#didn’t know it was a tag lol

[theysaidhush]

Wondering what I’m doing instead of posting ? Crocheting an ugly ass collar for my dog 😭

Flower at the top gave up on life 💀

[glitterfish1272]

scribbled this last night at like 5am 😌 they have infected my brain and I wouldn’t have it any other way

[cartooncrazyart]

Loving the variety in soulmate dynamics so far lol

[image description: 3 sketches of several players from Double Life SMP.

The first is of Impulse and Bdubs, holding each other happily under a banner that says “JUST MARRIED”, holding their left hands up to reveal a green thread hanging between their ring fingers.

The second is of Grian and Scar under the same banner, with Grian staring aghast at the ground as his left arm is pulled by the green thread tied around his wrist. On the other end of the string is Scar, who is walking off happily, arm in the air and his cat, Jellie on his head.

The third is of Scott and Cleo, holding hands defiantly in front of the banner which has been rewritten to now say “JUST DIVORCED”. Scott is holding a chisel-tip marker in his other hand and Cleo is holding scissors in hers, and they both have cut green threads hanging from their wrists. Behind them, Pearl is looking sad and confused, while Martyn shrugs, turned away. End ID]

[why-the-heck-not]

couple weekends ago

[rustyreveries]

happy autism acceptance month!! i doodled salad to celebrate <3

he’s one of the best unintentional autistic reps imo

[crybaby-bkg]

“Are you ever angry?” You ask quietly, head resting in Bakugou’s lap. His thumb pauses where it strokes your cheeks, the far away gaze in his eyes suddenly snapping into focus as he looks down at you. He looks…different than you remembered, before you both were cast out of the pearly gates.

His hair doesn’t shine as bright as it used to, and it falls a little flatter without the halo pulling it up, soft. His eyes still hold that hardened gaze as a battle angel, but they’re deeper now. More sunken in and hollow, the flickering ichor now a stained crimson. His face is scarred and his hands are rough after the fall but he’s just—different.

“About what?” He asks, his lips pursed in confusion. You reach a hand up, stroking over his bottom lip, smooth a hand through his hair. You can almost feel the throbbing light radiating from him, can almost see how broad and ivory his wings would spread and hold you tight to him.

“It all. Everything. The fall.” You whisper, try not to shrink into yourself with the way Bakugou’s lip curls back in disgust. He pulls away from you and you sit up, resting on your knees, looking at him in such a way that his heart pangs in his chest.

His heart, something he’s never had a reason for when he still had his fists bathed in heavenly fire and no ounce of rebellion hidden under sinless skin. It aches in his chest at the mention of life after being kicked out with the only thing he could hold onto—you.

“Why would I miss my thoughtlessness? My inability to make a decision for myself? Why would I miss being a pawn?” Bakugou is all snarls, all snapping teeth and jowls, but it doesn’t scare you. He’s never scared you, even when his gait was limp from the impact of hard soil, and his hands grew rough, and his back grew jagged from ripped feathers.

“I miss it.” You whisper so carefully into the humid night, hands reaching for his own trembling ones. “I want to be holy again, Katsuki.”

He hisses at you, snatching away like you’ve burned him, like you’ve seized his halo and ripped it into two until it split into horns. Looks at you with such heavenly fire burning in his gaze that you want to shrink beneath him.

“Well—well I don’t. Find someone else who will, cause it sure as hell ain’t me.” You wonder who he’s trying to convince here, with his shaky voice and fluttering eyes and trembling mouth. You stare at him for a long while, lips wobbling at the gravity of it all. Your head hangs low, gathering yourself in your arms, head bowed to him—it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

“Just hold me for now.” You murmur, eyes low as you settle yourself in his arms, forcing your way into his hold. “Please?” You tack on, unafraid of his bite, his snarl, his growl. Bakugou sits there stiffly for what feels like a century, but you’re used to waiting.

He gathers you in his arms slowly, pulling you into his chest, his body covering yours completely. And if you let yourself relax enough, you can almost feel the warmth of his wings surrounding you again.

[lvckyuh]

Raymond Holt & Kevin Cozner 80s

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The whole discourse about the privacy/secrecy/support thing has been sitting with me for a few days (I mean other than it always does to a certain degree) thanks to all the excellent discussion happening and I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said a million times before, but I think what we're seeing and what we're going to learn (e.g. from TTPD) is that it wasn't just the support issue, but how it was shown/handled.

We've all gone out of our way to show that introversion =/= lack of support. Someone can be shy, reserved, etc. and still show up for their partner, whether in public or at home. To chalk any of the differences up to the clash between introversion and extroversion is unfair to folks who count themselves among either tbh.

@thisisctrying said something the other day that hit the nail on the head about how if that support had been offered in private, there very well may not have been a Joever to begin with, or at least not at this point in time. (Sorry for loosely paraphrasing, and for namedropping you! Long time listener, first time poster.)

If this were a case where the "shy" partner said, "I am really uncomfortable with the spotlight personally and do not want to court it, but I will support you in your ambitions and offer you whatever you need to make them happen and make the glare bearable," I suspect that would have gone a long way to making Taylor feel seen and comfortable in pursuing her goals in the way that she now has. Again, that might have been more akin to the balance that seemed to have been struck around 2019 from what we can see, but even speaking in a general sense, there are lots of couples out there, celebrity or not, that have similar approaches where there are highly driven people and busy careers involved.

(A famous example being Dolly Parton's marriage. Tbh I know next to nothing about her and Carl, but she's always heralded as an example in this regard, because her husband is famously uncomfortable with the spotlight and hasn't accompanied her to public events in decades, but she's said that she never minded that because that was always work to her, and what was important was that he supported her in pursuing all her career goals and basically ensured she had a place to call home to return to at the end of the day.)

