#So I really wanted to make you a present this year as well!

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingou from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[wileys-russo]

Mary Earps, "will you marry me"..."we're already married", nightclub/party/some sort of night out

marry me II m.earps

you weren't able to go to the game because of work but you'd heard how well mary played, score checking as often as you could when your boss wasn't looking though you knew he really wouldn't mind all that much being a united supporter himself.

finally on your afternoon break you'd had a chance to call her, getting the full recap on everything including what sounded like a rocket of a goal from both maya and ella, united going up 4-0 in one of their best games of the season.

it killed you to have to cut your wife off mid story but with only a couple minutes left mary was more than understanding as you promised to meet her with the team once you finished, not thinking you'd make it in time for dinner but they had plans to go out afterwards to a karaoke bar.

"-and i promise not to sing a single abba song until you arrive beautiful!" mary promised and you could hear the grin in her voice as you softened, the two of you having met when a rather tipsy mary had mistaken you for a friend and tried to sweep you off your feet to have a dance to voulez vouz years ago.

now it was your unspoken song, always making sure to get it requested whenever you went out with friends, the two of you in your own little bubble as you'd giggle and swing one another around like the lovesick idiots you really were.

telling her you loved her and again how proud you were of yet another clean sheet under her belt you ended the call and hurried back to your desk where a large number of emails awaited you.

you were somewhat grateful for how busy your afternoon was given that it made the rest of your shift fly past, your timer going to clock out jolting you from your chair almost as you saved the doc you were working on and shut down your monitor.

collecting your things you said your goodbyes to your coworkers and headed out, wishing you'd bought a second jacket as you speed walked from the office to the tube, settling a little once you were inside and headed home.

it was the same story as you power walked from the station to the bus, and then from the bus stop to your flat you shared with your girlfriend. your new years resolution this year had been to use public transport to get to work at least twice a week.

given the business you worked for operated seven days a week and you only worked five including like today the occasional weekend it was going quite well so far, even if also like today it was that little bit harder with the weather.

by the time you let yourself inside it was nearing half past seven, and still needing a shower and some food you sent your wife a message indicating as much with a promise to keep her updated on your eta.

you melted at her reply text, following her instructions and going to the fridge where indeed she'd already cooked you dinner earlier this morning, the food just needing to be heated up.

not wanting to chance spilling food on anything you ate before you showered, putting on the highlights of the match and watching on proudly with a smile, cheering as though you didn't already know the outcome.

finishing up you rinsed and stacked your bowl and the tupperware in the dishwasher which was nearly full, tossing a tablet in and clicking it on as you thanked your wife for the meal and ducked into the shower.

by the time you showered and changed, finally looking presentable, it was nearing nine and mary had already informed around twenty minutes ago they were headed to the bar from the restaurant and she'd see you there.

ordering an uber you slipped on your shoes and grabbed a jacket, greeting the driver but otherwise remaining quiet, grateful that he picked up on that and just turned the radio on as you messaged mary you'd arrived.

thanking the uber you stepped out and joined the small line to enter the bar, grateful for the jacket around your shoulders as a sharp breeze whipped through the night air.

you frowned a little when mary hadn't texted back, but assuming she just hadn't heard her phone you'd barely stepped foot into the bar before a couple of bodies tumbled into you.

"ya made it!" you laughed as millie lifted you into the air in a tight hug and ella hugged your other side, the two having spotted you enter from the bar as they hustled you back over with them to grab a drink.

you greeted a few more of the girls and their partners as you waited, looking around for your wife but unable to spot her. "you might want to prepare yourself babe." maya warned patting your shoulder and handing you your drink as you gave her a curious look.

"dumb and dumber here have been feeding mary shots so she's...a little bit tipsy." maya smiled apologetically as you chuckled, knowing from her tone that was clearly an understatement as you followed her back to the booths where most of the team was hanging around.

"hello beautiful!" you heard her before you saw her, the taller girl crashing into you as maya hurried to grab your drink from your hand or else you'd have wound up wearing it as your wife practically tackled you down onto the lounge.

"mary! watch out ya idiot." katie laughed with a shake of her head. "hi baby, having fun?" you smiled, taking your drink back off maya and settling it down on the table as mary sat up and nodded, arm draped securely over your shoulders.

"so much fun!" she giggled and you grinned at the bright red flush across her cheeks you knew only appeared when she'd had far too much to drink. "mm i can see that, whats this i hear about shots?" you teased sipping at your own drink.

"mary!" you groaned as you barely had a mouthful before the goalkeeper had taken it from your hand and downed it, her only response being to grab your face and smash her lips to yours causing your neck to warm and wolf whistles to ring out around you.

"okay okay! down girl." you laughed pushing at her chest as she again chased your lips with a grin. "no i missed ya, c'mere." she tugged at your dress as you shook your head. "you owe me a drink earps." you warned booping her nose with a grin.

"mary watch out!" you laughed again as she practically leapt over you and made a beeline for the bar, dragging millie along with her. "no more shots for her turner i mean it!" you yelled after them as millie only winked and you sighed.

turns out, there was more shots.

a couple of hours had passed since you'd arrived and having sung three times now both with your wife or friends you were ready to call it a night, mary barely able to hold her head up.

"i'm gonna get us an uber. can you help me get her up?" you chuckled to leah and millie, millie who had sobered up scarily fast considering you'd watched her do shot after shot with your wife who was near passed out on your shoulder.

"maz, baby. come on up we get, we're gonna head home!" you shook her lightly as her eyes fluttered open and she mumbled something incomprehensible and slumped back down. nodding to millie and leah once the uber was booked the girls helped mary up who thankfully could mostly walk herself once she was.

"for earps? thank you." you checked with the uber, leah shoving mary in the back as you sat down beside her and buckled her in, thanking both girls and waving them off as they made their way back inside.

"are we on the tube?" mary lifted her head squinting her eyes with a slur making you chuckle. "no you muppet, we're in an uber." you rubbed her knee as she hummed and collapsed into you with a grunt.

thankfully the bar wasn't too far from your flat as the uber pulled up outside and you gently pushed mary to sit up, exiting the car and quickly making your way to her door.

opening it you grunted as the girl near fell out, the sudden drop at least waking her up enough to allow you to pull her out of the car, closing the door and stumbling your way up the driveway.

"come on babe, work with me here!" you groaned as she leaned her much taller body into you with a moan and a mumble of something that wasn't english, your fingers freezing and struggling with the key in the door as you finally popped it open.

"down we go!" you dropped your wife onto the sofa as she giggled and blinked a few times, sighing as you hurried to the bedroom to change.

grabbing clothes for mary you joined her again in the living room rolling your eyes as she was now properly passed out, mouth hanging open and all.

"maz, maz baby." you crouched down beside her and poked at her as she groaned and swatted you away. "come on, we need to get you changed you idiot!" you laughed, shaking her a bit harder now as she awoke and you helped her groggily sit up.

"oh hello darling." mary slurred, grabbing your hands and tugging you down to sit on her lap. "when did you get here? i missed ya." she mumbled making you laugh and shake your head, well prepared to tease her relentlessly for this tomorrow.

you helped her get dressed, ignoring the comments about buying her dinner first and her little teenage giggles as with absolutely no assistance from your wife you managed to get her changed.

"you're so so beautiful." mary smiled lazily pulling you down onto her lap again making you sigh but crack a smile. "will you marry me? i think you should marry me." the goalkeeper grinned with hooded eyes making you laugh.

"we're already married my love." you grabbed her hand and held up your own, the taller girl squinting at the rings which sat on them. "oh lovely! tick that off the list then." she ticked mid air as you rolled your eyes.

"come on you big dope, time to go to bed with your wife."

[churipu]

Hellooo! I saw ur reqs wer open and I wanted to know if its oknif ok if u can write abt the jjk men being their for their gf's performance/exhibit for school or work when their family or friends can't make it?

(I love how how the way you write them as well! I found u through the nanami oneshot and I've just been on ur masterlist reading through all of ur fics and drabbles, esp now with me going through the same thing as above 💛)

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ

❪ jjk men showing up in your art exhibition when nobody did ❫

────── 𝕴 . featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, itadori yuuji x fem! reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. none :)

note. hi nonnie :( thank you so much for the love, i'm so sorry for the delay, i'm so sorry that happened to you. i'm 100% sure whatever you were presenting to everyone was awesome! i love you <33

𝜗𝜚 . GOJO SATORU

gojo has received your heads up regarding an art exhibit a week prior. he'd notice the way you've been very very excited about having your art work presented for people to see. and he's happy to see you happy.

he made it extra clear he wanted nothing with the jujutsu world the day your exhibit was held — all he wanted was a nice and peaceful day to spend with his partner. gojo woke up extra early to send you off, helping you get ready.

the way your smile lit up his morning, he couldn't even get back to sleep right after, seeing how happy you are with today. gojo can't even wait for the time to struck twelve for the exhibition opening, and so he got there an hour early.

he was silent with his movements, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp as he paced around the crowded area — blue eyes averting everywhere to look for you. with his height, finding you wasn't too hard for him.

pushing through oceans of humans, he stood right in front of you. the solemn look on your face doesn't go unnoticed, "hi, baby."

you look up to see him and crack a smile, "you came."

gojo grins down at you, "of course i did, can't miss my girl's exhibition, can i?" his large hand covered the top of your head, "why the frown? are you not happy to see me?"

chuckling, you shake your head, "no. my parents couldn't make it, they were too busy with work."

and you were so excited to show them your art work too. gojo didn't forget the way you rambled on about how your parents were going to love it — especially when it was dedicated to them. and they butchered it up by choosing work over you.

this time, gojo frowns along with you, "they didn't show up?"

with a shake of your head, gojo pulls you into his embrace, "i'm sorry that happened, show me everything? i arrived here an hour ago to see you, you know?"

"one hour? so early and for what?"

"to see you, silly. i couldn't wait to see all your works," he pressed his lips onto your forehead, "and this is for my beautiful girl."

he handed you the bouquet and laced his fingers with yours, "let's get some food after this? it's a date."

"it's a date!" you smiled, no longer feeling upset.

𝜗𝜚 . NANAMI KENTO

people always tell you to never get excited over small things, but you couldn't help it — the slightest things made you really happy, but at the same time, the slightest things made you sad as well.

i'm sorry, can't come to the exhibit. something came up, i'll try to swing by next time y/n! maybe next year? sorry :(

you read the text over and over again. this should be fine, (friend) was probably just busy with their day so they couldn't drop by — no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it was fine. you didn't feel like it. they promised.

"i'm sorry i'm late, y/n."

turning around to look at the source of the voice, there stood your boyfriend. sweat dribbling down the side of his face, hair disheveled with shallow and rapid breaths. he looked like he just ran a marathon.

"kento? i thought you couldn't make it—"

nanami shook his head, "i made time for you, i will always make time for you," he gave you a small smile.

