#AND DONE! y’all I am so happy you have all of these finished and posted

[bienmoreau]

Ed Levy - Articles and Albums; 2003

The final set in a series of illustrations based on ‘the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you’ by @greatunironic

Archive: 1990 | 1991-2 | 1994-5 | 1996-7 | 1998 | 1999-2001 | 2003

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[agustdef]

Will You

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff; Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Light Language

Rating: PG-13

Beta Reader: @hobeemin

A/N: This was due to idk and I have so many ideas that I simply didn’t write a ff that ended up posted for much too long. So here’s to hoping to finishing these ideas.

“And without further ado, I am more than happy to introduce you to our keynote speaker Ms. YN LN.”

Clapping fills the room, and Jungkook joins in a beat late. His mind wandered as he’d listened to the other speakers for almost an hour. They’d all had interesting things to say, but something about being in a room with all these people with a person at a podium felt too much like school. Plus, a few of them seemed just to enjoy hearing themselves talk.

He refused to admit that to YN, though.

His beautiful girlfriend tried to give him an out when he said he’d come with her for this event. Told him how boring it would be and that she didn’t mind if he just did something else until she was done. Of course, he pushed for it, and she relented with one final warning about how he’d be bored as hell. To a degree, he’d known that going into it, but he wanted to support her. And to see her in her element.

Though they both work in the same industry, they’re on different ends of it. Jungkook as an artist and occasional writer, while YN worked legal. Their first encounter was when an American artist friend of his invited her out to dinner as a thank you for helping him with a contract issue with his label. They’d made him promises and tried to backtrack when it was time for the new contract. YN worked at a firm that specialized in that kind of thing, though they usually worked with smaller artists. His friend had been her big break, bringing in business and a promotion.

Of course, Jungkook was too much of a punk to ask her for her number at that meeting. He was too nervous about if it was forward, and he didn’t want to mess with the mostly professional nature of the event. But he got her card, and that was enough.

Until they kept bumping into each other at the more business-like industry events. Well, half bumping into each other and the other half him hunting down her name on programs and making sure to show up to those panels or events. It made him feel like a little bit of a stalker, but to combat that, he finally got his shit together and asked her out after running into her at a restaurant. 

Grateful to not be turned down was an understatement.

As they got to know each other, he felt himself fall hard and fast. She was perfect. Not in how one thinks when they hear the word, but in how that worked for him. That made their relationship work through the lows as well as the highs. 

I love you slipped out of his mouth five months in. 

If that didn’t explain why he put himself through this boredom, nothing, else would at least not in a way that made sense. His members still sometimes looked at him crazy with how he felt about her and how he could only sometimes find the words to explain it in a coherent way.

“I promise to try not making this too boring for y’all. I can not, however promise it won’t be boring at all. My line of work has to have some pitfalls besides all that paperwork,” YN joked.

The entire room laughs. It’s not the funniest thing in the world, but the way she delivers it and the energy she exudes as a person gets to people. It’s why Jungkook lets out a laugh that’s a little too loud and draws the attention of those around him. And of YN, though she doesn’t look his way to make that clear. He just nose from the way she pauses for a second longer, and her smile widens. 

Embarrassed isn’t even the right word for him at the moment. Part of him wants to flee the room, but he stays in his seat. It helps that anyone who side eyes him switches to being shocked to see him there. Being identified as a member of BTS is what he can handle; being embarrassed is not, despite what his variety show content and the lives over the years might suggest.

To let the feeling pass, he focused on the stage. Well, on YN.

“For those who don’t know me, I’m YN LN, and I've been working at Heights Law for the last six or seven years,. We specialize in fair contracts for indie artists. From things with their label to tours, merchandise, the people they hire, and even contracts between members if it’s a group. About thirty-five percent of those we work with don’t even have a label they’re signed to and don’t want to. And then about twenty percent of our clients are more mainstream artists looking for the same services.

We don’t work with any sort of label because we feel it ties us to worrying too much about keeping on their good side when trying to figure things out. And while we are not on a mission to do anything that would be, for the lack of a better word, line crossing with the people we are trying to get to sign the contracts, our clients come first. That’s made us stand out in a way y’all may have heard about a time or two. I’d like to personally apologize for making you sit through articles about a certain label trying to screw over up and coming artist Minx and all the weird things that were honestly not so weird about her tour rider.”

Again laughter, but with some whispers and grumbles thrown in. That entire situation had everyone in the industry confused as hell, and for the last few months, they thought Minx was trying to be greedy until everything was settled and it was shown that all her asks weren’t as crazy as they’d seemed. Even Jungkook found himself looking at YN like she’d lost it with every new bit of information that was released. He’d asked her about it, but she gave him a look, and he had to wait out the outcome like everyone else. 

“And for this, I think Minx is the perfect situation to discuss. I mean, when else will you see how things can go when a former lawyer turned pop star wants to sign with the label she used to work for but knows all their tricks.”

That was all it took to have people enthralled. After everything settled, everyone still had a million questions about it, but they were still waiting for someone at the firm to answer them. Jungkook had the fortune of dating YN around the time, so he got her to tell him, and Minx had invited them somewhere and told him more. So, he knew everything.

Which meant he could just stare at her. He didn’t think of himself as the type to be much of a creepy person, even if him trying to run into her wasn’t a clear indication of that. That and that looking at her was one of his favorite pastimes. 

YNs cute.

He would and did use a million words to describe her. But the first thought in his brain when he saw her was how cute she was, and he felt his heart triple in size from that alone. Her genuine smile and soft features do a lot to counteract the fact that she’s only an inch shorter than me, which throws people off when they meet her and had only seen her face before.

Those legs of hers, when she wears heels, drive Jungkook absolutely feral. And he has to fight off the thought of them as his mind spirals. He focused instead on the light tint of pink pushing through the brown skin because of all the bright lighting, the way there’s a stray piece of hair not as curly as the rest that she swears isn’t from heat damage, and she can fix, the soft red of her lips, and the way every part of her body seems light and open as she talks about a subject she loves. A look he’s familiar with and is how he knows she looks at him. 

More than anything, Jungkook is sure that YN loves him as much as he loves her, and like a revelation, he knows how much that is. How much space that love takes up in him, to the point that sometimes it feels like it’s overflowing. Right now, it feels like it’s overflowing.

“Questions?”

That one word pulls him out of his head, but he looks at YN with a clarity he didn’t have a few minutes ago, let alone a few hours ago.

Someone clears their throat, but his eyes don’t leave her.

“Why not just go with what the label wanted? I mean, sure, Minx had the background, but that shouldn’t make her any different than any other artist. Should she not be thankful to get into the place twice on different sides of it?”

There was agreement in the crowd, but it died out quickly with everyone else's quietness drop quiet.

Despite the shift in vibes, there’s a smile on YN’s face. 

“Why do you think that? Is it because others don’t have that same knowledge? I can see how that could be seen as unfair because it is. But because she has the background,, she used it to help herself best,, which made it so we could best help her and those in the future. However, I can assure you that they changed their contract language a lot since then. Height and many other firms who deal with them and this kind of thing all saw a shift for the better and for the worst with them. So, while you may wonder why Minx didn’t simply take what she should be lucky to have gotten from them, I hope you’re settled by the fact that unless the rare thing happens. Someone else does the same thing, no one else will be able to give the insight on how to best make the next contract work for the client in the way she did.”

The response is assertive, sarcastic, and professionally annoyed. It doesn’t leave room for anyone to say anything that doesn’t make them look any more like an ass. But the man at the podium opens his mouth a few times to try and figure out what to say. In the end, he walks away from the mic with his head down. Jungkook is sure that if it weren’t for pride, he would walk out of the room altogether.

“Any more questions,” YN said after a moment.

There’s one that Jungkook has. One he needs answered, but he finds himself glued to his seat.

Several people go up and ask their questions, all of them better than the first one, though some of them toe the line. There are also a few that Jungkook would deem flirting, but they don’t bother him. Not with the thoughts swarming around in his head.

Before he knows it, she answers the last question, and everyone is dismissed. A few linger to talk, but with this day being so packed, everyone wants to rush off to the next talk or event happening.

He sits in the seat for about fifteen minutes before she walks up to him, and when she puts her hand on his shoulder, he looks up at her startled, even though he watched her approach him.

“Ready to go?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes as he stares at her. He feels all over the place, but none of it’s uncertainty or doubt.

“I have a question,” he managed.

“Huh?”

“I have a question. I didn’t get the chance to ask it in there. I was… I’m nervous to ask it, and I couldn’t do it in there.”

YN frowned. “You can always ask me anything, my love. No need to be nervous about it. Plus, I’m sure yours is better than some of the bullshit I get asked in general when it comes to work.”

For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. All he can do is stare at her and try to keep his breathing normal. The latter is the hardest part, but YN takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tight.

Taking a breath, he gets to his feet, takes both of her hands in his, and stares into her eyes. He’s more than sure about what he has to say.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Question nor answer was said with any hesitation. However, Jungkook could tell that YN was still trying to process what was happening. He was too, but that wasn’t important now.

After a second, Jungkook released one of her hands, and with the other firm in his grasp, he led her out of the room. He hears her ask a question, but it doesn’t fully register in his brain. All his focus is on weaving through the crowd of people and out the door of the convention center. The place isn’t as isolated as some can be, so he walked past the parking lot where his car is and made his way past the hotel they were staying at.

“Where are we going?”

“Jungkook?”

“Jay?”

There’s a loud exhale too, but Jungkook paid it no mind. He’s on a mission. 

“For goodness sake, Kookie.”

YN matches his pace though she’s clearly confused by what the hell is happening. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t find his words just yet, so he kept walking until ten minutes later, they were in front of a popular celebrity-use jewelry store.

A few of the things he bought for himself and others - YN included - were from here, so he had a code that they gave him to get in. The door buzzed them in, and the moment that they walked in, there was a person there and ready to help. Though it might not be obvious to most, it was clear from the knowing smile on the woman’s face she knew what was up. 

Didn’t stop Jungkook from being so flustered, though. 

“Hi. Engagement rings. I mean, we would like to see engagement rings.”

Without a word, she directed them to the back of the store. They followed close behind her, and when they entered the room, she’s taking them to another person is setting down a tray of rings, with others sitting on a cart behind him.

Yeah, she knew.

Once everything is on the table, the man leaves, and they’re directed to sit. The woman who welcomed them stands on the other side of the table.

“This is a collection of all the rings we sell in the store. Though there are others, we can have custom made if what you see in front of you isn’t the right fit or you want a mix of styles. There’s a mix of the traditional sort and the non-traditional. Some are even without diamonds. Please, take your time to look through them and see if something catches your eye.”

Then she’s gone, and all the sound goes with her.

“We’re doing this?”

“You asked me.”

“True.”

Jungkook finally turns and looks at her, and despite all the nerves he’s feeling about if she’ll take it back, there’s a smile on her face. And a lack of anxiety like what’s going through him. Though he can tell, she’s a little thrown off by it all.

