so lovingly if you were not an actual person with your own ideals and beliefs. 

(But they still loved you, right?) 

Even now, you still do obey them and listen to them. If your father needed anything, he could consider it done; if your mother wanted her clothes to be patched up you’d try your utmost best to withstand the pricking of needles and bring it back to her hospital room with bandaged fingers. It was like that with your mother: even if at times it seemed like the only pain she wanted for you was callouses from a pen or pricks from needles, at other times you feel she could have known you’d end up like her, maybe. Maybe she saw it as a curse: the worlds the two of you were born in were different, and she wanted you to stay in yours, lest you die or live in a world of endless pain. 

You’ve been doing it for a long time: being dismissive of yourself, prone to self-prostration, subservient; the lovingness of a mother, the sweetness of a teenage girl (you hoped), the kindness of a caring friend. Maybe it was Tsumiki— maybe it was because you’d always seen this in Tsumiki. She was always smiling, always caring; taking on the weight of motherhood before she could carry the weight of her school bag. Hugging you with her saccharine smile; braiding her hair with gentle hands and holding your wrist with her hair tie on it even gentler. (You still have it with you. You had planned to start taking it off more once Yuuji left, but you suppose some habits take longer than a week to develop.) All while having that sickening, fantastical, mysterious sweetness of a teenage girl in what you now understand could have been a hidden misery— because caring for someone like a mother while suppressing the thoughts that spoke to you to act like a child was something you wanted to replicate until you realised you understood it. And then you no longer wanted to recreate it. (Maybe that was the way it was for every woman or girl you knew: watching someone you loved hurt themself or not being able to do anything to prevent it when they started. Life was a cycle that way. A very annoying, frustrating one full of unfortunate circumstances and wrongly-picked out decks of cards.) 

“…you know what? I think I may be able to come,” you tell him. 

“You don’t have to go against your father for our sake.” 

“No, don’t worry about it. I think I know who to ask for help. Thank you, Megumi.” 

“Hi, Dr Ieiri?” 

“Kid? That you?” she goes, the slightest bit of excitement stark against her usual deadpan tone. “I thought you’d never call because of that old man.” 

“Haha, yeah— sorry to disturb you, but, um, Dr Ieiri? I may want to take you up on that offer, by the way, but um, I’m still on the fence. I mean, I know I want to be like you and do what you do but… I don’t know, I’m not quite sure about leaving the two of them alone here and all. But anyway, I just called you because I wanted to ask if there was, you know, any way you could get me to Tokyo somehow. I need to pass something to someone, but, um… I guess I’m going with this with the hope that I’ll change my mind and join you. But I’m… perpetually on the fence for now, I guess.” 

“Pft,” she snorts, “You little rebel, I’m in. I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

24-6-2018 

The decision and the plan were made as swiftly as you could. 

You decide to tell your father— you wouldn’t want to deceive him, after all. At least, you’d give him a quick notice. And then you’d leave. Like a snowflake before the first day of spring. He’ll probably tell your mother.  

“I’m leaving for Tokyo for a while,” you say, “I’ll be back before you can even realise I’m gone. Invitation from Dr Ieiri.” 

25-6-2018

“Why?” your father asks, the night before you leave. He suggested going out together at least once before you left. He always knew when you were making white lies. 

“I guess that maybe I’m just too much like you, Daddy.” 

For the first time in years he hugs you on the doorstep, patting you on the back on the day you’re set to leave. “Make sure you study and work hard,” he reminds you. 

“I’m leaving for Tokyo,” you announce.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy,” she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t even blink. 

“I’m not.” You are. 

“You know, your father travelled all over the country to see me again after we’d first met.” 

“Oh. Okay?” 

“And he’s always been dedicated to his job and dedicated to helping people.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m saying that the two of you are very similar. I’ve lived through this story before,” she states, “And you look just like your father right now.” your mother says. She hasn’t smiled the way she used to— you remember it vividly, that vibrant gleam in her, the liveliest and loveliest of life— in ages and you don’t think she will, not now of all times. 

“Really? Sometimes he says I take after you more.” 

“You will.” 

It doesn’t feel like a curse. Even if it usually would make your heart well up in guilt, it doesn’t feel like a curse. 

Maybe she knows that her time is running out. Maybe this is resignation. Whatever it is, you hold her hand first, but you’re also the first one to let the other go, your fingers slipping away from hers. You leave the door for the last time in a while, making another round in your life of that carousel of abandonment and reuniting and departures. 

25-6-2018 

Dr Ieiri greets you with a calm smile on her pallid face. 

“Good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to be back here,” you sigh. 

It is. 

You keep your hand on your other hand’s wrist, holding them in front of you. The cherry hair tie on it feels warm against your skin as you exit the station, summer heat embracing it softly. 

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[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Some more bittersweet thoughts.

When Al was in the city do you think he had days he couldn't look himself in the mirror bc all he saw was his Father's disappointed face?

Like, his father couldn't belive the boy he raised lovingly turned into a con man. Or even smelled something that his mom always wore or smelled like? Just ended up crying bc he just really needed his parents one day.

But I can't help but think about Seth too. Like when he came back to town around Christmas he said Al almost looked like his dad right? Do you think he couldn't look Al in the eyes some days? He'd get a glimpse of the people who raised him when his parents couldn't. The people that tried to give him what he didn't have, do you think he ever feels guilt clutching his throat?

Almost choking him? Do you think he ever paused and thought of how they would think of him now? The little brown haired boy that had those eyes filled with child wonder, now being so dull and devoid of life? Or the hatred he had chasing him to be spiteful of everything?

I wonder if Boo reminds Al and Seth of Alphonse's parents. Like Boo's cooking taste like Al's mom's, or even their hugs felt like his Dad's. Or even how they sounded for a quick second. You know how sometimes someone sounds like a person you lost and you don't belive it and whip your head to them. Just to see a glimpse of the person you lost just wanting them back?

Or even hearing their voice when no ones home and you can't help but cry bc you just wanted to hear them one last time. I wonder if Alphonse will ever look at those pictures of his parents again. Do you think he's forgetting what they look like slowly? How their voice is? What they're touch was? Would he be as tall as his dad by now? Would his mom still be able to give him a bone crushing hug?

I bet Al has those days he sits and thinks. My parents would have loved them, when Boo does something he parents would have done. Or even in general how Boo changed him for the better, well more like helped him. And if Al ever did marry Boo do you think he would sob bc his parents couldn't be there? Not being able to see their little boy marry someone he loves so much? That impacted his life so deeply? That stuck with him even when shit hit the fan?

Would he have two chairs in the front row for them? Just to have them bc he didn't have the heart not to? Do you think he ever visits their Graves? Or has he not bc the guilt he has weights him down? If he does do you think he talks so much about Boo? Along with everything that happened with Seth? Derek? Just keeping his parents up with his life.

Do you think Seth ever visited their Graves? To apologize for keeping Al away from them? For stealing him away and breaking him down? Do you think he ever misses that warm house in his childhood when things were simpler for him? Before the judgmental eyes and the vindictive whispers caused him to leave it?

I have lots of questions and honestly the more I think about them the more I wanna cry.

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 45 Uh, Seriously?! Posting

So! Full speed ahead it is, internet void! What a dense chapter.

First up, John Hishaku and the Samurai Murderer Guy that was at Chihiro's house in chapter 2.

Guess we'll see more of him soon, how fun! It's not quite clear how many people are talking here, but Hishaku scheming is afoot and the game is on. The only question is how fucked the Kamunabi is going to be by the end of the arc IMO.

And don't think I missed that vase reappearing. My nemesis. The spiky boi on the mid-left drove me insane as soon as the raws dropped but I would like to tentatively propose that it is a kiku (chrysanthemum). Different colors have very different meanings so I still admit defeat on that front. But kiku are usually associated with mourning or Imperial imagery, so that's cool. I demand a treat if this flower arrangement turns out to be the world's subtlest hint that the Hishaku are related to an old regime or breakaway faction of the government.

But yeah... so much cuteness this week. Very welcome after the rich drama from the past few chapters.

Boys who commit patricide together fall asleep mid-conversation wake up together, apparently. And for all the fan artists/fanfic writers out there, it's now canon that both of them are wearing long-sleeved shirts under the other layers. I was kind of hoping for Chihiro to be wearing one of his dad's shirts but this is more in character...

Fine, okay, it's probably for convenience's sake since apparently these guys can only rest for one night before jumping into the lion's den. But I'm flabbergasted by their soulmate coding. I kind of expected Hakuri to pass out, but Chihiro conking out at the same time in the same pose is too damn cute! Barely over a week together and they've already perfectly synced their sleep schedules and postures lol.

I find it deeply amusing that the entire flashback sequence at the end of chapter 44 was purely for the reader's benefit though. Seriously! Hakuri asked Chihiro "So... what comes next?" and then they both immediately passed out sitting up. So the last four pages were there just to spare us from even more infodumping in this chapter, which is much appreciated.

That's something that Hokazono-sensei also did at the end of the vs. Sojo arc in chapter 18. 10 pages to him exploding, 7 to the situation at the Kamunabi (which will now come into play! EXCELLENT LAYERING OF DETAILS!). I don't know if I'm smart or educated enough to do a full analysis on the techniques he's using, but I love the style. He doesn't let the emotional points linger too long or waste a single goddamn panel in this manga. Yeah, I want more time with the characters outside of serious plot moments, but there's not much else for me to complain about. The need isn't particularly dire anyway since every scene is efficient in giving us characterization and info at the same time (example later this rant).

So yeah. Thanks to that excellent pacing decision, we get to witness this crowning moment of heartwarming:

LOOK AT THESE DORKS. LOOK AT THEM. I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE. Thank you for this moment of Team Goldfish x Hiyuki and Tafuku bliss.

And look at the food on the table! Hiyuki and Tafuku have earned a measure of trust with Team Goldfish! Just a bit, but Shiba definitely wouldn't have let them stay the night and eat with them if he felt they were dangerous.

It's also so sweet that Char's comfortable sitting in big bro Tafuku's lap... she's come a long way since her debut as a scared, scruffy orphan. Wonder where the gang is hanging though. Someone's apartment, I guess? A nearby hotel? More insignificant details this annoying reader wants to know...

TW for SF5-era tournament enthusiasts: That Stage appears in the first panel.