"you're not late, just in time actually," you switched your phone off, shoving it inside the back pocket of your jeans, "thank you for coming for me."

he wiped his sweat, standing up straight, stepping towards you, "where are your friends? they should be here now, are they not?"

the corner of your lips tugged downwards. it was embarrassing as it is, and now you had to tell him that they weren't coming. it's like a slap to the face, "um . . . they aren't coming. something came up, and i guess they couldn't come."

nanami's eyebrows twitched slightly, but he said nothing. his hand reached out for yours, giving it a slight squeeze, "spend the rest of your day with me?"

you blinked, "how about work?"

"don't worry about my work, you come first, understood?" he brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

𝜗𝜚 . ITADORI YUUJI

maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics made you a better person. maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics pushed you to do better — like a cry for attention. but for some apparent reason, they never seemed to be satisfied with what you're doing.

"art brings you no good, what are you going to be? an artist? do you know how much they earn a year?"

don't be an artist this. don't be an artist that. it was pretty expected that your invitation for them was discarded with no thoughts behind. hell, they didn't even spare it a glance.

and yet, the little girl in you still hoped that they'd show up — even just for a while.

they didn't, it should be obvious. you saw it coming, but it still hurts anyways. however, itadori yuuji showed up; and he was like a ball of sunshine, so you couldn't help but to be happy as well. especially with how packed his schedule is, he still made the time to stop by.

"baby!"

"yuuji!"

he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, carrying you around with ease, "sorry i came a little late, kugisaki needed me to bring her shopping bags back to the cab. where are your parents? they should be here, right?"

right. they should have.

"no, they didn't come," you murmured into the crook of his neck before pulling your head back with a sad smile plastered to your face, "but i'm okay, you're here now!"

yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "i'm going to pester gojo-sensei to let me off for the rest of the day, i need to be here with you."

you shake your head, "you can't, what if you have a mission?"

"fushiguro can take over, pretty. don't worry about my missions," yuuji replied, nuzzling his nose to the side of your face, "plus, how can i leave you alone here, huh?"

"you're the sweetest, yuuji. but what if it's an important mission?" you pinched his cheeks gently, pulling them.

"fushiguro can take over, he's strong. and there's kugisaki, and the second year students. they'll manage," he retorted, pecking your cheek before letting you down.

"you're too nice, yuuji."

"i love you. and show me your works, i can't wait to see them, you know? kugisaki wanted pictures!"

© churipu 2024 , do not copy or repost anywhere

[i2ycat]

— the ‘us’ theory

pairing sunoo x fem!reader synopsis after years of no contact, a sudden rekindling in your relationship with sunoo makes sparks soar higher than they’ve ever gone. it’s hard not to see just how much you missed being around your old best friend again genre slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, college au word count 4.3k (was only supposed to be arnd 600, idk what happened LOL) warnings wrote this on 1% brain cells so please excuse if it seems like the plot is underdeveloped and pacing is weird, i know nothing ab mortal kombat, semi-proofread main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

You’ve known Sunoo since forever. From the moment you took your first baby step to the moment you got absolutely hammered by another girl in your grade, Sunoo had been right by your side, from kindergarten all the way to primary school.

It was weird not to see your brooding self beside the beaming boy, seeing as you guys never separated from each other for even a second. It made your parents think the both of you had separation anxiety, always throwing tantrums whenever the other wasn’t around.

But that was only until primary school.

By the time secondary school rolled around, you naturally started to drift apart. Being in the year above him, he stuck to his own group of friends, while you had yours. You had easily accepted the course that your relationship with Sunoo was headed off to, wanting to fit in with the rest of your ‘ew juniors’-minded clique so badly, because who hung out with juniors anyways?

It didn’t help that, not soon after, your father was stationed to a different department of the company on the other side of the world. You felt sad leaving everything you knew behind, all the familiar places, but you were also 13 and ready to be anywhere but the place you had been confined to. It felt exhilarating to finally leave everything behind — not that you had much to begin with. It’s always been just your mother, your father, and you.

Sunoo was out of the conversation by the time you turned 16. He became just someone you’d remember in passing; your parents bringing him up every now and then, but you never dwelled on the thought of him for too long.

By the time you were 19, you could barely remember what he even looked like, given that you'd only seen up until his pre-puberty phase: toothy grins, chubby cheeks, and all.

So imagine your shock when a taller, more mature shell of a man presents himself in front of you, claiming to be the Kim Sunoo you’ve already forgotten all about.

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Kim Sunoo!”

You met him by complete chance.

The last time you heard of Sunoo was when your mom broke the news on a random Sunday night that the Kim family would be permanently moving to Japan, and that was three years ago.

“Cmon, I’ve known you for, like, 13 years.” He clicks his tongue.

“Yeah, I guessed. I’m just shocked to see you here.”

“What? Is seeing a young man shopping for groceries so hard to believe?” He jokes, taking a pack of ramen noodles from the shelf and placing it carefully into his cart.

“It’s not that.” You chuckle. “I thought you moved to Japan?”

“Well, I can’t really be leeching off my parents forever.”

He’s got more wit to him than you remember.

“Right,” You quickly reply, unconsciously walking the rest of the noodles and pasta aisle at the same pace that he is.

“Wow, even after all these years, you’re still the same old Y/n I used to know.” He smiles at you, the apples of his cheeks tinting a light pink under the blindingly white LED lights overhead. It suddenly brought you back to times of playing together in the playground after school, the summer rays rendering the both of you sweaty messes while your mothers talked about adult gossip somewhere in the distance. The simpler times, when fitting into social circles barely even mattered yet.

“Am I supposed to be offended?” As you arrive closer to the snack aisle, you start to grab at items not scribbled on your sad excuse of a grocery list. You should really stop doing that; you mentally chide yourself.

“Maybe. Depends on how you take it.” He shrugs. “Doritos?” You shake your head.

Silence starts to permeate the air between the both of you, save for some random Nirvana tune playing faintly in the background. It wasn’t awkward per se, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either; rather, it sat right in the middle.

You’ve known Sunoo for 13 whole years of your younger adolescent days, but right now, it feels like you’ve just met him for the first time. Technically you are, after a few years that is, but maybe it was just you and your ineptitude for social interactions. Chae was right, you really should socialize with people more.

A beat or two passes by, “Are you free tomorrow by any chance?” Sunoo turns to you, bright eyes boring into yours.

“Why?”

“I just moved here like a week ago, and I have absolutely no friends.” He pouts, “Mind giving an old friend company on his own birthday?”

“It’s your birthday?” You stop in your tracks.

“Tomorrow, yeah.”

“Okay. Just send me the address.” You take out your phone to hand him, “You’re not just about to lure and kill me right?”

“Now why would I do that?” He lifts his eyebrows at you as he keys in his phone number, naming himself ‘no.1 childhood best friend’ in the process.

“You can never be too sure nowadays.”

“Yeah, as if I would kill my only friend in this entire city.” He retorts, fingers brushing yours ever-so-slightly as he hands you back your phone.

—

Seeing the bare-bones state that Sunoo’s box apartment was in made you feel for him. You’d already spent your early teens adjusting to the chaos that New York was, and you’ve acclimated to it by now, with the help of your parents, of course, but Sunoo, on the other hand? He came completely alone, with a singular suitcase in tow. It ignited a sense of protectiveness towards him. The same way it was when you were younger.

Sunoo was always one of the more smaller and younger children in the kindergarten, but that only made him more loved by the teachers and other caretakers. Memories resurfaced of how everyone would coo whenever Sunoo showed his signature smile, silently wishing they had a kid as endearing as Sunoo. They’d bring extra just for him, and Sunoo, being the sweet kid he was, basked in all of it blissfully.

The rest of the older kids didn’t like how Sunoo hogged all the adult’s attention, so they would constantly pick at him during play time, behind the knowledge of the teachers. Since you were a year older and much taller than Sunoo then, you always felt the instinctive need to step in and protect him from all of it, even getting sucker punched in the face for him one time. You chuckle at the distinct memory of Sunoo crying in the sidelines whilst you laid on the mat, a comically large bandage plastered on your cheek.

“What’s so funny?” Sunoo sticks his head out from the cupboard, eyeing your figure on the couch.

“I’m laughing at the fact that you at least have a couch.” You pat the space next to you.

“Hey, you can’t judge. I just moved here, and I don’t know where anything is anymore.” He says this as he pours room-temperature orange juice into plastic cups. “Happy birthday to me.” He sighs, handing you one.

“This is actually really sad.” You take a single sip out of the clear cup before setting it down on the arm of Sunoo’s sofa that was more like a loveseat if anything. “And I’m not just talking about the orange juice.”

“At least I’m not alone!”

“Why’d you move here anyway? I’m sure there’s better places than big ole overpriced New York.” You bring up a leg to get comfortable, and Sunoo does the same, his knee lightly grazing yours in the process.

“You wouldn’t wanna hear it.” He sighs.

“No, tell me!”

“It’s stupid.”

“I won’t judge. Pinky promise.” You bring your pinky rings towards his, locking them.

“I actually moved here for you.” He says it so softly that you thought you had misheard.

“Sorry, I think I misheard.”

“Nah, I think you heard correctly.” He bends down to grab a forkful of noodles, the one he bought yesterday, and moans gleefully at the bundles of flavour exploding in his mouth, “Woah. I think this might be my new favourite ramen.”

“Wait, you’re not being serious, are you?” Sunoo shakes his head at you, his cheeks blowing up as noodles enter his mouth, strand by strand. “Are you stupid?” You completely drop the smile you had been sporting just a minute ago, beyond baffled by Sunoo’s lack of critical thinking.

“Gosh, Sunoo! What would you have done if I hadn’t run into you last night? What if I already moved to a different state? A different country even?!”

“My mom is still in contact with yours, so I’m pretty sure I would’ve ended up at your front door anyway." He nonchalantly answers, shrugging his shoulders the way he always does.

You’ve completely forgotten how Sunoo was always the free spirit in your dynamic, doing anything and everything he wanted without ever thinking about the after. He always downplayed the severity of the consequences, only thinking about the moment and living in it blissfully.

Just a few days prior to your drift apart, Sunoo had dragged you out of your 6th grade classroom just before recess ended and towards the outdoor basketball court. A little mat had been planted on the grass, with what you could recognise as Sunoo’s lunch box set neatly on top.

He had asked you to skip class with him, a kind of celebration on the last day of school. Thanks to him, you were absolutely horrified to come home that day, while him, on the other hand, was not the slightest bit concerned.

“Why? Just why? We haven’t talked for, what, 6 years? And suddenly you move 13 hours away from home to be in the same city that I am?” You were fuming, and for a reason you weren’t too sure about yourself.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he had been thinking about you even after your drift apart, while you were not. Maybe it was the guilt of being the one to instigate the drift in the first place, but he still made his way towards you.

