#paranoia crossed

[dafpork]

dafpork is like a modern day speakeasy to me because everyone comes in like it’s forbidden but since it’s the modern day it’s perfectly normal. Little secret club

LMAO YES!!! THIS IS A REALLY GOOD ANALOGY.. AND SEE IT'S SO FUNNY because i'm like I DON'T WANT IT TO BE FORBIDDEN... i'm such an accidental hypocrite in that regard because i'm like "i want more people to talk about them i want people to be loud and proud it makes me sad to hear that people might have been initially embarrassed to ship them there's so much to love :(((( anyway here's my SHITTY ART of these people i HATE i'm so EMBARRASSED thanks for putting up with me in my SHAME CORNER UGH i'm so EMBARRASSED they're so EMBARRASSING i SUCK they SUCK it all SUCKS" LOL and i do mean it in a joking manner... mostly... but i'm kind of now at the point where i'm like. Okay well you're going to have to put in some more legwork if you want people to talk about them. (but, again, just the fact that people talk about and support them enough is so great! it's so weird and wonderful to me that people are calling it on dafpork on platforms other than this one, people who may not know i exist... it's cool hearing a term you and your friend came up with in a private discord be used, it shows how much growth there HAS been since there really used to be nothing!)

a dafpork speakeasy sounds so cool though oh my god can you imagine Porky and Daffy themed cocktails...............

COME JOIN US AT THE DAFPORK SPEAKEASY. which, you are not supposed to advertise that a speakeasy is a speakeasy. but it's subversive. like Daffy. or something. this is your sign to play pig and duck with us. yes you

[howlsofbloodhounds]

in the good ending with color, with the chromatic crew, I like to think sleep becomes a bit of a thing for killer.

He doesn’t sleep much at all the first few months in the place, especially when it starts changing from just him and color to all the others coming over. he refuses to sleep either around delta, cross, and epic, in the same room as them, or in a way that makes it obvious he’s tired or asleep (the whole sleeping with eyes open thing.)

so like if the others are visiting color (not killer), all hanging in the living room together, and he’s tired—always tired, having grown more obvious how exhausted he always seems to be lately, especially around color (subconsciously realizing he’s safe around color and thus his body signaling it’s time to catch up on all the missed years of adequate safe sleep)—he’d tried to force himself to stay awake and hide his exhaustion if he can’t convince color to go to bed with him.

he’d prefer to sleep in their bedroom, down the hall away from them and behind a closed locked door. the locked door can’t really do anything if anyone wants to get in and eyes are always watching, so privacy is not ever really existent, but it’s just them and he can sleep feeling color nearby and knowing it’s real and he’s safe and colors safe. even if it won’t be a restful sleep because they’re just down the hall and can do whatever they want if they were determined enough.

but color doesn’t appear to be tired yet. color’s not going to bed yet. He’s so tired, he should sleep, but he cannot leave Color alone with them. they’re color’s friends, they care about him, but care does not mean anything in the end. It never has.

I’d like to think at first killer refuses to sleep much at all anytime they’re over—no matter how long it takes them to leave. he can’t sleep, not even behind that locked door, knowing they’re not gone.

it changes gradually, very very slowly. but the more he begins to trust he’s safe and colors safe the more physically exhausted he seems to get and harder to stay awake. still he won’t allow himself to fall asleep where they can notice and see.

i like to think that whenever killer does start to grow more trusting of the others, especially cross and delta, he actually starts sleeping a lot more for a lot longer. im talking like he can sleep almost through 2 days, and finds himself fighting to stay awake at the oddest places at the oddest times. in the shower, talking in the living room or kitchen, watching epic and delta place video games, etc.

and although it was worrying and frightening at first just how long and suddenly killer could sleep—especially when he started choking on his blood and struggling to breathe or jolting awake caught in a flashback/nightmare—everyone tries their best not to disturb or startle him awake beyond making sure he’s actually still breathing and alive, but they all know this is the most uninterrupted sleep he’s gone in a long time or allowed himself to have.

it’s usually always color who has to coax him awake or calm him down from nightmares/flashbacks, because there’s always a chance of him not recognizing where he is or who anyone else is—potentially not realize he’s awake or still caught in a flashback—and possibly trying to attack or run/hide from the others depending on what Stage he fell asleep/woke up in. and even after he’s calmed, it may take awhile to remember where he is and with who.

