#but i want to move away from it

[lotus-pear]

mourning black and the death of ideals

[notherpuppet]

I’ve never had a big following before and it’s really important to me to try to use the platform I have to promote harm reduction:

@ the U.S. followers I have; VOTE HARRIS

[mylittleredgirl]

when i hear "found family" in relation to an ensemble of fictional characters in media there's two different things that could be happening here.

often it's what i think of as forced family, which is like "i found myself in a situation with these people" but a key part of the trope is that, like most families of origin, they're stuck with each other and can't leave without taking extreme action. voyager's "found family" is a forced family. i'm watching m*a*s*h now and it seems that way too. in both cases there's an outside constraint where you literally cannot escape these people and so grow to love them as a result, often in a codependent or unhealthy way but you are closer to them than you will ever be to anyone who did not share this experience. you would sell some of them to satan for one corn chip but god help any outsider who tries to break you up or even understand the situation. sometimes you get lucky and there's a person or two in there that you would choose to spend every day with regardless of circumstance (but would you really? can you even tell for sure??). but also it's "i will never ever speak to you again as long as i live but i'm really bored so can you give me a ride to the 7-11 first."

meanwhile chosen family is more like star trek the next generation where they are placed in this group at random but there's no hostage element to it. any one of them could request a transfer at any time, but they never will because this community and group of people have become an inseparable part of their identity. in both cases they'd saddle up and risk their lives to save each other forever at any personal cost ("not to me, not if it's you") but forced family also contains the element of "i'll fucking do it but christ alive." not every ensemble fits into one or the other but i think it's fun to distinguish as a concept.

[zan0tix]

found this and thought youd like to know since i saw that one dirkjake post

TY FOR THE ASK AND IMAGE HAHA FINALLY GOT THE WILL TO DRAW THIS. ignore how bad the composition is i couldnt figure out how to fill the negative space. dw abt it. But im glad ppl liked this idea so much LOL dirkjake are soo good at pretending about shit theres no way they arent doing silly over the top roleplay shenanigans.

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 1 | AU/future

lil ghostic au of mine!!! yuzuru and the rest of fine are long since trapped souls in an abandoned mansion of which rst come across while looking for shelter during a storm :] it doesnt um. particularly end well

[incesthemes]

see but when dean tells sam he's not going to leave him to die to the croatoan virus, that he's going to die with him, he locks the door from the inside and then steps away from it. there's nothing stopping sam from getting up and forcing dean out of the door, locking him out so dean can't get back in with him. yet sam just sits on the bench, arguing with words but not with actions, never actions. he lets dean stay with him, he lets dean lock the door, he lets dean settle in. and all the while sam is pleading with him, don't do it don't kill yourself too just let me die, but he doesn't do anything about it. he doesn't do anything but sit there and let dean be with him. his actions contradict his words. do you see? he was moved. he was grateful to be so loved. he didn't actually want dean to die in that hospital room with him, but he didn't actually want dean to abandon him there to die alone, either.

[tricoufamily]

if you're wondering why bob is here it's bc in the original villareal story there was a very minor background detail that diego lobo and bob pancakes dated in college and broke up tragically and that's where the story peaked. so i included him it's still canon

thank you for these it was so fun!!!!!!!!!!!!

i did these in my this is the fall sim style so i'm thinking. if they exist in this universe what's all their opinions on the 'did jacques do it' situation. let's take a look

don: saw a photo of jacques's wife on the news during the investigation. said "whoa mama that's a hot babe!" like johnny bravo and did not read the headline. does not know anything about it still.

vlad: well he's psychic he could figure out the truth if he actually cared. and he has!

olive: obviously respects it. except for the getting investigated part, would never happen to her.

diego: does not think jacques did it but enjoys the tabloids. knows other rich people personally who he thinks have killed their spouses

morgyn: will post things like "friendly reminder that j*cques v*llareal literally killed his wife and is a billionaire so maybe don't go to one of their hotels" on tumblr and will then do a call out post about like a fanfic writer who wrote an unhealthy relationship with more severity

pascal: knows conspiracy theories and this one is bullshit. or maybe it just doesn't interest him as much as aliens and that's why he thinks that

jeb: has a very "well of course he did. them rich folk can do whatever they want. there ain't no hope for the rest of us" while kicking a can down the road approach

bob: thinks he did it. is very alarmed that it was brushed off. eliza's like bob book the hotel and he's like am i going crazy. does anyone hear me.