“I did. And I want to.”

“Then we better start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

All the tension that was once there leaves the room, and they both turn their attention to the hundreds of rings in front of them. It’s an overwhelming site, but they dive into them. Jungkook tries to get YN to try some on, but she says that she doesn’t want to just yet, so they set them on the empty tray right in front of them. 

Each one feels perfect to Jungkook, but not right. More of the diamond rings that look how he’s used to seeing American engagement rings look like end up on the tray, which isn’t much of a shock with YN’s usual preferences.

A tray marked as morganite is second to last, and Jungkook almost avoids it, but then one ring calls to him. His eyes zone in on it, and he reaches for it just as YN gasps. His neck nearly breaks when he turns to look at her, but the slight pain means nothing as he follows her gaze to the ring he was reaching for.

Without another thought, he picks it up, takes her hand, and slides it into place. Though it’s a little loose, it fits her finger. The oval champagne colored gem is on a white gold band and surrounded on either side with diamonds that fan out, almost like leaves on the stem of a flower. They wrap perfectly around her finger and stop before they reach the palm side. Everything about it is YN. Is them.

“Perfection,” YN whispered.

“Yeah.”

And like the whirlwind that this was, Jungkook was happy to find that they had the same ring, the right size, on the premises, and he paid for it right then and there. It only left YN’s finger so they could clean it, and then it was on again.

They walked out of the room, and both were on a cloud. All those nerves Jungkook felt before were gone, but something else replaced it.

“I guess we have a wedding to plan. I can’t imagine when we’d even have it,” YN said.

“Now.”

Not the least bit startled, she turned to him with a raised brow. 

“Now?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Silence sat between them for what felt like forever, and then YN turned her attention back to the jeweler.

“We need to see wedding bands, too,” she said, then turned back to Jungkook. “And you need to start making phone calls.”

[mjparkerwriting]

Y’all….I’m done!

I’ve been a little quiet for a reason. As I said before in another post, I’ve been pretty busy lately. Friend stuff. Writing stuff. Relaxing stuff. Getting ready for an end of summer trip AND prepping for a new school year, teaching at a new school. A lot has been happening.

BUT I just finished my first draft of TLBH. Like…I’m done! My minimum goal was 85k and today, I hit 85,144, which I am perfectly happy with. I am so excited to be done and really proud of myself for sticking with it.

Now, I will be taking a break from looking at this WIP and anything to do with it. Editing and second draft stuff will sit on the back burner for a bit. I have an idea for another story that I wanna work on and haven’t been able to dig into too much lately because I wanted to finish this project first, so I will start shifting my focus to this standalone project before going back to my big series stuff.

Now, whenever I play different tag games and such, I’ll have two different stories to pick from.

Thanks everyone who’s followed me, liked, reblogged, etc. Thanks for all the asks and tags and all the support. You guys are really awesome and I can’t wait to share other stuff with you all. :) 🤍

[mrs-monaghan]

i know you aren’t a hater and you’ll probably not post it but I wish you will so I can feel seen because I am bursting with so many emotions and no one in my real life would get it. if it’s true that tae is dating that girl, i’mma let hate paralyse my mind. I swear there’s no coming back from this. I mean y’all telling me jimin being hated, slut shamed, defamed, threatened and sabotaged was all for nothing. I’m trying hard to ignore both jk and tae in this mess but y’all are telling they sat there and let your so called friend be dragged for years. There’s no way bighit don’t know about this.

This isn’t even about jikook because deep down I know it’s jimin over anyone else. I will cry for real so I’m hoping it’s not true. After all the mess jimin has gone through, the least taekook should have done is to at least kiss so as to justify all these hate. I know this is a jikook blog but I follow you because I’m curious about him and I am ready to support him in anything. But truly I am sad. I always thought if any of vminkook announce their relationship I will be relieved because jm will be free but today I realize that it’s the opposite. I am angry, I am sad and I feel so hurt on behalf of jimin. All those dc inside, YouTube hate video, death threats, report for jm. I’m going to sort out my feelings for taekook because deep down I don’t hate them… never😭😭

Anon. It's hard to be a PJM in 2023 so I understand. Trust me, I get it. I love this man an unhealthy amount. I see why you're getting affected by the Jimin hate. But here is the thing that I need u to think about before you take the anti route.

Here are the most recent Vmin hugs we have.

This was not part of the choreo

I mean look at Jimin's face

And the very most recent ot7 content. Again look at this hug. Look at V's face.

What I'm I saying? I think these motherfuckers love each other. That's what I think. I think V loves Jimin and Jimin loves V. Do I think they are as close as they used to be? No. But do they still love eo? Absolutely.

3 things 1) An anon made a point that I've been thinking about. The Tannies probably don't see what happens on I-twitter. They probably have their twitter curated and only shows what Karmy are saying. And Karmy are not the ones hating on Jimin. So for all we know V might be missing all this fuckery. I really don't see him seeing the pigmin and bangmin stuff and him being okay with that.

2) Jimin is no push over. Never has been. If V was being a dick to him or if Jimin had issues with V, he would have cut him out of his life. I honestly believe that.

3) Jeon Jungkook would never in a million years hurt Jimin on purpose or let someone else hurt Jimin. Ever. Like that's a thing that will never fucking happen. It doesn't matter who it is. This man defends Jimin even when his man doesn't need defending. Jimin can handle himself but when JK sees some fuckery going on he steps up. So aint no way he would be hanging out with V if the dude was being malicious.

I let u guys vent here and I hear and understand where you're coming from but my stand has always remained the same. As long as Jimin and Jungkook continue to love V, so will I. Clearly there is alot we don't know.

From the outside looking in, it looks bad but I really do think they're fine. If Jimin had an issue with what V was doing, not only would he shut it down, but so would JK.

I'll give you an example. JK came live and V told him to go to insta. A very awkward live happened but that's neither here nor there. What also happened was that live made noise even in the Karmy side. So this is what happened.

Tkk live ---- Jimin comes live for the shortest live he had ever done at that time. And he was busy. But for some reason he still stopped by. It seemed like it could have waited till he finished work---- V shares a Jikook photo for Jhope's birthday.

I think these 3 things are related. I think someone wasn't happy about the tkk live and that was V making it up to him.

I, think if Jimin has an issue he lets it known and handles it.

Jimin is not weak, anon. Jimin is quite strong. Stronger than people give him credit for. I guarantee if V was an issue he would have handled him by now. For all we know the dumpling incident got physical and u know Jimin won that fight.

So, its important to pause. Breathe. Its okay. Everything is okay. I'm about to say something extremely blunt now. Anon, it helps no one when u get affected mentally by Jimin hate. He doesn't know u and he will never hear about it if something happens to you. He and his millions will be perfectly fine. You gotta look after yourself first. Alright?

Love Shazy,

[dailydoofypokemon]

HOENN DONE!

Wowee zowee, I’ve been done with Hoenn for a while now and am about 20 into Sinnoh, but oh man, I think more people are finding the lil blog here as Hoenn was going by, I got to 100 followers and am averaging about 10 notes a day. Which I know that’s not much, but it’s so much more activity than I’ve had on my main blog. I’m pretty sure it’s because of the consistency? But that’s still rad.

Special thanks to @everysinglepheel and @drizzileiscool for being such regulars! I know I don’t respond, but y’all’s tags keep me going. I know Drizzile, you’re waiting for the gen after this one, and that’s cool! I appreciate you sticking around like you have, so thank you so much! Same goes for Pheel! Thank you for always checking out my art!

Also a little extra thanks to @somekindabard who I love very very much and is my partner in crime and life and the best and helps me finish off all the Pokémon probs gosh, has it been since the beginning of Hoenn? Either way, love yoooooou

After Hoenn, I also think I’m going to drop off the numbering for the days. I know it’s not a lot, but I keep losing track over where I’m at, and I’m almost positive I’m off by like five or ten at this point, so it’s just a little change to the descriptions, but it’s enough that I gotta do something about it and it would help me queueing everything up ‘cause I keep losing which number i was last on //OTL

I also have posters for each gen I’ve completed so far, along with one that just has the starters! Once I get my shop properly fixed, I’ll put them online if anyone is interested. They’re 11x17, and I’m honestly really happy with how they turned out because they’re just so goofy looking, and it’s great seeing everything I’ve done so far combined into one. I want to make prints of each of the these guys in a fun collectible way eventually (a la trading cards maybe? Or something in the realm of a pack of cards or something) because there’s just some thing really satisfying to the idea of that, and may be a better solution for my table situation when I’m vending, lol. I’ll have a post on that soon so if y’all are interested!

To answer a question that came up early in Hoenn: Yes I do plan on doing every version of every Pokemon eventually! My plan is to finish all the current Pokédex, then get to work on the Mega Evolutions, then regional versions, then potentially spend a month just doing the Unown alphabet to hopefully turn into a silly font. It’ll be a while until I get there, but maybe I’ll do some of the Unown alphabet over the course of a few days and upload those as a set when I get the spoons for that. So I won’t just stop at Paldea! (Or whatever gen Pokemon will be by the time I get to Paldea, lol)

Lastly, I was curious if you guys wanted me to answer more things on here? I read everything that is sent my way, but I don’t respond because I know some people do prefer to have blogs that are themed blogs to remain consistent and not see much else. If I did interact more, I would always tag these regular posts with ‘#not pokemon’ so if you block posts then you shouldn’t see them!

Anyway, thank you so much all those who’ve been following me for a while and all those who found my blog in Hoenn! Tomorrow starts the next region: Starly! …because I also already did the starters! :D

[aemonds-little-belle]

It's starting! I'm back! AHHHH.

Housekeeping - Yes, it’s been over a year since I’ve updated this story, and I apologise. Oh my what has happened in that year, lifes continued on around me even if I wasn’t ready for it. Anyways, I now find myself finally back, and finally rewriting this story, the story I love genuinely so much. (This is my eleventh time rewriting this, if you don’t believe me I have the google doc receipts <3) 

What’s Different? - My writing style has evolved heavily over this past year. I’ve been writing a lot on my own, like a few actual books I hope to get in the world one day, and I’ve done a fair bit of writing for school. (I’m in a creative writing program now, thank you for all the support you’ve all shown me since I started writing this in December of 2022, y’all are a big part of why I decided to chase my dreams.) With that all said this is still fanfiction, and I’ve had to remind myself that it doesn’t have to be perfect, it can just be fun. So while you enjoy my new writing style, and eventually new bits and pieces of this world, and new characters, please remember that while this might be slightly better than the last go at it, it’s still fanfiction. Also the chapters are shorter <3 and it’s got a dual POV sort of thing … Slightly, but not much else has changed! (I’m probably lying!) 

Also - I am Canadian, we have different ways of spelling things that the USA and possibly other places, please don’t get on my ass because I use a “S” instead of a “Z”, and if I add a “U” somewhere, I promise it’s not the end of the world. 

I plan to update as I go, there will be about 30 to 40 chapter so buckle up!