[fortunaegloria]

Appreciation post of Harrison Ford's smile (part 6) 🥰💕

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

More spider!paranoia!Virgil for this AU

Time taken: 2 ½ hours

(the white writing is from ENA: Temptation Stairway because I imagine him to act quite similar to ENA, especially with the breakdowns)

[saints-helen]

So you guys know how I headcanon cross to have some form of psychosis/delusions?

.....

Yeah so that's fun!

:3

Anyway, a cutesy thing to feed the crepic machine.

:3

Enjoy!~

(inspired by that One Post by @howlsofbloodhounds on tiktok (idk if they posted it on Tumblr-) where kolor play this little "game" where color helps killer determine what's real and what isn't)

"He's watching us right now?" Cross murmurs into the dark, so sure he is of being answered, that he doesn't even look at the body resting against his shoulder to check if it's awake.

"False." Comes the quiet response, so sure, yet so tired, as if answering the incessant Why? Why? Why? Questions of some- toddler.

Cross may as well be a toddler, with the stupid questions he keeps on asking.

"He's-" he takes a deep breath "he's listening, then." His voice is quiet, and so is Epic's

"False."

Again.

He takes another deep breath, shakier this time.

He always gets like this at night, all- all paranoid and anxious, like a nervous dog stuck in its crate, when all the sounds of the night get disturbing.

"....

"He's coming back."

"False."

Again, they play this stupid game, and again, Epic indulges him, spoils him, would indulge him in eating leaf gold and caviar every day if he asked, and Cross, selfish, selfish disgustingly paranoid Cross, keeps asking.

"....

"Is he here?"

"Nope. False, not here."

A longer answer this time, he lets out a breath.

He doesn't get those too often, not at this hour at least, when his heart is supposed to be winding down instead of winding up.

Winding up...

Is that a word?

*Was* that a word?

He finds he can't quite remember right now.

"Winding up is an actual term that people use."

A pause.

He's caught him off guard.

".... True?"

He sounds hesitant, he's hesitant, and that's never a good thing, because if Epic is hesitant about anything, at this time, even about something as innocuous as a term, then what can Cross trust right now to keep him from spiraling?

"True." It comes a bit more sure. Actually, Far more sure, firm, as if he were making sure of an equation in his head, and Cross had made him doubt himself.

Stupid, stupid Cross with his stupid, stupid delusions.

"It's a word." He says, seeming satisfied with himself, and with that satisfaction decides to Reward himself, pulling himself closer to Cross and nuzzling against his shoulder, letting out a breath that was so very content.

It's nice, he supposes, they both run a bit cold, but Cross a little warmer on good days, though Epic Does say if he eats more he'll run like a heater, which he supposes Does sound nice, especially when Epic is out and all he has for his company are just his clothes and a blanket.

...

Cross still doubts it though, it's physically impossible to run like a heater, at least for a skeleton monster.

...

He's thinking too literally, where was he again? Oh, right.

His stupid fucking paranoia.

"You love me." He asks, and Epic lets out an amused huff against him, pulling even closer.

"True. That's correct, my guy, it's the most right thing you've said all day." And before Cross can apologise for wasting his time, he continues:

"Although, i Do like hearing you talk.. so don't worry too much about it."

..Hm.

How can he always just..

...

"Can i-" he cuts off "if-" again, and Epic taps a soft, steady rhythm against his arm, the rhythm of a heartbeat, the rhythm of proper Breathing;

'calm down'

So he tries.

"If- if i were to-" fucking dammit, mouth doesn't work right and neither does his head, fucking Wonderful-

"Can-"

Just get it Out it's not the first damn time you asked you-

"He's not gonna- do anything? If i- if i- Stay, with you, he won't-" a pathetic pause "he's not going to- make me regret it."