[ravi-is-my-beloved]

I still can't believe Eddie's way of getting Buck out of his bed in season three was to just drop Chris at Buck's loft and be like "You can't hide in your bed all day since Chris is here, have fun at the amusement park!" And then he just... left for work.

He's only known Buck for like a year (at the most) at that point, yet he really took Buck's positive response to "You can have my back anyway" as a promise. He was so sure that Buck wouldn't crawl back into bed after he left and Buck truly did try his best to make sure Chris was safe when the tsunami hit.

Like say what you want about whether or not you think Eddie and Buck are platonic or more than that, but you can't deny that they just clicked and they clicked so fast.

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea… more of a mini fic 108

Dani is melting in front of Danny’s eyes and Danny is panicking. He reveals that he and Dani are halfas. Begging his parents to help stabilize Dani. That he couldn’t watch her melt away. his parents don’t take it well. Chasing him out of the lab.

He barley got Dani and him out with minimum injuries.

Danny had no access to proper supplies, and risks going to vlad.

Offering to be the perfect son if he saves Dani. Making him promise she would be safe and stable. Telling him all that happened. That his mom wouldn’t accept him, she didn’t even accept Danny.

He has a bad feeling when vlad eye flash red and he agrees.

After a few test the fruitloop announces he got the dna necessary to stabilize her. That he will easily synthesize the necessary components. But he wouldn’t hand over the cure unless Danny proved what he said. That he was capable of following orders and being the perfect son.

He was Holding a vial of some liquid. Telling Danny to drink it.

Vlad wouldn’t kill him right?

So he drinks the mysterious liquid. Last thing he heard was that when he wakes up he and his sister would be safe. Which confused him. Why was Jazz involved.

When he woke up things were too big. Why was everything so big? Looking around they were in a cage… on with no roof. Then he saw Dani. Dani was small. Tiny a mere toddler. Maybe 5 at the most. Wait. No no no. He was the same size.

Vlad: i hear you’re awake little badger. How unfortunate. I was hoping to move the three of us before hand. It’s not as if you’ll remember any of this. I was planning on erasing it once we were across.

Vlad was standing in front of a portal. Not his ghost portal. One separated and with a deficient design.

Vlad: this dimension simply isn’t safe for my little family. I recently recorded an artifact that will allow us to jump dimensions. One time use unfortunately. With no stable portal not even your allies will find us.

Yea. No. That’s not happening. Danny didn’t agree to be turned into a toddler. Nor loose his memories.

He wasn’t going with the fruitloop. He just had to phase out of here. He couldn’t get himself to fully phase. Only a hand.

Vlad who hadn’t even looked up from the now glowing portal: “even you should have realized your powers aren’t working. It’s why i needed more dna samples. To fix both my children. Far to young, body’s to frail to handle them all. You’ll slowly grow into them.”

The fruitloop finally turned to face him and Dani. Approaching them. Picking them up. Did he really just pick him up?

No.

This was not okay with Danny. So he started hitting, kicking and squirming. All while Dani stayed asleep.

Vlad: Daniel behave. Act more like your sister. The portal is only one way trip. You wouldn’t want to be left behind now would you.

The fruitloop was only getting close to the portal. He had to act.

One way trip… Act more like his sister. Act like Dani.

So.

He hit the man as hard as he could. Until the man let go and essentially threw them to the ground oh so close to this new dimension. He didn’t have time to think.

They were so close to the portal.

He just grabbed Dani chucked his shoe at vlad to unbalance the man and fell through the portal.

**

Jonathan and Martha Kent certainly weren’t expecting two toddlers to fall out of the sky into their field. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time they took in two children.

Their oldests could do with some younger siblings.

Even if they did have to coax the two twins?siblings? inside with pie later that night.

[almea]

"So would you say he caught you unarmed?"