We're kind of in a brave new world with her current relationship because it felt like, at least at the start, we were maybe watching her figure out her boundaries in real time as to what she was comfortable with or not and adjust accordingly. Like so many have said, I fully believe the extreme privacy thing was initially driven by herself and her experiences in 2016, and she needed that quiet time to recover from all of the things and figure out how to exist in the world again.

Stating the obvious, it seemed like eventually privacy was equated with secrecy, turning the relationship and the celebrity into the elephant in the room and something to never be spoken of to the outside world. People are free to choose whatever works best for themselves and their relationships, and for some the separate public lives might work, but the “kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath” theme is all over her work and it’s clear that it’s a sore spot for her, because she’s been made to feel shame just for the life she leads so many times in the past.

What I’m trying to say is that it’s pretty obvious something Not Great was happening behind the scenes, which didn’t just amount to “she wanted to be a public celebrity and he wanted to be a private hermit.” (Also, in case anyone forgot, this is a person who also chose a public-facing career who also has to engage in press for it, but I digress.) As her career reached new heights post-folklore, if she had the support at home to do all the things without judgment and with encouragement, and in turn offer the same support to her partner, she may have very well lived just fine with that, not unlike Dolly Parton’s case.

By reading between the lines in all the press since, as well as comments on tour and general ~vibes~ with TTPD teasers, it seems like one of the issues was that that was likely not the case. There was all the stuff that we saw — the reticence to acknowledge each other in the media (particularly on one side), the lack of public support even at events at which they were both in attendance for their respective jobs, the great lengths they went to not to be photographed together at events they attended yet no problem taking pictures with other friends and coworkers, the jobs that separated them, the withdrawing from the public even for work accomplishments, etc. Which could all be manageable if a couple chooses to do so together and are not inherently a sign of trouble in themselves.

But what we’re seeing now I think is a reflection of the things we weren’t seeing then, and it seems to indicate some very deep hurt. (I know, call me Captain Obvious.) And like so many have been saying, it feels likely that that part of that hurt is rooted in that very lack of private support where a person would expect it from their partner. Obviously as a Taylor fan blog I’m going to be more inclined to understand her side of a story, but tbh, it’s also because… this is sooooooo common, and something I’ve experienced in my friend group. (@taylortruther is right when she says most breakups are the same one way or another lol.)

One partner is resentful of the other’s success, or resentful that the other’s priorities begin to evolve as new experiences unlock new goals, or feels the other’s ambitions are not worthy of pursuit, and coupled with perhaps their own struggles in the same domain, it’s easy to see where that can chip away at the other partner’s morale and faith in the relationship. I know I’m just speculating here, but I also don’t think it’s totally unfounded. (Again, because a) I’m picking up what she’s putting down and b) it happens to sooooooo many women even among us dull normals.)

With all the pointed mentions about how much Taylor feels supported in her current relationship and how she in turn loves to offer the same show of support to not only her partner but other loved ones, how she’s stepped out more in the last year to a whole host of events, how she’s mentioned feeling like she locked herself away for years and she’s just proud of her partner and happy she can show up for him even if the chaos around it is unsettling, it paints a picture of what perhaps was happening before last year.

To feel like you’re all alone in carrying the weight of the relationship (or burden of it), of twisting yourself into knots to accommodate the other person’s boundaries (or insecurities) but not feeling reciprocity for your own has to be so painful. (The idea that it may have been even darker and to have a partner not only be unreceptive to your own needs but even perhaps resentful/dismissive/belittling of them is even more painful to think of. I guess we’ll find out when TTPD comes out if that was the case, too.)

At a certain point, that lack of acknowledgement will force your hand to be able to reclaim yourself. And it feels like the further removed Taylor in particular is from it, the more she moves from being sad about the life she felt she gave up by leaving, to angry at the life she felt she was giving up by staying. Especially being in a relationship now where it seems like everything comes much easier, where she can be open about the person she’s with and show up for them, all the stuff that seemed as challenging as climbing Mount Everest in her past is nothing more than a molehill at best in her current life.

TL;DR: I don’t think it’s privacy that inherently spells doom for a celebrity relationship like this; it’s the mutual support and respect that does. If Taylor had felt that in the later years of her previous relationship, I think we could be seeing a different, though not necessarily unfulfilled, person right now in 2024, who’d be happy on tour but whose personal life would look a little different. But it seems like by losing that support she lost parts of herself, and we’ve seen her reclaim that in spades in the last year, and perhaps to degrees she didn’t even realize she could from before all the Bad Stuff started happening in her young adulthood.

I know this was extremely long-winded and unnecessary, especially about total strangers we only know through scraps fed through the media, but I just always bristle at this idea that issues like these boil down to “personality differences,” as though one person wants to live in a city and the other on a remote island, or some shit like that. The whole support (and gender tbh) issue is one that’s just very close to my heart because again, I have seen it play out with so many of my friends in long term relationships and marriages and I just think people in relationships (and women in particular in some circles) deserve better than to feel like they’re being, well, tolerated.

[raspberrybluejeans]

for no real reason i was just pondering about which is my favorite PC each mcelroy has played in The Adventure Zone.

I can say immediately with pretty much no contest that Taako is my favorite Justin PC. I think you all know how mentally ill I was about Taako. I love Duck and the Firbolg and all the others but i am insane about Taako.

Also pretty much immediately I can say my favorite of Clint’s is Argo. I think Clint mentioned at some point that he put more work into Argo than any other character (this may have been before Ethersea so idk if it’s still true) but I think it shows so much. He was so interesting and I love him and I loved learning about his background and motivations and stuff.

I was a little more torn about Travis because I do love Magnus a lot, but in the end I decided I like Devo the most. I just wish we had gotten to delve into more details about his background and upbringing and stuff and I hope someday when they make the Ethersea sequel we can learn more about him because he is a very interesting character.