He says, instead of the utterly childish "he's not gonna hurt me again is he?" That was Begging to push itself out of his mouth.

Epic seems to understand, however, as after a few seconds of thinking about his words, he answers.

"True," he says, "that's correct, he's not gonna do anything to you because of it, because he can't do anything to you anymore, because he's gone, because he's dead." He explains, word for word like he's teaching a kindergartener, about something as silly and easy to understand as how plants work.

First, they sprout from a seed, then, they spring up and up and up, then, they soak up the sun, then, they drink water from underground or- whatever, then, they absorb nutrients from the soil - and, of course, dear stupid fucking child, all these three steps happen at the same fucking Time you stupid fucking- and then, they grow leaves, and then, they grow flowers, and then, those flowers get pollinated, and then, those flowers make seeds, and then, the seeds get planted one way or another, and then, the cycle continues.

Step by step Epic explains his answers, and step by step patiently tells Cross what definitely counts as common sense to literally every other single person in the entire multiverse.

Because Cross has a fucked up head, and his fucked up head makes it so that he needs things explained to him slowly, and his fucked up head also makes it so that he needs reassurance about his stupid fucking- about his father potentially watching him and listening to him and planning to punish him in the middle of the night, because, of course, Cross's paranoia gets in the way of sleeping, because, of course, Cross gets in the way of sleeping.

"I'm going to be okay." He says, and gets a good answer.

"True. That's correct." And he can feel Epic smiling against him, so maybe everything isn't too bad.

[horizondemise]

Like Poison (Kenjaku x Reader)

Part 1/3

You’re being watched. It’s something you can just sense, as you try to enjoy the book in your hands. Eyes skimming the pages, but briefly lifting to glance across the café and…meeting the dark, foxlike eyes of the stranger. Though he’s on the other side of the café with so many people between you, his eyes are focused on you and it makes you squirm in your seat.

There’s something about that stare that puts you on edge like nothing else. A deep, primal sort of fear tickling at the surface of your brain and prickling along your arms in the form of goosebumps. Though there’s nothing visibly threatening about the way he’s observing you, you can’t shake this intense feeling of dread.

How long has he been watching you? Try as you might, you can’t remember seeing him enter the café. It’s so busy right now that he could have easily slipped in while you had your head down, while you were engrossed in your book. There’s a simple paper coffee cup in front of him and nothing else. No phone, no book or newspaper to keep himself entertained as he enjoys the hot beverage; only you.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you lower your eyes to pages again and try to focus. Try to brush off the thought that he seems to be staring quite intently. You want to enjoy this time in the café with this new book that you recently picked up, but you’re still nagged by this creeping sensation spreading up your spine like the invisible legs of a spider.

The first time you saw this man was last week, in this same café. Though it wasn’t quite like this. No, the man with the long black hair and the Buddhist robes was here for a simple glass of juice and some food. He didn’t pay you any attention then and you only noticed him because of his odd attire.

When you came the next day, he appeared again. The same with the day after that and the day after that. Every day, at the same time that you came to the café, he would appear as well. You could chalk it up to him just coincidentally ending his shift at the same time as you, but now you’re not so sure.

Your grip on the book tightens a little as you feel his stare on you. Like the ghostly touch of fingers tracing the contours of your face and sliding down to your neck, to your collarbone. Slowly inching further down your form until your table blocks his view of your lower half. It’s enough to make your muscles tense up, enough to make you lift your gaze again.

Across the café, past so many other patrons, this man meets your eyes and smiles. It’s a rather relaxed smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, but there’s something about it that makes you keep your eyes on him. Something about this smile feels familiar. The sight of it conjures up memories of another man and you quickly lower your head to hide your frown.

That smile reminds you of someone. Someone that had been so special to you in the past before he vanished. Just thinking about your ex-boyfriend is enough to make your heart begin to hurt and you shake your head. Despite that smile reminding you of him, this man looks completely different from how he looked. Everything…except for the line of stitches across his forehead.

How long has it been? You know, you don’t look much different from the day he left you. Though your hairstyle is a little different and he can see a few scars on your hands and wrists that you didn’t have before, you still look like the girl he abandoned. You’re reading a book by the same author you used to rave about and he can see the bag perched on the seat beside. That’s the bag he gifted you when he was still trying to charm you.