Did anyone have bets on Shiba wrecking Hiyuki in Street Fighter while waiting for Hakuri and Chihiro to wake up? I didn't, but I love it. And this scene highlights something I've really come to appreciate about Kagurabachi's writing: it's incredibly efficient. Almost every scene has more than one thing being conveyed at a time. For instance, here we learn that Hiyuki sucks at Street Fighter compared to Shiba but is too stubborn to quit (comedy & character consistency) and still doesn't know he's ex-Kamunabi (serious). This in turn tells us that Shiba's probably got something to hide from active Kamunabi personnel. After all, it's not like the org itself is a secret, and we wouldn't see Hiyuki questioning him twice if his circumstances weren't suspicious. So Shiba's subplot thickens while we laugh at the gag- peak efficiency.

The cuteness, though... the sweetness of this chapter, man!

Chihiro respecting Yuu's nickname and correcting Hakuri with such a gentle expression is incredibly adorable. He's so relaxed here... but oh wait, there's... chibi Hakuri and Chihiro apologizing for worrying Uncle Shiba?!

Chihiro and his new #1 enabler owe more than an apology but it's good enough for now.

This break wasn't quite long enough to reset the tension in my opinion, but it absolutely delivered on character moments. We definitely needed this after all the big feels from the previous few chapters. I wish there was more time devoted to letting us calm down before ramping up again but what we got here is pretty good.

And so we jump feet-first into laying the groundwork for the Kamunabi arc. A nice, efficient recap of the situation leads us into some additional context and a surprising bit of Shiba characterization. Whatever beef he's got with the Kamunabi feels quite personal for a guy who plays it cool and loose most of the time. We know he's glad he quit because they're too uptight, but there's gotta be more to it than that- he's subtly trying to steer Chihiro away from them while Hiyuki is having none of it here. I want to gently snap this man in half to make him spill his secrets...

At the end of the day, though, Shiba's not going to stop Chihiro from joining the Kamunabi. That's been his thing since Chapter 1: if Chihiro makes up his mind to do something, Shiba will offer advice and make suggestions but ultimately leave the decisions up to him. I wonder how much of his guilt over Kunishige's death plays into that...

Then!

PFFT. "I know what I'm doing here seems risky and unwise but It's fine, trust me. I've got Hakuri." OKAY BUDDY. You've been able to do a hell of a lot since you met this kid haven't you? It's like meeting him changed the trajectory of your life as much as you changed his.

Shiba's expression is very interesting to me. He's like "ah, I get it..." and he's not thrilled in the slightest. Adding Hakuri to the team means Chihiro can be even more reckless than ever before; what little influence he had over Chihiro's safety is all but gone now. And Hakuri himself won't try to stop Chihiro from putting his life on the line- he'll risk his own to help him do it! All this while they're poised to go somewhere he probably can't follow... poor Mr. Shiba.

And then!! AND THEN!!!

Chapter 32: Smile Unlocked (once has no meaning...)

Chapter 36: Smile Lost (twice is a coincidence...)

Chapter 38: Locked In (three times is a pattern...)

Chapter 45: Smile Restored (four times is fate)

The one pulling the other forward is always on the right, leading the reader as well.

When one calls, the other answers. What one starts, the other finishes. A and Un. And this time Hakuri echoes Chihiro's "you got it" catchphrase back to him! I hope this is their thing now, like the "How's my timing?/Perfect" bit that Shiba and Chihiro had.

I'm going absolutely insane over this interaction though. It's the first time Chihiro's gotten to hear someone affirm that they'll see things through with him at his own request (on-screen at least). The first time he's outright said he needs someone, even. And of course Hakuri responds so enthusiastically- he's finally wanted. Just a few days ago he thought he'd never amount to anything. But he's got so much hope thanks to Chihiro's faith in him now.

"What I need in my life is a samurai! THAT'S YOU!" is finally answered with "I'm going to need your help again." hnnnngh what in the hell is this chapter.

Platonic, familial, romantic- however you want to see their relationship, these guys are meant to be together. If I ever start to doubt Hakuri's importance again just smack me right upside the head- he's truly Chihiro's other half now. Let's cheer them on and hope nothing horrible happens to Hakuri ever again! Protect the smile of the boy who would die for you on command, Chihiro. You've been warned.

Protected Bearers

Cool stuff ahead, and tough times to go with them. I doubt things will be as simple as Chihiro successfully making his case and being allowed to start trying to Talk no Jutsu the former wielders. This arc seems like it could easily be longer and more complicated than the previous two combined. I kind of hope it is, just to get more time with everyone. I've never loved a cast of characters this much.

That said... In another series I'd be sure Chihiro would visit each area one by one in their own mini arc, but Kagurabachi is probably going to subvert the expectation somehow. We got previews of the areas so we'll be seeing all of them. Probably (we goddamn better after that gorgeous spread showing them off.), but not in the way we'd expect. This story is so fast I kind of expect us to blitz through all of them in a handful of chapters each... guess it depends on how in-depth we get with the bearers themselves.

As we originally saw them in chapter 18. The slightly updated designs from this chapter are pretty nifty.

I'm 100% sure the order they're presented here corresponds with the areas shown on the spread immediately afterwards. So eye scars is stuck in a temple, the girl is stuck in an onsen, kabuki monk guy is stuck in what looks like a floating shrine, and sushi chef is in... a sushi restaurant. Wow shocker.

I'm going to make the assumption that they got to choose where they were imprisoned for the rest of their lives. Maybe it was the government's way of expressing gratitude for helping the war effort? Which makes Magatsumi's wielder (the Sword Master) being sealed up like a nasty curse all the more intriguing... he's clearly fucked up but was he always that way or did the sword corrode his mind? Is there more to the lifelong contract with these swords than just being the only person who can use them? I better get some answers!

Anyway.

So Kunishige personally knew and chose these people... I wonder how meeting them will deepen Chihiro's understanding of his father's legacy. I sincerely doubt that all of them will make it easy for him to recover the blade they're tied to, but we'll hopefully learn a lot while Chihiro makes his attempts. Really seems like we are set up for Kunishige and Seitei War backstory so I am hype. Dead DILF lore! DEAD DILF LORE!

Hiyuki and Kamunabi Thoughts

Hiyuki also had some interesting moments this chapter. She understands that the current stalemate with the Hishaku has tied the Kamunabi's hands for the most part, forcing them to do less than savory things (like bidding on the Shinuchi) to keep the peace. And despite her hotblooded outburst before the auction, she still has rock solid faith in her org's mission. So I don't think she'll defect easily so as long as she believes the mission is doable under better circumstances.

And it seems like she thinks Chihiro might be the right catalyst for change... hmm. She's essentially using him as a chaos agent to shake up the status quo because he proved himself to her. She finds him worthy of deciding how to handle the blades, so now she's giving him and Hakuri the opportunity prove themselves to her leaders. Very cool. There's some rather deep stuff going on with her.

Hiyuki's much more establishment-oriented than her personality and actions suggest. I get the sense that she's there as an idealist who is willing to upset the status quo to see the mission through. A true believer in a bureaucratic institution- love that type of conflict. Can't wait to see more of her in this arc!

So now we're set to see Chihiro's philosophy and methods on trial. Super intriguing stuff and I'll definitely be looking at the questions each Kamunabi leader is asking to try and suss out their allegiance. Playing Guess the Traitor this arc is gonna be a lot of fun (I hope)!

Speaking of which... Azami as the traitor allegations don't move me, but I do think he'll be restricted this arc due to the ongoing investigation into his clandestine activities. Chihiro could well be on his own without an adult to watch out for him. At least he and Hakuri will be there for each other. ...With no one to try and stop them from doing reckless stunts. Uh oh.

So that's a wrap on this fuckhuge ramble. Hope the breakneck pace slows down just a smidge but I'm still very onboard with whatever is coming next. Thanks for allowing me to ramble as always, void.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 3 thoughts

ahh, this one sounds interesting… let us see.

HATER ALERT: i actually felt almost no interest during this episode… until the very end. the monster was scary, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, and when our agents are separated doing different tasks, we lose that emotional heart of the show. i did feel attached to our new friend mr. duff, but from seeing how these episodes go, i knew what was going to happen to him. the ending was great- i love when they save each other! but the other parts were kinda just… eh. and the stuff they introduced that was supposed to build up to the bigger plot also didn’t interest me. i was like okay, so we just get another one of these deep throat fellows. i hate to say it, but i was kind of bored!!!

despite this announcement, let us return to the liveblogging

good to be reunited, i say after 2 days having not seen an episode. might have to quit my job when i finish this show because there will be nothing else to carry me through lmaooo i NEED to look forward to scully and mulder time AND THEN scully and mulder discussion time directly after!!!!

we are on a plane. ah yes, the flute my mutual phoebe speaks of is playing. shoutout to @azure-firecracker. i see some people in cool outfits and a child playing with what looks like a yellow barney doll? not one of barney’s friends… it looks like barney himself, but yellow. interesting.

oh! this fellow is reading french! it’s a paper about repairing some infrastructure! i like that i can read a few words :)

ACK! a creature with white painted skin and a red human eye is watching our francophone friend! oh boy, i paused right as this eye filled my screen and it was deeply unpleasant. 

so francophone friend is trying to use the airplane bathroom but i am spooked because that thing is somewhere… and he looks up and SCREAMS!!!!!

now the plane has arrived… but where is our dude who went to the bathroom? an entirely different guy is climbing up from the ground. and his eyes look like they are bleeding????

so where is OG francophone dude???? BLEAH! he is dead and now HIS face is painted all white!!!

so did we get some body swap stuff going on….?

oh gosh this is creepy…. something about that skin paint and red eye combo is freaking me tf out…

HUH??? intro time has been interrupted by new words in the title sequence!!! they read “deceive inveigle obfuscate”… had to look up “inveigle” but it means to persuade… what are we dealing with here??

i can’t figure out what the pattern is for why some special episodes have different title sequences…. oh i bet the OG fans were trying to CRACK the code back in the day

(author's note: i think the titles change when we learn stuff about the various deep throats? plural. you'll see why i specify plural later on)

back at the headquarters. scully is coming into skinner’s office. she is in a very nice white suit! she remarks that there isn’t much traffic at this hour… she showed up at 5:17 AM?!?! she needs a RAISE!!

she is introduced to a dr. bruin from the philly CDC. well this sounds like it is going to be a scary matter if it involves disease. she shakes this guy’s hand but doesn’t say anything. can’t tell if it’s a silent read or not…

so four young men have gone missing in philly recently, all Black. and there are no leads… until last night! owen sanders, reported missing, was found dead near a construction site. but he wasn’t killed!!! disease....?

so he shows her a photo of a dude painted white and is like “i thought he was black” and the doctor is like yeah he was. but maybe a new disease caused depigmentation. so we should get a microscope.