[valyrfia]

hi i came here from thearchercore where they said that you think there seem to be friendship cliques forming around the paddock as of late like carlando vs. lestappen. i've seen these divides between fans but what makes you think there's also that divide between drivers?

I wouldn't call them friendship cliques. More....workplace alliances regarding the way F1 is going and the way F1 should go.

(Full disclaimer. This is a theory of grid dynamics that's been brewing for a little while in my head and I've only really bounced it off people in dms so far, so feel free to critique or refine it.)

Now, why would these two camps clash? Apart from interpersonal reasons (power struggles at any of the teams for example, I think any of the drivers listed racing or PR would resent being labelled as the team's n2 driver), F1 itself as a sport is at a crossroads. We're seeing the obvious effect of DTS in popularising the sport and making these athletes world-famous. In the past, only the world champions really became world-renowned. Now, most drivers are massive social media stars, or even proper A-list celebrities in their own right (Daniel at the Met Gala, for example). This one one hand is brilliant for the sport, because it brings more attention and eyes, and F1 becomes far more popular than it ever has been in the past. Liberty media especially is fond of this, as it brings in more profit for them.

However, in a lot of ways quintessential aspects of racing are lost via appealing to the masses. We see this in the removal of traditional purpose-built tracks in the calendar to make way for street races, in team line ups prioritising the PR-friendliness of a driver much more than before. The question of can the individual personalities of these drivers be sold is now a much bigger factor when considering a line up now than it was even ten years ago.

Since the question of racing vs. PR is raging in F1 in general right now, I think there's natural battle lines being drawn up in the paddock at the moment, that seem to fall along drivers which prioritise racing results over PR, and drivers that rely on PR/sponsors to boost their image without the racing results to necessarily back it up. Let's call them the racing clique vs. the PR clique for simplification.

Furthermore, I think these battlelines are drawn between teammates more often than not. So for example, I'd say Oscar tends to fall into the racing clique, Lando the PR clique (because let's be frank, his level of hype in British media especially WITHOUT a grand prix win is a little ridiculous). Likewise, if we consider our once and future RBR teammate pair, Max is the racing, Daniel the PR.

Ferrari is a little trickier because Charles is a PR mastermind and plays the PR game well in order to manipulate public perception about him. However, I will say that above all Charles has a fair estimation of his own abilities, an incredible racing IQ, and a sharp hunger to win that shines through despite the scrupulous Ferrari PR training (lest we forget the origin of the Il Predestinato name). For this reason, I think I place him in the racing camp. Considering the way that the Sainz camp uses leaks, well-timed sympathy posts, and Carlando to boost the public perception of Carlos's racing ability, I would place Carlos in the PR camp.

There are also other natural flash tensions between these people, but from Lando and Daniel distancing themselves from Max post his Vegas derogatory comments (@tsarinablogs has written some good thinkpieces on this), to the Ferrari civil war (as currently being chronicled by @thearchercore, along with some pretty good evidence as to McLaren trying to copy Ferrari's contract renewal hype, which further puts Lando and Charles into conflict). I don't think the happy go lucky Landoscar dynamic will survive McLaren being a competitive car, especially if Oscar wins a grand prix before Oscar.

There are faultlines and flashpoints forming in the paddock, and I think that especially with the incoming silly season, this question of PR vs. racing when picking drivers will be thrown into haut relief and that'll serve to only heighten the natural and/or pre-existing tensions between these two different groups of people.

[frogbians]

...and guess who's once again been forgetting to post finished commissions here whoops. thanks to all who commissioned this time!

1: for lemurfeature on twitter

2: for a user who didn't want to be tagged

3: for MadMaxnie on twitter

4: for another user who doesnt want to be tagged | 5: for OverseerOrm on twitter

6: for @azushark | 7: for @espeonkin

8: for Reedrilll on twitter

[sealbuffed]

💢repressing compulsion💢

[merakiui]

Absolutely love the possessive ex Scaramouche ramble in tags, please feed us more of that.