ENJOY! I KNOW I DID! AND I’M SORRY FOR GATEKEEPING THIS FOR SO LONG!!! <3

All five first chapters have been posted to Wattpad and AO3, you can find them there, the first chapter will be posted on here tonight, and then I'll post maybe one chapter every few days on here, but both Wattpad and AO3 will be updated the moment I finish a chapter. Happy reading!

WATTPAD | AO3

[solarpunkani]

Sonic the Hedgehog and Solarpunk Ideals

Alright, it's June 23rd which means not only is it Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, but it's also Sonic the Hedgehog's 32nd birthday. Let's all say Happy Birthday Sonic the Hedgehog.

Overall, that means it's time for me to do something I usually don't do on this blog--talk about Sonic the Hedgehog, one of my favorite series of all times. Specifically, how I feel it embodies Solarpunk at least a little bit. Hopefully you'll see where I'm coming from by the end of this.

Real quick though, special shout out to @modern-solarpunk for being my beta reader 100/10 owe you my life.

Alright let’s make one thing clear. I’m a Sonic nerd. I’ve been a Sonic nerd since at least the 5th grade. Sonic the hedgehog is one of My Things. IDK if I’d call it a hyperfixation, but it’s definitely one of My Things, and it’s been one of My Things longer than gardening or even Solarpunking and all the other stuff y’all know me for has been. I am about to talk y’alls ears off. Buckle up.

With that in mind, I’m not going to pretend that the Sonic franchise is a perfect franchise made by perfect people working under a perfect corporation. Even ignoring the timeline disasters, retconning, and rushed projects (*cough cough Sonic 06 and Sonic Boom cough cough*), Sonic the Hedgehog is made by a corporation in a capitalistic world who has done some… iffy things in the past, present, and likely the future. We are, here, today, strictly talking about two things--the creation of Sonic and the creation of Dr. Eggman. There will be a super special third topic I bring up later, but that's gonna be its own post. I’ll bring up a handful of things from the shows, comics, movies, etc. If I finish writing and editing and posting this whole lengthy diatribe and someone ignores this paragraph and brings up some inane unrelated shit that the Big Corporation Guys did That One Time Months/Years Ago I might snap. Yes, corporations are bad. Yes, I like Sonic. Let’s establish that.

Ok let’s actually get started.

Sonic the Hedgehog the Dude, Tiny Rebellions, and Freedom

Alright, so Sonic the Hedgehog is a series of games, movies, comic books, TV shows--it's a whole thing, it's an entire franchise. The basics of what you need to know here is that a little 3’3” superpowered anthropomorphic blue hedgehog dude and his array of equally-animalian and equally-colorful friends are ruining the robotics-based evil world takeover plans of a 6’1” egg-shaped human dude on the regular. Occasionally, there are other villains, and other storylines, and sometimes the motivations change, but that sentence boils down the Sonic the Hedgehog storyline to its base essentials. 

The Sonic franchise was dreamed up in 1990 when SEGA needed a new mascot to compete with Nintendo’s iconic Mario. Personality-wise, he’s said to have been inspired by “a modern sensibility of wanting to get things done right away, righting wrongs as they presented themselves instead of letting them linger.” As we currently know him, with Sonic “What you see is what you get--just a guy who loves adventure.” He’s a free-spirited drifter who goes with the flow, valuing freedom above all else and wanting nothing more than to live by his own rules and whims rather than bowing to the expectations of others. He loves interacting with the many cultures on his planet (which we mostly see in Sonic Unleashed, but still), trying local dishes with friends frequently. Overall, Sonic is driven by a strong sense of justice and fairness, fighting for the ideal of freedom rather than the name of the law--and he always fights for the underdog. He likes to handle things on his own, but he isn’t above looking to his friends for help when needed--and acknowledges their role in his life and achievements regularly (if he can be a bit smug at times). He appreciates scenic views and nature, with a special fondness for places filled with plants--we see him do this lots in the series--and he hates when people destroy it for their own gain. He doesn’t hate cities, though, and finds they have their own beauty.

So what’s Solarpunk about this? In my eyes, a good bit. If you don’t know what Solarpunk is, it’s described on Wikipedia as ‘a literary and artistic movement that envisions and works towards actualizing a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community.” Aesthetically, I like to describe it as a mix between sci-fi and cottagecore, with a particular leaning towards some steampunk and some cyberpunk elements, but in a brighter, cleaner, more hopeful way. It's important to note, however, that Solarpunk is also a practical and political action mindset--as much as Solarpunks dream of a hopeful future and work to visualize it, we also work to learn the concepts and take the actions needed to make it a reality. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that Sonic is super politically revolutionary, I’m here to talk about how Sonic fits into the aesthetics of Solarpunk.

As such, lets get into the point--I feel like Sonic is pretty Solarpunk, personality-wise. He just fits a lot of the core tenants--wants to right wrongs ASAP, whether they’re his wrongs or wrongs of the past. He values freedom, traveling, and beautiful natural places--a big chunk of Solarpunk is learning to appreciate and protect the natural species around you, and plenty of people have dreamed up nomadic Solarpunk societies. Even Sonic living by his own rules instead of bowing to expectations fits in Solarpunk--A Solarpunk Manifesto states that “the ‘punk’ in Solarpunk is about rebellion, counterculture… and enthusiasm. it is about going in a different direction than the mainstream…” People in the Solarpunk movement care deeply about freedom, justice, fairness, and fixing the broken systems we deal with today--and often start the legwork by forming or taking part in community-based movements and initiatives. We lean onto those around us for strength and courage, to work as a group to think of solutions to problems, whether that be something small like trading DIY patch instructions to bigger things like planning and creating community gardens to even sharing news about unionizing and more. There’s acts a Solarpunk can do alone--like guerrilla gardening, or moss graffiti, or drawing and writing concepts of a brighter future--but we all know we’re at our strongest when we’re not just one, but many. 

But one of my biggest arguments to Sonic being Solarpunk actually centers around his nemesis--Doctor Eggman.

Doctor Eggman as the Antithesis of Solarpunk

After all, it’s pretty hard to talk about how a hero of a series is Solarpunk without discussing the people and forces he fights against, and most of the time that’s Doctor Ivo Robotnik--better known to most as Dr. Eggman. He was developed more or less directly alongside Sonic the hedgehog, and as such the notes about his creation not only influence his character, but the character and vibe of most of the franchise so far. So who is Doctor Eggman?

Doctor Eggman is often described as the World’s Vilest Person--he’s evil, mean, cruel-spirited, and a self-proclaimed genius scientist who only really thinks about what he wants and what he needs to do to get it--getting pleasure in crushing anything that gets in his way. His main goal is to establish his Eggman Empire across the entire planet and build his own version of a utopia, Eggmanland--usually taking the form of a polluted, smog-filled city or a robotic theme park. His plans have varied from excavating natural spaces and turning woodland creatures into robotic slaves (Sonic 1, 2, 3), using doomsday devices to threaten nations and blow up the moon (Sonic Adventure 2), tie down planets for his own purposes (Sonic CD, Sonic Colors), or even using cosmic forces beyond his comprehension to flood metropolises or literally rip the planet apart (Sonic Adventure, Sonic Unleashed). In the comics and some shows, he even takes it a step further--a common theme with him is Roboticization, wherein people are forcibly turned from organic beings into robot slaves. Sometimes its a machine fulfilling this sometimes-irreversible process (Archie Comics, Sonic the Hedgehog Cartoon, Sonic Underground), while other times its an all-consuming virus that grows out of his control and turns almost the entire planet into raving robotic zombies (IDW Sonic Comics issues #12-29). He’s fueled by delusions of grandeur, believing that all of the world’s problems would be solved if he specifically were in charge of everyone all the time and had things his way, and makes robotic inventions and weapons to obtain power. He’s overflowing with self-confidence and pride, highlighting his ‘scientific genius’ whenever he can. He’ll leave temporary allies to rot if it gives him a chance to take all the credit and power for  himself, he looks down on everyone else and sees them as insignificant, only interested in what benefits him. Fairness and community? With Doctor Eggman? Forget it, he’ll steal candy from a baby and then turn it into a robot if given the chance. And even with robotic helpers he makes himself, he quickly gets sick of them--Eggman doesn’t do friends. 

I’d compare him to Elon Musk, but at least Dr. Eggman is actually a genius.

A Solarpunk Manifesto was published in 2019, describing Solarpunk as “A movement in speculative fiction, art, fashion, and activism that seeks to answer and embody the question ‘what does a sustainable civilization look like, and how can we get there?’”. Eggmanland is not how we get there--Doctor Eggman is an embodiment of everything the Solarpunk ideology stands against, and not entirely by accident. Here’s a quote from Yuji Naka, one of the creators of Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Robotnik was created to be the opposite of Sonic, and to be the bad guy. At that time, there was opposition between "developers" and "environmentalists", and Robotnik was created to represent machinery and development.”

He represents it pretty well--his common motifs are imperialism and pollution, and his version of a utopia is often reminiscent of pre-EPA photos of US cities. Sometimes its done to a cartoonish level--but the point still stands. Whenever we catch glimpses of Eggman’s ‘Home Bases,’ whether its Scrap Brain Zone in Sonic 1, Chemical Plant in Sonic 2, Metallic Madness in Sonic CD, or elsewhere, we’re always seeing tons of mechanization, smog, pollution, and death robots.

Solarpunks aren’t opposed to technology--not in the slightest. But I feel its safe to say that any Solarpunk would be opposed to the over-industrialized, hyper-mechanized, pollution-riddled empire hellscape that Eggman would call heaven. (And you know damn well he'd be all over those Boston Dynamic robot dogs if he were real). To me, Eggman represents the grim-dark futures that apocalyptic stories tell us we’re barreling towards--the darker, less sunny side of the already dystopian cyberpunk genre. Solarpunk is the sun that burns away at smoggy futures, the light that reveals what we can have instead, the ideas that lead to actions to secure it. Its hope in a bottle--hope that we can enjoy and add to, a dream that we can help make into a reality. The ideals are chock full of resisting the real-life Eggmans who want to send humanity into a nose-dive of mechanization and energy-burning self-destruction for the sake of short-lived profits and smug ego-trips. 

Is Sonic a strictly Solarpunk series? I wouldn’t necessarily say so. But I think if the themes and terms had existed in 1990, it certainly would have been cited as a bit of an inspiration. Whether the Solarpunk community would have been chill with a corporation citing the term as inspiration is a whole other deal.

Stay tuned for this posts' sequel, where I talk about how I feel my favorite game in the series--Sonic Colors--is Solarpunk.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Skipped the day yesterday, so I’ll try to reply to more asks today!

Starting with the ones about our LiliSil comic from yesterday…

Anonymous asked:

HOLY SHIT LILIA His thighs are not a snack!