Hm? What’s that look for? You look so…uneasy. It only makes his smile grow and Kenjaku rests his chin in his hand. Allowing his gaze to wander along your form again.

Those frowning lips used to feel so good when you pressed kisses to his bare skin, when you wrapped them around his cock and stared up at him through tear-speckled eyelashes while you pleasured him. Those hands that used to trail through his hair and gently pump his shaft, those fingers that used to push deep into your own slick cunt at his command. He only wishes he could see those legs that used to wrap around his waist when he would lift you to fuck you against a wall.

You don’t recognize him. He knows it, even without having to question you. No, you knew Kenjaku in a different form. A body he used for a short amount of time, a face he wore as he tried to win you over as his devoted darling.

You were supposed to be a breeder, part of an experiment. Nothing more, nothing less. While he had the opportunity, he had intended to use your womb to create something powerful and frightening.

Sweet, sheltered thing that you are. Kenjaku had chosen you for your lineage and upbringing. You were born into a family of jujutsu sorcerers that advocated strongly for family togetherness, for personal education. For that reason, neither you nor your siblings attended one of the schools and were instead trained by the elders in your family. You’re oblivious to most of the inner workings of jujutsu sorcerer society.

The word “sweet” describes you so perfectly. You were such a doting lover, when you were together. Always cooking for him and making sure that he was pleased, all in exchange for what you perceived as “love”. You wanted affection, you wanted to feel like you were important to someone as their one and only. Darling little romantic that you were, you wanted a soulmate.

The longer you sit in the café with his eyes fixed upon you, the more uneasy you feel. That tickling at the surface of your brain sending a clear message that you need to get away from here. You decide to follow your instincts and close your book. Tucking it into your bag, you grab your drink and leave without another look in his direction.

It’s a brisk pace that you set, though it’s subconscious. You don’t know if he’s following you, you don’t know if he really wants anything from your or if he was actually looking past you in the café at something else. Trying to make excuses for why he was staring in your direction, you just can’t shake this creeping fear.

Down the sidewalk, around one corner and then another. You chew at your bottom lip as you try to ease that nagging sensation in the primal part of your mind that tells you you’re in danger. Why? Why is it persisting?

It’s been days since you first noticed him going into the café at the same time as you. If that man wanted to do something awful, he would’ve done it already. You’re being paranoid, aren’t you? Why would he go after you? Unless he’s some sort of sorcerer hunter.

You’ve never encountered a sorcerer hunter yourself, but you’ve heard stories from your father and uncles. Despite being a sorcerer, you work a simple job tending to a temple during the day. Tidying up, selling charms, performing what most would call minor exorcisms. Nothing worth getting killed over!

It’s as you lean against the side of a shop that you notice how unsteady your breathing is. Shallow, uneven breaths as panic sinks its claws deeper into your heart. No, no! You need to calm down. Deep breaths, close your eyes.

It’s purely paranoia that makes you think he’s following you. Rationally, he has no reason to be after you, right? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve never even spoken to the man before.

Breathe in, breathe out. Ruffling your hair, you do it again and you can feel yourself calming slowly. When you open your eyes, your heart is still beating quickly, but your breathing has returned to normal.

A look around the corner shows that you haven’t been followed and you feel foolish for suspecting otherwise. Though it does bring you a sense of relief, there’s still this feeling. It’s like having the name of a song at the tip of your tongue. There’s something that just feels “off”, but you can’t place what it is.

You finish your coffee as you walk and you decide to stop in a bookstore. It’s well-known for the small section of the store that carries international sweets and a wide selection of mochi from a local artisan. After such a long day, after such an alarming experience, you believe you’ve earned a small treat.

Ah, you really haven’t changed. It’s strange, but it’s comforting in a way to see you grabbing some sweets. The same type he would often surprise you with when he was trying to win you over, the same type you always loved. In a way, it’s endearing to see you beam over something so simple.