“I’m not too sure either.” He places the chopsticks on the makeshift coffee table. “But at least you’re here, and I’m not alone on my birthday.” He offers you a cheeky grin, one that reaches his eyes, and it almost instantly gives you whiplash.

“You’re driving me crazy here, Sunoo.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge and… it’s still my birthday, ya’know.” He pouts, cocking his head to the side in an attempt to soothe your bubbling anger with his biggest weapon — his face. “Can you stop being your practical self for just a second?” His tone was light, and his eyes were pleading.

He probably still remembered your weakness for pretty faces, and was taking advantage of that at the most convenient of times.

Damn Sunoo and damn pretty privilege.

—

After Sunoo’s semi-successful birthday party—his words, not yours—he’s been sticking to you like glue. He practically lives in your apartment with how much time he spends there. Even when you’re out for classes or errands, he'll take it upon himself to make himself feel at home. You practically spent every second of every day with him, just like it used to be when you were younger.

Your mother was overly ecstatic to find out that you had rekindled your friendship with Sunoo — almost so ecstatic in fact that it alarmed you just a tad bit, scared that she might try to set you up with her best friend’s only son.

She had even suggested that the both of you live together to save costs, she says. You weren’t entirely sold on that fact, seeing as you still wanted your semblance of privacy and freedom in your own home, but with the rising rent prices these days, it wasn’t really a choice now, was it?

“My mother says we should move in together.” You say this over a plate of scrambled eggs, one that Sunoo had so graciously offered to cook.

“I’m sorry?” Sunoo chokes on his cup of black tea.

“I mean, our dynamic is pretty good. You finish things that I don’t. I say it’s a pretty good match.”

Over the course of the last few months that you’ve been on-off living with Sunoo, you learned that he has a habit of picking up things that you’ve left aside to be forgotten. One instance of this was when you found your incomplete knitting project in Sunoo’s more nimble hands, working away while on his spot on your couch.

He explained that seeing things unfinished was a big pet peeve of his, and it usually works in your favour anyway.

“Yeah, but what about my apartment?”

“You say that as if you don’t basically already live here.” You pick up a piece of egg with your fork to bring it to your mouth.

“I guess, yeah, but..." His words trail off. “Never mind.”

“But what, Sun?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, taking a big gulp of his tea before setting the cup back down onto your wooden table, the one Sunoo had picked alongside some other furniture pieces that now scattered your flat.

“You better give up that act now because you know how stubborn I can get.” You peg the fork at him in a faux effort to assert intimidation. Not that you could be any more intimidating with your furrowed eyebrows and grim expression.

“It’s just...”

“Just?”

Sunoo ultimately sighs, picking up his plate to bring to the sink and turning his back towards you. “I would love to live together, really." He starts off. “But what if you bring other guys over? I don’t think I could handle that.”

“That’s it? You’re flattering me by even thinking I can pull guys.” You laugh as you make your way towards Sunoo with an empty plate in your hands. “Sun, there’s nothing to worry about, but I’ll make sure to let you know beforehand if I ever do.”

“That’s not what I was implying.” Sunoo keeps his voice low and whisper-like, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear, but you do anyway.

“Okay, then what do you mean?”

“I’m saying that I think I like you.” He takes a deep breath, finding it hard to formulate words from his thoughts. “I... I just... When we were 13, when we started drifting apart, I felt so lost and confused. I didn’t want to be like those movie cliches, losing my best friend because of high school or whatever.” He doesn’t look up from the dishes in front of him; instead, he focuses on mindlessly scrubbing the mug.

“I followed you here because, even after six long years, you were still my number one. I missed your presence. I always wondered when you would contact me again, but that never happened. I guess I was also too scared to talk to you first, so that’s that.” He continues. “I don’t want to burden you with my feelings any more than they already are, and if we officially, actually lived together, I don’t think my heart could handle all that.”

To say you were speechless was an understatement. You stared at him long enough to see dots, and yet you couldn’t think of anything to say.

Sunoo liked you. The little boy from kindergarten that you promised to protect liked you. Your best friend up until you were 13 liked you?

“Sun...” You start off but can never seem to find a proper end to your sentence.

“You don’t have to answer me right now. Or, as a matter of fact, you don’t even have to accept it. I just thought you should know since you proposed we live together.” He washes the foam away, setting the clean dishes on the drying rack. “I’ll take my leave now.” He smiles at you, and by the time the door closes behind him, you’re still standing frozen.

You don’t know what to do with this information. Yeah, Sunoo was cute, and you had a soft spot for him, but that doesn’t mean you like him. He grew up well, but that doesn’t mean you no longer saw him as the boy you needed to protect from the world. It was all a clash of thoughts, really.

—

A week had gone by since you texted Sunoo back, saying that you needed space to think. But you weren’t really using the time to think at all; you were actually doing quite well at doing the exact opposite.

“Chae, come on! That’s cheating!” You yell, aggressively pressing away at the console for your Omni-Man to dodge Kung Lao’s wrath.

“No, you just suck.” Chae sticks her tongue out at you. And after a few moments of tense silence, “Aaaand, K.O!” She cheers in your face while you pan at the bold K.O. letterings on the screen in admission of defeat.

“I’ll beat you next time.”

“Oh baby, there won’t be a next time until you sort out whatever it is you’re worrying about first.” She takes the console from your hands and sets it back in its original place under the divider of her TV set. “Now, talk to me.” She says this as she takes a seat beside you.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yeah, sure, as if you're coming here at 1 a.m. on a Wednesday night, even when you have classes tomorrow, is because of nothing.”

“I just couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

“I’m going to go bald from all the stress you’re giving me.” She tugs harshly at her shoulder-length hair. “See this?!”

Your laugh echoes in Chaewon’s humble apartment, which overlooks the entirety of New York with the perfect view — one that her life as a social media influencer is able to afford. At times like these, you felt like you were her sugar baby, leeching off her big-time success like the broke college student you are.

“You’re being overly dramatic.”

"Yeah, and sometimes I wish you were more like me. Give me the damn drama!” She drapes herself all over you, head resting on your bare legs.

“Okay, fine!”

“Good.” She finally grins, taking a bag of popcorn from the table and tossing it into her mouth one by one, occasionally offering one to you.

“You remember Sunoo?”

“The one you cried about when you first met me?”

“I wasn’t crying!”

“Yeah, sure you weren’t.” She grimaces at you.

“Okay, but that was when I was 14, so it doesn’t count.”

“Whatever, whatever. Just continue!” Chaewon switches her position to comfortably sit face-to-face with you, her eyes wide and full of anticipation.

“A few months ago, I met him at the supermarket, the one you tell me to never go to.”

“What?! And you’re only telling me this now?!” Her voice was piercing, and it made your ears almost bleed onto her velvet-carpeted floor. Judging from her reaction, she was probably more concerned about the fact that you went to the only supermarket in the city she told you not to ever step foot into, rather than not having told her about your meeting with Sunoo there.

“Just let me finish, yeah?” Chaewon quips out a small apology before you continue, “And after that, we started hanging out here and there, ya'know, the whole old childhood friends shebang. It was great, honestly. He’s great company, and as you said, I was socialising with other people!”

“But?”

“How’d you know there’s a ‘but’?”

“There is always a ‘but’, my dear Y/n.”

You clear your throat. “He confessed to me just a week ago, after I had proposed to live together, ya'know, to save on costs.”

“You, what now?”

“Not everyone is as rich as you are, Chae; we grass-rooted people need to save money somehow.”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Ugh, it’s stupid, I know! But my mother suggested it, and I was like, ‘Oh, that’s a good idea!’” At this point, the bag of popcorn lays haphazardly on the floor, forgotten as you contemplate all your decisions with Chaewon clinging onto your side, koala style.

“Do you like him back?”

“I haven’t really thought about it before then.” You honestly say, “He has always just been ‘the younger boy who needs protecting’ to me.”

“He’s his own grown person now, Y/n.” She reminds you.

“I know. I just think he’s cute, is all.”

“How about this? You give him a chance to try and swoon you over; if it doesn’t work out, then you guys can pretend as if nothing ever happened!” She claps her hands together, as if she had just won a Nobel Prize for solving global warming. “You’re killing two birds with one stone!”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying is supposed to work.”

"Oh, who gives a fuck? YOLO.”

—

Chaewon’s advice to just yolo the fuck out of everything sticks to you more than you’d like to admit. It echoes in your mind when you’re taking the subway all the way to Sunoo’s apartment, echoes even louder as you stand in front of his door, and echoes almost deafeningly as you knock twice on it.

In about half a heartbeat, Sunoo opens his door with an urgency you could barely register in your haze of emotions. You felt bad after having practically ghosted him for a week straight after his confession, and even worse now that you could tell he was losing sleep over it. His hair was tousled into a mess that made it seem as if he had just gotten out of bed, even if it was already 3 p.m.

“Hey.” You greet, your lips pursed into a tight smile.

“Hey.” He greets her back.

“Can I come in? Or, is it a bad time? I’m not really too sure why I came in the first place.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come in.” He steps aside to make space for you to enter his home.

The last time you’ve been here was the night after you first met him — the day of his birthday. It’s less barren than you remembered, with pops of colour in random corners that somehow represented his sporadic personality perfectly.

“I see you finally did some decorating.”

“I mean, it’s already been more than a few months since I’ve moved here; it’d be weird if I didn’t.” His voice is groggy and still laced with sleep, but you don’t comment on it, instead sucking in a deep breath.

“I wanted to, um, get back to you.” You play with your fingers, picking at the skin. “And, uh, give you an answer. Well, it’s not really an answer, but you get what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

The both of you still stood just beyond his doorway; the faint playing of the TV in the background didn’t help to ease your racing heart. In your two years of being a young adult, you hadn’t found the opportunity to really sit down and find love, given that school had always been your top priority. So when you find yourself in such situations—not that you ever do—you're rendered a blubbering mess.

You’ve practiced this many times before with Chaewon, but it feels even more nerve-wracking now that the man in all his drowsy glory is standing right in front of you.

“We can try.” You start off. “I mean it as in, you can try courting me or whatever, and if it doesn’t work out, we can pretend as if nothing ever happened.” His lack of reply gives you time to really take a good look at Sunoo, now that the weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You’ve said what you wanted to say.

At an arm's-length distance, Sunoo is the textbook definition of attractive. He’s a head taller than you, has broad shoulders, and has a pretty face. His lips were full, his nose was tall, and his eyes were a golden brown colour. What was not to like about him? You just had to accept that he was no longer the Kim Sunoo from kindergarten. He was no longer the same young Sunoo who constantly needed your help.

“Really? You’d let me court you?” His face is bright with hope, and you nod to it wordlessly. “As in, you’d let me take you out on dates and stuff?”

You can’t help the chuckle that lets out, especially endeared by his enthusiasm. “Yes, Sun.”

—

BONUS!

