Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
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cherry valley forever
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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@bloombled
🥀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃 — an independent multimuse featuring kurama of yu yu hakusho, jordi chin and the wrench in the works of watch_dogs, and other characters, some original. mature (21+) audiences only. no personal blogs. mutuals only.
drafts count: 0 reply, 0 inbox current most active muses: kurama, jordi chin, birdie this means replies for other muses will come slower than normal
I have to admit there's a small part of me that's terrified you'll wake up one day and realize you don't need me anymore... that you'll leave.❞ — @bruisednotes for jordi
There's something about Aiden that's different now - after the job and the coma, and all the mess that had come with it - a sensitivity about him that Jordi's never seen before. He's quieter, calmer, most still, and his eyes linger on Jordi in ways that make him itch, make him want to lash out. Make him think of a quiet call and haunting words, a thank you that had almost felt like a goodbye, and a declaration that had made him feel fear, real fear, for the first time in a very, very long time.
— "I'm going to hang around for a while, still have some lost time to make up for. I actually just wanted to say thanks for setting this up, and, well… I love you."
Yeah, Aiden had nearly killed him with that one, nearly caused him to have a widow-maker heart attack right there in the fucking produce aisle. Fucking oranges in his hands and vomit in his throat, and a shake to his voice that he'd just barely disguised as confusion. It had felt like a goodbye, and between the call ending and his next one beginning, Jordi had forgotten the oranges and his cart and had gotten on the first flight to Europe.
He'd been in a fog, at the time, nearly the whole time. Could barely remember anything but The Call, and nothing of the ones that he must have made directly after. Jordi didn't remember the flight, or the bartering, the stupid amount of money he'd spent on clothes and supplies when he realized he'd forgotten his to-go bag.
He remembered the boat trip though, the way that it'd felt like a trip down the River Styx... And he remembers seeing Aiden after. Aiden and his wide and confused eyes when he'd come through that shitty apartment door. Aiden alive and well and healing but not the same. Quieter and softer with eyes and hands that lingered, and a mouth that didn't know how to form the same sharp grins or insults, but knew how to smile wider and with more feeling than Jordi felt he'd seen for years.
A man that spewed soft sentimentality where once he would have said harsh realities - a new habit that he carried with him back to Jordi's hastily rented condo, one that kept going and going and going until —
"I have to admit there's a small part of me that's terrified you'll wake up one day and realize you don't need me anymore... that you'll leave." Said in the safety of night, while they're illuminated by the flickering colors of a muted television. Murmured just loud enough to be heard above the whisper of fabric shifting, of weight settling. Pressed into the heat of Jordi's shirt, against the ache of a shoulder that had never quiet healed after a job in Belarus.
He's such a fucking idiot. They both are, they have to be if it's taken them this long to fucking talk about it. Them and their future, and what it meant now that they were both out of the field.
"Aiden," Jordi starts, voice not exactly unkind, but not warm either - not yet. "I've invested way too much in you to throw you away like that. It'd be a waste of almost two decades of both our lives to split up now."
I love you. I've loved you since you were stupid and clever, and I was clever and stupid, and we fell into each other like intimacy-hungry idiots while a city burned around us.
"I'm not going anywhere, and you're not going anywhere but bed. Jesus Christ, maybe the coma did leave you with some brain trauma."
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ©
⥂ ░░░ “ 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 a perfectly good towel. maybe you should try getting some that aren't white. ” last part said with the smile of a man that only half means what he says; white and sterile is wyatt's brand, and if the rest of the new apartment is going to have donomie written all over it, well ... towels seem like a more than fair trade-off. even if between both him and wyatt, they're all stained with patches of pink, each like a different piece of heavily botched tie dye of their own personal design.
still, he's at least taking one of the towels to dry his hands before using it to wrap and tuck his hair, keeping it out of his eyes, the rest of him going completely ignored for now, to be dealt with later, after he takes an actual shower. “ first off, come here and sit so i can actually see. second … well, what excuses do you usually give him for why you come in looking like shit some days ? you can blame it on me, if you want. maybe he'd believe it. ”
Wyatt ignores the commentary on his towel choice, mostly because it's a battle that he knows he's already won. White towels could be bleached, even if he hadn't had the time to do so in months, and it wasn't like they had guests to comment on the stained state of them otherwise. Even with all the changes they'd made in their lives for each other, their grand move and all the things that had come with it, the policy on third parties had remained the same — no guests, no parties, and no family. Not even a maintenance man was allowed in unattended, and Wyatt hardly doubted that a laborer would comment on the state of their towels.