(that was funny to me because he was very clearly a Black man just painted white with actual paint... writers, do not think such tricks could fool medical doctor dana scully)

so i am not to believe that these guys were NOT actually painted, but rather they lost their pigmentation? okay, okay, noted. i am suspending my disbelief 

skinner says they hoped someone with a background like scully could make a quick analysis. this is also funny because i feel they should have maybe gone to a specialist in skin conditions that could possibly cause such effects...? but for plot reasons it Must be her. i mean she IS kinda the best, so maybe she can figure it out. by 7:30 am she is doing an autopsy.

OH! she says the bleaching of the irises suggest a cellular reaction… bleh. sounds very nasty.

“hey, i heard you were down here slicing and dicing”, says mulder, entering the room and sabotaging her nice little recording session 

(mulder makes a michael jackson joke that feels wrong) (also he is popping sunflower seeds in the morgue)

he is very suspicious… not believing it is a real disease… 

“mulder, not everything is a labyrinth of dark conspiracy” <- LMAO i’ve reblogged that moment before but now i really get to see it!!

“and not everybody is planning to deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate” <- she said the words omg…. (he watches and pops a sunflower seed)

what a lovely vocabulary she has, the better to look at him disapprovingly with 

he wants to join the case and she looks off sort of by the camera and looks SO done lmaoooo

cutscene to another man, mr. aboah, who conspicuously seems to be missing some pigment on his back. and in a way that does not look like paint.

someone is knocking at his door. oh! it’s marcus duff, his immigration counselor, who has arrived to talk about naturalization. mr. aboah welcomes him into his room, but the lights are off and it is very hard to see, i note. duff agrees it is very dark! and brings this fact up! so he turns one light on, and they sit to do paperwork. 

duff says aboah looks ill… but he denies it. so duff says he knows how lonely it is to be newly arrived to the US, and that he can help aboah bring over his whole family. long silence... suspiciously long silence… then a thank you.

mulder is going to the lab and there he sees agent pendrell! LMAOOOO he wants to wait for scully but mulder says she has a date just to mess with him… THEN SAYS IT’S WITH A DEAD MAN BECAUSE SHE IS DOING AN AUTOPSY LMAOOOO

damn, everyone knows how down bad this dude is.... that is soooo funny and also pathetic. unfortunately i do lowkey loathe this pendrell fellow. like stay away from her yk?

so, what did they find in the autopsy… a seed of a rare flower indigenous to certain parts of west africa!

(cutscene to mulder on the phone, holding the seed) “it contains a cerebropathic glycoside. does that mean anything to you?” <- i love when he asks her medical questions because he doesn’t know wtf any of that stuff means... it makes my heart grow three sizes to see him deferential

and she knows what it means!! it’s a depressant. she is still in the morgue, now covered in lots of blood all over her coat 

oh! she found something that could explain his lack of pigmentation… “his pituitary gland was necrotized”, which is a funny thing to say even if it actually has a very important meaning! the pituitary gland controls hormones... and melanin!

“i have identified the effect, i am still looking for the cause” <- i love her so terribly, and her rigid but in a lovely way line of thinking... this is a very important specification!

“where are you, mulder?” “off to water the seeds of doubt. bye bye” omg he actually said bye. that has to be a first. also where is his ass going…

there’s something different about the way his hair is brushed in front of his face today and hmmppppgh he looks. handsome.

he is off to the UN building again… and we see ms. covarrubias, from before??? was he lowkey stalking her….?

yes! yes he was, and approaches her in the dark! this is deeply weird behavior, even for him... also why does he think she can help with this case. he’s onto something… but what? 

she flat out denies knowing about this case. but he doesn’t buy it.

WAIT. i see what is going on here… is she going to be deep throat 3.0?!?!?!

damn... we’re nearly at a deep throat a season at this pace...

not sure i like that tbh. like are we gonna just keep getting and losing deep throats. it's getting a little old. also, whatever happened to that one senator who would leak stuff to mulder? was that just a two episode and never mention it again kind of thing?

hmm.

okay, back to philadelphia i think. yes, this is confirmed by the eagles hat this guy has on. OH! he was hit in the head with something. it looks a thorn, and it digs deep in his head and got all bloody, bleh! he is losing his vision after this, and stumbled onto the bench behind him. everything is deeply trippy from his point of view, and the bus driver leaves angrily, thinking he is on drugs, which was very rude.

but as the bus driver pulls away, we see aboah on the other side of the street!!! who is losing even more melanin in his skin as time goes on!!! and also has one eye all pink now!!!

(intense chanting over a drum beat)

next day, scully is with the bus driver from before, asking about what went down. he claims he asked the dude if he needed help, which is very much not true. 

and mulder arrives! alfred kittel, 17 years old, went missing last night. this is not good.

mulder’s convinced it has to do with another rare seed, and he pulls out some file that deep throat 3.0 must have given him. and it’s a photo of our francophone friend from the very beginning of the episode, who was also found dead and without pigment!

“it says here the cause of death was undetermined” “yeah, undetermined scully, but not necessarily unknown” <- so what does that mean… like they just didn't investigate because they were scared to learn the truth? hmm.

some police are knocking at aboah’s door the next day, asking him about the missing person’s case- notable, one Black officer is talking about how weird of a name aboah is. i see this attempt on commentary, and acknowledge it, but it feels... odd.

and despite denying having any informationon the missing man's whereabouts, who is in aboah's office but kittel, the kid who was hit with a seed last night, missed his bus, and was reported missing! he is quietly gasping, watching the TV, and oh…. he is losing pigment in his eye and skin as well!!! WHAT IS GOING ON

aboah opens his mouth really really wide and…. PULLS SOMETHING OUT OF HIS THROAT??? what was that!?? what was that.

hey. what was that...

mulder and scully are now visiting mr. duff, the guy who was helping out mr. aboah with his naturalization process. they’re asking him to cross reference his list of clients with a list of people from that flight where our francophone friend sadly was killed, and mr. duff thinks they’re trying to catch illegal immigrants, unto scully busts out the word “public health crisis” and then things kick into gear.

mulder checks aboah’s place, but no luck. she’s going on about how it’s her duty to find and solve this disease as a doctor ( <3 ) and he recognizes aboah in a crowd of construction workers… but when mulder approaches he sprints!!! little did he know of mulder’s trackstar skills. 

scully thinks he jumped through the fence, but mulder finds him… in some sort of hole???

so it’s MRI time for aboah, to figure out we is going on. the doctor is saying he looks asymptomatic, but mulder is pouting in the window, so scully asks to run a few more tests. and apparently aboah can’t communicate with them due to the language barrier… so they called mr. duff, who is very angry that his client has been arrested.

mulder says “we only arrested him because he ran when we tried to question him, and i want to know why he ran”...

(CRINGE! CRINGE! INSENSITIVE WHITE MAN ALERT!)

...which causes mr. duff to respond with “sir, if you had ever been beaten by the police, or had your home burned to the ground for no other reason than being born, then maybe you would understand why he ran” oh! mulder cringe moment intensifies, even after this heartfelt explanation from mr. duff, as he INSISTS aboah ran because he’s hiding something 

“where are you going?” “to find someone who i know plotted to deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate” (silly words said very angrily)

so he’s at the burkina faso embassy. talking to the man who mulder thinks requested to stop the investigation into the first man’s death. this is a bold accusation... but not one the man seems to deny.

he says that his people, the Bambara, are farmers, and he grew up hearing stories of the Teliko, spirits of the air. they hide in small holes- which could be how aboah got in that pipe, i suppose- and oh no, the doctor back at the hospital is looking for mr. aboah while our unnamed embassy man is explaining how the teliko emerge at night!

the man from the embassy talks about his experience with an air spirit as a child, and how his father saved him from one. but then, they found his cousin dead and entirely white, like the dead men. which is why he knew it was real.

(zoom in on aboah in a tiny drawer of a food delivery cart) OH! the eyeballs peeking out are CREEPY

next morning, they’re looking at x rays. scully says aboah has something lodged in his throat… like that thing we saw him take out before!! and even more disturbing… look at the saggital section, just below the hypothalamus! NO PITUITARY GLAND!

GASP! this is impossible! (i love the medial jargon)

mulder emerges into the room just as they say this to point out that aboah has disappeared!

mr. duff is heading back to his car, but aboah is on the prowl. mr. duff is very happy to see him, and gives him a ride home. NOOO DON’T LET SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN TO THIS GENTLEMAN!!

NOOO! mulder is investigating the food cart when scully reports that mr. duff’s car was found abandoned…. with the keys still in the ignition. do not hurt him.

WHAT? cutscene to aboah holding this BIG NEEDLE thing over duff while one of his eyes is very pale…. where is that needle going…. OMFG HIS NOSE I CAN’T LOOK… 

the police arrive just after some crunching noises were heard and then also some snuffling in the pipes as aboah escapes into them. but luckily, duff is alive.

mulder is proposing that he is basically a vampire for melanin?

wait, hold on, what is going on about now? “the lost tribe- a clan of sub-Saharan albinos linked by their common congenital deficit who’ve adapted over generations by…” “what, by stealing other people’s hormones?”

well, scully, i must say i had a very similar reaction to his hypothesis!

so why wouldn’t it be an isolated case? she asks. a very good question! because of what someone told mulder last night… “so you’re basing this theory on a folktale?” “it’s just another way of describing the same truth, right? i mean, all new truths begin as heresies and end as superstitions. we fear the unknown, so we reduce it to the germs that are most familiar to us, whether that’s a folktale or a disease or conspiracy”

well... that is an opinion you can have, i guess?

scully with the counterpoint: why leave his own country to come here and do the killings? his smarts ass reply: free cable…. or liberty n whatnot idk

mulder pulls over to a demolition site, which he thinks might be connected to one of the other bodies, so he just. busts a hole in there and walks in. fully knowing that it is a demolition site with active asbestos. okay!!! get that mesothelioma suit king

creepy music as they explore… and hear clanging in the dark…. mulder is gonna climb a ladder now.

BLEH, THE SCARY EYES ARE WATCHING!!!!

AND NO!!! mulder is hit by one of the seeds!!!! he is calling out for scully as he trips into another dimension. NO!!!! he has fallen down!!!

scully rescue time….? now she must climb the ladder…. and sees him toppled onto the ground!!!

she hears some clanking about and climbs into a vent… which had to be awful to film… the teliko is above her!!!!!!

more vent crawling…. AND OMG!!! the dude from before, alfred kittle, is in there, and now very very very white and dead!! rip king :(

but she finds mulder in there, alive. he can only groan softly. aww poor meow meow. but something rapidly approaches….