It has been exactly a year since Sunoo had courted and officially asked you out. It wasn’t hard to fall for him because you already had an inkling that you had unresolved feelings for him anyway. The moving in part went as smoothly as it could, save for the slight mishap with Sunoo’s landlord, but with the help of your mother, everything was resolved soon after.

Sunoo lays peacefully on the sofa, soaking in the sunshine that filters through the blinds. He was practically in heaven right now.

“Kim Sunoo!” Your voice reverberates throughout the entirety of your shared apartment.

“Uh-oh, not the government name.” Sunoo looks up from his phone to see you standing in the hallway, hand tucked under your arms, with an expression that reminded him slightly of the French bulldog he’d seen on his morning walk. “Yes, baby?”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me! You let Luna sleep on the bed after she had her walk?!”

“Oh.”

“Oh!” You mimic him.

“I’m sorry, baby. She looked so sad sleeping on the floor by herself, so I just invited her to the bed.”

“Yeah, now her paw prints are all over the white sheets! Couldn’t you have at least cleaned her before you decided to do that?” As if Luna had heard her parents arguing from inside the room, she waddles out, footsteps padding down on the wooden floor, making it her mission to soothe her parents with just her existence alone.

Luna barks, grabbing both of your attention. You immediately lean down to pick Luna up, cooing at her before glaring at Sunoo, “You better wash the sheets.”

Sunoo stares at the both of you, dumbfounded. He thought he saw Luna smirking at him, so he blinked once and then twice, only for you and your baby to disappear as you walked towards the bathroom, your voice echoing as you continued to baby-talk to Luna.

Even with your overbearing practicality and new spoiled baby to take care of, he’d never regret asking his mom about you that one fateful night.

© i2ycat 2024 idk why the first half got me thinking i was gonna write a murder mystery fic HELPP. i swear it’s just romance 😞 also this is straight dogwater, i’m so sorry idk what i was writing…

[selkies-and-cycles]

The castle’s infirmary is quiet today.

The main physician sits at their desk, scribbling away some new kind of prescription, while the royal consort sits in a nearby chair, tongue stuck out in concentration. They hold a notebook up on their curled-up knees, reaching for a green pigment to add to their drawing. They’d come to help Morien organize some deliveries, but now that that was done, they’d taken to absentmindedly doodling in the quiet.

Eventually, Cuáine deems the drawing finished and gets up, sidling over to the physician’s desk.

"Look, it's you." Cuáine slides over the piece of paper with a small, teasing smile.

On the paper scrap is a doodle- almost childish, with how cartoony it is- of a seal with big green eyes staring up at Morien from the paper. The whiskers framing the eyes are overexaggerated to give it a little grumpy face- as grumpy as a cartoon seal can be, at least, and one flipper lies over a long, rounded cane with a green ribbon around it.

Morien blinks.

"...You drew me. As a seal." They state, deadpan. Their eyes drift over to Cuáine's expectant face, expression unnervingly blank.

Cuáine nods. Then, as the seconds tick on, they suddenly remember where and who they are.

They are no longer the laughing child on the coast of Venegard’s territory, pointing out seals playing on the rocky shore to their older brother. Their eyes no longer carry the bright-eyed brilliance they had been named after, the one that would make their parents ruffle their hair when presented with silly doodles.

Times had changed- those happy moments were undermined by the much clearer memories of when Cuáine had tried to talk to their parents or show them a pretty rock found down at the shore, only to be waved off for another time that never came. Osia called it stupid, really- low effort, not worth calling a ‘gift’ when a 5 year old could make something better.

Maybe a child could, but the intent had been pure- now, Cuáine just stares down at their silly scrap of paper with a sour taste in their mouth. This probably seemed stupid to Morien too.

"...Nevermind. If you think it's stupid, you can tell me." Their hand moves towards the scrap of paper on the physician's desk, fingers shaking slightly. "It's just supposed to-"

"No, no, it's-" Morien waves them off, and Cuáine's hand falls away. "-not. I was just... surprised. Doesn't seem very 'nobleborn battlemage' of you to do." They grumble, seeming almost defensive now as Cuáine lingers awkwardly by the side of their desk.

Cuáine hesitates, then says, "Well, I'm not many of the things I should be." They seem to think for a moment, then sidle closer, half-sitting on the edge of Morien's desk. They wait, taking the physician's half-glare as a sign to get off, but Morien doesn't say anything. So they relax, still being careful to put most of their weight on their ground foot.

Morien continues to write something down in their notebook, and Cuáine hums, going to twist their armlet.

“...I wasn’t aware you liked seals so much.”

Morien’s comment is quiet, and Cuáine would have almost missed it if it weren’t for the heavy silence blanketing the infirmary. For a moment, the royal consort blinks, unsure how to respond.

…They actually want to talk to me?

A small smile tugs at their lips, one of their ringed fingers tapping against the desktop. “I’ve loved them since I was a child. It’s rather an amusing story, actually. My parents have always lamented that they didn't name me ‘little seal’ Ronán, for how much I ended up loving them." Cuáine laughs lightly, shifting their gaze over to the little window that lets some light into the infirmary. "Apparently my father was of the opinion that the name was 'too common', so imagine his surprise when his seventh came out and eventually had to be dragged away from watching seals play on the shore. The, uh, doodling them-” Cuáine gestures again to the small seal drawing with a somewhat flushed expression, “-came from messin’ around with Saraah. It got to a point tha’ when I considered changing my name a couple times, he suggested I go with Ronán. I didn’t, obviously, but…”

“Hm.” Morien continues writing something down on a nearby pad of paper, and Cuáine has to resist the urge to be nosy and peek. They oddly aren’t meeting Cuáine’s face, but maybe they’re just focused? “Speaking of family, didn’t you say earlier that you had a meeting with Arthur and the council?”

Cuáine’s swinging leg stills, and they immediately swear, dark blonde hair swinging past their face when they jump off the desk. “Shit, I forgot about that! Thanks Morien!” They grab their bag and immediately dash out the infirmary door, but not without giving one last grateful wave to the physician.

As the door to the infirmary slams shut, Morien waits until the footsteps of the king's spouse have fully faded away before doing anything, including looking back down at the childish seal doodle.

"...Fuck." Morien murmurs, burying their face in their hands. It's the only way to successfully counteract their burning cheeks. "They might as well just fuckin’ stab me through the heart if they're gonna keep bein' this fuckin' cute."

Cuáine visits again only a few days later.

“Morien?”

When their knock and call go unanswered, they peek inside. Surprisingly, the infirmary is empty, devoid of its usual red-headed physician.

Perhaps Morien just had to go to the bathroom?

Regardless, Cuáine is here to drop off some herbs they gathered. They nudge the door open, walking over to the desk to drop the bundles off. Out of curiosity, green eyes stray to the mess of papers pinned to the wall’s cork board.

There, nestled among the notes for needed medicinal herbs, prescriptions and schedules, a small needle pins a little seal doodle to the wall.

Cuáine doesn’t quite believe it.

…Morien actually kept it?

Despite themself, Cuáine can feel a small grin curling their lips as they reach for another scrap of paper and lead pencil.

When Morien comes back, they find a package of herbs on the table and a new scrap of paper pinned to the wall- one with another seal doodled on it, holding a tiny knife in one flipper and a scar across its abdomen.

Look! It’s you n’ me.

(Eventually, the collection grows to include a seal with a crown, two with knightly armor, one with a long black braid, and a seal pup with tiny dragon wings, but the first two remain pinned together.)

---

(Morien and the setting belong to @the-kingshound!)

[thelarriefics]

SPRING FIC REC: Below you will find fics that take place in spring, have a springy feel, etc. 

📖 always you (i should have known) by @28goldens (60k)

“Oi, now we’re talking. Came running to ol’ Tomlinson for help, gotta say Harold,” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Harry watched as his eyes looked him over. “It's very out of character for you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t feel too special, you're my last choice,” Harry subconsciously crossed his arms as well, giving Louis his own look over.

“Oh, that's a lot of power, I’m your last resort!” He wagged his finger at him, letting out a cackle. “Alright, hit me with it.”

Harry’s lips pursed as he slowly started to regret the words about to spill out of his mouth, “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

or the one where harry and louis cant stand each other and fake date to make someone jealous.

📖 (I'm Dreaming of a) One Night Inn by @lululawrence (54k)

When everything Louis had planned for his life falls through, and on his birthday no less, he's left with no other option but to regroup and start over again. The road of life isn't always straight and it certainly isn't always easy, but sometimes it's those twists and turns that find you your closest friends and—if you're really lucky—the love of your life.

Louis just happens to be very lucky.

A Holiday Inn AU.

📖 Blush by @dip-lou-in-honey (33k)

Harry is a young omega, presented at his first Royal ball, when he first meets Louis, the King. They're immediately infatuated with each other, but in the ancient hallways of the castle, whispers travel far and wide, and what they want is not what they're allowed to have.

📖 Tip Toe Through The Tulips by @peachbootylouis (27k)

Ever since moving to Manchester, it had just been Louis and his dog Clifford against the world though it had never felt like enough. It’s not until Clifford quite literally sniffs Harry out while on a walk that Louis realizes he’d been looking for someone like this flower child all along. A fluffy one shot filled with fur and flowers.

📖 To Begin Again by @chloehl10 (23k)

Harry’s ready to spend a fun Easter morning with his two children at the park, but it’s thrown into chaos when an over-excited dog and his owner come barrelling into their lives...

📖 Sakura Sunset by @mizzhydes (16k)

Harry and Louis have a tradition. Every spring they stand below hundreds of dazzling cherry blossom trees in Kew Garden, and year after year they come back to walk amongst the trees and experience that love over again.

This year everything changes. Louis is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity in Silicon Valley, California.

Only after Louis has left does Harry realise he made the biggest mistake of his life breaking up with Louis, and he has to live with the consequences of his actions.

Four years later, Harry discovers that Louis has returned to London, and in an effort to find the closure he desperately needs, he must tell Louis the truth behind their break up so he can move on with his life.

📖 The Prince and The YouTuber by @haztobegood (12k)

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

📖 Love You To Want Me by @rainbowsandlovehl (11k)

Niall coerces Louis into doing 'spring cleaning', which is basically cleaning their flat which leads to Louis finding the pair of braces he used to wear back in early Uni days. Harry, Niall's bandmate has a strange but visible reactions to the braces.

📖 Chubby Bunny by @littleroverlouis (2k)

Harry spends his Easter Sunday basking in the spring breeze while playing games with the smallest Tomlinsons, and a package of marshmallow Peeps.

Louis is stuck in a sweltering bunny costume for the enjoyment of all around him.

Harry offers him a chance to peel himself out of the costume and indulge in some of the fun.

📖 my lap is the best place for you to be by @bottomhaztoplou (1k)

Omegas, especially pregnant omegas, are expected to ride in their marriage partner's lap, usually on their knot, during carriage rides so as to minimise any jostling that may harm the pup.