"I don't - Domi," There's amusement in his eyes as he finds a seat on the closed toilet lid, all of his naked height folding neatly and thighs spreading comfortably and unabashedly wide. "He's not going to believe you hit me like this." Especially if Domi continued to prance around visibly uninjured. Most of the ER pretended not to notice when Wyatt and Domi showed up (together or separated) with matching bruises, but everyone knew their relationship was sexually aggressive. Wyatt showing up injured and Domi later showing up not, well, it would be the cause of at least one new false rumor that he didn't feel like dealing with.
He really should consider transferring, maybe leaving Pittsburgh entirely. Everyone thought they knew him, and some were beginning to get too close and… Wyatt really didn't like the thought of being seen, even the thought of Donomie knowing him was too much on bad days — a vulnerability that he was still coming to terms with, no matter how good it felt on most days to have him near.
"It doesn't matter…" he says after a long pause. "I don't think he's believed any of that shit for a long time." Wyatt lowers the towel, then folds it over one knee. "Come on, let's get this over with. Do a bad job and I'm telling my patients next shift that you're an abusive housewife."
You're shaking. Here, take my jacket. ❞ — @filmichor for SYLVIA
She is shaking. Fine little tremors that have her bracelets jingling, her earrings tinkering. Goosebumps prickling up her skin, fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing at attention. She's trembling from head to toe — and it should be because of fear, because she knows what Danny is now, and he knows she knows, and it should be fear that has her shaking, has her muscles tense and her lips quivering.
It's not fear. It's the summer night's chill, and a lost sweater. An ill-planned walk turned into an ambush that was, at least for the moment, friendlier than their last one.
"That's very kind of you," Birdie's chilly, getting colder, but she knows what taking things from Danny entails by now, knows what the cost of his attention is. "But if I take your jacket, then what'll happen when you get cold?" Her smile is honest, at least, even as her gaze wanders. Eyes trailing to where she thinks, maybe, she might have nearly gutted him. "I'll be okay. Frankie and I once had to sit all night in a canoe, cold and miserable and wet. This is nothing."
※.·:·.※ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖 ··· a collection of chosen bonds, found family, & unconditional belonging roleplay sentence starters. genre: platonic love, hurt and comfort, loyalty.
• You know you don't have to keep checking on me, right? I'm fine. • How are you? Wait, did I ask that already? • I don't know what I'd do without you. I mean that. • Oh, God. I thought something happened to you. Don't scare me like that. • You're not alone in this. You know that, right? • We're family. That's what we do. We show up. • Make yourself at home, okay? This is your place too now. • Get out of here with that. You're not a burden. Don't ever say that again. • Is there anything you need? Food? A blanket? Someone to just sit with you? • So, what's next for us? • I have to admit there's a small part of me that's terrified you'll wake up one day and realize you don't need me anymore... that you'll leave. • It's just... I've never had this before. People who stay. • Why are you still here? I mean, you could go anywhere. Be with anyone. • I know I'm not easy to deal with. But thank you. For staying anyway. • [Name], I don't know what I'm doing half the time, okay? But I know I'm not doing it without you. • I don't really know where else I'd want to be, except right here. • You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that? • I really think you saved my life. Not dramatically. Just... by being here. • Hey. Bad dream? Come here. I've got you. • You don't owe me anything. This is what family does • Stop apologizing. You're allowed to need help. • I made your favorite. Thought you could use some comfort food today. • You look exhausted. When's the last time you actually slept? • I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, remember? • We've been through worse. We'll get through this too. • You don't have to be strong all the time. Not with me. • I brought you something. It's stupid, but it made me think of you. • Come on. Let's get you home. • You matter to me. More than you know. • I've got your back. Always have, always will. • You're shaking. Here, take my jacket. • I know you're scared. It's okay to be scared. • You did good today. Really good. • I'm proud of you. I don't say that enough. • Stop pushing me away. I'm not leaving. • You think I'd let you face this alone? Not a chance. • I'll stay up with you. I don't mind. • You're safe here. I promise. • Tell me what you need. Anything. • You don't have to pretend with me. • I trust you. Completely. • You've got this. And if you don't, we've got this. • I'd do anything for you. You know that, right? • You're not too much. You're never too much. • This is your home now. For as long as you want it. • I'll fight for you if you can't fight for yourself right now. • You make me want to be better. A better person. • I chose you. I keep choosing you. Every day. • You're allowed to fall apart. I'll hold the pieces until you're ready.
going to try to be here more often. the playoffs are over for me mentally, and i'm vibin. might do a carrd revamp here tomorrow after vet appointment, we'll see.
updated and open for service.
going to try to be here more often. the playoffs are over for me mentally, and i'm vibin. might do a carrd revamp here tomorrow after vet appointment, we'll see.