JEEZ.. IT'S ABOAH/THE AIR SPIRIT, AND HE’S CRAWLING ON ALL FOURS AND BARRELLING TOWARDS HER WITH SHINY SCARY EYES LIKE A CAT WAAAH

scully whips out her gun and fires two shots… and aboah (do i call him aboah? IS he still the man named aboah? was he ever? or was he just a spirit?) anyway he seems to have disappeared?

(mulder still groaning) “it’s okay, mulder. i’m here. okay?” <- oh…… a rescue scene…. oh be still my heart…. i was not expecting to feel so Tender

so she beats the vent open, and finds the other bodies of the missing men in there. then she pulls his body out of the vent, apologizing to him for yanking on his legs to get him out, which was quite sweet, before slumping him up against one of the bodies to call 911.

OH! scully badge number reveal! JTT0331613. so WRITE THAT DOWN, SUPER FANS. but as she calls, the creature slash aboah returns behind her… 

mulder is groaning and trying to let her know… and she gets the hint, whips around with her gun, and shoots!

phenomenal communication between them with no more than faint moaning from mulder. truly highlights their connection.

this time, it appears there is no escape from the bullets for the teliko, as she sits with mulder among all of the bodies

oh! scully is wrapping up the episode and she has these round glasses on and my heart is skipping a few beats!! this is field journal entry 74.

good news! mr. duff survived!! and aboah is being charged for murder, but aboah is dying as they speak and may not live long enough to stand trial. and she’s confident science can explain the whole thing… “but what science may never be able to explain is our ineffable fear of the alien among us, a fear which often drives us not to search for understanding, but to deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate, to obscure the truth not only from others, but from ourselves” (and fade to black)

well! my initial thoughts…

it seems this episode existed only to introduce us to deep throat 3.0. that seemed to be the only greater overarching plot point there. which is fine, we rarely get any contributions to the overall plot in these monster of the week episodes, but… this one just didn’t do it for me.

idk, i was kind of bored?? the only times i felt things were when mr. duff was very kind, the spookiness of the creepy faces, cringe at mulder’s insensitivity, and when scully saved him at the end. that was it for me. oh, and ick at pendrell. that was it. everything else was just kinda there.

when they’re separated…idk, it just doesn’t hit the same. but i did like seeing more into medical scully! and her dogged determination slash sworn life goal being to find answers and help people! so that was good. but... idk, the concept was really interesting, i just feel like the ball was fumbled in terms of execution, and i can’t even really pinpoint why. 

here are some possible theories as to why i felt this episode was unsatisfactory: we didn't really KNOW anything about our monster of the week. he had no real compelling motivation or backstory or anything. he just showed up, like the fat vampire from season 3, who also stood out to me as a bland monster of the week. in terms of if he was a person at one point or always a vicious air spirit- who knows? the logic wasn't explained.

mulder's racial insensitivity gave me hives which is reason enough on its own for me to dislike the episode. mr. duff was like "maybe aboah was running because of the way this country treats Black people", which is an entirely valid point, and then mulder was all NUH-UH HE'S EVIL and THAT is why he is running. and then... that being what actually happens also rings kinda hollow. that sort of profiling that mulder just did isn't what gets people treated so terribly or abused at the hands of law enforcement in the first place. but i'm supposed to think mulder just Knows this through his magical judgement. hmm.

the succession of deep throats is also getting a bit old for me. i enjoyed one and two, but now it's feeling like a regeneration thing. what makes deep throat 1.0 and x's deaths compelling if we just get a new one every single time?

so: maybe i am a hater. and that is okay. in a way, we are lucky to have episodes that are just sort of mid. because i have been raised in a world of 6 hour long episodes being 1 season. i have grown up in a world designed solely for streaming, and that compactness forfeits the luxury of the exploration of world building or playing with genre that the 24 episode per season format from this era allows. so in this piece of what i believe is just a kind of boring episode, i am realizing how lucky i am that such a thing exists now that they are no longer being made.

[princess-glassred]

Thinking about how absolutely wretched Henry's time at Juniper Hill's had to have been, and how awful it was for Pennywise to still keep fucking with his head, just to keep him the perfect little violent puppet.

Tw for: child abuse, sexual abuse, bigotry

Imagine him slowly going mad for real the longer he sits in his little room, only to be endlessly taunted by horrific ghosts of his pasts that just won't let him rest at ungodly hours of the night.

Imagine the shambling corpse of his father showing up to scream at Henry just like when he was a little boy, chastising him for still being such a whiney little cry baby who made his mother leave. "You didn't seriously think you killed me Henry, did you? a sissy like you couldn't kill a god damn house cat! If i had known you were gonna grow up to he such fucking wuss i would have chopped your balls off when you were born and called you Henrietta? I bet you woule have loved that wouldn't you?! You fucking tranny fag!".

Then Patrick would show up, gloating to him about how much he missed his little boytoy, making gross sexual remarks and putting his hands all over him. Describing how much he simply ADORED what they did in the junkyard that day, threatening to do it again right here right now wether he likes it or not so everyone can see how much of a little queer he is, a little hypocritical pansy queer. Taking great pleasure in describing to poor trembling Henry all the ways he plans to humiliate him with sexual and verbal abuse.

And just for extra measure, every so often a member of the losers club might drop by to taunt him, reveling in how old and weak and terrified Henry is now.

A young Eddie Kaspbrak telling him in great detail how frail and weak his age must have made him, a young Ben Hanscom coming to point out how his own struggles with weight and food from living in the asylum for 27 years, ect. Ect. All so Henry feels the need to snap and scream how he still hates them snd could kill them all if he wanted too.

There are some nights Henry tries to fight back against these awful visions of his past, and cling on to the very very small twinges of sanity he has left.

Moments where he tries to be calm and remind himself of the very few happy memories he had with his mom and whenever he would hang out with Belch, Vic, and Patrick like they were just normal kids. When they would drive around and listen to metal music, head banging like rock stars, or when they'd take turns shooting a pistol at random stuff in a junkyard, or when Vic simply asked him if he was ok after his dad humiliated him... but nothing works.

They don't go away, and to the rest of the hospital staff, all they see is a deeply disturbed and frightened fourty year old man with his hands over his ears, eyes clenched tight with tears streaming down his face as he begs and screams for some invisible force to stop hurting him and just LEAVE. HIM. ALONE.

The hospital staff may seem sympathetic but their thoughts are all the same: "lock this one up and throw away the key.". They don't even wanna help anymore, and even if they did, it wouldn't do anything. He's not allowed to recover. So they just keep him medicated day in and day out, till he's practically a zombie who can't take care of himself. And it still doesn't fucking work.

And that's when Henry Bowers to loathe, and even fear nights in the asylum. During the day he's so out of it he can't help but smile and forget where he came from. His only link to sanity/the outside world now is just little nighlight they gave him to put by his bed. But the night is still so fucking terrifying, after all... that's when Patrick comes back. That's when his father shows up to scream at him. That's when the losers club have a laugh at his expense. That's when... that's when the moon talks to him.

Henry Bowers is terrible person and was a deranged and terrible child, and i'm not gonna sit and pretend like he ain't, but there's something incredibly sad to me about how even 27 years later, Henry is still being tortured. He's just a pathetic old man now and Pennywise is still fucking with him to make him him an effective puppet. There's no hope for recovery or improvement, and there never was. not even when he was little.

[hekateinhell]

this is from a while ago but you mention on that poll about armand's love interests you have a few different ways you interpret the blood communion speech armand gives lestat about loving him. i'm curious what your takes are, if you don't mind sharing :) as a daniel/armand shipper, i've always read a lot into the fact daniel isn't name-dropped - as though he's an exception or what they have is something more than just love... though the out of universe explanation is probably just he was forgotten (also apologies if you answered this before and i missed it)

Actually, I know I talk about Lestat and Armand a lot and I've certainly spoken about that scene plenty, but I don't think I've broken down my various interpretations in post form before. I don't mind sharing but remember, you asked! ♥️

I have four basic interpretations, the first of which I use for meta purposes and the others for headcanons/fic as needed.

Interpretation 1: Armand does love Lestat the most. This is the canon read and the one I default to because it's quite literally in the text. I know with VC we tend to selectively 'read between the lines' (I'm guilty as hell), but there's also times where Anne meant exactly what she wrote and I do find it extremely consist with Armand's characterization up to this point.

I'm not saying it's necessarily a healthy love, or even a romantic one though! In my opinion, it's at least in part related to the fact that Lestat's almost always present when Armand's going through some of the most traumatic events in his life (neither of them exhibit anything close to a healthy attachment style). Because these are not two mutually exclusive things, I do tend to read them as having more of an all encompassing, soul-connection type of love. Both can be true.

From 'does anyone else know the size of your soul?' to 'in my wanderings, I always return to you' to 'I have loved you more than any being in all the world whom I’ve ever loved' -- Armand simply does not talk to or about anyone else like this in canon. The depth and intensity of Armand's love for Lestat has been a very persistent thread since TVL through to BC and it seems to be rooted in a genuine passion and appreciation for Lestat's character, flaws and all (because oh boy, can Armand list them all or what?).

I adore them as a ship, but this is not the scene in BC that has me kicking my little legs with glee (honestly, I find it tragic for all involved):

“Fool,” he said again. His voice was roughened now by emotion he couldn’t suppress. “I have always loved you,” he said. “I have loved you more than any being in all the world whom I’ve ever loved. I have loved you more than Louis. I have loved you more even than Marius. And you have never given me your love. I would be your most faithful counselor, if you allowed it. But you don’t. Your eyes pass over me as if I don’t exist. And so they always have.”

“I hate you as much as I have ever loved you,” he said. [...]. I understand the very definition of ‘hate’ when I think of you.” ~ Armand, BC

Like, it's heartbreaking! I don't want this like this! Your ask is related to Armand's POV and I've already posted at length how the text (and Anne) very clearly states that Lestat does, in fact, love Armand very much so I won't get into that further here, but... yeah, yikes. I want better for Armand, I want Louis. 🤧

I'm sad now.

Interpretation 2: Armand does not love Lestat more than Louis, Marius, (or Daniel). This seems to be the more popular read and I totally get why, and I can work with it in theory!

If Armand wanted to shock Lestat back to life and into reacting and doing something about the situation, throwing Louis's and Marius's names around seems like a decent bet. Loving Louis and Marius deeply is something that Lestat can understand, it's something he and Armand have in common; it's yet another thing that bonds them together for better or worse.