Heavily pregnant in mid-April, Harry lifts his skirts and sinks down onto his waiting alpha, his body easily taking Louis inside himself.

[sixeyescurseuser]

part 2

“Satoru? What color are your eyes?” Geto asks one day, when they’re sprawled on the couch together. Gojo’s head is pillowed on Geto’s chest, where the snakes happily nestle in Gojo’s fluffy hair. 

“Hm, blue.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Geto is silent for a long moment. 

“I bet they’re magnificent,” Geto says, then startles when Gojo lifts up slightly, one hand tugging underneath the blindfold. “Satoru, whatever you’re planning to do, stop it.”

“Darling, I’ll keep my eyes closed, I promise,” Gojo solemnly swears. He waits until Geto gives his consent before lifting the blindfold off, diligently keeping his eyes glued shut.

Geto observes the shape of his lover’s closed lids, how his eyes contribute to his facial structure, and the white color of his lashes. 

“Pretty, right?”

Geto nods. “Hn.”

Geto still doesn’t trust himself without the trusty barrier of the blindfold.

Thus, he brings a hand up to cover Gojo’s closed eyes, and leans in for a kiss.

***

Gojo buys Geto a pair of his own special-grade glasses that block Geto’s entire field of vision, ensuring he can see perfectly fine while others will never make direct eye contact with him. 

It’s certainly an adjustment for Geto because the glasses, shaped like visors, feel very restricting. His snakes hiss at the glasses because they don’t don’t like not being able to see Geto’s eyes. 

But the glasses do give Geto more confidence in leaving the cottage to prevent him from freezing any innocent bypassers. 

***

Once, when Geto is out on his own, he spots a couple kids wearing the same style uniform as Gojo often does. Jujutsu Tech!

Geto decides to watch over them. 

Thank fucking god he did, because there’s no way in hell whoever the fuck is in charge just let these kids walk straight into a curse’s domain. 

Before Yuji switches with Sukuna, Geto intercepts and annihilates the other special grade, even without the powers of his eyes. Once the job is done, Yuji jogs up to his side.

Yuji: “Hey, thank you so much-GAH?“

At the speed of light, Geto pulls Yuji out of the crumbling domain and disappears.

The first years are completely bamboozled by what happened!

(Yuji: “Gojo-sensei, that special curse showed up again today! Well it didn’t need to help because Kugisaki and Fushiguro and I had everything handled, but I could feel it watching. Isn’t that weird?”

Gojo: “Huh, that is strange indeed.”)

Afterward, Geto presents Sukuna’s finger to Gojo. Gojo realizes Geto was looking after his students, and falls even deeper in love with him. 

***

Yuuta learned early on who Geto was because once Geto was watching over him but Rika was not having it! 😭

She was like “Who is this beetch?” and tries to off Geto, who flees and never looks back. 

The snakes want to pick a fight with Rika so badly, but Geto has to shush them because he’s not sure even HE could take on this kid’s curse. 

Also, Geto is technically supposed to be exorcized. That’s what Gojo told the higher-ups, that he had successfully defeated the infamous curse Geto Suguru. 

Gojo has to do damage control, of course. 

“You have Rika, and I have Suguru,” Gojo says with a shrug. “Simple as that.”

Beside him, Geto’s jaw drops open from the total lack of explanation by the fool that owns his heart. From behind his glasses, Geto pities the way the wheels furiously turn in Yuuta’s mind. 

Rika pops out jus to growl at Geto. 

Great. Good talk everyone. 

Yuuta: “You’re telling me you’re in love with THE special grade, Geto Suguru, who’s been alive for centuries and has been constantly compared to the king of curses, SUKUNA??”

Gojo gives him a thumbs up while Geto smiles with sharp teeth. 

***

Gojo Satoru is known as the strongest sorcerer alive, but that doesn’t stop Geto from being incredibly protective of him. While out on a date, Geto brings up the higher ups that clearly do not give a shit about overworking his beloved.

“Say the word and I’ll kill them.”

“I thought you didn't like killing?” Gojo asks with a cheeky smile. He takes a sip of his milkshake, then bumps his foot against Geto’s under the table. 

“Satoru, I’m a curse and they are assholes. It’s the natural order of things,” Geto sniffs. His snakes hiss in agreement, very excited at the prospect of killing for Gojo. 

Gojo extends his hand out, palm facing up. Geto slides his hand on top. Interlocking their fingers, Gojo conveys all the adoration he can through his uncovered eyes, hoping it penetrates through the special-grade glasses Geto wears.

“I love you too. My one and only.”

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[mybworlds]

Chapter 1: Your perfect life

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 2.6k

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Before to leave, this is a prologue of the main character and her situation, hope you like it...

Masterlist

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

The alarm clock rings and you open your eyes, smiling, "Good morning," you mumble, stretching an arm toward your shoulders, but the cold sheets behind you make you realize that Patrick has been up for a while already. You turn belly-up to the ceiling and think about your next photoshoot and smile. You love your job. You are a photographer and yours is not just a job, it has been a passion since you were a little girl.

You get out of bed and stretch with a whimper, barefoot you walk to the bathroom whose light automatically turns on, you get into your beautiful shower with glass doors and blue and light blue tiles, you shower and then you get out, you wrap yourself in a soft blue towel matching the bathroom walls and then you dry your hair. You put some makeup and then smile at yourself in the mirror with a satisfied air. You choose light-colored jeans, a light-colored T-shirt and your beautiful sneakers as your outfit. You walk out of your bedroom, make your way down the small hallway and down the stairs happy to be living this new day.

"Babe," you call out to your Patrick, but Patrick does not answer, he's usually in his office and works in smart working, but today he is not there, you go to the kitchen and there you find your beloved pancakes and next to it a post-it with a red rose ′In the office, see you later, love you′ you smile "I love you so much too." you whisper sniffing the red rose and smiling with your eyes closed.

You are happy. Your life is perfect, you lack nothing. You have a magnificent multi-accessorised house equipped with a central home automation system, you have a garden with a swimming pool, even a small spa corner. You have a wonderful man like Patrick, he is a lawyer who looks after the interests of small local construction companies and mostly works from home apart from when he has to attend some meetings with contractors; you love him very much, you met him when you were only sixteen and it was love at first sight, you then got engaged when you turned eighteen, you took different paths, but you always supported and loved each other, you never accused each other of anything either of being too absent or too present with each other. Last but not least, you have a job you love, you are a photographer, a good photographer judging by the many positive comments you have on your site and the dozens of requests you have every day, you also had a major contract for a fashion house two years ago and since then the requests have increased, of course you haven't had major contracts like you did then, but things are going well.

You have breakfast, get your house keys, then put on your sunglasses and go out. You could take the car, but today you really want to take a walk and enjoy the sun kissing the streets of New York, you'll take some public transportation and walk around a bit, it's good for you.

You smile, you're happy-- you repeat it to yourself until you convince yourself about it for today, too.

Your smile flickers and disappears when you get on the second bus; no, you are not happy. Patrick is sweet, he is perfect, you respect him and he respects you, but can you consider it love? By now your intimate moments are reduced to once, maximum twice a month and he always comes, you on the other hand pretend, you don't want to hurt his feelings. You masturbate all the time in the hope of mitigating this oppressive feeling of yours, to fill that emptiness you feel more and more deafening. Your home is beautiful, it is a wonderful shell that cradles and pampers you for your every need, but is that enough?

But your life is perfect, it's perfect like this, you don't need to look around or look for anything else to be happy, you tell yourself.

You get to your stop and get off, next to your photo store a cafe has opened a few months ago that makes fantastic donuts, and that morning you don't give up to sweeten your thoughts and soothe your nerves. You walk in and inside there is just the bartender Jake, a young man in his mid-twenties or thirties at most, and in the far corner a gruff-looking man who was hunched over reading maybe something or maybe he's answering an email, you have no idea. The man in the corner looks up, as you suddenly lower your gaze caught out, "Um…" you turn to Jake "good morning, a latte and a Blueberry Donut," you resume keeping your eyes downcast and barely breathing, you don't even know why you're acting this way, you've met dozens of people and exchanged hundreds of glances and now you're acting like a dumb little girl newbie.

"Here, consumption here as usual?" the young man asks you politely.

You shake your head, "No, thank you, I'm busy in the store," you reply, at that moment the man you had seen earlier in the corner flanks you, he is huge, massive, has thick dark curls, an irregular beard and a dark mustache, he is leaning with his forearms on the counter and at that moment he is the one looking at you, he smiles at you as if trying to make contact, you immediately look away staring down clearing your throat in embarrass.

Jake hands you the bag and makes you pay, then you leave without giving the charming stranger a glance. You almost run into your store as if to seek refuge within those four walls. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you feel as if you've gone crazy, but what's wrong with you? You've always been a proper young woman, and now you're acting like a crazy who runs away...

Someone knocks on your door, you turn around "W - who is it?" you ask.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a voice tells you, "you forgot your cell phone on the counter at the bar."

Are you that far gone? That's great!

You open the door and you are confronted by the handsome mystery man, "Thank you." you reply, reaching out your hand as he hands you the cell phone in the palm of your hand "How did you know I was here?" you ask him doubtfully.

"I saw you fleeing here," he replies with a half-smile, "Everything okay? You seemed to be in a big hurry." he adds.

"Um…that is…I had to make a phone call," he nods "Luckily you found it, my mind is elsewhere since this morning!" you exclaim, smiling at the man with a low stare "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" he retorts "So, you own this beautiful place!" he exclaims again taking a step forward into the club, as you take one step back, he looks at you puzzled "Are you afraid of me?" he asks you.

"No," you reply, shaking your head.

"From the way you talk and the way you move, I'd say yes," he replies again "Take it easy, honey," he adds again.

Honey? How dare he?

"You and I don't know each other at all, sir!" you exclaim trying to regain control of the situation "Please, leave," you add backing away and touching with the back of your thighs the desk.

"It's okay, I'm sorry I scared you," retorts the man with his head down walking away.

You lean totally against the desk breathing deeply and realizing that you made a fool of yourself with that stranger, who knows what he must have thought of you!

The first customers and requests of the day distract you from your moment of commiseration. Luckly, you can easily forget for the moment the incident that happened. You think back about it in the evening, once you get back home, while waiting for Patrick and think that if you meet that guy again, you will have to apologize as you overreacted.

When Patrick comes home, he greets you with a big smile approaching you and taking you in his arms, you let yourself be cradled in his grip closing your eyes and thinking again that maybe with that stranger you had an overreaction since you were overthinking your relationship with your boyfriend. Patrick kisses you softly, he tastes of bourbon and sweetness, he makes you lie gently on the couch kissing your lips first, then your neck and chest still covered, you hear him moaning your name softly, while you try to restrain your thoughts, your doubts about you and him, you still want to not give up so, after all you and Patrick have been together for more than ten years, maybe it's just a little stress…

He, meanwhile, has already undressed himself and undressed you as well, without you even realizing it, he touches you between your legs, but you jerk in discomfort and pain, you are not even wet enough, you look at each other, you look at him almost with reproach, he instead has eyes full of lust, "I got it," he announces lowering his head between your legs and making them bend. Patrick has always been a disaster with oral sex, yes he makes you wet, but he's never known how to touch you in the right places in a way that makes you come, and tonight is no exception.