⥂ ░░░ 𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 that wyatt's back is to him, best that he doesn't see the flash of understanding in his eyes, the unusual seriousness that clouds his expression. clearly, it's an uncomfortable topic. clearly, wyatt doesn't want to talk about it, and donomie sees no reason to; it's something he's intimately familiar with, the way catharsis wipes away what would normally be excruciating pain, the way the pain itself is its own soothing balm. it's exactly what keeps him lucid and sane ( relatively speaking ) after nights of violence and being temporarily banned from bars, nights that ended with him sitting in the emergency room in the company of medical personnel that knew him far too well by now, sometimes until wyatt himself shows up to work to clock in the next morning, already surly and irritable from donomie's carelessness. and maybe the fact that he both went to bed and woke up to an empty bed, not that he would ever admit to such.
that's a thought that wipes the stiff expression from his face immediately, in favor of a small, amused smile that he uses to press a soft, quick kiss against wyatt's back. calloused fingers return to the elder man's hips for balance when he lifts up onto his tip toes for a better look, following the trail of blood to its source with a quiet hum. “ mhm, i'll patch it up for you. ” he slips out of place, edging around wyatt for the door. “ sit, and i'll get the kit. ”
@bloombled
The kiss is soft, almost chaste, but it still makes him breathe in deep. A sharp contrast to the cold water on his front, to the aches that were only just beginning to set in. Donomie's affection always came easy, like they were easy, even though they were anything but, and every touch of his feels like a brand to his skin. Something that sinks in deep, and leaves marks that Wyatt is sure will be found in his bones a hundred years on. He doesn't know what that thought, why all thoughts of Domi, sit heavy in his mind like a weighted blanket, but they do, and they calm him just as much, and he relishes in the easy-affection like a cat in a sunspot, muscles loosening and eyes sliding shut, breath coming nice and easy.
"…Abbot's going to be pissed." The thought comes delayed, his attention turning to the direction Donomie had just escape to, eyes dark and searching and completely unbothered. "Going to be hard to explain this one away…" Wyatt rinses himself one final time with the cold water and turns off the shower. Grabs and dries himself off with a towel, mindless of the fresh blood that ends up on it, and then he just - stands there. Tall and naked and bruised in the white bathroom. White towel turning pink as he holds it to his still bleeding head wound, expression uncharacteristically open and truly calm.
"You're dripping on the floor."
⥂ ░░░ 𝗔𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡 𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 the soft growl that rumbles in his throat, but it's there anyway, unbidden and unwelcome, a wholehearted betrayal of his own biology at the mere thought of jordi taking back what was, in all fairness, his. his own heart thuds heavily in his chest, right up against his pocket of shame, involuntary thoughts of random passersby acknowledging him as jordi's, even with no other formal marker of him being so, with no idea of who they even are, what they do, what they don't do swarming his mind ⸺ and wouldn't you know it, my traitorous instinct doesn't hate it. it's usually quiet in times like this, when just the thought of being claimed ( or worse, owned ) by an alpha makes me want to puke or tear something apart with my teeth. but it's different with jordi, always different with jordi. it's gonna get me in trouble, if it doesn't pipe the fuck down.
silence again now, while aiden's fingers clench and release around the steering wheel, willing the disgusting creature in him back into its cage, where it's safe, where it can't expose or embarrass him further. safer still, to change the subject now, before things get worse, get messy in a way he can't ignore and that definitely has no place in some random person's car on the rainy chicago streets. he inclines his head, nodding out the window as brightly lit signs and massive windows of various businesses pass them by. “ you want food or not ? because i'm about to start heading back to the motel. ”
@bloombled
"No," Jordi's smile is involuntary, and only mildly unpleasantly smug. A sudden stretch of his lips that shows off teeth. "I'm not hungry." Not for food, anyway. Aiden's sensitivity over their mixed scents riling up nearly just as much need as the mixed scents themselves. Blood not quite pounding in his ears yet, but the solid thump of his heart in his chest enough now that Jordi knows he has very little time before he says something knot-headed, or at least something else that'll piss Aiden off enough to get him kicked out of his space, and he doesn't want to have to call a fucking taxi in Chicago while it's raining, he'll be miserable.
The inhale he takes through his open and smug mouth does nothing to tame him. Aiden's little growl playing on repeat in his head with every breath he takes, and that with his tense posture, the clear way he's still fighting himself despite walking around like he's Jordi's… Jordi is going to say something stupid, he's going to do something stupid too, and somehow for the fucking life of him, he can't find it to be a bad thing for once - he just needs to get them both out of the car at at a destination first.
"Take me back to your shitty motel room, Pearce." He turns his head to acknowledge him fully, hand dropping to lean casually against the door. Voice casual, even as his pupils gleam big and dangerous. "I'm getting bored."
wyatt uwu
tag dump wrenchie
tags kurama
tag dump for jordi
tag dump birds edition
tag dump ooc edition