Daniel isn't anyone particularly special to Lestat, what would be the point in Armand bringing him up at a time like this? He's a cunning guy, he's choosing his words carefully.

Interpretation 3: Armand's straight up traumatized and broken thinking Marius and Louis are dead and gone, and he's desperately trying to cling to Lestat for dear life because he's the only one he has left (channel Anne and forget about Daniel for a second here). Unfortunately, all their issues that have been festering and compounding since 1791 rear their ugly head and explode rather spectacularly.

What you get is a combination of 'I love you more than anyone; I hate you more than anyone.'

RIP.

Interpretation 4: Armand loves Daniel most of all. And I think I typically tie it into the second one. Yes, Armand loves Daniel more than Lestat, Louis, and Marius. No, he's not going mention him to Lestat for reasons listed above and/or he's not going to downplay his love for Daniel like that. He's a gentleman!

Bonus Interpretation 5: Anne forgot Daniel, plain and simple; I waste years of my life.

All that being said, I don't think Armand walks around with a hierarchy in his head of everyone he loves. He obviously has an abundance of love to give and he loves so fiercely! Pick your read and run with it, I sure do ;)

[ladylimerence]

hi.

I’ve missed you SO much. i have been thinking of you all day. how I can’t wait to type my thoughts into you— and you sit and take it without breaking eye contact and that gets my train of thought whistling.

westerns have been playing as background simulation in my head today. little pieces of gun smoke, little pieces of Yull - (my cowboy lover)— lots of pieces of rawhide. no denying me my Clint Eastwood 🙂‍↕️✨—-

—- baby you wouldn’t believe it— I felt so stunning today. this morning I was fighting myself— I wanted to go back to sleep- like my energy was on autopilot and but I was present and in my body so i felt that tug. I said NO bitch- we want all the fucking dads at the pool to hide their boners this summer— GO TO THE FUCKING GYM.

— well lookie here— a gym full of —-? Of-_. Yep MEN. fuck my favorite— I’m about to fucking be the adrenaline in their work out. I am about to give these morherfuckers a god damn workout. Hahahaha. I couldn’t look— but I could because not one of them were looking directly at me— they were using their keen peripheral vision. all these wolves and this little lamb. i didn’t do anything sexual whatsoever. I didn’t give a fuck- I just wanted to get the fuck out——- end session— unaware man follows me out of the gym— to my fucking car—- he stood there acting like a little boy with heart eyes— his train of thought made no sense— it was awkward as fuck. 🙂‍↕️

my free spirited glowing, neglected ass just absorbed it because I believe everyone deserves love— remember feminine rage is for lovers—-

I went home and fucked myself in the shower so good— I thought of at an Italian restaurant- like mob style with a very high red pleather backing. and k brought my pocket pussy— with remote control——- but you don’t know — until I handed you the remote and whispered in you ear— bet you can make me cum before he takes our drink order ——- fuck it was so good and suddenly — again— I’m high on fucking life and my existence— and I feel like the most beautiful cunt.

I wore the most beautiful floral top— it was cropped with an olive green skirt that was perfectly bonded to my luxurious curves. —— ahhh I got just what I wanted today— just enough souls of men— you know the broken eldest daughter with daddy issues type bitch. I fed my inner beast today, she rewards me with blood filled cheeks. —- anyways still want to fuck the crossing guard— it will never happen but I like to use that sexual energy selfishly for my fantasies— I decided that I am going to introduce myself the next opportunity—

i had to fuck him today— i mean had to? I didn’t enjoy it and i laid there feeling like a kings sex slave — he needed to cum — use me — whatever— then i just carry on with my life so he will leave me the fuck alone. — i wish i felt those eyes from him— i can never feel him— our energy is not connected— and i have spent years— deeply- severely- utterly— devastated about this— i told him “let’s fuck in the name of Satan” simply because this was a “fuck” not my definition of “sex” — so sin it is catholic boy.

—— i am in my hands now. i am in the hands of the creator. i am in the hands of the devil. i am in the hands of the divine. i am in the hands of existence and i am dancing.

no hate today. just cunty little comebacks and alpha energy. —- I have to remember this — I have to remember how this feels— empowering- healthy— I mean I don’t know— i am just letting things happen— no disappointment that way— plus that is when i am most creative. —-

— ahh okay— my bed calls me— i can hear it— i need sleep— i need a good deep fuck— i need to fall asleep naked— i need to be fucking admired.

— I’m sad no one has ever experienced what dreams i could bring them because i am one loyal kitty— if you admire me i give back tenfold— if you fuck me i give back tenfold— if you love me— i will make an alter in my heart— it’s not the fucking hard for one who can handle it.

—-like knights in shining fucking armor—— but your favorite part about me is that I don’t want to be saved.

-x

[demonslayedher]

Faster than a speeding train, things that ran through my head while watching this episode:

--This episode was full of fanservice, pure and simple. But meta service? Well, that was a tease.

--Like that close-up on the evening newspaper? There was a big headline that warned people in the mountains to be careful of bear attacks, but the dates were just blurry enough that I couldn't make them out. Dang it, Ufotable!

--But as for that close-up on the missing persons posters at the beginning, if you're looking for names to use for people who already disappeared on the Mugen Ressha, there's a 20-year-old Yamazaki Chiyoko, a 12-year-old girl named Setsuko, somebody with the last name Okuda… not that I believe the mystery woman who got left for dead but left uneaten was among these people, she's only been missing one night and is already expected to make a full recovery with no scars. Including not a single scar on her heart, and she'll have the ongoing protection of the Corp! What a princess! And just… an satisfactory plot device. After all the emphasis on how demons are horrid and leave irreparable damage on those whom they effect, her experience and Rengoku's assurances that she'll be totally fine sort of cheapen this.

--To that effect, Rengoku-san made a better point later in the episode, after Fuku apologizes for assuming demons don't exist. It's better proof of the Corp's hard work if people can go on thinking that, never having been affected in the first place!

--For as morally outstanding as Rengoku is, honesty doesn't appear to be an important virtue. Or at least, dude has no idea how to make a convincing lie. "I'm a bentou seller." Yes. Sure you are, Rengoku-san. I'll bet that after Speedy's attack at the garage, the workers are later going to look to each other once everything calms down, and somebody's going to say, "you know, I don't think that guy was sent here by the railway HQ."

--And Speedy, as a villain, just… ugh. I'm glad Rengoku-san made short work of him and just shut him up.

--I just… I need to sigh again for all the hype I felt for this episode, only to find the writing so… siiiigh….

--Like, I respect that they had constraints in how much they could affect or reframe the plot which comes thereafter, so they chose instead to dig (too deeply) into the lore behind "umai" just as a way of providing fanservice because everyone loves Rengoku-san. And we do!! We love the unnecessary cape flip! We love that he defeats demons with ease! And I certainly love that he has a heartwarming moment hearing that Fuku's mother and grandmother were saved by Shinjuro and that he is emulating his father, and how he wants to tell his father this good news that the people he saved all those years ago are still well, thanks to him. He wants to see if good news like that will do anything to reassure his father of the worthiness of his efforts. I love this quietly sensitive side of Rengoku-san, who is just as prepared to not have such news have any positive effect and will just make his father lash out.

--But……. I don't think they actually did Rengoku-san's character any favors with all this emphasis on how much he loves and respects food. "Don't drop your anpan" is so… not an important thing to focus on in this situation, and taking a bit bite out of food that's not his, well… it's cute and funny, but I feel like it would had been more in keeping with his character for him to catch the anpan and give it back and go on asking questions about his mission. And then showing more disgust for the demon when Speedy steps on the bentou instead of, like, when Speedy's got his nails digging into the boy's flesh, is kinda… kinda not showing Rengoku-san's strength in accessing a situation and zeroing in on what needs to be taken care of. But, sigh, if they had to use the bentou as a plot device, I guess this was a clumsy way to do it.

--Siiiiigh.

--Man, they had me so hyped with all that emphasis on atmospheric settings, the Corp members rushing toward the train (and supposedly about to meet their deaths, as we know there's already been victims before Rengoku arrived), and a Corp member who we'd never see again after this… but again, Ufotable only felt enough flexibility to do fanservice, not stakes.

--And just… the whole…….. running faster than a speeding train……….. okay, I'll let this one slide, Pillars DO run fast, Rengoku-san HAS moved this fast in canon.

--If Enmu brought Speedy there as a decoy, I wonder how he did it? "Hey, I need to attract the Demon Slayers' attention for a few days. Be slow and coy with it, leave them presents on your trail." "Why in the world would I do that??" "If you do a good job, I'll tell your idol Upper Moon 3 how cool you are." "IT'S A DEAL!!!!!"

--Leaving all my disappointments aside, there are things I find endearing in this pure and simple fanservice filler. I find Fuku-chan and her granny sweet, and I like that Granny reacted to the sight of Rengoku right away, and acted believably for someone who has had a run-in with demons in the past. Ufotable is totally committed to this bentou lore being part of the plot too, what with making merch and gallery displays themed around the bentou vendors. It was indeed fun at the last Toei Movie Studio event to go on a make-believe set of this shop, complete with all the signs and items on sale. :D

--And that boy in the blue haori, and the girl who takes the lead once the team of back-up arrives? How can I not like them? (And knowing me, how can I not feel tempted to want to write fanfic about them?)

--Ufotable showing off their soba animation skills is funny, and impressive. I wound up picking up a sweet potato bread for breakfast this morning to be on-theme for a Rengoku episode, but I regretted later that I didn't get anpan and pick up soba for lunch.

--But also… yes, I am a victim of fanservice. Rengoku-san is unnecessarily cool.

--But like

--HIS NICHIRIN-TO

--OH LORDY

--UFOTABLE, THERE ARE CHILDREN WATCHING THIS

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 71

McCoy

“Ye’re home.”

McCoy laughed as the door closed behind him.

“I almost wasn’t!” he chuckled. “Ran into Eugene and he was so happy with our test scores he tried to drag me out to celebrate.” He sat down at his desk to pull his shoes off.

“How did ye do on it?” Scotty sat up a bit more where he was lounging on the bed.

“Eugene had the top score and I was right behind him.” McCoy couldn't help his grin.

“That’s fantastic!” Scotty exclaimed. “I’m so proud of ye. Ye’re going to be a great doctor.”

“I hope so,” McCoy said, getting up from the chair and crossing to the bed. He rested his head across Scotty’s stomach as he laid down.

“That was Sam wasn’t it?” he asked, looking up at Scotty.

Scotty sighed before he answered. “Aye it was. Jim kept it together though.” He huffed a breath out. “Didn’t even acknowledge him as his brother. Just an ‘excuse us sir,’ and he moved away fast.”