(I would've done the same 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻)

These thighs are a snack much better that whatever Lilia was munching on in a previous comic… leg > spaghett

Anonymous asked:

Silver doesn't get flirting or teasing at all... Very sad..... At least his plump thighs must be super delicious ❤️

He is just way too used to Lilia acting this way I guess… this is like a default to him lol nothing special to see here. But yeah, at least his plump thighs are super delicious 🥰

hipsterteller asked:

I saw silver and lilia…

Ouch, got bonked …

Anonymous asked:

…

I’ll share spaghetti with the old dude. Not because I think he’s hot or anything, mind, but because I’m a pig and spaghetti is spaghetti.

I think this one was sent after the first LiliSil midnight snack comic, so…

Very valid, Anon, but I have to warn you, Lilia is a competitive eater when it’s 3 AM and he’s having cold spaghetti.

Anonymous asked:

Random Ignihyde student A probably: I’m living in an actual nightmare. Royal Sword it is then.

(this is related to this post)

Poor guy, I feel so bad for him, he’s just trying to live his life… these creeps would be happy if he transferred to another school though 😭

Anonymous asked:

Opinions on Idia being fucked in a cosplay?

Or being fucked by someone in a cosplay

Both options are great, and I don’t know which one is going to make Idia die of cringe, embarrassment and arousal faster lol

Whenever this scenario is mentioned, I always think about Lilidia first, since Lilia is kind of a nerd himself + wouldn’t mind dressing up. In fact I did draw this once, if you consider a maid outfit a cosplay… we might revisit the theme of cosplay in Idia smut sometime, it’s a very fun one.

Idia desperately needs to get fucked in a cosplay, that’s for sure.

Anonymous asked:

haha funny scenario :)

ok now actually draw idia whimpering and bleeding on the floor :))

:) Come on, Anon, why would I do something so mean to Idia? This isn’t like me at all, I would never.

Anonymous asked:

Good lord, thank you for the dark, twisted food you’ve been providing us in the way of headcanons. I’m drinking them in like water y’all. 😩

Thank you so much for enjoying them, Anon! <3 I am super happy to hear that you like them.

I really hope to finish the rest of the posts about darker themes and hcs soon; it’s truly amazing that people are interested enough to ask for more of that.

Dark and twisted food is our true passion 😔💕

Anonymous asked:

i NEED to breed those eels 😭🤚

Unfortunately, in this blog the eels are busy breeding Idia…

Anonymous asked:

Do ya think that in the heat of the moment Sebek would try to breed Malleus, not knowing , or forgetting) that it doesn't work like that (unless it's A/B/O haha) ? Like he'd get SO intense that even AFTER he'll finish inside his liege he'd get excited again from the thought of his liege carrying his- THEIR children.

I think the young hormonal horny fae part of Sebek’s brain could make him believe in anything, like if his instincts win over and his confused body just goes ballistic, which is very likely to happen if he is lucky enough to have any kind of intimacy with Malleus. But this is Sebek we’re talking about; it could go either way with him.

Then again, we did have a comic about Sebek bragging about being the one to breed his liege, so maybe he doesn’t even need to be in the heat of the moment to think about this type of thing. It’ll definitely get him excited in like 2 seconds though lol

Anonymous asked:

I headcanon that the Science Club members talk crap and gossip while doing their club activities. Kinda like stylists at a salon but meaner.

I think every club does that to an extent lol, Science Club too. Is there a reason you headcanon them specifically as being gossipers?

All of them talking shit about everyone… and then there’s Rook with his singing….

Anonymous asked:

Kuro x TWST au where Riddle is Ciel's cousin who goes to live with Madame Red and Grell after his OB. Skip ahead and Riddle is introducing Floyd to his family. Madame Red doesn't think highly of him but he makes Riddle happy so she doesn't protest. Sebastian and the tweels are three pees in a pod, so only a raised eyebrow and approval. Ciel tho goes full kink shaming. He cannot believe his most esteemed respected favorite cousin is not only a monsterfucker but also into THAT sort of personality

Come on, Ciel, you shouldn’t be judgmental, just look at your butler for fuck’s sake lol Plus, it’s difficult for Riddle too! He wants Floyd to behave properly, it’s not his fault he can’t…

I hope the tweels bully Ciel lol

This is one of those moments when I really regret Yana not being able to do a proper crossover between Kuro and Twst, all of these boys interacting would’ve been so interesting.

artfulhero-m asked:

It's been a little over a week since I sent that huge ass essay, and in the spirit of being extremely happy to be a cringe weird little freak, have you heard of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley? I literally heard about it weeks ago cause I heard it's what the Internet has considered "the incest game" so because of that, and the cute art of the game, I bought it weeks ago and finally got around to playing it and oh boy yeah the incest is very throughout the game. AND IT'S AMAZING >:) Literally the most toxic of sibling relationships, but like that's what's got my brain latching hard they're SO codependent on each other.

Sorry I just needed another moment to just kinda yell into the void in your ask box again if that's okay lol. After sending that essay last week while on the verge of passing out for the night not even 100% sure I sent it to the right ask box I just immediately got sick the next day, which took me out for the entire week lmao. Then halfway through the week I figured I was done with sleeping so the stars have finally aligned for me to play "the incest game" and now the brain rot for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is kinda severe and only getting worse so as a result, just needed to know if you heard about it too lol.

Yeah, we’ve heard about the game! At some point it became impossible to avoid, and while we haven’t played or watched it, the discourse around it is fascinating and very telling. We are just very happy in general that the game exists, and not necessarily because of incest, but because it’s always cool to see games with darker and more problematic themes getting popularity and recognition, especially if this is the game where the main characters are kind of shitty people lol And the artstyle is cute, I agree! It’s such a pity the author got harassed, I hope it didn’t affect them in any way.

All of that being said, I hope you get good rest and have a good sleep every day. I know it’s easier said than done, but please take care of yourself, this is very important. I also hope you feel better and surround yourself with fictional toxicity only lol Enjoy your problematic brainrot.

[anemptypuddingcup]

Never Satisfied.

You were Kisaki’s girlfriend and he treated you well over a few months, but after those months he grew cold, distant and mean. You had enough of his shit but decided to give him another chance if he could prove to be better.

🖤

🖤

🖤

This fic contains// Needy!Reader. Kisaki’s ugly ass. Angst, just angst everywhere. Kisaki apologizes and makes up for his mistakes. Y’all make up, ain’t that sweet? (No it ain’t Kisaki a bitch. I hate how hot he is. >:()

two posts in one day just to catch up.

You struggled to carry the plates into cupboard while Kisaki just stared at you doing it. You glare at him while your hands shook holding the plates. “A little help would be nice of you Tetta.” You gritted, the plates almost slipping out of your hands. Kisaki just stared at you and then looked back down at his phone.

“You can do it yourself.” He groaned, still looking at his phone. You huffed and ended up dropping all the plates on the floor. Pieces of porcelain pricked at your feet as you stared at the now broken plates. Your eyes lost their light as Kisaki sighed and facepalmed.

“Look at the damn mess you made, you can’t do shit right by yourself huh?” Kisaki groaned. You stared at him as anger brewed in your eyes. “Maybe if you’d fucking help me I wouldn’t have dropped the plates you piece of shit.” You growl, your hands balling up into fists. “Just clean it up, I wouldn’t wanna step on any shards.” Kisaki demanded.

You just stood there glared at Kisaki while he looks back at you. “You hear me? I said clean it up.” He demands again. You turn to him, stepping in the porcelain shards. “How ‘bout you fucking clean it up. I’m sick of your shit.” You groan as you walk pass him. He was a little stunned by your reaction and grips your shoulder.

“What did you just say?” Kisaki asked in a dark tone. You slowly turned to him. “I said clean it up your damn self. I’m sick of your fucking attitude. It’s about time you’d do shit around the house because I always have to do shit and never get anything in return for it.” You started going on a tangent as Kisaki’s eyes widens.

“Do you ever fucking realize that all you do is whine like a fucking child while I have to do the shit you want me to do?” You continued. Kisaki slowly releases your shoulder. “You can go now. I’ll clean it up.” Kisaki sighed, turning away from you. You gripped his shirt and pulled him back towards you, still not finished with your statement.

“No, you fucking listen to me because I’m not done.” You gritted. You feel Kisaki’s body tense up. “Tetta, I’ve been putting up with your bullshit for a long time and I’ve waited to get something good in return for all the shit I’ve done for you. Do you ever think about how I feel after I cook or clean for you? When I carry shit twice my weight? FOR FUCK SAKE KISAKI I FEEL MORE LIKE A MAID THAN A GIRLFRIEND.” You began yelling.

You notice Kisaki’s eyes beginning to soften as you yelled at him. “I’M SO TIRED OF THIS SHIT, IF YOU CAN’T TREAT ME LIKE A GIRLFRIEND THEN…I-I WON’T BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND. FUCK YOU!” You whimper as tears began to stream down your face. You slowly fall to your knees and cover your face as tears fell. Kisaki just sat on the floor and hugs you, whispering apologies to you.

“Get off of me…” You whimper, your tears falling into Kisaki’s pants leg. Kisaki was sorry, but saying sorry obviously wasn’t gonna be enough help you with this. “I’m sorry…I really am.” Kisaki apologized, hugging you tightly. You slowly hug him back, happy that he’d finally gave you the affection you deserved.

“Prove it. Prove to me that you’re sorry and change your fucking ways. Don’t even think of buying me happiness, I want your love, affection, and equality around the house.” You gritted. Kisaki nodded in response and slowly looked at your feet. Bits of porcelain shards were on your feet and he was sure that they were in your feet too.

Kisaki stood up to go grab a broom and cleaned up the mess that you had made. He swept up the porcelain bits and threw them into the trash before walking back to you. “Are your feet okay?” He asked, seeing you pick at your feet. You slowly nodded and turned away from him.

Kisaki carries your in his arms which catch you by surprise. “Cmon, let’s get the shards out of your feet. We can do whatever you want afterwards, okay?” He said, giving you a small kiss. You smile softly and nodded, happy that Kisaki was finally willing to change for you.

-this was a bit of a vent writing but it was portrayed differently.

[deanwritings]

Guess whose back

Can you believe it’s been FIVE whole years since I was last active on this blog?

I wasn’t totally gone, coming back from the shadows every few months to check out Tumblr, but now I’m officially back for who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The last five years have been a ride. I’ve had some once-in-a-lifetime work opportunities, I’m officially doing the “adult” thing and I’m am married with a house and a dog, and feeling much better mentally after a few tough years with COVID, personal loses, and anxiety. 

What inspired me to come back, was not the downfall of Twitter (though I’m throughly enjoying watching Musk crash and burn something that isn’t a Tesla), but my computer almost dying on me and me realizing I have a lot of writings saved on it that could have been lost. Thankfully my laptop is good now, but going through my old work made me realize how much I’ve missed writing. I really haven’t done any non-work writing since I stopped writing for this blog, and it’s like a part of me is missing. 

So, I’m dusting off the keyboard, revisiting my drafts, and going to get back to work again! I’m definitely going to be rusty, but hey, it’s like riding a bike (I hope). 