Gladly!! :D

(cw: yandere, extremely toxic ex scara, modern au, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, coercion, obsession, forced marriage, violent/suicidal threats, manipulation, mentions of intoxication/alcohol, implied self-harm)

The two of you were what everyone calls ‘high school sweethearts.’ You met him in the cafeteria when the both of you were first years. Despite the scowl etched on his face, he looked lonely sitting all by himself while everyone was finding tables, old and new friends gathering in groups. He’d ignored you, even scooting further away when you’d attempt to move closer. Even though he seemed so averse to you, you remained, silently eating your lunch. Neither of you said anything, but you did introduce yourself. He scoffed under his breath.

You started to sit next to him for every lunch, and he continued to give you the silent treatment. You never pressed him for conversation, instead choosing to enjoy silence while you ate and admired him from the sidelines. He never looked at you, always facing forwards and toying with his chopsticks, bending them so far until they were ready to snap. Eventually, he seemed to grow accustomed to this routine because many weeks into the semester he turned to address you.

“Why do you always sit by me? Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think anyone’s as mysterious as you are.”

“‘Mysterious…’ Yeah, whatever.”

That seemed to be the catalyst because, as sardonic as he was, he’d begun talking to you. And it wasn’t long until he started to warm up to you every lunch until the both of you were exchanging lighthearted banter. Your friendship would only grow from this point onwards until, at the end of your first year during a study session to prepare for finals, where you were both pulling an all-nighter at your house, he’d asked you out. And you said yes, and the both of you had gone from best friends to lovers within the span of a year. The both of you were each other’s first partner, so it made doing things as a couple even more exciting because neither of you had any experience with dates or holding hands or kissing.

Kuni wasn’t a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was very loyal and sweet. He’d stand up for you if anyone was being rude to you or scrutinizing your relationship with hateful eyes. The two of you were nearly inseparable. When you weren’t spending time together in school, you were out doing things together. And when you couldn’t meet up in person, you’d text or call, sometimes talking late into the evening about all sorts of things. You were so immersed in him that you failed to notice the red flags slowly raising over time. But looking back there were a few notable ones.

He never invited you to his house. In fact, you’d never even met his parents, whereas he’d been to your home so often that your family practically became his own. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his family, and if you tried to suggest going to his house for dinner so that he could introduce you to them he was quick to change the subject. For a while you’d push this, more curious than concerned, but eventually you’d drop it when it became clear that he wasn’t going to divulge anything on the matter. That had stung, but you snuffed those feelings in favor of focusing on other aspects of your relationship.

The second red flag was just how clingy he became when the both of you were in your third year, having been together for two solid years. You never noticed it before because you loved him, but when friends had pointed out how attached he seemed—and it was to rather unhealthy levels, according to their observations—to the point where you were the only person he’d ever formed a bond with while at school you started to see the cracks in what felt like the perfect relationship. He’d text you every single day, at every single hour, all the time. He’d call you nonstop, even more so when you didn’t immediately pick up.

The third red flag coincided with the second. When you couldn’t make it to your phone, he was quick to blame himself and those around him for being responsible for your deteriorating relationship. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Did those guys bother you again? They probably told you some stupid shit about me, right? Don’t listen to them. Hey, you’re not mad, right? Call me back. I need to talk to you. Just text me when you can, okay? (Name), please don’t leave me. I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Just promise you’ll stay. Messages of these kinds were what you could expect to receive from him. He’d fluctuate between self-loathing to loathing those around him within seconds, shoving blame onto classmates who’d bully him for being that “weird emo kid with too many piercings” and anyone else who tried to, in his words, “come between you and me.”

By the end of your third year, you started to fall out of love. He was so very dedicated to this relationship, evidenced by how much effort and care he’d put into it, but his clingy behavior was stifling. You’d lost some of your own friends because he chased them away, and it felt like you couldn’t do anything without him breathing down your neck. If you wanted to go anywhere with a friend or two, Kuni had to be there to accompany you. If you looked at another for too long, he’d think you were cheating. If you didn’t text or call him at certain times, if you failed to pick up, or—Archons forbid—you left him on seen, he’d spiral.