You are almost glad when he fills you, but not for the obvious reasons as much as for the fact that this way he will stop and embrace you and you can sleep.

It is horrible, you know that. He fills you repeatedly at an ever-increasing pace, you have yes little shivers of pleasure, but nothing that can be called really good or pleasurable, he comes a few moments later inside you. Thank God, you are on the pill to regularize your period!

You think back to when you as a young girl you would have loved to have a child by him, you remember that you wished he had blond hair like him and blue-eyed like him, but your own temper… today you think that if you had a child with Patrick, maybe you would have experienced it as a trap… that's a horrible thought too!

Patrick after intercourse, lays his head on your chest and asks "Did you like it?" and you textbook answer "Yeah, sure." then you feel him give you a kiss at your heart level and he relaxes completely, you can't sleep, you stare at the ceiling. You feel hot and a burning thought spreading inside you, is it true love?

The next day you wake up with a blanket on you and with a cup of coffee on the coffee table, you stretch out putting your feet on the floor and find Patrick's ever-present post-it note, "I'm at Black's company this morning, I'll be back tonight, love you xoxo" and the ever-present red rose next to it, you pick up the rose and smell it, but unlike yesterday you can't say I love you too, you place the red rose on the table with a long sad sigh and pick up the cup of coffee which you start sipping thoughtfully.

Your cell phone rings, it's Daisy "Hey doll!" you greet her smiling and putting her on speakerphone.

"Hi gorgeous, how are you doing? Are you already at work?" she asks you, you hear some buzz in the background so she's already around.

"No, I'm going later today. I have a request for a photoshoot for a wedding at noon," you tell her.

"Did they invite you to the party too?" she asks you.

You get up and take your phone with you continuing to talk as you head to the kitchen, "Well, I guess so, I'm their photographer, I'll have to do a complete shooting." you reply to her washing your coffee cup.

"And how are things going with Patrick?" she asks you again.

"Fine." you answer not too convinced "What's with all these questions? Did we wake up in detective mode this morning?"

Daisy laughs, "But no, silly, I'm just asking. Look, but why don't we plan a double date on Saturday? Me, you, Patrick and Jordan?"

"Fine with me, I want to hear from Patrick though."

"Oh!" you hear her snort "These men are so boring!" she exclaims making you smile.

"I know, but we love them for that too, don't we?"

"Yes…" now she's the one using a not-so-convinced tone of voice "So we'll talk about Saturday later?"

"Oh no, how silly!" you exclaim "Saturday there's the wedding, they're getting married in the morning, but the reception is in the early afternoon and then you know how these things go." you add "Sorry, my head's a bit elsewhere."

"Things always go well with Patrick, aren't they?"

"That's the second time you've asked me about Patrick, but do you know anything? So you make me worry!" you say sitting down at a stool in the kitchen.

"No, I just don't like your tone of voice very much. I mean, when we were kids and you were talking about him your voice would go up three octaves! Now it doesn't sound that way at all!"

"Well, Daisy, we were 17 when I was telling you about him and we weren't together yet, I think it's normal that I felt so much enthusiasm then for someone I were falling in love with! Things then change…"

"You mean for the worse?"

You don't answer right away as you don't know what to answer, Daisy has always been like that, a very observant girl who even by a tone of voice can tell when something is wrong and this morning is no exception.

"My friend, go to that wedding and find yourself a hunk, listen to me! If you have this tone of voice after only ten years…" continues Daisy "may I ask you a very personal question?" she adds again.

"Sure!"

"How are things in bed?" she asks.

"Let's talk closely about that, over the phone you know," you answer evasively.

"All right, then I'll meet you at the gardens in twenty minutes."

After exactly 20 minutes you and Daisy are sitting at the local coffee shop sipping good coffee, Daisy tells you about her latest purchases and fashions as if you then don't know or understand much about them, then Daisy asks you again, "So how are things in bed with Patrick?"

"Let's just say … things aren't going very well, he tries, but I don't like it."

"What? Sex or sex with Patrick?" she asks again.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I'd say it does!"

You snort, "I dunno…I'm a little uncomfortable talking about it. He tries," you repeat, "but I can never come." you admit, as Daisy almost looks at you with bulging out eyes "Please don't look at me like that I already feel weird enough!" you add feeling really guilty about it.

"No, no, I'm sorry…it's just that I thought things were getting better, you already told me about it a year ago and I thought that in the meantime the situation had been changed in better! I didn't think things would continue to go so bad," she justifies her insistence.

You sigh sadly, "The truth is that every day I tell myself that my life is perfect, that I don't lack anything, that I am healthy, I have a good job, I have a man by my side … however, it is not enough for me, I mean, I would like more, I would like to try something again! I'm fine with Patrick, but by now we've established a flat beautiful routine, he makes me breakfast in the morning leaving me a post-it note with a rose and goes to work, I get up, wash, get dressed, have breakfast, go to work, come back, go to the pool, wait for him and…" you sigh heavily "twice a month we do it, but…" you shake your head "each time I don't feel anything but chills, but I don't feel what I felt the first few times with him."

"Oh my God." she says, shaking her head "Do you at least … I mean, do you touch yourself or not even that?" your friend asks you.

"I have a sex toy hidden in the back of my drawer, I'm ashamed of it, but…" you start to say, but Daisy's laughter and her shaking her head interrupt you "Why are you laughing?"

"At least the sex toy kept you from killing Patrick!" she exclaims.

A giggle escapes you, "Silly,"

Daisy squeezes your hand, "I can't tell you what you should do, but think about it. Seriously think about it, my friend." you curl your lips into a little grimace, "Well, I hope at least something happens at this wedding! I mean, maybe you either find a toy boy or maybe someone really nice to have fun with or maybe still something to shake up this your perfect boring routine." she says spelling the last five words.

"Dummy, I'm going to work, not to hook up," you remind her.

"Well, never say never." she tells you with a mischievous look that makes you smile and shake your head, your friend is just crazy.

[harlowhockeystick]

22- So High School with Princess and Nolan pleeeeeeeaase 🫶🏻

"you knew what you wanted, and boy you got her" | poetic prompts | warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, chaos, weddings

it was everything they could imagine, even though it was the most stressful day of their life.

the wedding day had finally approached. after almost five years of dating, a year of being engaged, the day arrived. typical wedding day jitters fell upon both parties, the usual last minute thoughts and touch ups, nothing prepared either of them for the massive chaotic crowd that was waiting outside the venue.

even though the bridal party did their best to keep it away from y/n, she knew that the flowers hadn't been delivered, the photographer was an hour late, and the shuttle was also late. as a group they decided to push the wedding back at least an hour to make room for adjustments. but nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop her from getting married today.

not even a nervous groom.

"y/n, i need to talk with you for a second." her maid of honor whispered in her ear. she was about to get in her dress, hair and makeup done and set, ready for pictures when the photographer would arrive. stepping to the side in her silk robe and slippers, she felt her stomach drop. god, what now?

"no bullshit. i know we're all done with that today, but you need to talk to nolan. travis texted me saying he is having a panic attack and won't come out of the bathroom. all of this massive chaos is probably freaking him out too," y/n was handed a tissue when she felt tears well up in her eyes, "no no, no crying, it'll all be okay. i'll go with you?"

"no, i can do it. when the photographer gets here y'all go ahead and take pictures and just wait for me."

walking across the venue and where the guys were getting ready, she knocked on the door and was greeted by travis. she made sure all the guys left before talking to nolan. it was like his soul knew she was there before she spoke. a few seconds before she knocked on the door he felt his breathing steady out.

"nolie it's me, please open the door. nobody else is here, just you and me." she softly spoke. he got up, leaning his forehead against the wooden door with a soft thud.

"it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding," his thick accent present in how he spoke, sniffling after he finished. he heard her giggle and slide her slippers across the wooden floor.

"we've had enough bad luck today, so i think we're gonna be okay." he unlocked the door then leaned against the wall, waiting for her to open it. her heart softened when she opened the door, noticed that he'd been crying a lot with tear tracks down his cheeks. his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was messy. "oh baby," she placed her hand on his cheek, wiping another tear away.

"'m sorry, princess." he took in a sharp breath before letting out another cry. "i just got really nervous, y'know? i mean what if i'm not a good husband? i don't want you to get sick of me and...and leave."

she tucks a lock of loose hair behind his ear, grabbing a tissue from the counter and wiping his cheeks and nose for him. "if i was gonna get sick of you, i would have left by now." she kisses his forehead softly, "remember when we went on our first date? you were so confident, and it was really hot." nolan chuckled, "and when you came to the shop like ten times that next week? you knew what you wanted, and you got her. you got me, and i'm not going anywhere. i'm gonna be your wife, you're gonna be my husband, and we're gonna have a happily ever after together."

nolan places a hand on her cheek as she spoke, a smile on his lips and this time, happy tears filling his eyes. they share a sweet and emotional kiss, one she hopes to recreate in an hour at the altar. they pull apart and she helps nolan fix his tie and to get rid of some of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"alright, nothing is stopping me from getting married to you today." nolan laughs with his head thrown back, "i'll see you in an hour," she walks to the door of the groomsmen suite, "i'll be the one in a pretty white dress." nolan kissed her on the cheek.

"i'll be the one waiting for you at the altar, princess."

[givehimthemedicine]

El's protectiveness and friendships in the lab

wanted to take a minute to appreciate that El's protectiveness isn't a character trait that only emerges post-lab. she's always been that way [assuming, for this post, that NINA stuff more or less happened]; it just couldn't always present in a way that looks badass on a poster.

El and Eighteen

only crumbs here, but if I have to point out a lab kid that El is friendlier with than the others, it's Eighteen.

El holding Eighteen's hand is the only affectionate act I've ever noticed between any of the lab kids, and offering that comfort to her littlest sister is probably as "protective" as El can afford to be (esp as an eight year old with the least power and social standing of anyone).

when the kids in general laugh at El for failing at the light game, Eighteen is not one of the kids shown doing so.