My biggest goal is to finally end Night Falls for y’all. I did y’all dirty not finishing it five years ago. On a personal note, I’m actually going to start working on it again and see if it’s something worth publishing when I’m done. 

On a SPN note, I also fell out of watching the show around season 12 or so. To be honest, the writing just felt lazy and I felt like they were using the same plot lines over and over and had really dumbed down all of the characters and using them for cheap laughs except for the final big episodes of each season. I did however push through the rest of the series after it ended, just to know what happened. And definitely wasn’t happy they way they did our Dean. 

But, that’s what the fanfic world is for, and I’m looking forward to contributing to it again. 

Very excited to be back and can’t wait to start posting again! I already have one fic ready to launch so keep an eye out for it! 

[cicinicole-14]

20 questions: fic author edition

tagged by the lovely @jenniferiawrence

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

15 atm!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

44,041

3. What fandoms do you write for?

svu!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

happy

captain benson

a decade without

road trip

fear fades

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i always do! i make sure mostly just to say thank you for the read/comment

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

definitely sunday olivia dies in that fic whoops!!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

happy for sure!! they have a baby!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

literally just got some from my troll yesterday 💀 but i moderate my comments quite well so…and i ignore all the hate

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

i don’t! i’ve written some soft core smut on occasion but it’s not my cup of tea.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

no but i would consider writing a jo wilson x olivia benson friends crossover bc i think they’d be friends.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of but god i hope not! i’ve had friends who’ve had this issue!! it’s no fun!!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! i know someone on twitter who actively translates the fandoms fics so she can read them. i think it’s so cool!!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

yes!! @samwrites99 and i wrote a decade without together and i’ve co-written with @doc-pickles and @only-freakin-sunflowers ofc

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

atm it’s EO (elliot stabler and olivia benson)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

my roryverse, it’s not posted atm but it’s my fave i wanna write it it’s an inconceivable au for eo and i wanna finish it so bad.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i know i write kids really well bc i’m surrounded by them daily so i know their voice. and also i like to think i write dialogue very well! i try hard also!! this is so random but i think i wrote my texting fic really accurately?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

LENGTH like omfg it takes me a lot to try and write more than just a thousand words idk how some of y’all can churn out 30k i am looking at you nimblewordplay my love

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i’ve done it but my thing is that it HAS to be in character. if it’s not something the character has already said they spoke another language it’s fine but if they don’t it’s ooc and i don’t like it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

general hospital back in like 2011/2012 💀💀💀we don’t talk abt those fics

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

i would stay forever (if you say don’t go) is my favorite atm she’s my most recent and i LOVED this fic sm it’s amazing.

tagging: (not tagging 20 peeps sorry but here do it don’t do it enjoy!!) @samwrites99 @doc-pickles @only-freakin-sunflowers @angry-slytherin @iamtrebleclefstories @rgrdsalxndra @rahleeyah @marilynwhitmore

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Happy 8th of July!

When - we’ve jumped in time to the Prison Era, during that nice interim that for reasons I am making months long.

Genre - fluffy and fun. It’s the Fourth (Eighth) of July! You and Glenn want to make it a good one for people, then you enlist Dary-bear to help. He doesn’t realize it’s to set off fireworks, though. (Was that a double entendre? Might could be...read to find out :D )

Relationships - mangy hick be admitting something big to himself and it’s a huge step for him (Daryl x reader). As always, found family and slight adherence to Bechdel also means we focus on you and the gang! In line with your character, you have yourself an adopted younger brother, now, too.

Pronouns - neutral time, y’all

Perspective - I did the 2nd person you and 3rd person him thing again

TWs - just some casual crude language

Word Count - enough to explain why setting off fireworks is in fact a great idea

Plot references - the water pistols you found in Bad things happen*, you and Daryl discussing holidays in A f----n’ great Christmas, your medical skills (friend, they are increasing), T-Dog and Daryl’s growing friendship as has been hinted at (esp in It was a pragmatic cigarette.)

There are more plot references in the story to be found in the series, so click on this here link: The Masterlist. It’s got what you want, slowpokes :) And as always, feedback is savored greatly.

“This is insane.”

“We’d drive real far away, way passed the three-mile mark—which means no kid walkies, we’ll need to use the police radio. And the booms wouldn’t attract nothing here because we’ll be settin’ them off so far.” You’ve got a whole list of reasons to convince him. “And it’ll help us and the Woodbury group and all the new survivors bond with each other more.”

“No, I meant ‘insane’ as in I love it!”

Yes! You raise your hand for a high-five, which Glenn promptly returns.

“So, which direction?” he asks.

“North.” You point out in the direction of the old radio or maybe utility tower several miles in the distance.

“Okay, I’ll see about clearing out the north guard tower so people can have a better view. Dude, the kids are gonna love this.”

“I hope it makes people smile.”

His smile then changes into an unsure kind of grimace.

“Glenn?”

“What do you think Rick will—are our asses gonna get handed to us for this?”

“No, Rick’ll love it, too!”

Nah, Glenn’s unconvinced.

“I’ll shoulder the blame when—if—it comes to it,” you’re quick to assure him, adding with a shrug, “You know I get a moderate pass when it comes to him.”

After he scrunches up his nose in hesitation, he relaxes and elbows you. “Just don’t mess up the problem shoulder again if you do.”

You check the time on Dale’s watch. “Let’s leave to set it up at 3, Eileen’s appointment will be done by then and you’ll be off-duty. That’ll leave us plenty of time to go back to that house, go to the spots, set them up, and still grab supplies. We can probably get paper goods from the Bojangles near it...”

“...And there’s an office building across the street from the Bojangles. Looked fairly un-window-smashed, should be some good supplies there.”

“That’s perfect, offices tend to have pills and other useful medical stuff in the desk drawers.” Maybe another epinephrine injector to stock up?

“And there’s that crate of soda I forgot to take out of the Chevy last time, so we’ll bring that in, too. Make us look very productive.”

After another high-five, the plan is set, and you two stare out from the guard post.

“I can fill up the water balloons at the stream if I rinse off one of the siphon hoses. Will you do the water pistols?”

“Surely can! If only we had…” your stomach grumbles almost immediately, “Hot dogs.”

“And burgers.”

“And marsh—”

“—Marshmallows!” he finishes for you. Sighs. He’s been wanting rice crispy treats since you’d first met him at the quarry. “Oh my God, I miss marshmallows. Carol told me she once made them from scratch.”

“What?”

“Dude, right? She said she’d show me how, but it uses a stand mixer.”

“Can’t you mix it by hand for her?” you playfully complain.

“It’d be worth it.”

Maggie’s voice pipes in from down the stairwell. “What’d be worth it?”

“Mixin’ homemade marshmallow batter stuff by hand,” you call back.

“It’s ‘mixture,’ Y/N,” Glenn snorts to you.

“Marshmallow batter?” Maggie repeats, now at the top of the stairs.

Glenn is over there and kissing her before you can blink. Giving them privacy (somewhat), you promptly turn your eyes back to the fence and walls around the prison’s perimeter.

“Y/N and I were talking about how Carol said she’d made homemade marshmallows before,” you hear Glenn say.

“Ah, I see.“

She joins you in staring out at the perimeter. Still beaming, her smile at him is so sweet that it’s probably got more sugar than a whole bag’s worth of marshmallows.

And you aren’t jealous by any stretch, that wouldn’t be an accurate word for it. You’re as happy as can be for them, you love them both!

You’re simply feeling that (annoying) longing to have that yourself, too. That must be you still feeling all hopeful following their wedding.

And you’re not slipping into thoughts about your redneck friend, no sir. That would be...just don’t. His friendship is a blessing, you love him as your friend, leave it at that. Besides, he doesn’t have an interest in you that way. He’s probably into Michonne if anyone; they’ve been out tracking a lot, she's gorgeous, and they're both the silent, strong badass type with an underlying softness. Or Carol, they’re buddies.

And you're not slipping into more thoughts about how wonderful his growth as a person has been from how he was when y’all first met at the quarry and how insanely attractive that is, no way.

Caleb is more likely to house an interest, to be honest, and you spend plenty of time with him training. There’s no reason for you to feel disappointed at that prospect. Caleb is a great guy and easy on the eyes, just like Dar—oops, there you go again.

“It’s too bad we haven’t done that inflatable pool idea yet,” Glenn comments, bringing you back topside.

Maggie shakes her head and grins. “We been a tad busy.”

“We got the kiddie pool. It’s passable for soakin’ your feet to cool off,” you offer.

“At least we found those water balloons.” His breath catches when he adds, “And kept that bag of mini water pistols from that day on the highway. They’re finally gonna be used.”

What a day that had been. Screw that day. Sophia, rest in peace, little one. But yeah, at least they were being used now.

Oof, you need to stretch your back and arms. Rounding your shoulders and bowing your head down, you take a deep breath as you feel the tension easing. Next, you stick out your chest and pull your arms back to stretch the other side. It is nice to not have your problem shoulder acting up.

Then, it hits you. “Oh, Mags, since you’re here, this means my shift is over!”

“Why, got big plans?” she teases.

You share a look with Glenn, then peek back at her with a tiny grin. “Might could.”

“What have y’all been up to?”

“Scheming, Mrs. Rhee,” is all you say as you sprint down the stairs and back toward the main hub.

Moses, it’s hot out today. Great for what you have planned later tonight, if the skies stay clear, but absolute torture during the day.

“Hello, Y/N!”

“Hey, Patrick!”

He’s leaning against the cool cement wall in the shade, the water bottle in his hand nearly empty. “Are you off guard duty?”

“Mm, thank goodness. Though, Glenn and I are gonna head out in about two hours for a quick supply run. What about you, y’all done with the pigs?”

“No, I still have to get them fresh water, I just n-needed some water myself.”

Yeah, you were thinking he looks a little queasy. The kid’s prone to getting heatsick.

As you step up next to him, you reach out and feel his forehead just to make sure he feels normal or cool, not too hot. Heat stroke is no joke.

Okay, he still feels damp and clammy, and as gross as that sounds, it’s a good sign.

“Let me refill this for you, you just rest here,” you tell him, having him finish the dregs in his water bottle before you take it. “I don’t want my favorite little brother passin’ out from dehydration, it ain’t fun.”

Overheated as he may be, he reddens a little more. That shy kid gets that way every time you remind him that you consider him family. Pat just looks so much like Shane did when he was a freshman in high school (tall, lanky, messy dark hair, Irish given name) that you couldn’t help but adopt him when you found him.

There are so many new faces as you make your way to the outdoor dining area that you don’t quite have the names down yet.

Well, Eileen and Sra. McLeod are easy because Eileen is pregnant and Mrs. McLeod is the only other resident of advanced age here other than Hershel.

You head to the water cooler and fill the bottle. Sasha is walking over, too, and by the looks of it just finished up clearing walkers at the fence. You reach for a fresh cup and fill it for her.

“Wanna sneak away to the stream to cool off? I’m gonna fill up the water guns in a bit.”