I was the most torn about Griffin because I love almost all of his PCs so much. The two other contenders I was really torn about was Errol and Montrose. I was so devastated he didn’t play Errol again in Dust II because I fucking love Errol. Montrose is also such a good character he’s such a freak. But in the end I decided on Fitzroy. My sweet cheese my rotten soldier. I love that stupid bitch

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[jessieren]

Stupid work has distracted me from the important business of Tux Tuesday…

But oh boy is it nice to see all that hotness on my dash 🥰

Normal service will be resumed shortly.

In the meantime here’s someone hot looking extremely smart…. and very hot

[stephantom]

I don’t know what I feel, but loki creating and holding together Yggdrasil after centuries of time-looping and failure and loneliness was not on my bingo card, and it did make me smile sadly in a “yeah wow I guess this could be it” way. Idk cheers I guess

[wyvernne]

III. In which the Holy Knight wins Diluc’s favor

for @mmmairon

read on ao3

The moment you step through the tavern door Diluc levels you with an irritated look. You grin, knocking the door shut with your hip. “That’s quite the way to greet your guests, sir.”

Even from this distance, you can see his jaw working in irritation. Can he smell the blood?

“You look awful,” he says quietly. You make yourself comfortable at the bar, sighing at the ache as you settle down.

Today the Inquisitors were kind enough to personally spar with you, four to one. You didn’t stand a chance. Especially considering half of them wield visions.

“Thanks,” you respond dryly. It’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a few sparse customers spread across the tavern, mostly keeping to themselves. “What’s on special today?”

Diluc sets a glass in front of you. “Water.”

You scoff, flicking the glass with your finger. “Do you think I’m a child?”

“I cannot, in good conscience, give you alcohol when you’ve got wounds like that,” he says firmly.

You lift your head, squinting at him. “How can you tell?”

You already know the answer. He can smell it. Diluc doesn’t take your bait.

He startles you when he reaches out, thumb wiping against your jaw. He pulls away, lifting his hand for you to see. You missed a spot then.

“You’ve got blood all over you. Don’t think I can’t tell the difference between yours and others.” He has immaculate self control, seeing as he merely wipes his hand off with a rag. Waste of a perfectly good snack.

You wince, rubbing your temple. “Diluc, I’m really not—“

There’s a clatter, and you stop short. Diluc motions to the jar he’s just dropped in front of you. “At least put salve on that nasty cut on your temple.”

You’ve got far more than that, really. Those bastards in white didn’t hold back at all.

“Give me a glass of wine first,” you grumble.

Diluc sighs. He’s lucky he’s got a nice face. It’s a miracle he keeps customers at all with that sour attitude of his.

———————————

You’ve had far too much to drink. Charles, in all his infinite kindnesses, has supplemented Diluc’s rather stingy bartending with a generous flow of mixed drinks. It’s only you that Diluc is withholding liquor from, seeing as the tavern has gotten infinitely rowdier as the night has gone on.

Diluc chats idly with a patron at the other end of the bar. It’s hard not to watch him, honestly. It feels like a sin not to. Not when the Divines’ most perfect creation is right in front of you, hair tied back with a black ribbon.

Can ribbons be sensual? They look like it on Diluc. Gods. They’re practically a sex symbol when he wears it. Everything is.

The alcohol has dulled both your thoughts and the pain from the wounds the Inquisitors left behind. Hangover or not, it’s worth it now, when all you need to think about is how good Diluc looks.

Gods, he looks so good.

“Are you alone?” You barely manage to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as a man sidles up beside you. You didn’t come here tonight to look for a partner.

“I’m quite content by myself,” you reply. As if he could draw your attention when Teyvat’s most beautiful being is standing feet away. You turn away, and for a single moment catch Diluc’s gaze. Okay? he mouths.

“Listen,” The man’s hand slides up your back. You swat at him, scoffing. Take a fucking hint. “How about you and I get out of here?”

“Fuck off,” you reply sharply. You’re too drunk to deal with a nuisance like him delicately.

“Don’t be so standoffish,” he coos. You flex your fingers. It’s hard to mitigate your strength when you’re intoxicated, but you have no qualms about sending this bastard flying.

His hand slips to your flank. Enough. You shift back, raising your fist.

You don’t get the chance. It takes you a long moment to realize Diluc has one hand around your wrist and the other yanking the man away from you by the collar.

“If you’re going to bother my patrons, get out,” he says firmly. The tavern falls quiet.

The man laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

Diluc releases him, shifting to block you from his view. His fingers are still clasped around your wrist, but you haven’t the mind to shake him off. Not yet.

“I wasn’t bothering you, was I, sweetheart?” he asks, peering around Diluc’s shoulder to see you.

You nudge Diluc to the side, shaking free of his hold. “Go fuck yourself.”

The man’s smile drops. He scowls, yanking his collar away from his throat. “I was just leaving, anyway.”

Something crosses his face and he grins, leaning close to you. “Ah. Does the Church know a monster is going around masquerading as a citizen of Mondstadt?”

You swing.

————————

You grin, giving Diluc a thumbs up. “You’re welcome. I wouldn’t say no to a ‘thank you’ drink, mind you.”

He sighs, pressing a cloth to your nose. “Keep it there until the bleeding stops.”

“Just give me a drink, for fucks sake,” you grumble. You’re still far too drunk to be making rational decisions, but no part of you regrets throwing that punch. Bastard got what was coming to him.

“No.”

Diluc is angry. He must be, seeing as you struck a paying customer square in the face. That bastard is lucky his elbow caught your nose by pure chance as Diluc was pulling you back. You would’ve concussed him without a second thought.

Diluc speaks again after a long beat, setting a glass down in front of you. “Please, don’t go starting brawls in my tavern again.”

You take a tentative sip, frowning at the realization that it’s just juice. “I was only defending your honor.”