Kuni had this habit of sounding dangerously self-destructive when he feared you were being unfaithful or he thought you were going to break up with him, which meant you’d have to sit on the phone for hours convincing him that you loved him, that you’d never leave him, that you’d always be here for him, that you were sorry for not responding, that he needs to calm down and please, please, please don’t do anything rash. Those phone calls were always so stressful. You cried a lot; you’d beg him to put the knife away when he’d threaten to use it on himself, on you, on anyone who might try to take you from him. And, after a few hours of this, he’d be back to his usual self, as if a switch had been flipped. You could hear his adoring smile in his voice when he spoke, when he’d lovingly whisper into the phone, “I’m happy you’re mine. I love you so much.” And you’d shakily parrot the affirmation, too frazzled to say or do anything else.

One of your best friends Rosalyne, who you’d befriended in the midst of all of this, had been so supportive the minute you spilled the truth to her. Kuni hated her the most because she wasn’t afraid of him. Because she’d shut him down when he tried to pull you away from her. Because she wouldn’t approve of any of his toxicity. Rosalyne would take you on shopping sprees, brunch dates, and jogs at the local park. She was plenty of good to outshine Kuni’s bad, and the more time you spent with her the clearer your head would become. The both of you had plenty of sleepovers together, and she let you rant your heart out while she listened. She’d tell you to break up with him, but you’d agonized over how terrifying that would be. You couldn’t bear to tell Kuni the truth—that you wanted to separate because things had turned so rotten—because you were so scared. Scared of him and what he might do.

Scared that if he really did take a blade to himself it would be your fault. He told you that a lot. That it would be your fault if he did anything. That his blood would be on your hands. You believed him every time.

By your final year, you’d already had a plan for university outlined and you’d started applying to a few in advance. You never told Kuni about any of them because you worried he might apply to each one in hopes of going to the same school as you. And when there was the dance for the graduating class and Kuni had asked you to it, you’d told him you were going with Rosalyne and a few other friends as a group. He didn’t like this, as expected, but you’d been so sick of him and his behaviors that you snapped and spilled everything to him. You’ll never forget the look on his face when you told him that you were done with the relationship and that you never wanted to see him again.

He looked as if he could lunge at you and tear you to bloody ribbons at any moment.

You graduated single and so very refreshed, and your summer had been filled with friends. Kuni didn’t message you at all, which was surprising considering you were certain he’d spam you relentlessly after the break-up. But he never did. In fact, you never saw him again. Graduation had come and gone, and now that you could recover from such a terrible relationship he was becoming less of a burden for you. For a while you were anxious. You kept expecting to receive a phone call or to see some news about Kuni, but neither ever came. Rosalyne told you to stop thinking about him. It would only make you even more paranoid and that wouldn’t do your mental health any good. You were so grateful to have her in your life, but most importantly you were glad Kuni failed to scare her away.

Now you’re a second year in college and things have only gotten so much better for you. You and Rosalyne still keep in touch despite going to different schools. She’d gone to a university in Snezhnaya, while you enrolled in one in Sumeru, and you’ve blotted Kuni from your mind. You’ve made a fresh group of friends while attending classes: criminal justice major Shikanoin Heizou, creative writing major Kaedehara Kazuha, musical therapy major Venti, botany major Tighnari, and so many more wonderful people who have all welcomed you into their circles.

So when Venti drags a familiar face to your usual weekend outing, which is really just a retreat to the forest for drinking and smoking, creeping cold settles into your bones. He looks awkward with Venti’s arm slung around him as the more bubbly of the two drags him towards the bonfire, where you sit with the others roasting marshmallows for s’mores, and it’s a look that is so uncharacteristic on him. What’s even weirder is how friendly everyone greets him—as if they all know him—and you’re completely lost when they turn to you and ask if you’ve met Kunikuzushi.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, forcing a pleasant smile and extending your hand for a stiff handshake, which Venti snickers at. “No, I’ve never met him before.”

Apparently, he’s in one of Venti’s classes—it’s a course he’s taking solely because he needs the credits. Tighnari knows him because they usually work the same shifts at the campus café. Kazuha knows him from his linguistics and philosophy classes. Heizou’s ate with him in the dining hall plenty of times now and they’re also taking the same psychology class. It feels so genuine and yet so fake at the same time. Too perfectly manufactured to be a mere coincidence. But you do your best to push past these suspicions, and when he sits across from you, smiling at you and saying how nice it is to meet you, the warping flames paint his face in devilish shadows. That’s what you think he is when he acts like a completely different person from how he was when you dated: a devil who’s good at being kind and outgoing, noisy and abrupt, and always so foul-mouthed, but in a way that makes him charming. Your friends are so enthralled. They love him and his sense of humor. They love his quick wit. They love how fun he is. And suddenly weekends spent in the forest aren’t so enjoyable.