“Water guns?" she repeats before taking a big gulp of the water and sighing. "The stream sounds perfect—hey, thank you for the drink.” She empties her cup in seconds and wipes the sweat off her upper lip and forehead. “But if I have to see one more biter within the next hour, I’ll scream, and you know we’ll see at least one out there.”

“Shower it is, then.”

“I cannot wait. Cold water!” She refills her cup and drinks it all down just as fast. “Oof, I’m smelly, too,” she murmurs to herself when she gets a whiff of her underarms.

You scoop two spoonfuls of sugar into Patrick’s bottle, then add ¼ of a spoonful of salt, cap it, and shake it up.

“You look patriotic, Y/N.”

“It’s the Fourth of July!”

“It is?”

“Eh, the 8th. But we missed the 4th entirely and it rained the past two and a half days. Check it out,” you say, holding up your wrist so she can view the little date dial on Dale’s watch that states Jul 8. Giggling, you add, “Don’t worry, Hershel’s date book confirmed it. You know how I tend to forget to wind this thing.”

“Well, guess I gotta find me some red to put on.” She already had a white t-shirt and jeans on, so she’s ⅔ ready. “Y’all have fireworks planned or something?” she jokes, filling her cup a third time.

You don’t have a response at first. She notices.

She turns her head but keeps her eyes on you. “Y/N?”

“Fireworks would be great, wouldn’t it?”

She’s trying to look friendly but is nervous, it’s plain to see. “But it’s loud. If you set off fireworks near here, I’d whup your ass, tell you what.”

“Ah, but what if it wasn’t near here at all, but was in fact far away?”

She raises her brows. “Oh my Lord. Did you and...” Finger pointed, she figures it out quickly. “Nah, it has to be you and Glenn if it were anybody.”

Your grin must look as awkward and guilty as it feels. “...Wanna help?”

She’s shaking her head but smiling. “Now I know why your group calls you ‘troublemaker’ every so often.”

Nooo, not the nickname. Ugh. “I ain’t a troublemaker,” you mumble, half-serious. Then, taking her by the arm, you start to walk away with Pat’s refilled water bottle. “Come on, I need to get this back to Patrick. I’ll walk you to the doors on the way there.”

“And I’ll go to the stream with you after I shower and decompress a little, if you can wait maybe an hour?”

“Yeah, Eileen’s got her check-up, anyway. How’s 1:45ish?”

“I’ll meet you at our usual table.”

Once you drop her off, you see that Caleb is with Patrick. “Hey, Dr. Subs. I brought him this. Two regular spoonfuls of sugar, about ¼ teaspoon of salt, are those ratios good?”

“They’ll do great for now, he just got sick.”

“Oh, kiddo!”

“It happens, Y/N,” Patrick groans, trying to sound upbeat.

You start to rub his back, mindful of the vomit on the grass near him. “See? We both got kinda weak stomachs, Pat, runs in the family.”

“Relax in your cell for a while, okay?” Caleb instructs. “I want you to lay down for at least 30 minutes before you go back outside in the sun. Have a snack and some more to drink, too.”

“Yes, Dr. Subramanian, sir.”

Caleb snorts. “You keep calling me ‘sir.’ I’m gonna have to start saluting back, man.”

“Sorry, sir.”

The doctor blinks. You hold back a giggle.

Giving you a dry look of amusement, Caleb then reminds you that Eileen is having a checkup and to be washed up and ready for it, after which he escorts Patrick inside.

Meanwhile, you jog to your guard tower to wash up, set the egg timer so you can zone out read for 20 minutes, then pick through your growing stack of medical books. All the midwifery, prenatal development, and obstetric books you take, plus the Merck Manual and your notepad before you jog back down and across the yard to the doors.

Hershel, on his way there also, holds the door for you and for Maggie after he notices her hurrying down to join you. Carol is most likely already there, she always beats y’all to it. You personally may or may not have a minor competition going with her, but dang it if she doesn’t always seem to arrive first.

Fast forward, the check-up is boring and uneventful, just as you all want the check-ups to be; mother is good, baby seems good, all is as it should be.

And it’s 1:45. You need to fill those water guns at the stream with Sasha, grab lunch, then it’ll be time to head to the cars!

Him

Still didn’t find the bastard.

Michonne and him shared their usual disappointed sigh and choice of cuss word before turning around to head home. He lit up a cigarette, as usual. She declined his offer for a puff, as usual.

They had a good thing going, minus the part where they still hadn’t found that psycho pirate sumbitch.

Y/N came a few times a week on days when, you know, there weren’t baby checkups for the pregnant chick or Judith or other medical stuff or regular duties conflicting.

Sometimes, he felt this stupid feeling almost like jealousy when he saw them together, Y/N and the new doc. Which was dumb, because Caleb was teaching Y/N all sorts of important stuff and they’d become friends with each other in the process.

And Y/N and Daryl were good friends and had been for a while, so what was the problem?

Maybe it was more of a want-type of thing, he didn’t know. Not that he was lonely, but sometimes he felt this weird kind of…loneliness.

It’s just—he’d heard Y/N mention once that the doctor was “nice lookin’.” Sure, Caleb was a fair-looking dude, true. Seemed real decent, he’d spent some time with him, too. But...nah, ain’t nothing, I’m being dumb. With a glance up at the sky, he added T-Dog, can it.

Anyway, the days when Y/N came along or when they went on a hunt for food or to forage, those days were always nice. He enjoyed those days a lot. Less quiet, generally, but there were a lot more smiles. It was better with them.

“Why are you lookin’ all happy?” Mich asked. “I’d love a good reason to smile.”

“Just how Y/N reminded us to wear red, white, and blue.” Y/N tried to convince him to wear T-Dog’s red Dawgs shirt. He said he’d put it on it after he got back. Didn’t want to rip it or nothing.

“Well, I’m still loving rockin’ the socks Y/N tossed me.”

He had to snort a little. Yeah, Mich had on one red and one blue sock, both ankle-length and worn over her pants to show them off.

“Heard ’em say it was your favorite holiday?” she said, inspecting something on the edge of her sword-thing. ‘Cabana’ or something, right?

“Yeah, used to be.”

She sheathed it and started walking faster to the car, waving him to pick up the pace, too. “Too bad we can’t hit up the beach, light some sparklers.”

He matched her pace, feeling the disappointment kicking him in the nuts again. “That or light a firecracker up the governor’s ass.”

You

“Mischief managed, mothafucka.” He’s holding his hand up for a victory high-five.

“Mischief managed, mothafucka.” And you return it enthusiastically! “I’ll grab the police radios when I bring Mr. Greene the yarrow. I’ll drop one off with you before Daryl and I leave, yeah?”

“Cool, and Maggie and I will check out the north tower.” Glenn then awkwardly tries to follow this up with, “We’ll, um, c-clean it and stuff.”

Why did that seem a little forced...

You don’t intend to give him a look and blurt out, “Y’all gonna have sex in it, aren’t you?” but you do in fact blurt that out.

And he probably doesn’t mean to make that goofy, I-just-got-caught laugh in response before elbowing you with a very lame, “Shut up, dude.”

Yeah, so either he’s suddenly sunburned or he’s blushing.

Groaning, you call back “Just name your first baby after me!” as you go to check on Judith. She should be waking up soon. Beth has had her most of the day today, she's due for a reprieve.

Time to give baby Lori dinner and bring her to see her mom.

Him

“Nice shirt, Daryl. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you not in a cut-off button-down. You’ll get you a nice farmer’s tan.”

He turned around to wave hi when—lil’ asskicker? Shit, he needed to put out his cigarette ASAP, you can’t just smoke around a baby, that’s a trashy-ass move.

“We’re downwind, you’re cool, man. You’re still working on cuttin’ back.”

“Exactly.” He dug that thing into the dirt until the smoke was gone.

He’d been down to only five a week, ain’t that something? Then…T-Dog and Lori died, and he found his brother again, and then his brother was killed by that asshole, then so was Andrea.

He’d smoked over half a pack and had taken down almost an entire bottle of vodka before Carol and Y/N found him and brought Hershel. That was one hell of a time. Real hell of a morning after, too, fuck.

Anyway, sometimes he shared a smoke with T-Dog at his grave.

Y/N visited the graves every day. Generally, they’d bring Judith while feeding her. They’d sit and just hang out, read, or if the baby was with them they’d do that ‘tummy time’ thing and practice standing.

Carl was usually with them, too, but water balloons and water guns had appeared out of nowhere, so he was having fun with the other kids. Surprising, but good that he was acting like a kid, at least for today.  

Call him soft but he loved that shit. Except for the part where seeing ’lil ass-kicker kicked into gear that weird feeling of want. And it got so much damn stronger when she was with Y/N.

Shut up, T-Dog he told the memory in his head.

“Michonne said today you found evidence of somebody havin’ camped out in a car wash?”

“Could’ve been anybody, though.”

“Could’ve been that unhinged, one-eyed sex abuser, too.”

For what he almost did to Maggie, Y/N saw red. Hell, he himself saw red about that kind of shit.

Their voice sounded gentler when they told him, “So don’t lose hope, Daryl, that ain’t like you. We got us a cell with his name on it ready to go.”

That damn feeling twisted in his stomach when they’d placed their hand on his arm.

Okay, maybe he actually did need a long drag from his smoke. He curved to the side, quickly lit up again and took a nice, long inhale…okay, he felt better.

…Actually, he didn’t feel better, he felt more nervy. He put out the cigarette and pulled the neckline of his shirt forward and back to get some damn airflow. It was balls-dripping hot outside.

Then he stole a peek over at Y/N as they began to burp Judith, regretting it almost immediately because that feeling surged through him again. He swallowed, hoping to tamp down the understanding he wasn’t sure if he could put the name to yet.

But he also wanted to talk to them. “Mich and I also checked out a liquor store. Other than peach schnapps and Natty, guess what we found?”

“Capri Suns?” flew out of Y/N’s mouth almost immediately.

He laughed. “Two shotguns and a pistol.”

Their eyebrows went up. “Where in the store were those hidin’?”

“Under the register counter.”

“All three right under the front register?”

“Plus a taser and a knife.”

Making an oo with their mouth (don’t stare at their lips, come on), Y/N tutted, “Pity the soul who tried to rob those guys.”

“Mmhm.”

When they moved to start feeding Judith again, he held out his arms to take her instead.

It’d been like three days since he fed her, and he missed it. That feeling tugged at his chest again, but he didn’t mind it so much, not when he had the little girl in his arms.

“Hey, Daryl? We need to do a thing tonight, okay?”

A thing? “What thing?”

“A late run.”

“Might as well, I guess. What d’you mean by late?”

“We should oughta leave around 8:00…”

“…Why?” Sure he was on board, but what was Y/N up to? He jiggled the bottle in Judith’s mouth to get her to start drinking again, she’d gotten distracted.

“Non-disclosure agreement. Can’t say.”

“Weirdo.”

Their first reaction was a smile, but the next second it was as if it blew away in the breeze. That had been their big brother’s nickname for them. Hearing it from somebody else got to them sometimes.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Troublemaker?”