Kenjaku maintains a distance…for now. Observing you from afar as the sun dips lower and lower into the sky, casting a reddish glow along the horizon. You were only meant to be a breeder, part of an experiment, so why is it that he can’t seem to pry himself away from you now? Is it the memory of how you adored him, how you worked so hard to please him? Some strange sort of attachment that’s been reignited?

As the hours wear on, as you make your rounds to different shops, he continues to follow. You’re oblivious to him now, as he blends into the crowd on the sidewalk and keeps himself just out of your line of sight in shops. He can watch you to his heart’s content and the longer he watches, the more certain he is that he wants you back.

When he abandoned you, he had no choice. He had to scrap his plans to breed you and pursue something else, in an entirely different body. What have you been doing since then? Have you found another lover? Have you started a precious little family?

There would be something so delicious, so satisfying, about stealing you away from a loving home with a doting partner. To drag you away from something so soft and sweet, to show you what his true intentions were all along. If you’re the same as you were back then, he’s sure you’ll readily agree to it. You would fall to your knees if he rested a hand on your head, purely out of habit.

You’re his. Kenjaku doesn’t care how much time has passed, if you might have found that soulmate you were looking for. The fact of the matter is that he wants you at his side and he’s not going to let you slip away again.

It’s getting late when you arrive at the station. You’re lucky to have arrived just before the last train and you can’t wait to get home. Even though you’ve been having an enjoyable time visiting different shops, you haven’t been able to shake that unsettling feeling that something is wrong.

A glance over your shoulder as you board the train sends a chill down your spine. Despite not seeing him since the café, you now find that man striding towards the train with that same eerily familiar smile on his face. You hurry inside and manage to find a seat just as he boards the train, your pulse accelerating.

What is he doing here? You’ve never seen him on the train before. Though it would be perfectly logical him to just happen to be going the same way at the same time, you can’t help feeling like this isn’t a coincidence. Like this was intentional.

You squirm in your seat a bit as he take a seat further down the car. There are plenty of people onboard so you feel at least a little safe. Besides, he’s put so much distance between you. Surely it’s just a coincidence! Right?

To settle your nerves, you pull your book from your bag again and try to pick up where you left off last time. Trying to ignore the man’s presence, trying to ignore the horde of other humans all around you. The same sentence is read five times before you’re able to concentrate and at this point, you let yourself become fully immersed in the story.

You don’t know when the train car emptied. It feels like just seconds ago, you were being crushed by the crowd and now it’s just you and one other person. The man with long black hair, wearing robes you’d normally see in a temple.

With your head lowered and the book open in your hands, it shouldn’t be obvious that you’re stealing glances at him. Though you can’t get a good look at his face from this distance, you have that odd feeling again. A tickling on the surface of your brain, a sort of itch as he seems familiar, but you’re sure it’s only his smile.

You try to shrug it off, try to focus on your book as the train keeps moving. The creak of the only other occupied seat makes you tense up and grip your book tighter. It’s followed by the tap of footsteps approaching from down the car.

Without a word, the man settles into the seat directly across from you. Your eyes lift for just a second and you can now clearly see the line of stitches across his forehead. You see the man’s handsome features in better detail than before; dark eyes, a masculine face. That familiar smile is settled on his lips and…it sends a shiver down your spine. He looks nothing like your ex-boyfriend except for that smile.

He leans forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he takes you in again. Despite watching you for a number of days now, he’s always kept his distance. This is the first time he’s gotten this close to you since the day he abandoned you. Oh, are you…trembling? Gripping that book so tightly in those hands that used to explore his body when he was in that other vessel. Those lips that used to please him are set in a tight line. You don’t recognize him in this body, but he’ll make sure you remember him soon enough. After all, you’re the last two people in this train car and you’re rapidly approaching the last stop of the night.

[paranoianocturna]

Aikawa, jefe de los Ojos Cruzados

Q HAYASHIDA

Follow me for more

[fieriframes]

[I give it all up in laughter. The sign of the cross awaiting disaster. Dove flew to me like a vision of paranoia. Dove flew to me like a vision of paranoia.]