He laughs dryly. “My honor has been stamped into the dirt for decades. Don’t bother yourself with it.”

A hand touches your shoulder. Not again.

You turn, half ready to swing again, but it’s only Harry. He grins heartily at you.

“I’ve come to retrieve this,” he says to Diluc, nodding to you.

Diluc’s jaw ticks. He almost looks murderous, if you could focus your vision for long enough to tell. “Back to the slaughterhouse already?”

Harry bows. “You wound us, Sir. We’re only doing our jobs. I heard a commotion and thought I would fulfill my duty and lend a hand. It’s no surprise this one was the cause.”

“Are they angry?” you manage, tossing the rag onto the counter. The bleeding hasn’t exactly stopped, but it’s slowed enough for now.

Harry scoffs, tugging you off the stool. “Take a wild guess.”

Your head is spinning. Only bad things wait for you back at the Church.

Diluc catches your arm. You turn, surprised. Deja vu, and in the span of such a short time. It’d be romantic if only you were a touch drunker.

It’s hard to gauge the expression on his face when you can hardly focus on the floor in front of you.

“Tell the Church their Knight has been delayed,” he says firmly.

“If it’s a matter of the bill—“ Harry begins.

Diluc raises a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t believe your Knight is well enough to make the trip back. I insist on providing lodgings for the night.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think I’d leave one of our own under your care? This intoxicated?”

“I have a room upstairs just for situations like this,” Diluc says. He tugs you out of Harry’s grip.

“Tell the Church to fuck off,” you offer with another thumbs up. It’s probably not something you’d ever say sober, but you’ve enough alcohol in you to dull any reservations you’ve had about criticizing the Church.

“You fuck off,” Harry mutters, raking a hand through his hair. “Don’t come whining to me when the Inquisitors find out.”

“You won’t say a word?” you ask. You’re not far gone enough to ignore the warning he’s giving you.

“I never saw you here,” Harry grumbles. He turns on his heel, clearly irritated.

You don’t dwell on it. Diluc lets out a breath, and heaves you over one shoulder without a second thought for the onlookers around you. “To bed with you, then.”

———————

“Let me know if you feel like you might get sick,” Diluc murmurs, pulling a chair up to the bedside.

“I’m not that drunk,” you slur. Your head is throbbing, but it’s hard to tell if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you were hit in the head today. Twice, at that.

“Is the Church always so rough during training?” he asks.

You open one eye, peeking at him. He’s trying to act nonchalant, leafing through the book left on the nightstand, but his words are pointed enough. “Trying to use the wine against me, eh?”

He scoffs, but doesn’t glance up from the pages. “You’re sober enough to snark back, aren’t you?”

You sigh, rolling onto your side. “I’ve been injured more during training than I have out on the field.”

He looks up, finally, mouth pressed into a firm line.

You sling your arm back over your eyes, grumbling. “I don’t need your judgment.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies quietly. He doesn’t have to. You know better than anyone how twisted the Church’s “traditions” are. Severe injuries during training within the Knights are accidents. Severe injuries during training within the Holy Knights are standard practice.

You can’t even count how many birthdays you’d passed with black eyes from the Inquisitors. It never gets any easier.

Diluc says nothing more. There’s only the soft rustle of pages turning and the steady sound of his breathing to lull you into sleep.

———————

“Diluc,” you press. He’s irritatingly fast, stride just a touch longer than yours so you have to jog every other step to keep up with him. He either doesn’t notice the difference or doesn’t care. You’re not sure which one irks you more. “Have you decided to bring me on yet?”

“I’ve no intention of taking a Holy Knight under my employ,” he replies curtly.

You click your tongue. “I caught up to you. Shouldn’t you reward me?”

It wasn’t exactly easy to catch him just as he was exiting the city gates, especially given how early it still is. There’s also the lingering feeling that he could have left unnoticed, had he so desired. He could’ve left you far behind. It’s hard to decipher his actions, sometimes.

He made enough noise as he was leaving the tavern to alert you, hungover or not.

Diluc ignores your provocations in favor of raising a hand in greeting. You peer over his shoulder to see Elzer, waiting just beyond the end of the bridge.

“Good morning, Holy Knight,” Elzer says warmly.

You repeat the sentiment, but the nagging uncertainty in your stomach only grows at the sight of him. Diluc wouldn’t need his closest aid if he were merely returning to the winery.

“Tagging along?” Elzer asks, as much to Diluc as to you.

“Hardly,” Diluc grumbles. “But I suppose I’ve been left with no choice.”

“I’d rather not return for morning mass,” you mutter. Besides, there’s no doubt the Church has already caught wind of your little brawl in Diluc’s tavern. If you’re already going to be punished, what’s a few more transgressions for the list?

“You should do well to remember your vows. I have no interest in catching the Church’s attention just because they can’t keep their knights in check,” Diluc sighs, exasperated. “Especially after last night.”

Despite his complaints, he makes absolutely no effort to stop you from trailing behind him. Elzer, in all his good graces, slows his pace to match yours with a warm smile. Your hangover has slowed you enough to be a nuisance, but Diluc makes no comment of it. Besides, you’re sure your face is quite the sight, given all that’s happened.

Your little trip ends far sooner than you’d expected, only a ways down the road from the city. Diluc halts abruptly, arm shooting out to stop you.

There, a group of Fatui stand only a few yards off the path, obscured by the overgrowth of trees. It’s not exactly the most secretive of meeting places. It’s… it’s almost absurd, how easy it was to spot them. Anyone with their wits about them could catch sight of their ominous presence just beyond the green.

“Don’t speak,” he says quietly. You sigh, but you’re not stupid enough to disobey him. You trust Diluc far more than any order that could come from the Church. He knows that well enough.

Elzer steps in front of you as you approach. You’re certainly not wearing any favonius insignias, but the Fatui spend their share of time monitoring the Church. There’s no telling if any of them might recognize your face.