He got a playful whine out of them for that one. Not their favorite nickname either, even though Dale had been the one to give it to them.

Maybe, maybe he’d bug them with the dumb thing he’d called them that time...“Slowpoke?”

At that one, Y/N cracked up. Leaned forward and kissed the baby’s head, even though they had to lean over him to do it. “Your Uncle Daryl’s a mangy hick.”

You

You’re almost there, you can make out the first set. You lightly shake Daryl’s shoulder and signal for him to pull over.

He stops the bike, puts the kickstand down, and turns his head back to face you as he pulls down his bandana.

“Gonna tell me what we’re doin’ in the middle of nowhere?”

You gotta take off your helmet before anything else, ugh, it’s so hot in there. Then, you click on the radio to let Glenn know you both got there safely.

“Hey, we’re good. Made it,” you murmur into it.

Then, you look up at Daryl and try to look innocent and casual as you explain, “Please drive slow for the next quarter-ish mile, then once we’re at the spot, I’ll tell where to park the bike. We need to do the thing, then head up that way,” you tell him, pointing up toward the radio tower.

Okay, and maybe you might could’ve not actually told him was going on just then, but…you don’t want him to get huffy or not help, is all.

He says nothing, only squints at you.

You copy it.

He grumbles.

And instead of copying that as well like you usually might, you bite your lip and point to the first set of fuses.

Why are you getting all nervous? He’ll be cool with it.

He squints again, but this time because he’s actually trying to see what it is. “Y/N, what is all that?”

Him

Whatever they responded, he couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

They repeated it.

Fireworks.

Fireworks?

What the fuck. No way.

He kicks down the stand, hops off the bike and stalks over to what they’d gestured to.

Fireworks, holy damned hell. Glenn had to have been in on this, too. This had those two written all over it, hot damn…

“Y/N,” is all he said because he didn’t know what else to say as he slowly steps toward them.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat, reaches them again, and spreads his feet, hands on his hips, fully expecting (and proven correct) that they’d just stand up and mirror his stance.

“Y/N.”

“Daryl.”

And before he could say anything else, they held up their finger and stumbled their way through a whole lot of explaining.

“We’re seven miles away from the prison, so the risk to them is minimal.” They took a deep breath. “The set-ups are every 25 feet heading north, the wicks Glenn and I attached get longer the further back we go. The plan is to light the wicks, run to the next set, so on and so forth. Then, there’s a paved path that leads up to that radio tower where we’re gonna speed for when we’re done, on the bike. But the final set up of fireworks is way far away over there with super long wicks, or fuses, whatever they’re called.”

They then pointed opposite of the utility tower. “That way the final boom will get any walkers drawn towards the noise and lights to get shufflin’ in that direction, away from the tower. That way, after a spell, we,” Y/N pointed from themself to him, “can mosey on home without them following us back like baby ducklings please don’t be mad!”

Well, that was a whole lot at once. Y/N seemed out of breath, they nervous or whatever?

“Don’t be mad, friend, it-it’s your favorite holiday! And our new people need a pick-me-up, you remember how awful it was to lose the quarry, and, and the farm? They just lost their homes and loved ones, so...” Yeah, they were nervous, just look at that awkward grin they’ve got on. And that stutter.

“Ohp, he’s started smiling—hey guys, Dary-bear is smilin’!” they called out next because, yeah, he couldn’t help it. In a softer voice, they checked, “You ain’t mad?”

“I ain’t mad,” he decided to grumble. ‘Decided to grumble’ because on the inside, he was actually so fucking stoked for this, oh my God. Fireworks!

Y/N then got all excited.

That made him feel that same weird but good feeling in his chest, even though he should probably be feeling dread or worry or telling them no or something. But fuck that, it’s the 4th of July!

Well, the 8th.

“Come on, I’ll show you the route, we’ll put to rest any walkers we come across—oh, speak of the devil. I can do it, or would you like to?” There was one stumbling down the road as if on cue.

“I got it,” he said. Y/N still counts them, even after all this time, so he tried to get them first when he could.

He set up a bolt and aimed his crossbow at the geek…done.

They begin to walk to the body to get that bolt back. “Thank you.”

“So, when are we gonna start this thing?” he asked, secretly pumped completely resigned.

“When the lightning bugs come out,” they reply, closing their eyes to pull the bolt out of the skull. “We’ll need it dark enough. Won’t be too much longer.”

You

It’s getting darker and darker.

This is gonna be awesome! Minus the all bugs, and the amount of insect spray you’ve inhaled. Daryl lit up a cigarette to deter them, too.

He taps you on the arm and points. “Hey, firefly over there. We gonna start?”

You click on the police radio and hush to Glenn back at the prison. “Ready.”

That delicious sensation you get while a roller coaster approaches the first drop starts to spread through you as you pull out your matches from your satchel. “Got your lighter handy?”

He rummages through his pocket. Pulls out a Zippo.

And surprising you, he full-on giggles, “Alright, slowpoke, let’s do this!”

Him

The two of them lit the fuses, sprinted toward the next set, lit them, and kept going like that as the booms and whistles sounded from behind them. He felt like a little kid again, it was so…this was fun!

Y/N and Glenn had found a ton of fireworks. And shit, Y/N was fast, he’d forgotten just how quick they could get. He had to work to keep up the pace.

And he was having so much fun as he and Y/N sped off on the motorcycle toward the last setup, the one far in the opposite direction of the radio tower, that he almost didn’t notice their hands wrapped tightly around his waist instead of on his shoulders like they'd always done before.

 But once they’d lit the final, very long fuses together and zoomed off toward the radio tower, that their arms were squeezing his middle was suddenly all he could think about.

He liked it.

A lot.

And he wasn’t good about physical touch, most people knew that pretty quick about him. But Y/N doing that didn’t feel like too much. It felt good. Safe. Natural.

T-Dog, shut up, he again thought in his head, tossing a glare up at the sky as he pressed down the kickstand and turned off the motorcycle.

You

After pushing aside this silly desire that popped into your head that told you to keep holding onto him, you hop off his bike and sprint to the radio tower stairs and climb the stairs and ladder as fast as your legs will carry you. You don’t want to miss the finale!

“Pick up the pace, dude, here I thought I was the slowpoke,” you call down to Daryl.

Rushing up the ladder only made your ‘problem’ (read: previously injured and reinjured and now permanently funky) shoulder pinch a little.

At the top, you reach back into your pocket to take out your matches and light the final firework duct-taped to the railing—but you discover that all the excitement’s rendered your hands and fingers tingly and shaking.

“There’s another?” you hear Daryl pant. He takes the last step up the ladder with a groan as he stands up and joins you.

“This one’s to let Glenn know we made it to the top okay. Just havin’ trouble here, my hands are all wobbly.”

“I got ya, let me.”

His hands are shaky, too, you notice. Must be all the excitement catching up to the two of you.

Him

The firework had a very short wick and shot up just a few seconds after he’d lit it.

With a high-pitched hee, the green flare soared before it fizzled into a small shower of sparkles.

He’s just glad he had a Zippo so he could light it in the first place; his hands were shaking.

Shaking! That shit didn’t happen to him.

If he didn’t have what T-Dog told him that time chasing around his thoughts all afternoon, he would think it must’ve been solely due to all the running around and fun.

But when Y/N took his arm and pulled him to the other side of the radio tower and stared expectantly into the distance, he couldn’t help but accept how it felt right.

They’d touched his arm before, he’d casually touched theirs, too, no big deal (anymore). They’d hugged him before. Gave him a massage, hell, he did that for them when they had migraines or when their messed-up shoulder was causing them grief. They even danced together after Glenn and Maggie got hitched.

T-Dog. This is your fault. Merle, you too.

All Merle had asked him in the woods that day was if he’d turned “All soft for the square?” And when he didn’t answer the right way, his big brother had snickered, “Shit, I guess findin’ another prude is what finally done it for you.”

But it’s what T-Dog had said to him that kept poking through his memory.

“You know what the word for it is just as much as I do, man. Now, I ain’t gonna say the word out loud, though, I think that’d be too much for ya. But I’m looking forward to the day you own up to it. Y/N is worth it. And so are you, brother.” Then he’d cracked up and added, “And obviously I’ma want your first kid named after me. Theodore, Theodora, it all works.”

So, he tried not to look at Y/N.

Not that he didn’t want to look at them, but fuck, man, it was getting real. He wasn’t gonna be able to not ignore this much longer.

He wouldn’t even want to ignore it anymore, and that was the scary part.

Until he realized that it didn’t feel scary.

Not when the finale began and Y/N squealed and flung their arm around his shoulder while doing a little victory dance. Not when they stopped jumping and relaxed, moving their arm from around his shoulder to around his back as the last of the fireworks shot up and lit the night sky. Not when his arm wrapped around their shoulder, either, as they watched the lights fizzle away.

Everything about Y/N felt safe.

Cheers began sounding through the police radio on Y/N’s belt along with a louder voice that was Glenn’s, although nothing was coming through clearly with all the background noise.

He could feel Y/N breathing heave up and down against his side, could feel them giggling as the last of the adrenaline wore off. Their head leaned against his chest for a moment, then pulled back.

They unhooked their arm from around him.

He didn’t want that, he wanted them to stay that way.

Fuck.

If he had any balls, now would be when he would kiss them.

You

If you weren’t so careful and if you thought he’d want it, now is when you’d probably kiss him. But, that’s just the adrenaline and the longing talking.

“So, good news,” you stammer, a wide smile stretching across your face. “The house Glenn and I got all that from? There’s more fireworks in there. The folk who lived there must have sold illegal fireworks on the down-low or bought in bulk to stock up or some such,” you babble. Adrenaline.

You angle your head up to see if he’s happy about it and to hear what he thinks, but he’s just looking at you. Not in the eyes, but lower, by your chin? You don’t have soot on your face, do you? You brush off your mouth and chin just in case.

Likewise, you brush away the idea that he was staring at your lips. It’s adrenaline and longing, calm down, Y/N.

“M’sorry, what’d you say?” he asks, then blinking a bunch of times and stepping back.

Oh, got it, he must not have heard you. The booms were noisy, you suppose. Must be tired, too.

When you repeat what you’d said, his eyes crinkle and he makes that shy smile you love where just one corner of his mouth peeks up. “Next year, I want in.”

“Awesome! I almost asked you to help this year, but figured a surprise was better the first time around. You, you told me it was your favorite holiday, and you’ve been havin’ a rough go of things…”

Him

“You know what the word for it is just as much as I do, man. Now, I ain’t gonna say the word out loud, though, I think that’d be too much for ya. But I’m looking forward to the day you own up to it. Y/N is worth it. And so are you, brother.”

His hands were still tingly. His stomach may have floated away, he wasn’t too sure. He was sure about one thing, though. Finally owning up to it in his head, at least.

That his friend that he loved and was goddamned in love with was standing there smiling and chatting away while he couldn’t seem to find any words at all.