[qoldenskies]

THE 50 THOUSAND WORD MARK HAS BEEN BREACHED I REPEAT THE FIFTY THOUSAND WORD MARK HAS BEEN BREACHED

[ask-misfits-of-war]

Thats another one on the list of "doctors who commited REALLY BAD MEDICAL MALPRACTICE" I know.

While we're at it, hey Mx. Bolide, do you theres an augmented weapon running around? Kinda looks like a pomegranete with a ton of arms and tons of wings.

(Oh he's not even the worse doctor who's committed horrendous medical malpractice I have; He's on the tamer side all things considered; Feel free to add em to your list though!)

"What are you playing at? Pomegranates are already strange with their wing-like appendages; that one probably just has some weird arm mutation—no stranger than those twin-headed cherries around. Fruitfolk already have too many eyes for my liking…let alone pomegranates in specific."

"And even if it were, it’d have to be a genetic experiment as opposed to our superior technological augmentations. Those organic degenerates don’t appreciate good tech, they tend to do genetic nonsense and whatever forbidden knowledge is in those old books. They might as well just be demons themselves. It shouldn't be hard to handle."

"It’s not like there’s an angel running around or some holy spear in use out on the battlefield—they may be idiots, but I doubt the fruitfolk would be so stupid as to play with something worse than radiation. Then again, fruitfolk are far more unaffected by radiation than most objectkin, frustratingly. It isn’t like there are many relic'kin around to balance that fact out, unfortunately."

"The great equalizer of us all is being weak to holy implements, I suppose. Unless you happen to be a priest, which you clearly aren’t, resistance isn’t typically something anyone has, whether fruit or object. Infernal power of the Below can be easily abused and dangerous, however."

"Apologies for running my mouth, I have been...stressed lately."

[dandelion-de-deus]

what does your mom do

Mostly clean the house and run bulldozers for fun (she’s the stay-at-home parent) but she has a degree in nutrition and food science which means I have a very maladjusted concept of what is common knowledge about food

[kittehbiscuits]

me again! then I guess I'm having a hard time understanding why, if it's all fiction and ok to change things around because that's fun to do and in a safe place that doesn't really exist with characters who don't exist, why is ok for you to do that to make them friends but not for people to ship them? it makes me uncomfortable too but to me it just seems like playing with dolls? you can make them do whatever and it's not hurting anyone. it feels like removing the problematic parts of him makes him not him anymore so I'm having trouble doing that part because that's just who he is to me and I don't think that makes me a bad person. sorry I'm just pretty new to fandom and don't get all the hate people have for others it makes me sad and like I don't want to participate in fandom at all :/

I've never said people aren't allowed to ship them, people can do what they want but it makes me uncomfortable to see so that's why I don't want people who ship them to interact with me.

You can interpret characters however you please and draw/write whatever you want, but everyone has boundaries and things they don't like and I don't like proshipping. It makes me uncomfortable, therefore I don't want to see it, y'know? If someone really does want to proship I don't care I just don't want to interact with them.

Basically, your interpretation is valid, go have fun in the fandom!! Just keep in mind some people won't want to see your content depending on your interpretation of the characters.

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

Gah

[anotherpapercut]

personal vent post/diary entry incoming:

I've struggled on and off over the years with varying degrees of agoraphobia and in the past like year or so I've made massive strides and got to the point where I was able to regularly attend social or otherwise crowded events. since breaking my foot I've gone backwards so much. I'm like terrified to leave my apartment even for work and have missed a lot of it. I've only tried hanging out in public places a handful of times and haven't gone to a single show since I got hurt over a month ago. it's extremely fucking frustrating having so much progress completely lost in a fucking instant

[kogetaikid]

I went for my daily run across a flat two-mile long trail and this is by far the fastest I’ve even went and the lowest time I’ve ever gotten.

0:19:29 LET’S GO!!

(Ramble alert in tags)

[jadetheblade4]

These people want to KILL ME WITH HAMMERS i gotta SWAY THEM with my UNINTENTIONAL CHARM and POLITE DEMEANOR plus some RELUCTANT AGREEMENTS!!!!!!!