From bartending to meeting with the Fatui only hours later. Once again, Diluc’s intentions are impossible to understand.

It’s a small team, only three soldiers and a commander. They seem relatively low-ranking, given their badges. You stay obediently back, only nodding your head towards the group in acknowledgment.

“Sir,” the Commander begins, opening his arms wide. Diluc is pulled into a haphazard hug. You’ve seen the greeting enough between Snezhnayans, but the Commander should know well enough that Diluc is put off by the gesture. He must be testing his boundaries.

Diluc’s expression remains unchanging. You tune out most of the business talk the moment it begins. It’s not what you followed Diluc for, after all. You already know most of what they’re saying is likely coded beyond anything you’d hope to decipher.

Regardless, any intent you had to soak up the information from this little transaction of his falters when you see the weapons. The Fatui are all heavily armed. Every nerve in your body goes alight. Diluc seems strangely relaxed, given the situation.

Even Elzer doesn’t spare you a glance. He has that same, unfaltering smile, pleasant to the point that it’s eerie.

You don’t even have a sword at your hip. It’s utterly belated, but it’s only now you realized neither Diluc nor Elzer have a single weapon. Even all your training is nothing when faced with the sheer firepower each Fatuus holds in their hands. It feels like too obvious a trap.

The talks drag on for nearly an hour. Wine, grapes, mora. Simple business transactions, if taken at face value. But still… there’s something in the air that has your stomach in knots. Something about the way Diluc and Elzer are so utterly nonchalant, even when speaking with their supposed enemies.

The Fatuus just to the right of Diluc shifts. It’s hardly anything noteworthy at all, really, but you can tell from his stance.

He’s stiff, as if he’s preparing himself for something. Everything else drowns out. You can focus only on that rigid figure across from you. His arm shifts suddenly, and it’s—

Well. You can blame your stupidity on reflexes, at best.

You jolt forward, shoving Diluc to the side just as a bang resounds through the air. He catches himself easily, but the words don’t make it out of your throat.

You’re an idiot, truly.

Maybe being around Diluc has dulled your sensibilities. All you can focus on is how hard it is to catch your breath. It feels like you’ve been punched. You grapple blindly at your shoulder, and to your surprise your glove comes away darkened with blood.

An odd sound escapes your throat at the sight. Blood. You’re bleeding.

Whatever Diluc’s intention was, it’s clear you’ve utterly fucked it all up. The thought has your stomach lurching. Idiot. You’re such an idiot.

There’s a deafening commotion, a scuffle only a few feet away. You can’t focus on any of it. Your mind isn’t functioning correctly. Shot. You were shot. It’s hard to breathe. There’s so much blood.

You gasp for air, doubling over. Diluc shouts some distance away and suddenly Elzer is by your side, coaxing you down. You’re bleeding, but your hand grapples to your throat, slick with sweat, as you try desperately to fill your lungs.

“I can’t breathe,” you wheeze. Elzer leans you back, pressing you flat to the ground.

“There, just like that,” he soothes, pulling his jacket off. He folds the fabric over your shoulder with quick efficiency.

“Deep breath,” he instructs. You’re fucking trying. He puts his weight onto the mess of your shoulder, wincing as you sob in response. Your heels kick against the ground, trying to escape the pressure, but Elzer holds firm.

“I don’t feel well,” you manage. You sound like an upset child, voice unsteady and weak.

You can’t even focus on Elzer’s face. You feel hot and deathly cold at the same time, strewn between breathlessness and nausea and feeling like your heart is about the burst any moment.

Diluc comes into view, blood splattered across his cheek. He ducks down, replacing Elzer’s hands with his own. “Doctor is coming. Hold on a little longer.”

Oh no. Just seeing his face has your emotions welling up again, and you can feel tears prick at your eyes. “Diluc.”

“I’m right here,” he replies. Diluc’s fangs are out. You can see it when he speaks, that threatening glisten of ivory hiding just behind his rosy lips.

He should drink while he has the chance. Make good use of whatever blood hasn’t already spilled out into the dirt around you.

You repeat his name, but this time your voice catches on a sob.

He hushes you. He’s shaking. You can feel the way it vibrates through your body. Or maybe you’re the one shaking. It’s hard to tell.

“Elzer, go meet him halfway,” he orders sharply.

“How?” you ask. He seems to know what you mean. You were hit only… minutes ago? It’s hard to judge how much time has passed. Certainly not enough to fetch a doctor, even given how close the city is.

“I ran,” he mutters. Right. He isn’t like you. He isn’t human. He would’ve been fine, even if the bullet had hit its mark. How stupid and thoughtless could you be?

You swallow. “The Fatui?”

“Dead,” he answers dismissively. Diluc swallows. “You’ve lost a lot of blood already. Don’t waste your energy needlessly.” There’s something strange in the tone of his voice, but you can hardly mull over it. It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it might. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. You just feel sick.

“It’s okay. Elzer will be back with the doctor soon. Just— just hold on.” Diluc almost sounds frantic. The pressure he’s putting on your shoulder is starting to ache, but it’s hard to focus on what, exactly, hurts.

“I’m going to be sick,” you manage.

Diluc shifts you onto your side just as you begin retching. Maybe it’s by the grace of the Anemo Archon that nothing comes up, but it’s no less embarrassing. Especially in front of Diluc.

When the fit ends he eases you onto your back once more, pressure firm over your shoulder. If it hit an artery, you’ve no more than a few minutes left, at best. The expression on Diluc’s face makes it hard to gauge just how bad it really is.

He’s pretty, at least. A nice view to die before. It’s a petty, shallow thought. Especially given how upset Diluc looks at the situation. Maybe you are an idiot after all.