“Do you think they’ll fix things? Will Jim talk to him?”

“I dinnae ken love, I dinnae ken. Sam looked unhappy at the brush off, but he hurt Jim deeply.” He shrugged, and his hand stroked through McCoy’s hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. The prince found Scotty’s other hand and twined their fingers.

“I couldn’t imagine being that mad at Leah. Or not talking to her,” McCoy said quietly.

“I know.”

Silence fell as both boys sank into their thoughts.

“Maybe we should do something with Jim tomorrow. Off campus. Then he’d be less likely to run into Sam,” McCoy finally suggested.

“Maybe,” Scotty agreed. He turned his head to look at the time. “We can ask him at breakfast.” He gave McCoy’s hair a gentle tug. “Now tell me about all the officers ye met today. Did ye find some medical staff?”

“Yes!” McCoy said, eyes brightening. “And a pair of engineers. That’s why Jaylah went with me after dinner, she felt bad that Howzer and Garcia took all our time. Your labs are a lot different from our labs.”

“I bet they are,” Scotty laughed. “Did ye learn anything?”

“I learned more about maintaining a warp core than I ever needed to know. Jaylah asked so much and they were so happy to answer her.”

“And the med staff? How were they?”

“Jaylah learned her fair share about how the medbay functions,” McCoy grinned.

“Tell me,” Scotty encouraged.

After a long chat lounging at angles across the bed, McCoy and Scotty realized from their yawning they should put themselves to bed. In no time that were changed and snuggled back together under the covers.

“I didn’t ask yet,” Scotty said slowly, “how was the simulator today?”

McCoy tensed for a moment, and Scotty rubbed a hand down his back.

“It was… alright. My first turn was slow but I did it. I did get anxious and jumped away as soon as I was done. My second turn was a bit quicker, but even though I know it’s fake, as soon as it moves and begins to make noise… It’s hard to get past that.”

“Oh love I’m sure ye will,” Scotty said, holding him tight. “I know ye will.”

“I hope so,” McCoy whispered.

Part 72

Scotty

When he hadn't found his husband and Jaylah, Scotty had retreated to his and Leonard's room. He had finished his homework and had started on some preparations for the upcoming week's project, but he had been quite happy when Leonard had joined him eventually. Even though it sounded stupid, he had missed his love very much.

Now, snuggled up close against him, Scotty couldn't help but smile. He was so proud of Leonard and how his first test had gone. Of course he never had had a doubt that his husband would become a great doctor, but he knew that Leonard was great at doubting himself.

Just like when it was about flying.

Scotty sighed softly. He couldn't even imagine what it must feel like. To be scared of something so regular in their days.

Ever since he had been a wee lad, he had dreamed of flying in a huge spaceship or shuttle. His first flight had been the most amazing experience and he really wished to fly a shuttle on his own.

But for Leonard it was nothing like that. He had always hated flying. It had only gotten better when Scotty was at his side, but he hadn't overcome his fear yet. And maybe he never fully would.

Still, their friends and Scotty would encourage him every single time. In the end, when they headed out for their first mission, Leonard would be able to handle his fear.

On the next morning, Scotty and Leonard asked Jim and Spock if they wanted to pay a visit to town with them. Both of their friends agreed, obviously in need for some relaxation, and right after breakfast they headed out.

It was a sunny and hot day and Scotty really enjoyed the cool breeze coming over from the sea as they wandered through San Francisco's streets.

They wanted to take a look at some of the shops, but when they passed an arcade, Jim was all fired up to get inside and play some games. The others didn't stand much of a chance as the blond basically dragged them into the building and headed straight for the counter to buy some tickets for all of them.

Scotty couldn't help but smile when he saw just how happy Jim looked. This was the perfect place to be. The perfect place to distract Jim from the current situation at the academy.

And so they started to play.

When they left the arcade a few hours later, Jim was still grinning from cheek to cheek. He had won most of the games and now acted like he was a king or something like that.

"Since I am the winner, I get to decide where we'll grab something to eat," he claimed as they turned into another street.

"Oh, really now? What gives you the right to give orders to someone like me?" Leonard asked, raising his eyebrow. There was a grin on his face. He was obviously referring to his princely status.

Jim wrapped one arm around him and pulled him close.

"Because I, my dearest Bones, am the king of the arcade and you are just a prince. Therefore, I outrank you."

Scotty and Leonard just laughed and even Spock had a smile on his face. However, it faded quite quickly.

"Ashayam," Spock said, gently grabbing Jim by his arm and the blond's head turned to face him.

"Wha-"

He looked into the direction Spock was looking and his face darkened.

Scotty felt his heart drop.

"Oh no," he muttered.

There, coming straight towards them, were Sam and two other officers. Apparently they had also decided that they needed a break from campus.

Jim quickly turned around and was just about to walk back into the direction they had come from, but he quickly froze in his place when a voice called out his name.

"Jim!"

Slowly, he turned back and it didn't take long until Sam reached them.

"Jim, please. Talk to me."

Jim's face was hard as he glared at the man in front of him. Scotty tried his best to read his friend's face, but the blond managed to hide his emotions quite well.

"I have nothing to say to you, sir," he retorted, straightened back and raised chin, before he tried to leave again, but Sam grabbed him by his arm, fury written across his face.

"Will you stop that sir-bullshit! I'm not just an officer! I'm your brother and-"

"I don't have a brother. Not anymore. He left my life many years ago."

Scotty stepped closer to Jim and placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. There was so much anger and sadness in those blue eyes of Jim's, but he tried not to let it show. His voice was cold and hard.

A wave of hurt and shock washed over Sam's face, however, he didn't let go of his brother's arm, only squeezed it tighter.

"Jim... I'm... I'm sorry. You know that I had to leave. You know that-"

"Let go of my arm, sir."

Sam squinted at the title.

"Please, Jim..."

"Let go!"

"I just want to talk to you-"

Everyone gasped in shock when Jim suddenly grabbed his brother's hand and shoved it off.

"Just leave me the hell alone! You left me alone for so many years! I don't need you! I didn't need you then and I don't need you now! You don't matter to me, okay! You're a bastard just like him! You're just like-"

Before anyone could act, it already happened.

A loud slap rang through the air.

Scotty's eyes widened in shock as he watched Jim reaching for his red burning cheek.

Sam... had slapped him.

And only seconds later, someone was at the officer's throat.

"Spock!"

[sacredsanguine]

voicemails: a vignette (modern marvels. joesme, modern mafia au.)

"Hey, angel - hope you've had a good day. I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to call tonight, some last minute business came up for after the after-party." A sigh crinkles over the low latency of the voice-mail message. "But there's a redeye back home - set dress in five! Music! - so I'll catch that and see you first thing tomorrow. Give Ember a kiss for me. Love you. I'll see you real soon."

Sharp tone. One and a half seconds.

"End of message. To replay this message, press one. To mark for deletion, press seven. To return the message sender's call, press -"

---

Faint strains of Borodin colour an irritated voice, strings barely scratching through a low but imperative timbre. To quote an old interviewer: a voice as smoky as his hair, glistening with the same elegant sheen of well-wielded pomade and good taste. There is something of the Old Country's spirit in him, a keen spark burning through the adornments of his adopted country.

"Have some faith, dear boy. My family knows its capabilities - if she could not return, she would not be an Etoni. You see? Exactly. Yes - of course, very understandable. Please, feel free to stay there, much more convenient than going back and forth. Taran has also been...struggling with the sudden circumstances. The two of you would be of solace to each other, I hope."

The phone clicks onto its receiver. A second, crystalline voice echoes from a previously silent corner of the room: "Solace?"

"He is a deeply faithful boy." Clink: metal on porcelain. "Perhaps enough to make up for the wayward girl."

"Perhaps."

---

"There are no new messages. Previously saved message: Hey, angel - hope you've had a good day. I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to call to -"

Click. Dial. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Sorry, the number you've dialed is disconnected or not in service." Click. Click. Dial. Ring. "Hi, you've just missed me. Leave a message after the tone and I'll be in touch."

Beep. Pause. Long breath. Click.

---

"Kitten, pick the fuck up." Car engines idling through thick glass pane. Ambient music; the scream of milk frothing. Click - metallic, alarm - cash register.

"The longer you take, the more rounds of chess I have to play with subpar pieces. Do not prove my parents right. Do not prove me wrong. Jesus."

---

Refrigerator hum. Click. Beep.

"Look, wherever you are, please just come back. Mom and Dad are losing their shit again. Please come back."

Pause.

"End of message. You have one new message and one saved message."

Whir.

"It's Kristi calling for Esme - I left a few messages on your cell. Call me back as soon as possible. We need to discuss the next show."

"End of message. You have no new messages and one saved message."

Whir.

"Saved message: It's me. He's saving this on the apartment voicemail in case you came here before any of us found you." Static silence. "We're looking. I'm looking."

Long silence. Beep.

"There are no more messages. To return to the main menu, press one. To play saved messages, press two. To hear or record a voicemail inbox greeting, press three. For more options, press seven. If you are done, you may hang up."

---

Ragged breathing. Ruptured lung - new tissue too thin. Pain or death: easy choice. Not new at all.

"Christ. She still going?"

"Mhm. Think we can set a new record. Broken at least five today - how many are there total, again? Go for a strike."

"Ha! Shit, I dunno."

"Bet she does. Hey, pretty girl - how many bones you got?"

One finger - bruised, swollen, caked with old blood - rasps up from the thick bundle of rope attaching wrist to wood. "Go fuck yourself."

Crack. "Bitch. Not so pretty now, huh."

Crack. Crack. Crunch. Buzz.

"Aww, that's cute. Who's Italian Delivery Slash Takeout? They've been calling for days. You must be a real loyal customer."

---

"Delivery for Joel Ryder."

Thud.

---

"Oh, Lord."

---

Click click click. Metallic. Bated breath. Shallow hurts less; no anticipation. Slice.

---

"Put the knife down. Now. Don't make this harder on yourself."

Click. Click. Metallic. Slide.

---

Cardboard unfolding: thick, stiff crinkle. Wet splash. One finger, severed. Gold chain unraveling - imprint of cross over two joints. Charm falls. Bubble wrap rustles. Black fur - crusty, dark - flakes.

Click. Whirr.

"Hey, angel - I just wanted to let you know -- whirr - Hey, angel - I just wanted to let you know -"

Paper unfolding. Soggy scrawl. "She's not so sweet without her heart. Five million alone at the airport, tomorrow 8 pm."

---

"Do not negotiate with them, boy. We have it handled."