Eighteen is the first dead child El is shown to be upset about. it's not that she looks more distressed about her than the others, but it's odd that she saw Ten dead on the floor next to Brenner a second before this and didn't really react. (maybe she couldn't tell Ten was dead from the doorway? idk)

maybe an El/Eighteen friendship is cornplating or whatever the youths are calling it, but bearing in mind that we're never actually told that El/Eight had some super close friendship, maybe theirs looked something like this.

side note - are friendships even permitted in the lab?

letting the kids form friendships could be dangerous, as Brenner, couldn't it? risks them forming alliances against you? this is why I was asking the other day if socializing seems discouraged in the RR. like, even the bullies, who were "friends," never chatted openly in there unless the cameras were off. maybe any lab friendships have to be hush hush by nature.

anyway idk there's just something about us going "🤯 same numbers!!!" upon seeing the 001 / 011 tattoos, and then 008 + 018 being the only other kids El is hinted at being friendly with... why are we reusing the same pattern? 001 / 008 / 011 / 018 just happen to be every combination of those three numbers within the number of available children.

especially with El "being 8" (as in, years old) at this time. it's giving Henry, 12 / mother of 5. idk where I'm going with that but I'm squinting. Eighteen, you're not some bizarro Little Eight who has an inverted friendship with Big El, right?

El lashing out in the lab

we're shown repeatedly that El hates seeing people get hurt, but multiple times onscreen (and you know innumerable times off) she witnesses severe abuse to her siblings, and we never see her act in their defense like post-lab El would. of course, that's because she realistically can't. we know trying to help anyone in the lab accomplishes little except getting both people in trouble. but I was thinking about how we DO see El lash out for her own sake in 1983. so what's the takeaway? El cares more about protecting herself than others? nah. let's look at the other guard killing scene (again. assuming this really happened):

when similarly cornered in 1979, El's immediate response is silent surrender.

why is her behavior so different? because she's weak? too scared / well controlled? too nice to kill? all those factors have already been established as non-issues in this moment. (she does have her powers here; the circle game proved that Brenner can't control El and knows it; killing when cornered is canonically within her nature)

you might think having a staff member on her side would make her more defiant, but instead she's more compliant here than in '83 (either time. even in the non-guard-killing flashback, El screams and struggles the whole way.)

El and One

he's the difference. she doesn't know he's her brother or has powers yet, but he has presented himself as a fellow prisoner rather than someone in a position of authority. she's also already seen him get punished because of her.

as far as El knows right here, if she lashes out - whether she then escapes successfully or not - she'd be bringing SEVERE punishment onto a nice guy who can't defend himself or escape.

she has a chance at freedom, the power to kill, and the escape route all planned out, but she doesn't do it. the thing that's not in her nature is abandoning a friend to God-knows-what punishment on her behalf.

so while One killing the guards is an act of protection to El, it's also a massive act of protection to One that El is ready to throw out the whole plan right here. don't miss it just because it's not the classic El-screamy-hand thing.

she's sacrificing her chance at freedom in hopes of slightly mitigating his punishment. (they're both doomed to very bad punishment upon capture right here, but if she escapes I think he'd get punished even worse. so she's choosing to share in pretty bad punishment over him being punished extremely severely and her not at all.)

even aside from punishment, she knows she'll be returning to an even worse home life than the one she believed necessitated her immediate escape (Brenner apparently arranging for her to be killed).

so here, can she afford to act out not only because she's acting alone, but because she's an only child, so to speak? there's no one else who could potentially suffer as a result of her actions. no other siblings to use as leverage. no one to protect.

whatever consequences Brenner carried El off to after killing those orderlies, she bore it alone.

I can sorta read this as protective of the other kids in general - not that she did it, but that she didn't until now.

am I saying Brenner might have randomly punished other kids as a result of something El did?

have you met the guy? definitely would've threatened it, might've actually done it. manipulation by whatever means necessary.

when you work in a building full of superpowered people who hate you, you gotta control them psychologically, because physical control isn't something you can maintain for long. it's imperative that they're more afraid of the consequences of kicking your ass than they are of whatever torture you're putting them through. emotional manipulation using friends and innocents as pawns is a classic move. (another reason the kids might want to keep lab friendships secret even if they're allowed.)

that's not theory - we've seen Brenner use this tactic onscreen, telling El that he'll have Owens killed if she tries to get to him. he knows he can't physically control her, so he exerts psychological control by placing Owens' blood on El's hands to get her to cooperate.

the phrase "blood on one's hands" means being responsible for deaths, not having literally, personally committed murder. this imagery is used onscreen to denote El's sense of guilt about the massacre well before she comes to the conclusion that she actually did it. (this could be symbolism that El's mind organically dreamed up instead of engineered fuckery, but who knows. we have no textual explanation yet for how her hands would be that bloody).

and together with Brenner very textually using the kids against each other in other ways - having them literally duel each other in the circle game, but also the "driving them to do exactly what he wants" stuff - I don't think it's unreasonable to figure that fear of harm to the other kids was a manipulation tactic used in the lab.

that definitely includes One - lines like "I'm not going with you / if he finds me he will find you" "I wanted to help you, but I only made things worse" smack of a guy kept in line by fear of something happening to the kids.

and the Brenner-orchestrating-El's-murder story smells like a psyop. is this just Brenner wanting One to think harm would come to El as a consequence of his actions? (she became "uncontrollable" as a result of his coaching). El is too valuable an asset to actually kill. who would know better than One that the treatment for being uncontrollable is soteria, not death? assuming One is being truthful, why would he not see through that. idek what I think is going on here anymore

anyway. MKUltra is ALL about manipulation but I'll talk more about that in my other post

times El protects her friends the same way she protected One

practically every move El makes is about protecting her friends but I want to point out a few times that are specifically reminiscent of her protection of One, where she's ready to give up her freedom to protect her friends even at risk of the worst case scenario (going back to the lab):

sacrificing herself to protect the party from the demogorgon ("no more") <- is that line in reference to the 6 people the demogorgon has snatched, or is that a massacre reference given how incredibly parallel these scenes are. I'm not sure whether "goodbye Mike" meant she thought she'd die or just get so wiped out that she'd be easily recaptured by the lab

leaving Kali and "freedom" to return to Hawkins and protect her friends, where she volunteers to go back into the lab to close the gate

leaving Cali and "freedom" to return to the lab to get her powers back to protect her friends

final thought: I just had a chuckle with myself at the fact that iirc it's Mike and Nancy whose lives El has individually, directly saved the most times.

[honorable mention for Max because I don't know how to quantify 4x9. is that like one massive save?]

like, Mike, okay, but why the Nancy emphasis when she and El have basically zero onscreen relationship. (actually I have a lot to say about El and Nancy coming up soon that might add context)

idk.. lab sibling guilt smth smth El protecting Nancy "she'll be like your new sister" and Mike "will you be like my brother" Creeler. you gotta love it

[hannahssimblr]

I shoulder through the front doors into the fresh spring air, still a little breathless with adrenaline, to where Michelle is waiting for me. She looks unhappy. 

“How did it go?” I say. 

“Oh, awful, they were like robots, so intimidating. I didn’t know what they thought of my work, you know? I really thought I’d start crying at one point.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and that woman was so cold. She was pulling all of these faces at my self portraits and saying they were naive.”

“Oh, God,” In an attempt at reassurance I start rubbing her arm, “I’m sure they liked plenty things about your work.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I sensed they hated all of it.”

“They couldn’t have, it’s probably just your perception, they… I bet they’re harsh to everyone, you know? They probably don’t want to get anyone's hopes up with there being limited places and all…”

She looks at me, “Was yours bad too?”

“Awful,” I say without missing a beat, “Same as you, they gave me nothing. It was hard to tell what they really thought of my work, but they didn’t seem overjoyed by any of it to be honest.”

“Oh,” her shoulders relax, “well if they were like that with you then they must be just playing hard ball.”

“I think so.”

“What if we don’t get in?”

“Well fuck ‘em,” I grin, “We don’t need them. NCAD? Who cares, right? It’s not exactly at the top of our list.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Something else will work out, right?”

“Of course it will! C’mon, let’s just grab a coffee and chill out,” I drape my arm over her shoulder and walk her around the corner to where I parked the car. 

The car, the brand new, shiny, blue Volkswagen Polo that my parents got me for my eighteenth birthday, is gleaming under the afternoon sun, one tyre wedged awkwardly against the kerb because I haven’t yet mastered the art of parallel parking when there are two other impatient drivers beeping their horns at me and gesticulating wildly out their windows. 

“He just got his fucking licence, you spas!” Michelle screamed at them from the passenger window as I manoeuvred myself into a gap big enough to house an articulated truck but somehow felt the width of a water closet as soon as I tried to fit my 1.0 litre hatchback into it. I could have told her that firing middle fingers at other drivers left and right wasn’t really doing much to diffuse the situation, but it seemed she was reaching some sort of catharsis from it. She likes that. Screaming, I mean.

This car has been a point of contention, not because I can’t park it well, but because it was an extravagance I neither needed nor desired. “We live in the city,” I protested when my parents handed me the keys, “I can just take the bus.” But they had this idea that I might like to drive it into school and be the envy of all the other students, poverty stricken losers without parents who can buy them vehicles worth half the average national salary. I told them I can just walk like always, and they didn’t like that. 

“This is a good present,” said my dad, as though insisting could make it so, “You can drive all over, you won’t have to rely on public transport any more.”

“Did I say I didn’t like public transport?”

“Well, you could get mugged on the bus, someone could pull out a knife and take your phone and all of your money! That kind of thing is happening all over the city lately.”

I showed him my Nokia from 2004 and asked him what kind of person might like to risk prison for it, but he didn’t appreciate that, and it just escalated the argument further. 

“I’m not going to even live in Ireland in a year, not if I can help it!” I cried with exasperation, after a further ten minutes of his dramatics, “What’s the point?”

“Sell it then!” he bellowed back, “I don’t care what you do! It’s yours!”

“I just don’t need it! It’s too much. You can use that money for something better.”

“Money? Money is not an issue.”

“Well that car will be wasted just sitting in the driveway.”

“You’ll figure out what to use it for.”

And I did. I still walk to school, I still take the bus into town most days (when I’m not hauling two A1 portfolio cases along with me), but sometimes, late at night Michelle and I drive up and down the coast. We get ice cream at the drive through, we talk, but mostly I park it in the darkest corner of some car park, sea facing for maximum romance, and we fuck in the passenger seat. Not that I’ve kept track of it by any means, but I’m almost certain I have spent more time having sex in my shiny, blue, Volkswagen Polo than actually driving it. I’m sure it wasn’t Christopher’s intention for it, and it might affect the resale value, but the car has become a haven of sorts, a place where we can go to be alone, at a safe distance from my nosy sister, from Michelle’s anxious father, and perhaps most vitally, from Jen, who has never quite stopped being weirded out by our relationship, even with nine full months to get used to it.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[starpirateee]

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

--

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

[mrs-snape5984]

“Oh, breathe, just breathe…”

“'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable. And life's like an hourglass glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands and breathe, just breathe…” (“Breathe (2AM)” by Anna Nalick)

Sometimes, you just have to accept, that there are things, that can’t be changed or fixed anymore…at least not right now. I guess, I’m more and more coming to terms with this insight, considering the fact, that it just doesn’t make sense to wrap my head around the reason for my disease ME/CFS.