——————

Getting put on house arrest seems rather unfair, given all the circumstances. Not dying should be celebrated under the Anemo Archon’s grace, according to everything the Church preaches to the masses.

Except, perhaps, when the whole “almost dying” happens because you directly disobeyed orders from the Inquistors. According to them, of course. You were merely helping out an acquaintance.

It only takes a day, locked in your room, for a bottle of wine to miraculously appear on the windowsill. It’s hard to tell if it’s a gift from Barbatos himself or the goodwill of a certain red-haired beauty. You don’t ponder it. Wine is wine, after all. And it’s a welcome treat to pass the hours and stave away the nasty ache in your shoulder.

You’re not one to question a heartfelt gift.

[braisedhoney]

[SCENARIO CONTINUED FROM HERE.]

You select the second oldest of the available files. An observation log — COLONY keeps these, or so you assume. He never leaves commentary or notes to organize them. He probably just memorizes them instead. The terminal beeps beneath your fingertips, every click practically a gunshot in the quiet room. Thanks to your pass you are technically permitted to be here by the system — but you know better. There are security measures here that were not to be violated. If you are discovered, if THIS is discovered, you would likely be in trouble. The screen loads. Text fills the margins. After a moment, you realize that it is not just a file; it’s a transcript and an audio sample. There’s also a small attachment of some kind, likely an image. You play the audio.

[LOADING. . . (A short period of complete silence. Then, rustling as footsteps approach, and the familiar whir of a door. A familiar voice fades in with them.) “… I told you, it isn’t going to work.” “So you’ve said, Captain.” (The door whirs again. Locks.) “Please don’t call me that. Everyone keeps calling me that. Really I mean, I don’t even know what to do with…” (The sound of movement. Footsteps, slightly heavier but more measured than the first. The sound of something opening with a mechanical hiss — a containment unit?) (A quiet sigh. It’s barely audible.) “That… isn’t what I think. Right? Another one?” (A chuckle.) “Don’t sound so unenthusiastic. It’s terrible for morale.” “Le—“ “Just put them on, won’t you? It can’t hurt. One more trial.” “… Fine! Fine.” (The footsteps draw closer.) “Good. Now grab my hand.” (A clang, like somebody knocked into something.) “No.” “Trust me.” (Rapidly receding footsteps joined by another set.) “No!”(A loud bang, like a fist slamming against metal. The footsteps stop.) “No.” “It’ll be fine.” “You don’t know that.” “I’m right.” “This isn’t the answer. It isn’t going to — it’ll never be the answer, Leander, and I don’t even know what it — you know you can’t, right? Can’t come back? Doing this won’t let you see her agai——!“ “Captain.” (Silence.) “… shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “Prove it.” ”Leander, please.” “Grab my hand. This will work.” “…” “I swear.” (The seconds tick by. Then.) “You...” (Another chuckle. Warmer in tone.) “Didn’t I say I would do it? Didn’t I promise?” (Laughter. Loud, nearly hysterical laughter interrupts him. It’s boisterous, disruptive.) “You did! You did, you… you magnificent bastard, you really found a way to———“] The audio ends. You stare at the screen. No matter how long you look at it, the text does not continue, the audio file does not extend. All that remains is a single attachment. Frustration makes your jaw tense, but you don’t have time to waste being angry. You’re running out the clock as it is. You click it. [LOADING. . .]

And then the screen goes dark. No. Not just the screen — the whole room blacks out. Every terminal flickers off, every bulb extinguishes. For a moment, there is total, unfamiliar silence. Even the faint electric buzzing that comes with electronics is gone. You are completely alone. You turn, grasping blindly at the records pass, the imprint of the screen still on your eyes. You stumble for the door, and to your surprise the pass blinks green, the only light left in the room. It opens and you shove your way through into the hall — Only to slam into a barrier. You look around. There is no hallway. Of all times for the paths to shift… The room you are in is tiny. The door behind you closes, and there is no scanner on your side, nor a handle. It is completely featureless. There is no way to open it. You call for COLONY. There is no answer. You call for the Captain. There is no answer. You call for help. You call for help. You call. You call. you. c a l l. . . . . . . . . . [YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED.] [. . . ] [THE CAPTAIN WILL LOOK FOR YOU.] [. . .] [BUT THE CAPTAIN WILL NOT FIND YOU.] [ . . . ] [I AM SORRY.] [I AM SURE THAT MEANS LITTLE. BUT I AM.] [CURIOSITY IS NOT A TERRIBLE THING.] [BUT I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT HUMANS QUITE LIKED CATS.] [. . .] [A POOR JOKE.] [I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT.] [I DOUBT IT.] [BUT I DO HOPE.]

(Scenario End. Ending: “Status Quo”.)

[gorgon-heap]

I Thank You: A Brief Account of Sonic’s No Good Terrible Very Bad Day (and Shadow’s even worse day)

@son1c’s sonic prime au has been jingling around my brain like a loose marble (especially the splinters of shadow), and this ask from @boom-fanfic-a-latta inspired me to actually sit down and write it :D

~~~

The first thing Shadow noticed was the noise.

It was hard not to notice it, honestly. The eerie silence of the Void was disconcerting, but this was something Shadow had never encountered before. This was an oppressive wall of sheer sound that filled the air and slammed into his ears the minute he entered the Boscage.

It knocked the wind out of him, and he sunk to his knees as he tried to regain his composure.

Dimly, he heard Sonic buzzing around him, jabbering about something. Shadow could only grit his teeth in response.

It’s so loud….How does Sonic not hear this?

He clapped a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to ground himself, to experience anything other than the oppressive sound. It didn’t work.

“Shadow? You alright?”

Shadow let out a shaky breath, and it took great effort for him to stop his ears from twitching. The last thing he needed was Sonic worrying about him.

“I’m fine. It’s just adjusting to a new Shatterverse.” Shadow forced himself to his feet. “Tell me about this world?”

Sonic didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press the issue. “The Bocage is entirely take over by huge plants. The forest floor is entirely inhospitable to life, and that means that—“

Plants. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

He felt a tear escape and leak down the side of his face. He was vaguely aware that Sonic, who had been staring at him with concern, had tracked that tear’s path with his eyes. But Shadow had bigger things to worry about. He, and probably he alone, could hear the Boscage.

And it was screaming.