Click. Clink.

"His disappointment will be dangerous."

"Ours isn't already?"

---

Slow, steady slide. Slice. Squelch. Sternum separates, silver flashes. Keloids bulge, swell like bark fungi after rain; clench.

The size of a pomegranate, glistening red and fatty, pink-streaked white. Silver flashes. Scream. Severed hand over snipped heart. They wet the stamp with the sweat off her neck.

---

"Hi, package for you. Yeah, it says to sign for it."

Scribble.

"Thanks! Enjoy."

Pause. Study. Slice. Unfold. Gasp. Thud.

Heart, one ventricle slashed, folded into the gentle grasp of a hand missing one finger. Fresh. Slowly oozing. Chipped nail polish: glossy sheer gold.

Laminated paper. Blood streaks over plastic, black twelve point serif. Left the ring finger for you, if you still want it. Fido says thank you for the delicious dinner. She didn't go down quick.

---

"Fucking bitch is right."

Spit. Cold eyes roll back. Viscera underfoot: squelching. Stolen jacket rustles. Cold metal on mangled muscle, burst blood vessels under skin like poison nebulae. Two shots; all business. Broken nails on tempered glass screen; quick taps.

Tap tap tap. Ring. Ring. Beep.

"Oh ye of little faith. I want steak and soft-serve when I get back."

Tap. Heartbeat of hesitation. Sharp crack. Plastic snaps. Tap tap tap. Ring. Ring.

"Hi, this is Courtney at--"

"Tell the angels there's a sinner crawling out of hell to get back to heaven."

Beep. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Footsteps fading fast.

[bohemiansweede]

Let’s Leave

Fanfic

Pairing Roger Taylor & Brian May

Warning ⚠️ samesex

A/N Brian’s POV

Please like or comment or why not reblog

Thank you

Summers are quite busy within the Queen family

Us 4 boys have our birthdays with just a few weeks apart

So it became just natural for me and Roger to celebrate it together

Yes.. Us

It was well known by now that we belonged together

Some people around us even made a bet many years ago that we should even tie the knot

But we were not quite there... Yet

I took another glass of wine and continued to mingle around searching after Roger.

Where was he?

I wasn't at all into this kind of music, neither was Roger, I could see him in front of me making an eyeroll

But Freddie was convinced that we were continuing to go with the disco flow

John was dancing on one of the tables clearly drunk

Tonight we were at Freddies big house. He had invited his so called "fun friends", party animals, even strippers

But they didn't interest me at all, I didn't look at them

I just saw one person... HIM

I went in to the other room, then I saw him.. he was debating with our manager

His hair was messier than usual and he looked amazingly good in that suite

As he knew I was watching, he turned his head to my direction and fired of THAT smile

Oh boy.. I just wanted him.. Right there and then

I first got to know Roger 1968 and even though we had our differences we clicked

He was a charmer for sure

Keeping himself busy with every girl he layed his eyes on

Soon he saw Dominique and she trapped him in her web

I soon gaved him up, and decided to marry Chissie

We loved eachother it was no doubt, but something was missing..

HIM

Then a few years ago during a tour in South America, it happened

We kissed for the first time

Just like that

Neither of us were drunk or anything, it just like it was meant to be

Slowly we deepened our feelings into something more

We developed a mutual trust, love, commitment

We wanted to be with eachother so badly, even though it was a bit forbidden

People around us, media, they tolerated Freddie in a way, but we weren't that lucky

We had to keep it a secret

But soon our spouses saw that it was something between us, then our friends and then.. Media

And even though we were scared of what might happen, it never did

It seamed like everything was ok

Like they had just waited for it

Some even said

"It was about fuckin time"

- Brian?.. Are you daydreaming again?

I looked right into a pair of big blue eyes, framed by thick long lashes, the most beautiful eyes that I ever seen

- Roger...

He literally took my breath away

I wrapped him in my arms and kissed him deeply

My hand wandered down and cupped his peachy ass

- Mmm... Bri.. You are so handsy when you are drunk

- Uhu...

I could just agree

But it wasn't just from the alcohol

- You are making me this way Roger

His eyes beamed up at me and he licked his bottom lip

- Yeah?

I pulled him closer so he could feel my cock, eagerly stretching through the thin linenfabric

He moved his hips so he rubbed against me

His hands held around my neck and his calloused fingertips tickled my neck

- Rog... Let's leave

Then he kissed me quickly

- My impatient man... Soon

He winked and turned around for continuing his debate

That tease

- Hey.. Brian.. Why don't you go home.. You look like you need a shag

- God Freddie..

But he was right

I saw Roger go out for a smoke, I went after him

Leaning on the porch, waiting for him to return

- Hi Brian.. What are you doing out here?

- Waiting for you

He came closer and before I knew, he had wrapped his hand around my length

- You know you look so good standing here.. I could just...

- Just what... Take me?

He whined

He knew how much I like to be inside him, I desperately needed it, just as much as I wanted his mouth around my cock

Just like a little girl with pleading innocent eyes, he kneeled in front of me

I helped him to unbutton my pants

My knees weakened when his lips touched my veiny cock

- Shit... UHHHH..

I grabbed his hair and shoved my whole length inside his mouth

He gagged slightly but nodded as a sign to go on

Faster and faster my hips snapped and it wasn't long until I felt my seed building up inside me

He entered my ass with his finger, same time I came down his throat

- AHHH.. Fuck.. FUCK

He licked up and down my shaft, desperately collecting the remaining drops from me

I gave him my hand and helped him standing up

- Let's leave

He just shook his head

- Not yet Bri.. Soon

He amazed me once again by wanting to stay, I thought he wanted to go home

We walked hand in hand inside

We took a few drinks more and he just continued to tease me, he gave me looks and I really tried to shut it out

But soon my cock started to stir in my pants again

I went behind him and kissed his neck, breathed in his ear

- Let's leave

He puted his ass at me and pretended to not care

That was it

I took his hand and forced him with me

We went upstairs to one of the guest rooms that we had discovered before

He jumped when I almost slammed the door behind us

Before he even blinked I was all over him

I pulled in his shirt and he fumbled with my pants

His cock was rock hard and leaking in my hand, when I stroked him fast

His mouth was open and he looked at me with hooded eyes

He breathed faster and faster and soon I felt his warm seed in my hand

His legs almost crumbling under him

I kissed his nose

- Get on the bed.. Stand on all four

He nodded

His pants dropped to the floor and he did as I told him

There he was, with his perfect ass

My hand followed it and just nudged his hole.. teasing

- Brian.. Please

He didn't have to beg

I bent down and let my tounge lick around his opening

He pouted his ass even more at me

He muffled out a moan in the pillow as I took a grip around his hips

My cock was hard and ready, I couldn't wait any longer

Bit by bit I stretched him out until my entire length was in him

I moved slowly at first

But it wasn't long until my eager took over

I slammed into him deep and hard

My tip rubbed over his prostate over and over

Soon he started to shake

I took his upper body up against me and held him close

My tounge swirled in his neck, looking down and seeing him stroking his own cock, phanting fast and loud

- SHIT.. I'm coming Bri... I'm... AHHHH.. NOW

I wasn't far behind

I kissed his shoulder and trusted a few more times before I emptied myself inside him

- GOD ROGER... OHHHH GOD AHHHHHH

We scrambled ourselves up from the bed on shaky legs

I wrapped him into a hug and just breathed into his hair

His eyes were glossy when he smiled at me

The party was still ongoing when we returned

Without warning Roger bounced up on a stol

And cleared his throat

- Ladies and Gentlemen.. My friends

I have something to say… and no… I’m not pregnant

I swallowed a giggle and looked nervously around

He continued

- I'm going to do, something I should have done a long time ago

He looked at me and winked

- You all know I love this man here

He makes me a better man

He ruffled around in my curls and bounced back down on the floor

He took my hands and went on his knees again

All people in the room built a circle around us

I was lost for words

What on earth did he do?

- Brian May.. I love you so so much, with all my heart

Will you do the honour and marry me?

Everyone cheered

I took him in my arms and kissed him

Tears ran down on both our cheeks

-Yes... YES Roger.. I will

- Good.. Let's leave

Enjoy more reading in my master list

[glenngaylord]

Out In The Past - Film Review: All Of Us Strangers ★★★★1/2

People love movie-going for so many different reasons. Whether it’s the adrenaline rush, the exploration of different worlds and cultures, the pure fantasy, a good laugh or cry, or perhaps just the air conditioning and popcorn, seeing a film in a cinema can feel beautifully communal. Take the talkers and texters out of the equation and there’s nothing like sitting in a room full of strangers collectively responding to a story flickering on a screen. I say this as a way to recommend how best to experience Andrew Haigh’s latest film, All Of Us Strangers, a staggeringly beautiful story about making peace with the past while finding a path forward. While streaming it at home may seem like the best bet for a low budget film with no special effects, you will miss out on the shared sighs and tears from your fellow moviegoers. When was the last time you witnessed a crowd sitting through the end credits of a film because they needed a moment to control their sobbing or because they just didn’t want to leave these characters behind?

Andrew Scott (Fleabag’s Hot Priest) stars as Adam, a gay screenwriter living in a close to vacant apartment building in London who goes outside during a fire drill one evening and sees what seems like the only other tenant standing at his window. When the other tenant, Harry (Paul Mescal), knocks on his door later looking disheveled and inebriated and makes a sexual advance, Adam turns him down. Adam seems disconnected, perhaps because he’s busy researching a script he’s writing. We watch him take a train to the town he grew up in and encounters a man and a woman played by Jamie Bell and Claire Foy who just may provide some insight into his emotional distance. Harry eventually helps tear down some of those walls as he and Adam develop romantic feelings for each other. To say anything more about the story would spoil the joy of discovering for yourself how these plot strands come together.

Needless to say, this quartet of actors form one of the strongest ensembles of the year. Foy and Bell do some of the best work of their careers as people seemingly stuck in older ways of thinking but who show so much human vulnerability. Foy has the unenviable task of portraying a somewhat homophobic character, but she finds an endearingly naive angle to sweetly offset such an unsympathetic world view. Bell finds layers of gentility, especially in a devastating scene in which he confesses his weaknesses to Adam. Mescal imbues Harry with shaggy loose energy, somewhat untamed and wild, full of humor, tragedy, and a palpable chemistry with Scott. But this film belongs to Scott in a nakedly vulnerable, fragile, and deeply felt portrayal of a lonely man trying to reconcile with his past traumas. Often so outstanding in supporting roles, Scott, in his first lead, masterfully guides us through this puzzle of an emotional journey.