I can’t alter my previous decisions. For the past two years, I’ve blamed myself for catching Covid on an Open Air concert of my German favourite punk rock band “Die Ärzte”…especially viewed in the context that I avoided social gatherings since late 2019 because of my medicinal immune suppression. But when I got these tickets as a gift in 2022, my brain must have shut down and I started to belittle the potential risks of catching the virus by telling myself, that I would stand in the back of the crowd, beneath the open sky. This was also the first occasion, when I didn’t wear my mask…after enduring being bullied and mocked for wearing masks everywhere and rejecting every single invitation to parties and simple get-togethers.

Well…only one week later, my life- as I knew it before - came to an abrupt halt. I don’t want to go into detail about my current situation in this post. Whoever knows me and also my prior posts, is probably already fed up with my complaints about ME/CFS and its results for my life.

So, all I can do now, is to breathe. Deliberately slowly…breathing in…and breathing out. Calming my nerves…soothing my troubled mind with my fantasies of Severus and my absolutely self-inserted OC Jules…

I’ve commissioned someone new for this project. Someone different from all those lovely artists of Snapedom, who I regularly contacted for my usual coping mechanism of commissioning artworks of Sevy and Jules.

This time, I reached out to @pinklovecharm, an incredibly kind and understanding artist, who made me speechless with this drawing. I asked her to help my imagination of Severus and Jules, being on a walk in the forest, come to life.

I can’t tell you, how much I’m missing this simple activity of enjoying the autumn sunshine and some fresh air on a walk in the woods. In my fantasy, Severus would apparate us to a secluded path in the middle of the forest, wrapping his arm around my waist to support my steps. We wouldn’t talk much…but Severus would remind me of the importance of breathing…and he would exercise it with me…patiently waiting for me to eventually calm down. He’s my safe haven…my home.

My dear Sadie, you can’t imagine, how much you soothed my soul with your mesmerising art and your kind-heartedness. You really achieved to put me into my OC Jules…with all her emotions and physical attributes….and you even integrated my cane into your drawing! Normally, I don’t show my reference pictures publicly, but I’m too impressed by your dedication to the details of my appearance, that I can’t stop myself from presenting them here. Thank you for everything, you wonderful person! I hope, we’ll stay in touch and that I may commission you again.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy and Jules🖤

[mai-irumi]

Chapter 2 appreciation post

I swear I'm not planning on doing this with all chapters (maybe I will) bit I can't help it if EVERYTHING IS THAT GOOD

I just love how here we can see that Iruma, even being the Pusillanimous boy that he is, he's totally conscient of the bizarre situation he is in

Yet can't dare to say no

I mean, I bet this is the most loved he's ever been, and it's not good love, as much as I love Sullivan for giving all those opportunities, he is not a good parent, he only got Iruma out of a whim and didn't really care that much for hoe he felt, at least at the early episodes.

Once again, Asmodeus blinding us all with his pretty face and already obsessive behavior to Iruma, but who would be Asmodeus without obsession?

THEY HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE HIM LOOK THIS FINE WHILE BEING MAD

Like GODS, now I get y'all Naberius' fans, the anime did not do any justice TO THIS

I wouldn't mind being scolded by him (Lie, I'd burst into tears of pure fear)

Okay, but is it me or the snake is cute?

Like look at those googly eyes that look like they may just pop out of the skull at any moment, makes me wanna squish it

Also we can see here very clearly that Asmodeus type of body is pear shaped 🍐, in case anyone had curiosity

Sweethearts, if you two only knew you wanted the same, you wouldn't have gone through all of that.

Like let's be honest both of you wanted Iruma out of the school, easy job

I LOOOVE how Iruma resembles Sullivan even without being related to him, like that's so cute, family soulmates maybe?

Now, I don't remember well, but I do know that in the present on the manga has already been a year, but I do think Kalego is still his familiar, correct me if I'm wrong

ALSO I was thinking about, and all of this boys are 14, like dude, I'm older than them (was younger when I first saw the series, I suddenly feel old 😭) THERE'S NO REASON TO MAKE THEM GO THROUGH ALL OF THAT

Have you guys ever seen those jobs where they ask for young people with plus 10 years of experience? They want Iruma, that's what they've been looking for, too sad he's in hell

<-_->

[lilium-dragomir]

⚜ Happy birthday @mx-sinisters ⚜

Hiii Sin~ Happy birthday dear, hope you had a nice one! I was looking at your favorites list and saw both of them on your favorite character list as well as the ship dynamic one. So I decided to color them together for you~ Gosh, I can't wait for them actually ending up together in the manga. But I also fear that when they do it signals the end of the series >.<"

[iam93percentstardust]

one of the things that really bothers me about modern franchises, and in particular over the last 5 years or so, is their refusal to commit. what i mean here when i say this is that it's not uncommon for a major franchise to make a decision, whether about the plot or the characters, that should have had huge, world-changing consequences... and then just never address that again or worse, immediately go back and undo it. and i'm gonna pick on star wars and the mcu here because those are the two big franchises i'm into at the moment (and i think they're kind of the worst at this), but i don't want you to walk away from this thinking that this is solely a disney thing. i've seen this happen with game of thrones and supernatural and plenty of other non-disney franchises. spoilers ahead, you've been warned:

in ant-man & the wasp quantumania, scott and hope make the life-altering decision to stay behind in the quantum realm and defeat kang instead of going through the portal to return to their world. this should have been a huge meta decision for the mcu, and when i first saw it in theaters, my immediate thought was wow, what is this going to mean for the mcu going forward? are we going to get a movie/miniseries about scott and hope helping to rebuild the quantum realm? how are cassie, janet, and hank going to react to the losses of their loved ones (in some cases, for the second time)? is cassie going to become the "first" young avenger because she has to take her father's place among the team lineup (and i only say first because as of this moment, none of the other young avengers introduced to the franchise are official avengers yet)? except nope, because less than 2 minutes later, cassie had fixed the portal that had broken way back at the beginning of the movie and brought scott and hope back.

and it felt like such a cheat. i was so disappointed in that theater, not as someone who was invested in these characters on a personal level (because yay, cassie gets her dad back!), but as someone who has spent years investing themselves in the story of the mcu. what was the point of wasting screentime on scott and hope accepting their new lives in the quantum realm if it was just going to immediately be undone? the entire scene could have been cut to scott and hope making it back bare seconds before the portal closed and it would have had the same emotional impact. there was nothing added by making scott and hope (and us) think that there was no way back only to rip the rug out from under us and go "gotcha! you really thought we were gonna give this movie a sad ending? haha! you're so dumb!"

and this isn't the first time the mcu has done this. one of the biggest complaints about endgame was the decision to set it five years in the future with no consideration for how that would actually change the setting of the mcu. characters were brought back to the exact place they disappeared from with no consideration for how things might have changed in the interim five years (like planes that weren't in the air anymore, buildings no longer standing, even just something as simple as a chair being unoccupied). and then the mcu didn't even really have the courage to address how this would have shaped the world other than a few jokes and making the bad guys in the falcon and the winter soldier people who cared about how the world had screwed them over during the blip.

and things like this happen over and over and over again. the accords are put into place in civil war, but by the time we get to she-hulk, they're gone with no explanation because, as best as i can tell, the writers didn't want to have to deal with the worldbuilding that went into the accords. gamora is killed in infinity war, but heaven forbid quill not have an emotional investment in a film he appears for maybe 10 minutes in so now she's back in endgame. steve got to go live in the past with his ex-girlfriend (which is in itself a refusal to commit after the mcu both gave her a different husband and had the woman herself tell him to move on) but we need to establish that messing with timelines is bad because that's what the entire next phase hinges on so actually his ending was predestined and it's only everyone else who can't change time. whoever took this entire town and also wanda hostage and forced them to live out a sitcom fantasy is bad and needs to be stopped but wait, it's actually wanda and she can't be the bad guy yet, we need her for doctor strange 2, so actually everyone's going to defend her now and say that no one else could ever possibly understand her grief. thor has decided to accept responsibility as king of asgard, but we can't use him for any more movies if he's stuck in asgard, so actually he's decided to pass it on to someone whose entire leadership capability is developed offscreen. i could list more examples but this is making me angry, so let's move on to star wars instead.

with star wars, i look at first the oft-quoted meme, "somehow palpatine has returned." yeah, i shouldn't really need to go into detail on how that counts as a refusal to commit but. the last jedi was a study in how johnson refused to commit to anything that abrams had laid down in the force awakens, but rise of skywalker was almost like abrams had looked at the franchise and said "screw you for taking it away from me, i'm going to come up with the most bullshit stuff just to spite you for doing that in the first place. and i'm going to start by undoing the most important plot point of the first trilogy: the emperor dies." and yeah, disney's kind of tried to salvage this by dropping hints into the bad batch and the mandalorian about cloning, but that only really works if you're watching the franchise chronologically and not considering that both of those series came out after rise of skywalker.

and then there's the mandalorian, my sweet summer child, who is, in my opinion, the worst at backtracking their plot points. i'm not entirely convinced that any of the higher ups for this show really knew what they were doing when they started working on it and i'm not convinced that they know what they're doing now. yeah, there's the tie-in to the last season of clone wars, but the mandalorian has managed to walk back pretty much every single major plot point it's had. din is this legendary warrior who can't be beat, but no one will watch this show if he defeats everyone too early, so he's constantly getting beat up (tbf, sometimes some of the fights he loses makes sense like the krayt dragon and the mudhorn, but a lot of them don't. at all). moff gideon is dead, no wait no he's not, now he's imprisoned, no wait no he's not, now he's definitely dead, you can totally believe us this time guys. grogu can use the force and must be placed with the jedi, but wait, the only person still actively teaching the way of the jedi is luke and all of his students will be brutally murdered ten years from now, and we can't have that, everyone will be mad at us for killing off such a cute character and no one will buy baby yoda dolls (and also we have to set up luke's character degradation from hopeful, believes-in-love cinnamon roll to "i'm going to kill my nephew") so in between seasons let's have grogu decide to go back to din (and don't even get me started on how frustrating it is that a casual mandalorian watcher also had to watch book of boba fett to understand why grogu is back). din has the darksaber now which makes him king of mandalore, that's totally going to be important and what the entire series has been building up to, right? wrong! he might have spent the first two seasons making connections, learning about the world outside his sheltered upbringing, and demonstrating the various qualities that would make for a good leader, but the entire third season will be about din realizing that actually he's super unworthy and the darksaber should actually go to someone who... saw an animal in the water.

and it's really, really frustrating as a viewer! because how am i supposed to get invested in any of these plot decisions when they almost always get reversed? why should i care that mj and ned have forgotten peter when ant-man 3 has shown me that they'll remember him the next time they're all on screen together? why should i care that tech is dead when half of the last season of clone wars was about how echo was actually alive? if none of these decisions have any permanence, then where are the emotional stakes? why should i watch your movie if all you're going to tell me is that nothing matters?