You do your best to overcome your doubts. For a few months you’re on edge. How he even found you is a mystery. Surely he wouldn’t stalk you and enroll in the same college just to get revenge or…whatever vengeance he wants from you. But when he treats you to coffee, when he brings you and the others pastries every other morning, when he invites the lot of you to study at the library, when he tells the funniest stories while crossed and everyone’s giggling like schoolgirls it really feels like he’s…healthier. Like he’s turned a fresh page in his life and is starting anew. Like he’s changed for the better.

Perhaps he just doesn’t remember you. You’ve changed your style over the years, so it’s possible he’s simply forgotten your image and can’t place memories to your name. Eventually, after soothing yourself with these theories, you begin to accept his presence in the group. He fits in so flawlessly, as if he’s a missing piece to the puzzle, and you can’t believe you’re admitting this, but you like this version of Kuni. He’s confident, not cocky. He’s kind, not rude. He gives everyone space. In fact, he rarely texts frequently in the group chat. And he’s funny! He’s so funny. You don’t think the Kuni from your past was ever as funny as the Kuni who regales everyone with lighthearted stories of how he once took in a stray cat that turned out to belong to his neighbor or how his old job had the strangest customers.

Maybe he truly did change. Maybe all of these coincidences really are coincidences. Maybe it’s for the best that you leave the past in the past.

Finals season looms, and the group hasn’t had time to meet up outside of class. Venti has tried to persuade everyone to come study at his apartment. His roommate won’t care (yes, he will. Xiao hates it when everyone gets blackout drunk and he has to wake everyone come morning), but if you’ve known Venti long enough you’ll know there is no studying that happens at these study sessions. This is probably the reason why he’s had to repeat a year.

With everyone’s schedules packed with academics, it’s difficult to find a time where everyone can get together to study. You think you might just be better off studying on your own, but Kuni’s message of you wanna pull an all-nighter for these lame af finals together?? accompanied with a photo of snacks and coffee, any thoughts of studying alone instantly vanish.

This is how you find yourself in his dorm, sprawled on his bed while he sits on the floor, whacking your dangling feet when they get too close to him. His roommate Albedo is currently out tutoring a few students at the library and won’t be back until much later, so it’s just you, Kuni, and a pile of textbooks and notes. You’ve hung out with Kuni a few times and he was great company during each. You’ve also fallen asleep in his dorm before, when you’d come over to binge a show the both of you enjoy, and you’d lost track of time and had slipped into a dream halfway through the marathon. You’d woken the next morning with Kuni looming over you, grinning deviously and holding an uncapped marker. He’d leaned down and whispered, “You drool in your sleep,” and you’d swatted at him and groused about how you were sleeping so peacefully when he just had to ruin your sleep (and your face) with his antics. And then there was that time when you were so drunk at that one party and you could hardly stand, he’d been there to help. He even stayed with you for the rest of that night, offering his assistance when you became nauseous or needed water or a snack until you passed out.

Despite your initial apprehensions, you consider him a friend. He’s no one nearly as close as Rosalyne or your other friends. He’s just a mutual friend, someone you’ll spend time with when you feel like it, but you don’t truly need him in your life. That, and part of you still struggles to trust him after all of the stress and unhealthy obsession he subjected you to.

“Kuni,” you whine, lifting your head from the textbook. “Can you get me some water? I’m thirsty.”

“Do I look like your maid?” he snaps, immersed in organizing his notes. “Get it yourself.”

“I’m picturing it now and you’re in a frilly dress and—”

“Forget I asked.” Setting his notebook down with an exaggerated sigh, he crosses the distance to the mini fridge and withdraws a bottle of water.

Grinning, you slide off of his bed and reach for it with a grateful hum. He smirks and takes a step back, holding it away from you.