Eschewing a traditional narrative, Haigh, who adapted his screenplay from Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel, Strangers, takes an abstract approach to the story while finding enormous warmth with the tone. The film feels like one slowly breaking heart. The consistently gorgeous cinematography from Jamie Ramsay and lush score by Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch, aided by some truly memorable needle drops, feel completely in concert with each other. The use of the Pet Shop Boys’ cover of “Always On My Mind” in particular makes it seem like you were inside Adam’s head, filled as it is with nostalgia and longing.

Although the film centers around a gay man, his way of examining his own past feels so universal. Anyone can relate to feeling stuck in their lives, and judging by the audience I watched this film with, it will strike a chord with anyone who possesses empathy. The last act, however, feels a little rushed and confusing but aims for something profound nonetheless. It will likely lead to intense discussions about what has actually occurred, so make post-screening dinner plans. You’ll want to hash things out, and isn’t that rare and wonderful?

Haigh, who has impressed with such films as Weekend, 45 Years, and the TV series Looking, outdoes himself here by showing us a gay character we’ve not seen before and doing so with great sensitivity and quiet power. In a year of ambitious epics like Oppenheimer and Killers Of The Flower Moon, Haigh has delivered something sublimely intimate but no less grand.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

How would the big boys (like Taiju, South, Mochi and Keizo) react to their baby/children always stealing their baby momma's time and affection? I can totally see them [the boys] being needy (ranging from sexy time to just wanting their undivided attention)... we love our big men simping for us, it got me feeling some type of way ngl

Mommy-Daddy Time: Keizo Arashi/Taiju Shiba/Kanji Mochizuki/South Terano x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.8k

tw: fluff

masterlist

Taiju Shiba - The Non-Negotiator

"Bedtime!"

The shout is accompanied by two groans and one squawk. Your eldest child turns from her iPad and slides down from her perch at the kitchen table, grumbling, "Dad, can I have a few more minutes?"

"Nope, it's a weekday," Taiju murmurs, plucking the youngest from his seat in the high chair and kissing your cheek as you wash the dishes. The middle child is standing behind the couch, playing an impromptu game of hide-and-seek with her father. She watches her sister and brother be ushered off to bed, giggling when she catches your eye. "Maria!"

The sound of her name being called makes her hush, and she stands absolutely still. You look away, smiling to yourself as Taiju begins his nightly "get the kids to bed" routine. (It was his choice, not yours.)

"Have you seen Maria?" Taiju wonders, walking back into the kitchen with the youngest still on his hip. The baby boy grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it as Taiju scans the living room briefly.

"No, I haven't, love," you reply, blinking. "I think I saw her in the game room earlier." Taiju groans, walking back upstairs to check. Your child peeks out from behind the couch and snickers again, covering her mouth.

"Maria!" The baby laughs, babbling as Taiju comes down the stairs again. "I just want some alone time with your mom," he whispers, landing on the last step. "Is that so much?" Your eyes flick toward your daughter and then back to your husband. You repeat the action, and Taiju catches on, following your gaze to the backside of the couch. Maria laughs loudly as Taiju catches her in his other hand, scooping her onto his shoulder. The two children laugh and chuckle as they're carried upstairs, one swinging with her little braids.

"Goodnight!" you yell up after them, wiping your hands on a dishtowel and going to the main bedroom to get ready for bed. Taiju joins you almost thirty minutes later as you settle into bed, sighing and closing the door.

"Finally," he grumbles, coming around the bed and taking your hips in his hands. "Some time alone..." Taiju rests his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin gently. "I love you, babe."

"How far do you think we can get before Maria wakes up and asks you to scare the monsters off?" you joke, kissing his cheek. Taiju groans, pulling back and taking off his shirt. You trace your fingers along the various tattoos on his body and bite your lip, looking at him lustily. "Want to make your bet now?"

"I'll do it some other time," Taiju whispers, shucking his pants off and lying on the bed. "Need to take of you right now."

South Terano - Hires Help

"The baby should be down by now," South murmurs, looking at his phone. "Haven't heard from the babysitter yet."

"It's alright," you reply, sliding your shoes off and resting on the hotel bed. "She's probably fine." South raises his brow and quirks his lips before sitting next to you.

"Did you enjoy the restaurant?" he wonders, taking off his jacket with care.

"You know I love fancy food," you laugh, turning so your feet rest in his lap. "But I loved spending time with you more."

"Haven't gotten a lot of that in the past year," South breathes, closing his eyes and letting his hands cup your feet. "We've both been insanely busy."

"Being a stay-at-home mom can be fun," you counter. "But it does drain me at the end of the day."

"I know." Fingers move around your feet and begin to massage them tenderly. You exhale deeply, leaning your head against the headboard and relaxing.

"Been meaning to tell you that I've missed our little nighttime chats, too."

"Really?" you smile, remembering how you'd keep South awake at night, talking to him while you were restless due to the baby in your belly not wanting to settle down. "We'd talk - well, I'd talk - for hours..."

"You'd always fall asleep mid-sentence." You both laugh to yourselves, then South moves to climb into the bed next to you. "But I get you to myself tonight." South kisses your lips, then rolls on top of you, pressing you against the bed. "Any objections to that, sweetheart?"

"None at all," you tease, tapping his nose lightly. "Not a single one."

Kanji Mochizuki - The Planner

"Say bye-bye!"

"Buh-bye!"

"Bye! Love you!" You both wave at your three-year-old son, smiling and watching him leave with your mother-in-law. As soon as the car pulls off, Mochi shuts the door and turns to you, his eyes softening as you lean against the wood.

"What?" you wonder as he slowly advances on you, cupping both cheeks and kissing you gently. "What is it, babe?" Mochi leans his forehead against yours, sighing tenderly.

"Some alone time..." he murmurs, nuzzling your nose before kissing you again. "This week has been hell."

"It has," you echo, feeling the need to relax pulling at your body. "Maybe we should--"

"I've already got a plan," Mochi smiles, pulling back. "Let me just go get things ready." You wait patiently as he walks away, a little pep in his step as he goes to fetch his things. You watch him go from the bedroom to the main bathroom, bath water running in the background. You hear him hiss sharply once, but other than that, it seems like he's gotten things under control.

"Alright, come on in," he calls out, and you step into the bathroom, which is somehow transformed into an oasis. The lights are off and there are candles scattered about, all boasting the same scent of freshness and a hint of... coconut? "Your bath awaits," Mochi smiles, waving to the tub. You shed your garments and step into the not-too-hot bath, sighing as you sink into the water.

Mochi kneels by the tub, observing as you get comfortable with his tender gaze. "Talk to me about your week," he breathes, and you perk up. It's not that Mochi never asks you to talk to him; sometimes, you just don't have the energy to. But now that you're alone, you launch into the good, the bad, and the ugly about the work week. Mochi sits by the tub, resting his elbows on the edge and listening intently. And as you wrap up the events, he pushes his sleeves back and dips his hands into the water.

"Sounds like some interesting stuff happened," he murmurs, taking your leg and kneading it between his hands.

"Wasn't like it was all avoidable," you muse. "But it was a really weird set of events." You cock your head to the side. "What about your week?"

"What about my week?" the black-haired man wonders. "I really didn't do as much as you did."

"Come on," you urge him, flexing your foot. "There has to be something interesting about your week."

"Nah," Mochi replies softly. "You have it worse off; I can guarantee it. But I hope this makes it a little better." You cup his cheek and lean forward to kiss him, leaving bubbles on his face.

"You always make my days better, Mochi." Mochi kisses your ankle, then places the leg back in the water. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

"I'll second that."

Keizo Arashi - Holds the Fort Down

"Mommy's coming home soon!" Keizo's only son runs down the stairs, throwing his arms up in the air. His daughter, who turned a year old two weeks ago, peers around her father's shoulder to look at her sibling, frowning.

"Yeah," Keizo murmurs, scrubbing at the counter. "Mommy's been doing a lot of work lately.

"You don't work, do you, Daddy?" his son wonders, stopping his running to do a brief pull-up on the kitchen island.

"You know I work," Keizo responds, handing the tyke a toy truck lying on the ground. "That's why you go to school and Celia goes to daycare. Put that away before mommy comes home." The boy speeds off, running back up the stairs to toss it into his toy box. Keizo turns around, the baby strapped to his chest going with him as he cleans around the house. Spotless. The entire house has to be spotless before you arrive, that way Keizo can do what he does best, which is spend precious time with you.

You wouldn't feel obligated to do anything except put your feet up, watch TV with him, then let him take the reins while he got the kids ready for bed.

The back door opens just in time, and his son comes running down the stairs, arms wide open to greet his mother.

"Hey!" you laugh, grabbing your child in a hug. "How was the day at school, sweetie?" Your son recounts the day's events as Keizo and your daughter come around the corner, one of them looking much more exhausted than the other. "Hey, little momma," you coo, kissing her cheeks. "Been good today?"

"It was a good day at daycare," Keizo fills you in, leaning in for a kiss. You hold him close and kiss him twice, smiling widely.

"Good to hear." You jiggle your baby's leg before setting your purse down. "The house looks spotless," you mention, eyes wandering around the space. "Did you...?"

"Take the night off," Keizo offers, delivering a quick tap to your behind. "I've got this."

But Keizo really didn't have it. As he tries - for the third time - to get your youngest to sleep, you watch on. Celia cries loudly, her body vibrating against Keizo's as he tries to shush her while bouncing on the balls of his feet and lightly tapping her back.

"I can get her," you mouth, but Keizo shakes his head.

"I've got this. You go get ready for bed. I'll be there soon."

Forty minutes later, you reemerge from the bedroom, wondering where your husband is. You find him in the nursery, fast asleep in the chair with Celia on his chest. You tenderly pick your child up before placing her in the crib, then rouse Keizo. He awakens with a start, but you put your finger to your lips and move out of the nursery, holding his hand.

"Can't believe I fell asleep," he yawns. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you respond, sitting on the bed. "It's been a long day, huh?"

"Brahman's taking a lot of energy out of me, but I'll get the hang of it. This and the kids." You nod, kissing his cheek softly.

"That's all we could ask for." Keizo brings your hands to his lips, kissing your wrists before sighing and resting them on his chest.

"Wanted to spend some time with you... Kids keep getting in the way," he mumbles, yawning again. "You want to talk about your day?"

"Not really," you whisper, reaching over to pat his cheek. "You need some sleep. I'll catch you in the morning, though. Maybe we can catch up then." But Keizo's eyes are already shutting as he holds you against him, his breath evening out while you both find relaxation in the quiet, peaceful night.