~~~

It had been a few days. Some of the worst days of Shadow’s existence. Boscage Maze was a blur. The residents of the Boscage were a blur. The only thing that was clear was, paradoxically, the murmur of the forest. As it turns out, when billions of plants whisper in someone’s mind, it results in a cacophony, and the worst headache Shadow has ever had.

He was beginning to have trouble remembering why he was there, his goal in coming here, and even who he was. He just shuffled behind Sonic as they navigated the jungle.

Today, they were visiting….somewhere. Egg…something? Shadow couldn’t remember, but Tails was leading the way. Or, this Shatterverse’s Tails. His head hurt too much to care.

He was also didn’t care when he met Windthrow. A tiny voice at the back of his mind reminded him that, but for the Deafening Sounds, he would have been astounded.

A larger, stronger, and more feral Sonic. Would wonders ever cease.

Shadow was roused from his thoughts as they arrived at their destination. It was an unassuming structure, with vine tendrils snaking around, but generally well kept. As they walked through the entryway, he absently noted that the design reminded him of the Ark.

They stepped into the entryway, and the doors swung shut, leaving their little group in the quiet hallway.

And it was quiet. It was utterly silent.

He felt his shoulders sag in relief. He didn’t realize how awful the noise was. It didn’t even bother him that there was a slight buzzing from the overhead lights.

“Shadow, everything alright?” Sonic’s voice boomed in his ears. It hurt, and made his ears twitch, but he welcomed it.

Shadow nodded slowly. He still felt a little dazed, but it was a relief to be able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

~~~

Sonic was worried.

Well, he was worried about a lot of things. This was an extremely bad situation, and he was well aware that that was an understatement. But in particular, Sonic was worried about Shadow. He was acting more reclusive and irritable than usual. Which was saying something.

Whenever they were at the Egg Base, Shadow disappeared, even though Sonic looked everywhere in the building. And when they were outside, he acted distracted and upset. Every time Sonic asked him what was wrong, he would respond (in true Shadow fashion) with a snappish “Nothing”. But his constant ear twitching and eyes darting back and forth belied his distress. So did his muttering under his breath.

Sonic had decided not to continue pestering him. He instead focused all his attention and worry on finding the Shard.

The sooner we find it, the sooner I get Shadow out of here. The sooner I fix my stupid mistake.

Currently, they were in the Egg Base, and surprisingly, Shadow was hanging out with the group. Sonic was grateful to see that he looked relaxed, even if it was only a little bit. The weird dude who looked kind of like Eggman was showing off his latest creation, which was a metal version of Windthrow.

But as Metal Windthrow was powered on, Sonic was distracted by a faint gasp behind him. He turned and saw Shadow standing there completely rigid, chest heaving and eyes darting wildly. His ears wouldn’t stop twitching. He locked eyes with Sonic, before he fled the room.

Sonic got up to follow up, but stopped when he felt a large paw on his shoulder. Windthrow excitedly pointed at his metal counterpart, and threw back his head and howled. Metal Windthrow followed suit, and his rusty howl joined Windthrow’s. Sonic couldn’t help but smile fondly at what was soon to be a fast friendship. His smile fell as he turned and strode out of the room, determined to find Shadow.

~~~

He didn’t see Shadow for days after that, until one day Sonic entered the dining room. Shadow was standing at one of the tables, poring over the map that they had crudely drawn.

“Shadow! There you are! Are you alright? You disappeared! I’ve been looking everywhere for this Shard but haven’t found anything yet. Hey, what do you think—”Sonic’s nervous rambling was cut off by Shadow’s voice, which was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Sonic. Everything is okay. I just needed some to adjust to the Boscage Maze.” At this, Sonic frowned and opened his mouth, and closed it again. He sat down at the table, watching Shadow’s green eyes rake over the map. He looked—well, calm. But at the same time, he didn’t look well adjusted at all. He still had a dazed look, and there were heavy bags under his eyes.

“Are you sure? You can rest today, and we can go look tomorrow!” Shadow gave a small, fond smile, and Sonic felt his concern tie itself into knots in his stomach.

“We are fine, and in fact quite like being outside among the trees. It’s like coming home.” He turned and strode towards the door. “Let us go now and find Thorn Rose. Finding the Shard is our top priority.” Sonic pushed his worries aside. Shadow was right. The Shard was the most important thing.