“Seriously…”

Rolling your eyes, you lunge for it and he side-steps you with the practiced grace of a cat. You brace yourself against the wall and swipe at him. Again, he dodges, unscrewing the cap and shaking the bottle teasingly.

“I think I’ll take a sip for myself. All of this studying has left me so parched.”

“No fair! That’s mine!”

“Is it?” He pulls it away from his lips to observe the bottle and feigns surprise. “That’s weird. I don’t see your name on it.”

“Look closer!” you exclaim, but just as he’s about to humor you you pounce, tackling him to the ground—there’s a beanbag cushion that breaks your fall—and the water spills all over the both of you in the midst of the tumble. A slew of colorful words stick in Kuni’s throat and your laughter rings out melodiously. You seize his wrist and hold it down while reaching for the bottle in his other hand, where there’s still some water left. He struggles halfheartedly, relinquishing the bottle with a disinterested scoff, and you pull away from him to down what’s left.

While crushing the plastic bottle into a ball, you notice something on your palm—the palm that had grabbed Kuni’s wrist—and it takes a minute before the skin tone-colored substance registers in your mind.

Concealer.

You peer at him and notice that he’s cradling his arm, and confusion sprouts.

“So funny,” he spits with a hollow laugh. “You owe me a new beanbag if this one’s ruined.”

“Hey, hold on. What’s with the—”

“Forget it. You got your water, so let’s get back to studying. Or do you no longer want to be a perfect student?”

Without thinking, you grab his arm as he’s standing and when you look at his forearm you can see where the water’s started to wash the concealer away. Curiously, you scrub at it while he tries to yank his arm away, but when you unearth a dozen scars littering his wrist and climbing the length of his arm that creeping cold from before returns.

And suddenly you’re brought back to those phone calls—the ones where he’d threaten suicide and murder—and you stumble back as if you’ve been burned, half-expecting to hear those threats once more. Kuni’s staring at his wrist, his features twisted in grim disapproval, and for a moment you think he looks…hurt. Or maybe that’s sadness you see. Whatever emotion it was, it doesn’t linger because a quiet chuckle slips past his lips, and the sound is so very frigid it has your blood crystallizing.

“It really hurt when you said you never wanted to see me again.” Kuni peers down at you, and his eyes that had once been so bright and filled with light are dull and dark. “But nothing hurts more than loving you.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words won’t come. You’re rooted to the ground, horror slinking through your body and rendering you immovable. Your heart is in your throat, pounding so loudly it’s practically a drum, and a cold sweat washes over you.

“Each time I found myself hating you, I thought it was odd because I love you so much. I can’t possibly hate the one I’ve loved all this time.” He scowls. “But loving you hurts. Loving you feels like chewing glass and drinking poison. Loving you isn’t fair because while you moved forward with your ‘friends,’ I was forced to stay behind and pick up the pieces of what was left of you. So for every moment I couldn’t stand you, I tallied it on myself so that I’ll never forget the times I loved you so much I hated you.”

This can’t be happening, you’re thinking, curling your hands into trembling fists. He changed. He changed, right? This isn’t the same Kuni from before. This isn’t…

“And when I saw how well you seemed to be doing without me, I hated you even more.” Without warning, he’s grabbed your arm and hoisted you up. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes—not that anything could when he’s pulled a switchblade from his pocket and poised the pointed tip at your jugular. “You have poor taste in friends. Those guys suck.”

Tutting, he shakes his head at you like a parent might when scolding a child, and says, “Do you know how fucking tiring it was pretending? You think I care about pastries and stupid campfire stories? You really think I’d ever want to associate myself with that sorry lot?”

“K-Kuni, please let go of me. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were—I’m sorry. So please just…”

“And then the first time you see me after all these years apart and you had the gall to lie to my face! ‘I’ve never met him before.’ Bullshit. You just didn’t want any of your loser friends to know our history, right? Because you’re ashamed to have known me, right?”

“That’s not it! I… I was just—I didn’t… I was… I just…”

“I… I… I…” he mocks, shoving you down onto the beanbag. It dips under the sudden weight, and you sink further into it when he points the blade at you. “Stop tripping over your tongue. I should be the one near tears! You cast me aside and then forgot all about me. You abandoned me when I needed you most.” His voice cracks at that last sentence, and your heart skips erratically.