“We can probably go home in like 10 minutes, what do you think? And do you want me to drive us back? You seem a little out of it. You’ve had a long day, I don’t blame you, and I haven’t ridden in like tow weeks, I’d be cool with it. Oh, and we gotta use the secret side entrance, I’m being silly about keepin’ Rick without concrete proof about whodunnit—don’t worry, it’s my head on the chopping block, you and Glenn are safe from the guillotine, as it were.”

After a very deep inhale and a shake of their head while they exhaled, they then apologized. “I think I’m still a little jittery from all the excitement, sorry for gabbin’ on. On that topic, when we get back, I think we should have beer. I,” they shrugged, “I hid three in my tower, one for me, two for you. You said ‘hot dogs, fireworks, and a shit ton of beer’ were what you liked about the Fourth. Two beers ain’t a lot, I know—but you know me, dude, m’kinda a square. I care about you and your liver.”

Y/N then crossed their arms and relaxed on the guardrail. He had enough brains at that moment to lean next to them, arms crossed just the same, his shoulder close to touching theirs.

“What did you and Merle do on the 4th of July? Lots of good ’ole American fun? Your Uncle Jess must’ve been there, too. What about your, um, your father?”

“What about you, with your brother and sisters, foster siblings, nieces and nephews? Must’ve been a damn powwow. Carl was prolly there, too, with Rick and Lori? Grandma Jean?”

He wanted to keep hearing them talk, to look at their smile and not need to think about anything other than Y/N.

He didn’t want anything else other than Y/N.

All the fireworks that night, and the thing that was giving him the biggest thrill was the person standing next to him.

He barely took notice when “Happy 8th of July!” got shouted particularly loud over the police radio next.

Pausing mid-sentence and still smiling bright, Y/N lifted the radio between them. “On three, yeah?”

He wondered what it would be like to kiss them right then and there.

But instead, he nodded and held up three fingers, counting down.

Three, two:

“Happy 8th of July!”

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[aheathen-conceivably]

I just finished catching up on your story, and my dear, it was utterly fabulous!!! 😘

You have done the 1920s the most justice I have ever seen. The stories, the sets, just everything is so perfect. You are masterfully handling such a complicated time and diving head first into some of the most difficult topics and I love you for that. I am in awe of how amazing it all is. 😍

I just needed to tell you how absolutely stunning this decade has been and that you have totally hooked me and I'm an excitedly awaiting your next installment !!

Skye, MAM, you deserve an endless amount of happy cat GIFs for this omg 🥹😭 (grey cats especially, of course).

I have been dreaming of this decade since I started this story. If you go back to my intro post, I mention it specifically, even though I was only then in the year 1885. I could ramble for paragraphs about why that is and why I chose to represent the subjects that I have, but in hopes of not crowding up the dash, all I’ll say is that this decade’s story has become very important to me.

I frankly am not a big 1920s girl. It never was a decade that particularly interested me until I started this, and I had always thought about it more as an exploration of social systems before and after this era. But now, I’ve come to love and appreciate the decade deeply (including the fashion, of course, I mean my girl is going to get ANOTHER lookbook at the end of the 20s).

I just hope that the end of the era will make y’all equally happy and that our next decades can be just as lovely! ❤️

[blookmallow]

y’all i am so sorry i failed you

i just found this buried a year into my drafts and realized. i never posted my animatronics ratings for last year’s spirit halloween releases. i started it and i never finished it. it’s now closing in on halloween season again and i still haven’t done it. im ashamed. i am so sorry  

ANYWAY, here’s, uh, my. 9 month late 2022 spirit halloween opinions, happy summerween i guess 

Mr. Punchy 

NEW CLOWN NEW CLOWN fuck yes i love a new clown

also for some reason the first sentence of his description made me lose it 

BIG fan of this just from a visual standpoint, i love the colors, love the hair. i like the light-up face on this one a lot, most spirit clowns ive seen fall into either “Clown Who Is A Monster/Creature” (crouchy, hugz) or “Clown Who Is A Scary Guy” (wally, henry hussle) but this one feels very “evil fun house prop” which i really think works for it. im assuming he’s based on punching-bag clowns, which i haven’t seen them do before, but the fact that his body is a Ball also gives me the mental image of him violently bouncing toward you which is good as well. theres a certain manic energy about this guy that im really fond of. i like him i would like to see him 7/10 

Spike

standard zombie torso figure, though it does have some interesting implications given that Stab The Brain is the generally agreed upon best way to deal with zombies, but this guy seems to be doing just fine despite the giant stake in his head. the website description says he got it from his wife attempting to mercy kill him once he turned zombie but she failed so he’s just stuck like this now. it does not explain why stake to the brain didn’t work, though (the implication is that she missed or something but clearly she didn’t. ive never heard of zombie brains having a very specific precise spot you have to hit to kill them, this looks like it should’ve worked to me) 

something about the bLurghHGhRUrrh noises he makes and the little nicely buttoned flannel shirt with jagged obviously-cut-out-intentionally tears at the bottom is very funny to me. i like to think his wife has accepted the situation and he just lives on the porch scaring away birds and stuff now. 5 /10 hes not really anything special but he brings me joy 

Rat Girl

it’s... fine. she’s a Creepy Little Girl. she’s got a rat. it’s not particularly inspired but I don’t dislike it. she doesn’t really do anything but i like the eye movement. 5/10 

Lil Skelly Bones

this is a variation of another animatronic they had previously, same lil guy but now he’s a jumpscare figure instead of a swinging one. not really a fan of stuff that’s Just “jumps out at you” and thats all but he’s pretty cute. love how Small he is. whats even going on here, is he a skeleton dressed as a skeleton?? i don’t know. it’s very cute. 5/10 

Tombstone Terror

on a surface level this is just a tombstone with a skull that pops out and yells at you. it looks nice, it’s designed well, but it’s about as basic as it gets as far as the concept goes. the description for this one really makes it though, because evidently this skeleton’s name is Steve and he used to be the graveyard caretaker who loved his job so much he stuck around after death to continue protecting the graveyard

his name is steve and he loves this graveyard so much. 6/10 its very uncreative as a prop but it gets a bonus point for steve 

The Widow 

this one looks really familiar i feel like they had a very similar one previously? i dont know. anyway she’s very scary looking and the Neck Snap motion is really unsettling to see. one of those rare animatronics that i actually do feel a lil creeped out by and wouldn’t be eager to approach. her description says her husband cheated on her so she murdered him (and her sister, who he was cheating with) but then broke her neck in the process of trying to dump the bodies in a lake, so here we are. 7/10 i dont love it but i feel like it’s pretty effective and my first reaction to watching the video of it was “eugh. i dont want to see THAT again” so props for that 

Betty Sharpe 

lots of blood on this one, very nice, 

apparently she’s some kind of child beauty pageant contestant who murdered all the other girls

i really like the movement in the bag, something about the relatively slow motion and the size of the bag gives it a sense of “what the fuck does she have in there” since it doesn’t seem fast enough or big enough to be a person. gives the impression of a mutilated but somehow still barely alive person shoved in there, which is excellent. her design doesn’t read very clearly though, it looks like she’s wearing some kind of nightgown. i feel like they could’ve done more to make her look like a deranged diva, give her a tiara or something. the face looks really plasticky also. overall i think its a decent concept that could’ve been executed better. 6/10

Young Crouchy

H U H???!?????

this... sure is a choice. i do not understand the decision-making here at all. i like crouchy well enough but did ANYONE want this. it doesn’t even read as “young crouchy” at all, he doesn’t look Younger in any sense and it sounds like the same recording so his voice isn’t different either. it just looks like Slightly Shrunk crouchy. the fact that the original crouchy is so tall and imposing is really what makes him so effective, so this one just looks comical 

the description goes into his tragic childhood where i guess he’s... disabled? which is why he stands like that? 

The pain of growing up orphaned in the streets can only be masked by laughter, at least according to this broken child. With no friends, no family, and nowhere to turn, he had a stroke of luck when the circus came to town. He never intended to scare anyone, but with his broken posture and twisted frame, he was quickly adopted into the traveling circus and immediately found his calling. No amount of makeup could ever hide his sinister grin and sharp, dagger-like teeth, so he finally embraced his true identity as Crouchy and worked to become the show’s most terrifying act!

for one thing that doesn’t come across as a child even remotely at all, and while crouchy always had the “he just wanted to be a regular clown but he was too scary and everyone was afraid of him so he just decided to embrace it” backstory, i feel like this just makes it come across super ableist. “clown who is just really terrifying no matter how he tries” is kind of a funny concept but now they’re saying “his posture and body structure are Weird and Scary so no one liked him and all he’s good for is being Scary” just. feels real bad. and “he’s called crouchy because he has a physical disability that affects his posture” comes across way worse than “he’s called crouchy because we’re not creative and this is the pose he’s in. i mean because its a personal quirk of his” 

then they also follow up this description with “Every good evil villain has to have a tragic origin story!” which just feels SO forced, it makes me feel gross, this whole thing is stupid, i dont like any of it,

i feel like if they had leaned into “this is very silly” more and made this guy be like, Crouchy Jr, His Son, or his mini clone or something and made his voice higher it might’ve worked. a few people in the youtube comments pointed out that this prop could be beneficial as like, a Smaller/More Affordable crouchy if you don’t have the money or the space for the full size one, which is fair, but i don’t know. i just dont like this whole situation i really don’t 

3/10 try harder next time, spirit 

Strawman

spooky scarecrow man!!! i really hope I get a chance to see him in-store sometime hes lovely. love a creepy scarecrow

the design is good, his face design is pretty cool, it looks better in motion his mouth movements are pretty solid

he has a good range of motion in his head and the jerky/stiff movement in his arms works for the character really well whether it was intentional or not. hes interesting to watch. i like him. i think he’d be a great host/introductory figure at the beginning of a haunt or front of your yard or something to greet guests coming in. hes good i like him 7/10

theres also a new Reagan from the exorcist, but i havent. actually seen that movie yet sdfsdf so i dont really have anything to say about the animatronic other than “it looks fine to me” 

Possessed Pumpkin 

i feel like pumpkin man and creepy scarecrow are friends. they go well together. cursed pumpkin patch is a good concept i like it 

anyway we have this guy at my local store right now, he’s pretty Big and solid looking, its a pretty decent design, i like his big claw hands

his backstory kind of clashes with the design concept though, apparently he was... a kid in a homemade halloween costume who got bullied for his costume and then the other kids locked him in a barn at a haunted pumpkin patch so his body got taken over by evil spirits. which is a hell of a story that then makes No sense with the visual, because that is Not a child. nothing about this even remotely reads as “possessed child” at all. so then it comes across as “he grew up into an adult man in this pumpkin patch and just never fucking moved on from that one time he got bullied on halloween as a child” which just makes him kind of sad. pretty good design, poor backstory, 7/10 

anyway sorry if i missed anybody it took me so long to remember this was in here the new arrivals page on spirit’s site is now for this year so i cant tell which ones were new last year anymore :’    ) fjsdg