Over the next couple of days, Shadow took charge of searching the Shard. He would stay out long after Sonic returned to the Egg Base for the night, and would even be gone before he woke up in the morning. He knew that Shadow was the Ultimate Loner, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. There was something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something he was missing. And it had everything to do with the strange way Shadow was acting.

~~~

Sonic burst into the clearing, almost crashing into Shadow in his excitement.

“Shadow, there you are! I have a good lead on the Shard! We can grab it and fit the prism back together! We’re one step closer to going home!” Shadow looked up sharply with a glint in his eyes that made Sonic uneasy. As quick as it had appeared, Shadow’s face had smoothed back into that same calm expression he had had for the past couple of days.

“That’s good to hear, Sonic. But we don’t need to rush things. The Boscage is truly wonderful. I’m glad to have been able to experience it. In fact, we are sorry for our past anger. You see, it wouldn’t have existed if you hadn’t shattered the Paradox Prism. So, how could I be angry? I thank you, Sonic the Hedgehog.”

I thank you.

Sonic’s blood ran cold.

Shadow…

He took a step towards who…or whatever was controlling Shadow. “Who are you! What have you done with Shadow!”

‘Shadow’ just smiled. “We are Shadow. It would be rude to ignore this gift you have sent us. You have granted us a way to communicate with you, and a way to protect the Boscage.”

Sonic’s shoulders slumped, his chin hitting his chest.

Shadow…what have I done to you?

[crybaby-bkg]

tw: mention of incest role play, mention of fear kink, mention of cum inflation????, scummy gojo, also I have no idea how to word this????

gojo who gets paired up with you for a college project, and you’re fucking reeling for a few reasons. one being; he’s extremely attractive and damn near everyone on campus knows who he is. and also, you’re intimidated by his beauty and popularity, especially since you’re only known for giving out the answers when people ask nice enough in classes.

but he’s so…friendly, when you guys meet up to start on the project. he’s all smiles and helpful answers, bites at the people who come up to him and pretend you’re not even there. he listens to you with this dumb (cute) little look on his face, with his lips slightly parted and his brows raised and his white lashes peeking over the roundness of his glasses whenever he nods.

he’s kinder than you expected him to be. funnier, too, with his shitty jokes that you find yourself snorting at in the quiet library. and when you guys are finished with the project, he still keeps in touch. moves his seat to be next to you in class, texts you and asks you out to coffee, even invites you on a date after a few weeks.

and everything is perfect—until it’s not. until he beds you one day and it’s not as special or magical as you were anticipating it to be. he’s kinda…strange, in a sense, when he fucks you. oddly quiet, like he’s holding back, his hands just a little too tight, his eyes too focused on random parts of your body.

but you sleep with him again and again, until he starts becoming real comfortable with you. almost too comfortable, let’s how weird and strange and almost scummy he really is start to shine through, let the mask he’d be unknowingly wearing this entire time slip away.

“What if we were siblings?” Gojo asks you one night when he’s fucking your brains out. he’s gotten better over these few months, gotten looser and more comfortable. too fucking comfortable.

“Satoru, what in the ever loving fuck are you on about?” you ask him in a gasp as you reach a hand back to keep your head from hitting the headboard. but he’s undeterred, his eyes wild and unseeing as he grips your hips tighter, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“No, I mean in a role play way.” He explains, as if that makes it sound any better. “You know? You’re my sweet lil sister taking big bro’s cock so I won’t tell mom and dad about you sneaking out.”

“You’re a sick fuck.” you tell him plainly, frustrated that your tone doesn’t carry the same bite because his nimble fingers started playing with you at the same time. “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Incest role play doesn’t turn you on?” he asks, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy that you wanna kick in the chin. “Maybe, hmm,”

he pretends to be lost in thought, thrusts slowing down and you let out an irritated huff as you slump back onto the bed. but your back arches up when his hips pick up pace again, suddenly slamming into you as he looms over you. one hand cupping your cheek, the other returning in between your thighs as he grins madly.

“Maybe you’d like some fear play, yeah? How’s that sound?” Gojo bends over you until his nose skims yours, his pupils entirely too tiny, makes your breath hitch in your throat. “Me, chasing you around the campus with a big knife, scared that I’ll catch you. You know I would, right?”

he forces you to nod with his big hand cupping your cheeks, pouting your lips at him as you whimper. he kisses you, breathless, chuckling a little under his breath as he mutters something incomprehensible, his cock carving its way deep inside you.

“Maybe even cum inflation? That one’s not the realest thing out here, but I could figure out a way to make that work. You’d like that, right?” he sounds like he’s off the deep end, like every single twisted thought that’s been running through his mind these past few weeks have finally come to the forefront. started spilling out between you two like a cracked dam, like he’s been bottling this up ever since you met him.

you cum only a few seconds after his last inquiry, scared of the way his smile widens, as if your body told him an answer he’s already known.

[cryptiduni]

…i just saw this poll and my unevolved brain gel wriggled inside my cranium like a feral fish:

idk how you look at his official art and call him conventionally attractive. my man looks like a wet dog and has eyebags for daysss. face full of pox scars, skin pale af, and those shaggy ass hair & a rugged beard hanging from his flat long face.

he is pretty *to me* but like dude???

—not exactly a heartthrob boy band material is he?

obv I wouldn’t call him “misunderstood baby uwu” if we are talking a little more seriously —but to be fair jean is having possibly the worst week of his life. the car? fucking sunk. case? unsolved. not to mention his close partner (who is also an ass mind you) doesn’t even remember him, already running around with a new one.

yeah he is absolutely foul and aggressive and degrading harry but like i said before (in my tag essay lol) judit also makes ableist comments and i don’t see people hating her because she’s outwardly nice—

and respects harry as her superior. her BOSS.

(also a friend with benefits? /nope, it’s just him harassing judit/ as well but not as a complicated relationship compared jean and harry’s brötherbund. only a few months of acquaintanceship.)

plus it’s highhlyyy likely that harry is not the only one substance abuse. —look at jean’s rudolf-looking-red-ass-nose. a drunkard’s sniffers. probably had few lines with him late at night… when your lifetime partner is an alcoholic it's hard to say no.

about the left for dead thing, they left because harry told them to fuck off. tbh harry is nightmare to work with esp pre-bender. (and am saying as a pathetic little unmedicated neurodivergent woman.)

but when the second time they left revachol was not jean’s fault, and it was judit’s suggestion anyway. the squad probably thought that since harry had someone a little more responsible looking after him. it will be fine when they come back. the tribunal was absolutely unaccounted for.

yet despite all of these things, he will try to come back to make sure he is ok and accommodate harrier to the best of his abilities which is wearing very thin. look at him trying to make up to our harry boy:

anyways am incapable of writing coherent thoughts (even though i want to talk about it for hours) that make sense so go look at sygneth’s jean psychological analysis instead. it is an excellent read. please go read.