“That’s not what happened! We needed space. I needed space. You were being too—” You stop yourself, unsure of how to phrase it. Too controlling? Too dangerous? Too scary?

“Lucky for you, I’m willing to overlook these past...slights.” The blade twirls effortlessly in his grasp, and you heave a relieved breath when he’s no longer pointing it in your direction. “Marry me and we’ll forget all about the past. We’ll start over.”

His demand almost stops your heart altogether. You stare up at him, mouth agape, and mumble a disbelieving, “What?”

“You heard me.” He seems to soften with his next words, and for a moment he looks and sounds like the Kuni who hangs out with you and your friends. The harmlessly fun Kuni who always takes such good care of you. “You’re the only one I’ll ever love, so let’s get married.”

“K-Kuni, I can’t... I really can’t...”

Within seconds the blade has found itself on his wrist, pressing into delicate flesh. Not enough to cut, but if he applies more force you’ll definitely see blood. You choke on a horrified gasp.

“What was that?” He raises his brow at you, challenging you with a calm smile.

Your mind reels in an effort to conjure a plan. What can you even do? If you take the blade from him, will he turn his anger on you? Will you have to wrestle him into submission? And if you do manage to get out of his dorm, will anyone believe you? He’s painted himself in such a pleasant light. Your friends love and trust him! So what can you say? And if there isn’t any solid proof, no one will even entertain bringing the authorities into this mess.

“I’m waiting, (Name). Are you really going to make me add another tally? Do you really want me to hate you again? Oh, but maybe I should start marking you! We can add a slice for each time you failed to love me. That way we’ll both look like used cutting boards.”

You need help, you want to say, but the words escape you.

Instead, you nod hastily and say breathlessly, “Okay, yes! I’ll marry you!” Swallowing your horror, you glance at the blade as it’s lifted from his skin. Thankfully, there isn’t a cut. “I... I’ll marry you, Kuni. So... So please don’t hurt yourself. Please.”

It feels like you’ve been strangled for an eternity, so when he finally pockets the blade the air in your lungs returns and you collapse against the beanbag, chest rising and falling in short, panicked breaths. 

“Good.” He bends down to your height, grips your chin with cold fingers, and forces you to meet his adoring stare. “We’ll look at rings tomorrow. Or maybe you’d prefer bracelets instead? I can be flexible but only for you, so you’d better be grateful.”

You swallow rising bile and nod. “T-Thank you.” You’re not sure why you’re thanking him when he hardly deserves it, but it feels like the right thing to say to ease the tension.

Kuni’s eyes sparkle, no longer a void of endless darkness, and when he leans in to capture your lips in his your heart sinks. You really can’t run from your past, can you?

[mickeym4ndy]

I can’t stop thinking about a fanfic idea where Mickey does 8 years in prison after season 5 as planned, and when he gets out he moves to whatever city Svetlana and Yev live in, determined to move on with his life.

And then 8 years later when Yev is like 17, they’re all back in Chicago for a few days because Yevs got a big soccer game or something for school. Anyway they lose the game. So afterwards, him & his friends sneak out of the hotel and end up getting into a fight with the other team and one of them gets injured so an ambulance is called.

And Yevgeny isn’t hurt or anything, just a black eye and bruised knuckles. So he can’t figure out why the red headed paramedic keeps looking at him like the guy has seen a ghost.

But then, his mom and dad arrive, ready to cuss him out for being so stupid. And Yev notices his dad and the paramedic look at each other with that same stricken expression that the red head was wearing earlier, and he starts to piece it together.

And so 16 years after Ian and Mickey’s break-up, Yevgeny meets his dad’s first love and gets to witness their long road back to each other.

[flythesail]

I'm so tired of the way tv is working right now. And it's not working. Seasons are getting shorter, and shows are canceled before they even get a chance to prove themselves. Shows with new concepts often get the worst of it, and it just makes me so sad to think of all the fantastic stories we're losing because of a system that prioritizes profit over the art itself. I want to live with these characters over years. Get to know them and grow with them and not watch as their stories are crammed into six episodes or even worse, go entirely unfinished.